Leave It to Chance (21 page)

“I just—” She looked at her mom, who’d tilted her head as if to say,
Let him do this, honey
. Sierra rubbed a hand over his shoulder. “Be careful, please.”

A radiant grin emerged, and he turned and bounded out the front door. She watched him run over to the pickup and climb in. The driver’s door opened and Ross climbed out. Sierra met him on the front porch.

His eyes held hers for a long moment before his gaze moved toward the barn. “Braden said you okayed my working with him and Chance.”

“Not totally, but everyone seems to think it’ll be okay.”

He gave her a half-smile, his eyes soft. “I understand, Sierra. He’ll be fine. Trust me.”

Her heart lurched and she looked at him. “I’d like to.”

He glanced away, started to say something, then stopped. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned, heading back down the steps. “We’ll be about an hour or so,” he said over his shoulder.

Sierra wrapped her arms around her waist against the chill and went into the house and closed the door, her eyes straying toward the living room window where she could see Ross’s pickup roll down the driveway.

Her mom chuckled. “It’s not like it’s Trevor out there. Braden’s eleven, honey.”

The same age Molly had been.

Braden felt his heart speed up. He was going to ride Chance. He looked over at Ross, who grinned back. “You look tired,” Braden said.

“Not too tired to go riding.”

Braden leaned forward, wishing Ross would drive faster. At the barn, he jumped out and waited for Ross to climb out of the pickup.
Come on!
Ross rounded the front of the pickup and laid a hand across his back. It made Braden’s chest feel warm, like when his mom gave him a hug.

Inside the barn, Ross nodded toward the wall. “Get the lead rope and bring him in. While I set up the course, you can give him a good brushing.”

Braden stopped. “By myself?”

Ross turned. “You comb your own hair by yourself, don’t you?”

“Cool!” Braden grabbed the lead and walked out to the pasture, the grass making the front of his tennis shoes wet. Chance let him walk right up, his big nose sniffing Braden’s hand and shoulder. Braden clipped the lead to the metal ring of his halter, and they turned for the barn. Chance plodded right behind him.
Yes!
Braden’s heart beat so hard.

Once inside, Ross showed him how to cross-tie Chance. “Now, when you curry him, you need to be careful over his back and shoulders. His bones are right below the skin, and you can hurt him.” Braden nodded, making sure to be extra careful.

When Ross left to go get the saddle, Braden ran the rubber currycomb over the big body, and Chance nickered. A warm feeling swelled inside.

Ross walked toward him, carrying Chance’s large saddle in his arms. “Looking good. How about we saddle him up?”

He showed Braden where to place the blanket and saddle so it didn’t pull Chance’s hair, then he cinched the belly strap and adjusted the buckles. “Now after we walk him a bit, we’ll tighten the cinch again. Wouldn’t want it to roll out from under you when you’re rounding the barrel, would we?”

“No!” That’d really freak his mom. She’d probably never let him on Chance again.

Ross untied Chance’s halter and looped it around the horse’s neck then lifted the bridle. “This is a snaffle. We ask Chance to open his mouth by putting our fingers right here.” Ross held the bridle up by Chance’s nose and slipped his thumb into the side of the horse’s mouth. “When he opens, we put the bit in his mouth like that, then lift this part up and tuck his ears in.” The bridle slid into place.

Braden itched to get on Chance “Can I ride him now?”

“Let’s lead him outside, and I’ll take him around the first time.” He leaned closer and nodded toward Sid’s. “In case your mom is watching with binoculars.”

Braden laughed. “Okay. Then can I try?”

“You bet.”

Outside, they led Chance through the gate and into the pasture. Ross held the reins. “I’m going to jog him a little to warm him up. See what he can do.” Ross pointed to where a barrel sat with a flag sticking out of a can on top. “That’s for the flag race.”

Cool!

Ross put his foot in the stirrup, and the saddle creaked as he passed his leg over Chance’s back. He made a clicking noise and Chance started into a trot toward the barrel.

Braden wished he’d hurry up.

Ross went up and down the field a few times and rode the horse in some patterns. He trotted back to Braden with a smile. “He knows his stuff. I’m going to take him around the barrel and see how he does.”

“Okay.”

Ross took off straight for the flagged barrel. As Chance rounded the barrel, Ross grabbed the old rag tied to a stick, and they galloped back across the starting line. He raised the flag toward Braden in a victory sign, then turned and trotted to the barrel and stuck the flag back in the can.

Ross rode him over to Braden with a huge grin. “I’d say old Chance here has done this before.”

That was way cool!

He got off and handed the reins to Braden. “Now before we can start you on the flag race, we need to teach you how to ride.”

“I rode him at Sally’s.” Braden reached for the reins, but Ross didn’t hand them over.

“That’s good, but I need to know that you can handle Chance before I let you up on him. Okay?”

Braden nodded. He wished Ross would hurry up.

“A horse isn’t like a car. You can’t steer him with the reins.”

Huh?
That’s what they always did in those Westerns he saw on TV.

“You want your hands to be as still as possible. A horse will always move away from pressure. So instead of pulling his head where you want him to you, you’re going to guide him with your legs.”

Braden sighed. This sounded hard.

“Mount him and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Finally!
Braden climbed on and sat way up there, his feet dangling above the stirrups. Ross adjusted them, and he slipped his feet in. Chance looked a lot different from up here with that narrow neck straight out in front of him.

“Now, when you want Chance to go, you squeeze both of your legs.”

Braden squeezed, then he lurched as Chance moved forward. “Hey, it worked.”

