Cowgirls Don't Cry

Chapter 8

Hazel’s P.O.V

The rest of the week went by with pretty much the same routine; horses, school, horses, homework, sleep etc. etc. etc.

It’s Friday and what better way to spend my afternoon than writing an English essay. I was sitting in the small office in the barn, which my grandmother probably would have worked from. I got up to take a walk and stretch my legs when 3 identical red leather books, sitting on a single shelf on the wall, caught my attention. I pulled them down, held them flat in my hands and blue all the dust off. There was nothing written on them but curiosity got the better of me. I sat back down at the table and opened the cover. ‘This journal belongs to Katherine Carter’. I flipped the page and saw multiple pictures of horse heads each showing a different emotion and a paragraph explaining what each expression means. I grabbed the next book, turning the page and noticed this book contained a table of contents-illnesses, poisonings, behaviour, anatomy and heaps more. I decided that these books would be good bedtime reading. I sat them aside to take that walk that was previously abandoned.

I stepped out of the barn kicking at the gravel with the toe of my boot and squinted looking into the sun to see the silhouette if Finn training a new horse in the round pen.

I strolled over and leant against the railing, Finn didn’t take any notice to me standing there staring, watching intently as his muscled body worked towards keeping the horse going a steady canter, the horse obeying almost immediately. The horses’ fluid movement, toned figure and well-built profile made him look like a very athletic horse. He is beautiful.

“Who me? Why thank you! “Finn turned around with a huge smirk plastered on his face.

I was thinking out loud again. “I was talking about the horse.” I grinned.

“Oh.” He looked down clutching his heart. “I’m heart broken.” He smirked looking up at me from the corner of his eye.

“Who is he?” I ask diverting the conversion from me.

“A client’s horse.” He must have expected me to know about this. Well I didn’t.

“What?”

“ A client’s horse, you know, your grandmother was like a horse whisperer, healer person, he he and after she , you know, died, I ah took over but I don’t do it as well and know where near as many horses have come through here since.”

“Oh.”  My voice dropped. “I just thought she had lots of horses from all the photos and stuff I have seen of her.”

“You never met her?”

“No I have always lived in New York and never really visited anywhere else, but my parents obviously knew them.”

“Ah huh.”

“but nah she was doin’ all this stuff long before I started working here 6 years ago.”

“WOW!”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” I turned on my heel to go back to the barn.

“ah Hazel?’

“Yeah?”

“You wanna try something?”

“Umm okay.” I walked back towards Finn, a little nervously.

“Now his name is torpedo, and he is, well, he is a bit of a torpedo himself.” He chuckled.

“Oh.” I giggled.

“It’s ok, just take the lunge reign, in your hand like this and hold a length of it in your other hand like that and swing it around in big exaggerated motions. Ok.”