Fuck. She’s perfect.
“Now, this is the only medicine I need.”
Jovie
Iwatch the practice from the rail of the outside arena, one foot hooked on the bottom rung while I lean my forearms across the top. The afternoon sun beats down on the dirt. Dust hangs in the air after every run, drifting lazily across the pasture beyond the fence.
My lunch break technically ended five minutes ago, but the clinic can survive without me for a little longer.
A steer bursts from the chute and takes off across the arena. The steer wrestler explodes from the box after it, horse stretching into a dead run. On the opposite side, Axle rides as the hazer, matching the steer stride for stride.
Even from here, I can see how naturally he moves in the saddle. Like horse and rider are an extension of each other.
The student reaches the steer, but mistimes his approach.
“Too far back!” Royce yells.
The steer darts away, and the run falls apart.
Royce shakes his head and motions the student back around. “Again!”
I smile despite myself.
Royce is a tough coach and has absolutely zero patience for half-assed effort.
The student circles back while Royce explains the technique.
“The setup starts in the box,” he says loudly enough for everyone gathered around to hear. “You wait for the steer to get its head start. Don’t break the barrier, or you’ll eat a ten-second penalty.”
The kid nods.
Royce points toward Axle. “Your hazer keeps the steer running straight. That’s his whole job. If the steer starts dodging all over the arena, you’re screwed before you ever get beside it.”
Axle grins. “Nice pep talk, brother.”
Royce ignores him. “When you get alongside the steer, you slide off the right side of your horse. Right arm hooks the right horn. Left hand grabs the left horn.”
The student mimics the motion.
“You don’t stop the steer with muscle,” Royce continues. “You absorb the momentum. Dig your feet into the dirt. Guide him into a slide.”
The kid nods again.
“The takedown comes from leverage. Turn the head. Break the center of gravity. Pull across your chest and use your body weight.” Royce demonstrates with his hands. “When all four legs point in the same direction, throw your hands up. That’s when the clock stops.”
The student takes a deep breath. “Got it.”
Royce snorts. “No, you don’t. But you’re about to learn.”
I laugh quietly.
Beside me, someone steps up to the fence.
“There’s something about a man on the back of a horse.”
I glance over.
Shelby is standing there with her arms folded across her chest.
