Burning Desire

Chapter Twenty-Five

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Brenna was already tacked up when I entered the barn the next morning. Holly was in the mare's stall, strapping some bandages to her legs. Brenna swished her tail irritatedly, but stood patiently as Holly finalised tacking her up.

"Awh, thanks Holly! You didn't have to do that," I said, leaning over the stable door to sneak Brenna a polo mint.

Holly stood up straight and dusted sawdust off her jodhpurs. "No problem. I just needed to check if it fits."

"If what fits?"

"Her new bridle."

I glanced at the mare's elegant face, not noticing anything different at first until I realised that her usual sleek black bridle had been replaced with a brown bitless headpiece.

"A hackamore?"

"Yes. I don't know why we didn't think of it earlier! Theoretically, it should be perfect for Brenna. The only reason she's strong or naughty is because she's so sensitive to the bit, which could be inducing fear. But if there's no pressure on her mouth, her bad behaviour should disappear!"

"I'm not so sure. What if she still plays up? I'll have no control whatsoever then. That could be dangerous. And are bitless bridles even permitted at competitions?"

"There could be some restrictions concerning competition regulations, yes. But let's just see how she goes it in first, hey?"

I bit my lip hesitantly before nodding reluctantly and fastening the buckle on my riding hat, slipping into the stable and leading Brenna out. The difference was noticeable even on the ground; instead of flinching to the pressure on her mouth as I lead her to the mounting block, she sauntered beside me tranquilly. I mounted and gathered the reins, and it was an unusual sensation not having a feel for the horses's mouth. I felt detached from her, as if someone had constructed a brick wall between us to stop us from establishing any contact. I frowned down at Holly.

"It might take some getting used to for you, as well," Holly said. "But, it should teach you not to depend on your hands as much. Come on, let's take her to the outdoor arena."

I squeezed my legs around Brenna's sides gently and she broke into a fast scuttle, sensing that I was anxious on her back and that there was no pressure on her mouth. I shortened my reins but this seemed to have no effect, and she continued to advance in an upbeat jog.

I walked the mare around the outside track on a loose rein when we entered the arena, letting her stretch her muscles and warm up. Brenna scurried forward as if she was late to catch her train, and I had to use my seat to regulate her speed. She seemed to respect my weight aids, and slowed to a more relaxed pace. When I gathered the reins and asked her for a trot, she didn't tense in her core as she transitioned into the faster gait. Normally, I could feel the mare coil within herself whenever I asked her to change a gait, and it would take her a few strides to settle into the new pace. But this time, she went forward into trot seamlessly.

"Plenty of transitions and circles to get her warmed up and supple," Holly requested.

I executed my trainers' instructions, and as Brenna floated around the arena I could feel a noticeable difference. The mare's movement felt a lot freer, and she carried her head better now that she wasn't shying away from the bit. She developed more respect for my leg and seat aids, and when I eased her into canter she didn't run through the bridle like she usually had a tendency to do.

"She looks a lot more relaxed," Holly commented.

"I think being ridden in hackamore is, for Brenna, like one of those days when you don't have to wear a bra," I joked, patting the mare's neck affectionately. She snorted loudly, drowning out the small chuckle Holly emitted.

"She looks good on the flat, but I want to see if she maintains this composure over some jumps," Holly said. She strode out into the centre of the arena and arranged a small fence that barely reached above her knee. "Try her over this."

The second Brenna spotted the jump, her relaxed demeanour disintegrated. I attempted to collect her into a cadenced trot around a ten metre circle before pointing her at the fence, but I felt the mare explode straight through my hands. She broke into a canter and thrust herself into the air at least twice as high as the jump. On the other side, I resorted to voice aids to slow her but they had no effect.

"Steady, Brenna. Easy. Woah," I said in my most calming tone, but the mare continued to dart around the arena recklessly. Panic gripped me tighter with every stride, and the mare was feeding off it. Sensing that I had little control over her, she took advantage.

Holly leapt out in front of the mare, spooking Brenna into decelerating rapidly. I seized the moment to tug sharply at the inside rein, and the pressure from the noseband finally influenced Brenna to stop. She stood on the inside track with her sides heaving and every muscle in her body tensed. I ran a hand down her neck in an attempt to soothe her, but the other part of me wanted to slap the mare.

I looked grimly down at Holly. "I don't think the hackamore is going to work. She's just going to take advantage."

She nodded sombrely. "I think I have another solution though."

It was a few days before I got to see Holly's alternative method. The mare spent those days out in the field, taking a short but necessary break – even antsy horses like Brenna needed a chance to unwind. When I brought her in from the paddock a few days later, I was preparing to tack Brenna up in her usual bridle, when my trainer approached me with a substitute.

"It's a hackabit," she told me. "A combination between a hackamore and a regular bitted bridle. It's so you can keep a light but consistent contact on her mouth, but it has pressure on the nose too. The bit won't be as strong as a regular bridle, but you'll have a stronger contact than you would with a hackamore."

"Sounds good," I said, hopes inflating inside me that this bridle might be the perfect solution for the mare. I tacked her up, stretched the mare's muscles and mounted, before heading to the outdoor arena with Holly trailing by our side.

"You know the drill. Warm her up!" my trainer commanded. I walked the mare around on a loose rein at first, and Brenna felt unusually relaxed. It was almost like riding a different horse. She stretched out through her frame, holding her head correctly and over-tracking. When I gathered the reins, she didn't tense or shy away from the contact like she usually did. I felt the mare fully accept the bit for the first time – we'd come close before, but wisps of her fear had always lingered. This time, she developed a nice contact and felt at ease with the bit in her mouth.

"Good girl," I praised in a soft tone. I pressed her into trot with light leg aids, and she transitioned seamlessly into the faster gait, floating above the ground with her elegant paces. Her muscled neck arched in a consistent outline, and I knew the new bit was contributing to an overall nicer picture for us as a partnership, as well as a happier horse.

"She looks good," Holly commented. "How does she feel?"

"Better than she ever has before," I smiled.

Holly assembled a few small jumps, and this time Brenna didn't rush or take advantage. Whenever I felt her getting slightly strong, I shortened my reins, and for once the mare didn't tense at a sharper contact and added pressure on her mouth. Her jump felt a lot freer too, because she held her nose more forward which allowed her to have more freedom of movement. For the first time, Brenna wasn't afraid of the bridle, yet she still respected my hands. As I cantered her around the outside track for a final time before cooling down, I couldn't stop smiling and praising the mare.

"I think this is the right bridle for her," I said.

Holly nodded. "I agree. I think she's going to go a lot better for you now."