Changing Ways

CHAPTER ONE

"Robin! I said, lean into the barrel. You're making Ash bend away from it like its going to bite!" I hear my moms voice from the other side of the arena. I grit my teeth in frustration, and lean as close to the barrel as I possibly can, urging Ash, the 15.3hh gray, quarter horse stallion I'm riding, on. He pins his perfectly shaped ears back, and stretches his legs out, as we head to the finish. When we pass through the gates, the clock stops, and after some trouble, I slow Ash to a stop.

"Good boy," I tell him, sliding my hand up an down his slightly damp neck. Ash swishes his head from side to side, chewing on his bit, playing with the copper balls on it. I jump off, and lean over, running my hands down his gray legs, feeling his pasterns and hocks, checking for any sign of him being hurt. I find none, so I stand up, and take his reins, leading him to the stallion barn.

"Nice ride, Robin," mom says and walks with me "but remember, please lean into the barrel! You'll be able to cut closer, and get a faster time."

"I know, I know. I just really don't think that Ash is a barrel horse. What was our time anyway?" I ask. My dad usually uses Ash in reining competitions. Then, my mom decided she wanted him to be a barrel horse as well.

"Yeah, I suppose. Maybe he should just stick with reining," she sighs "oh, and your time was 15.003 seconds."

"Ugh, that's slow!" I moan, undoing the cinch, and sliding off Ash's saddle. After carefully stowing it away, I grab his green halter, and lead rope, some brushes, and make my way back out to the aisle.

"You didn't do that badly." mom says, as I slide his bridle off his head, letting him spit out the bit so that it doesn't clunk his teeth, and hurt him. After he's haltered, and in cross ties, I begin to curry him with a purple curry comb.

"Well, it wasn't my best time." I frown. I throw the curry comb back in the bucket, and pick up a dandy brush and begin to flick it across his back, in short strokes, getting rid of the dirt, which was brought up by the curry comb. After, I run a body brush over the whole length of his body, get a soft cloth and wipe around his ears, eyes, and nose, then pick out his well shod hoofs.

"Does he need a trim?" mom asks, as she picks up the brush bucket to bring into the tack room.

"Nope. He's all good." I unhook him from the cross ties, and lead him into his clean stall, where a fresh bucket of water awaits him.

"So, who do you want to work next?" mom asks. Hmm. I'm kind of in the mood to practice a trail course.

"What horses does dad want practicing trail?" I ask, walking out of Ash's stall, bolting it securely shut.

"Let's see..." she silently counts horses on her fingers, and then talks when she gets to 6 "I think that he wants to enter Minor, Ace, Wren, Breezy, Violet and I think Hecate in some trail competitions. Who do you want to ride?" I consider my choices. All are great choices. They are all sweet quarter horses, who come from great bloodlines (although in my opinion, those don't matter). Though, out of all of them, Wren is my favorite.

"I'll go with Wren," I tell her. I grab a halter, and head outside. Scanning the paddocks, I find Wren on one with 5 other horses. I head over to the (not barbed) wire fence, and slip between two strands. "Wren!" I call, walking towards her. Wren lifts up her head, whinnies, and trots over, sniffing me for treats, which I don't have. "you hungry?" I slip the halter over her head, and do up the buckle. "sorry, I don't have anything for you!"

Leading her to a hitching post, I tie her up, using a quick release not and run into the barn to get my brushes and her tack. I slowly brush her beautiful buckskin coat, and she sighs, leaning into me. After she is thoroughly brushed, I settle a bright green saddle blanket on her back, and then place her wintec synthetic saddle on top. It's brand new, only used a few times. Then, I bridle her and undo the not in the walnut coloured split reins (also new), and lead her to the arena.