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Bethany had brought out a crop and was smacking the back of her mustang’s rump, finally urging her over the first log.
Ignore her. Painter was all that mattered right now.
Calla clicked her tongue and made sure Painter could see the obstacles. Then, just like they practiced every day at home, she led Painter to lift her legs and feel her way over the objects in her path. Out of the corner of her eye, Calla could see the judges standing off in the trees. Probably the only thing that kept Bethany from cussing her out.
Because by the time she’d led Painter over the last tree trunk, she was in the lead. Calla allowed herself a brief smile before tightening her thighs to send Painter on down the trail. She heard noise behind her—Bethany had probably gotten her horse over the logs and more riders had arrived at the first obstacle—but she tried to block it out.
Next came a willow tree with sweeping branches that she had to guide Painter through blind. It was an exercise in trust and Painter came through brilliantly.
She didn’t pause to celebrate though because even though she only looked over her shoulder a couple times and only glimpsed Bethany once, she knew Bethany would be pulling out all the stops to beat her.
She and Painter had to be perfect.
They had to be nearing the end of the trail. They’d been through nine or ten obstacles already. Calla had lost count. She’d just finished with the gate obstacle and her entire focus was on finishing strong.
The next obstacle was a rocky embankment that led down to a stream. Calla led Painter down slowly, letting her get a secure foothold with each step. By the time she was at the bottom, she heard voices behind her and rocks tumbling as other riders made it there.
Crap. She knew she’d lost time on the gate. On the stupidest thing, too. She’d had to fiddle with the damn latch because it wouldn’t catch the first few times she tried it.
Calla urged Painter into the little stream at the bottom of the embankment. Her impulse was to rush but she tamped it down. Painter’s safety was always primary. While the first part of the stream was shallow enough that she could clearly see the bottom, white water rushed on the far side.
It probably wasn’t deep. They wouldn’t make it too risky for a competition like this, but still. There weren’t any streams around the Kent ranch and this was one thing she hadn’t been able to train Painter for directly.
But when she gave Painter her head, she strode into the water confidently. About five feet in, it went from ankle deep to about a foot and a half, but Painter didn’t even falter.
“All right, girl. Now for a little deeper.” Calla leaned back in the saddle as Painter took a step into the deeper white water. Her hoof slipped and she scrambled, letting out a short squeal.
“That’s all right,” Calla said calmly, letting Painter come to a stop so she could feel sure-footed. Calla reached forward and rubbed her neck. “You’re all right. You’re all right.” Then she clicked her teeth and kept her thighs firm around Painter to keep her going forward. “Just a little bit more and we’re done.”
She knew her staying calm and keeping on would help Painter do the same and they were closer to the far shore than the one behind them.
The clatter of rocks and voices got even louder behind Calla, followed by splashes, but she didn’t look back.
Painter took an uncertain step forward. “That’s right, girl. You’re doing so good. Such a smart, good girl.”
Calla kept talking her through it and only moments later, they’d made it to the shore.
Clapping sounded in the distance and when Calla looked ahead, she realized the end of the trail was just ahead. They’d made it. She grinned as she nudged Painter up the muddy embankment, about to urge her into a trot toward the finish line when—
A roaring horse scream from behind her had her whipping around to see what happened.
Torpedo. He was reared up on his hind legs and—
“Mack!” she screamed. Mack struggled for a moment to keep his seat on Torpedo but the horse was too spooked. Both horse and rider fell backwards into the water.
“Mack!” Calla dismounted and ran back into the water.
Torpedo rolled to his side and got back to his feet but Mack was still down. Bethany and her horse ran by at the same time.
“Mack!” Calla screamed again, slogging through the knee-high water to get to him. Oh God, if anything had—
She reached him at the same time he sat up, sputtering and spitting water.
“Oh my God. Mack.” She flung her arms around him. She was immediately soaked but she didn’t care. He could be hurt. Oh God. She yanked back and looked at him. “Are you okay? Oh God. Does anything hurt? Can you feel your toes? Follow my finger with your eyes.”
She raised her forefinger and moved it back and forth in front of his face.
He grabbed her hand and pulled it out of his face. “I’m fine.”
