Southern Romance (sequel to Little Miss Rodeo Queen) (ON HOLD)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Emmett had informed me that Troublemaker had already been saddle broken, but wasn't ridden much after.

I was already ticked off before I even got on the horse. He was very girth sour. I would tighten the girth just a little and I would have to bop his nose to make sure I wouldn't get bit.

The bit was another story. He lifted his head high so I couldn't slid it in. When I did get the bit in his mouth, Troublemaker acted like the world was about to end. He finally broke the lead from the trailer. It took Travis, Emmett and I almost an hour to catch him.

"He's more trouble than he's worth." I closed the round pen gate.

I was slightly more mad at the fact that he lead better than he saddled.

"Well, my dad doesn't wanna sell him for some reason." Emmett sat up on the fence. Travis sat up by him.

Mounting was a nightmare. I would be ready to swing my leg up and over then the horse would bolt.

I eventually got settled in the saddle and held the nightmare of a horse still.

I tapped his sides. No response. I hit his sides a little harder. Trouble jerked forward into a trot. "Nope!" I slowed him to a walk. "You do what I tell ya." I had to hold his reigns tight.

Trouble threw his head and I felt him arch his back. Before he could throw a buck I whipped his head up and into a circle.

Once I felt him give in, I relaxed and let him stand for a few moments.

I sighed. "This'll be interesting working with you." I leaned forward with one of my elbows rested on the saddle horn.

"How long do you think it'll be?" Emmett spoke up.

"At this rate, I have no clue."

Brant called us in after a good hour of working. . . for more working. He wanted us to get something in our stomachs before we cleaned the house and barn.

Wyatt got bathroom duty. Brant took the kitchen. Travis (he practically lives with us now) got the living room. I was sent to my room.

I had popped my Jason Aldean CD in and turned it up to fifteen on the stereo.

I was trying to organize the bookshelf I had. A big, black, six foot tall book shelf; that's filled from top to bottom, that is at least three feet wide.

What it mostly contains are the collections of my Equine magazines, photo albums, folders, notebooks, Little House on the Prairie, Boxcar Children, multiple Bibles, and CD cases. I could name all the books I had but you'd have a very long list of books.

I get distracted easily while cleaning. Mostly when cleaning this out. I find an old album or notebook and start going through it, trying to remember what went on. Then one of the boys, Mama or Dad come in and get me back on track.

This time I had found an old photo album. Actually it wasn't that old. Two summers ago (Before Travis asked me out).

It had old photos of the four of us (Brant, Wyatt, Travis and I) going mudding, out riding, at the rodeos and horseshows, and even just at home.

"BAILEY!" I jumped and looked back to see Wyatt in the doorway.

"What?" I closed the photo album and stuck it back in the pile of memories.

"You almost done?" he asked. "We gotta get the cattle out."

"Yeah, just give me a few minutes." Wyatt closed the door.

I took all the books down then put them back in the order they were originally in: Photo albums, magazines, notebooks, folders, then the regular books with their series or just by themselves.

I had my boots and socks on quicker than a flash and waited in the living room for the rest of them.

I was laying on my back with my feet propped up on the arm of the couch when Travis came in and threw himself over the couch and above my head. "Hi." Travis smiled.

"Well hello to you, too." I sat myself up. "Aren't you needed at home?"

Travis shook his head. "I moved out, remember?"

A few weeks back Travis got in a huge fight with his dad. Travis had enough and walked out. He spent the night at our house and the next day he packed up and moved. I think he moved in with a friend but I'm not sure where.

"Ooh, yeah. Now I remember."

Travis chuckled then poked my forehead. "Dork."

Wyatt joined the party and sat down on me. Literally, on me. My stomach felt like someone dropped a wheel barrel of bricks on it.

"Can't. . . BREATHE!" I shoved Wyatt off. "You're heavy!"

"And you're easy to sit on. You're point?" Wyatt sat with his back to the couch, where his head got thumped with my hand.

"Brant! C'mon, we're all waitin' on you!" I yelled. That's when the dynamic duo started singing Waitin' on a Woman in an out of tune, loud, obnoxious way.

"Least I don't act like one!" Brant walked in while tucking his leather gloves in his back pocket.

Wyatt pointed at me. "That was directed at you."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, gee, I wonder why!" I sat up. "Let's go!"