How to get a Cowboy 101 ⎯ a Ryan story [Yellowstone]

iv

Today was the day. Jane stood in the barn, her fingers deftly working to fasten the last of the buckles on Rocky's tack. The cool, early morning air still clung to the ranch, and the soft rustle of leaves and distant sounds of cattle were the only things breaking the quiet. It was one of her first rides since the accident—one of the first times she'd dared to get back in the saddle since the fall that had shattered her world two years ago. Her heart pounded in her chest, a nervous flutter she couldn't quite quell.

Rocky, stood still as if sensing the significance of the moment. His chestnut coat gleamed under the soft morning light, the muscle beneath his skin rippling with restrained energy. He was her gentlest horse, the one with the least amount of fire in him, and that was why she chose him today. She needed calm. She needed reliability.

As she led him out to the big riding arena, her boots crunching softly against the dirt path, the nerves in her stomach tightened. Her eyes scanned the arena. Poles had been neatly laid out—trotting poles, canter poles, and off to the side, a small jump that seemed to loom larger than it really was. It had been set up specifically for her by Rip and the wranglers, but now, seeing it, the sight was intimidating. Her mind replayed the crash, the pain, the moment her body betrayed her and sent her tumbling.

Near the arena fence sat Beth. She had decided to be moral support today, an unusual but welcome presence. The sharp-eyed Dutton rarely took such a role, but she knew how monumental this ride was for Jane. A cigarette hung lazily from Beth's fingers as she greeted Jane with a knowing smirk.

"Ready to get your ass back in the saddle?" Beth teased, but there was a note of concern in her tone, one that wasn't often there.

Jane forced a smile, but the weight of what she was about to do pressed heavily on her chest. Leading Rocky to the mounting block, she took a deep breath, feeling the tightness of the air in her lungs. The reins slipped slightly from her damp palms as she tightened Rocky's girth. The horse flicked an ear back, sensing her anxiety, and she murmured a soft reassurance to him, though it was more for herself than for him.

Finally, the moment had come. Her hands shook as she grabbed the reins and hoisted herself up. The saddle creaked softly beneath her, but as she settled into the seat, the world beneath her seemed to stretch farther and farther away. Her legs tightened around the horse, and suddenly, the height felt unbearable. Her breathing became shallow, her heart hammering as the memories flooded back—the fall, the pain, the helplessness.

"Holy fucking shit," she muttered under her breath, her voice shaky. A small panic attack clawed at the edges of her mind, her hands trembling as she gripped the reins. Her vision blurred for a moment, her pulse thundering in her ears as the sensation of being up on the horse overwhelmed her.

Beth's eyes flickered with worry as she took a long drag of her cigarette, her sharp gaze narrowing in on Jane's pale face. "She doesn't look good," Beth commented, a hint of unusual softness creeping into her voice. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. She's not ready yet."

Rip had joined Beth by the fence, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Jane struggle. He frowned, his eyes never leaving Jane as she sat frozen in the saddle, barely holding it together. She looked small and vulnerable up there, her usual fire replaced by the sheer terror of the moment.

Without a word, Rip vaulted over the fence with ease, striding up to Jane and Rocky. His boots kicked up a small cloud of dust as he moved, his jaw set with that familiar sternness he was known for. He was a man of few words, but in that moment, he spoke with a kind of authority that only Rip could.

"It's alright," Rip said, his deep voice cutting through Jane's panic like a knife. He reached up and gently took the reins from her trembling hands, his rough fingers brushing against hers. "You're safe. Just breathe."