Ross walked beside him and nodded with a smile. “Yep. Now when you want him to turn left, you’re going to press your right leg into his side and he’ll move away from it to the left.”

Braden tried, but Chance kept going straight. “It’s not working.”

“Try it again, you’re probably using both legs. It can be tricky to move just one leg.”

Chance turned to the left. “Hey! He did it!”

“If you want to go right—”

Braden pressed his left leg and Chance moved to the right. “It works, Ross! This is so cool!” Braden practiced turning him a few more times.

“I should have told you this first, but when you need to stop him, you pull gently back on the reins.”

Braden pulled Chance to a stop. “Can I do the flag now?”

“Let’s practice walking him around some more. Then I’ll have you trot him a bit before we test you out on the flag.”

Braden squeezed his legs and Chance lurched forward again. He wished his dad could see him.

Saturday night, Braden sat across the coffee table from his dad, a marble checkerboard between them. “It’s your turn, Dad.”

“Hmm?” His dad raised his eyes from the dental magazine he was reading.

“I said, it’s your turn.”

“Oh.” He didn’t even study the board, just moved one of his pieces.

Braden jumped it. “It’s your turn, Dad.”

“Oh!” Gina sat up straight in the black leather recliner. She looked at his dad, her eyes excited. “Mike, I felt the baby move.”

“You did!” His dad jumped up from the leather couch and knelt next to her, his hand on her stomach. “What’d it feel like?”

Gina pressed her hand over his. “Like little bubbles.”

Emory and Trevor ran over, and his sister asked, “Can I feel?”

Gina smiled at her. “Sure, honey, but I think she’s too small still for you to feel her.”

His dad laughed. “
Her
, my foot. That’s a boy in there.” His dad leaned his mouth closer to speak to her belly. “Aren’t you my little green-eyed man?”

Braden slowly put the checkers away. He wished he had green eyes like his dad. None of them did.

His dad grinned at him. “Hey, Braden, do you want to see if you can feel the baby?”

Braden stacked the checkers—red, black, red, black. “No.”

His dad frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you think you’re a little old to have more kids?”

“He’ll be your brother.”

“I don’t want another brother. I hate him already.”

Gina and his father stared at him. His dad’s mouth hung open before he snapped it shut. Then he yelled. “You apologize right now!”

Braden stood up. “No.”

His dad jerked to his feet and put a finger in his face. “I don’t want you talking like that in this house, young man.”

“Well, I don’t want to be here.”

“Go to your room.”

“Fine!”

Sunday morning, Sierra rolled over in bed, enjoying the snuggly warmth without the pressure of getting up to fulfill little-people demands. She’d been surprised when Michael asked to have the kids again. He really was trying with the kids. She closed her eyes and burrowed deeper. A horrible howling made her jerk, then she realized it was the coffee bean grinder in the kitchen. She closed her eyes again.
Clack-clack-clack. Clack-clack-clack.
Her mother in her Sunday morning heels. Sierra flopped onto her back.
Clack-clack-clack.

Her mom had asked her last night, as she did every Saturday evening, if Sierra would come to church. But why bother, when she didn’t feel any different after the service than before?

Her thoughts drifted to Elise. Elise had something her mom didn’t. Would it help to know what that something was?

She threw back the covers and got up.

Sierra wandered into the kitchen threading her dressy black belt through the loops of her dark slacks.

Her mom assessed her appearance with arched brows. “Are you going to church, honey?”

She nodded. “With Elise.”

Her mom’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Well, that’s nice, dear. If you don’t mind all those hands in the air.”

Sierra gave a nervous laugh. “And a few deacons rolling down the aisles?”

Her mom gave her a sharp look. “It’s not how I raised you, but you’re old enough to decide where you want to fellowship. I’m just glad you’re finally going. As long as you don’t go overboard, Sierra. Some people in that church can’t speak a sentence without a ‘hallelujah, praise God.’”

“Mom, it’s one visit.”

“Well, I’m just saying.” Her mom left the kitchen.

Sierra called Elise from the van. “I’m coming today.”

“I’ll pick up the coffee. Meet you in front in fifteen.”

“They’re not going to make me dance in the aisles or anything, are they?” At the pause she said, “Sorry, my mom made me a little nervous.”

“Relax, hon. It’ll be fine.”

Elise was waiting on the front steps of the church with two Starbucks coffees.

Sierra took a sip and followed Elise into the foyer. An elderly gentleman with dentures too big for his gums reached for her hand with both of his. “Hello. So glad to have you with us today.”

Elise turned. “Harold, this is my dear friend Sierra.”

“Lord bless you, Sierra.” Such love in those faded blue eyes.

Elise leaned close as they entered the sanctuary. “Harold loves God more than any person I know. It’s like touching elbows with the Holy Spirit to be near that man.”

Hmm
.

Elise introduced her to more of her friends, and they all seemed normal. Sierra listened hard, but didn’t hear one “halleluiah, praise God.”

The worship was a little out of her comfort zone with guitars and drums and a few raised hands, but nobody rolled around foaming at the mouth. Partway through the worship, Harold shuffled his way in and took his seat in the aisle across from her, next to a white-haired woman who turned to him with the sweetest smile.

When the pastor started his sermon, Sierra’s eyes kept straying to the old gentleman. The sharp angles of his shoulders poked through the dark plaid Sunday sweater. Oversized ears cupped forward as if they’d grown toward the pulpit like a flower seeking sunlight. What gave Harold that kind of joy? Sierra’s mom didn’t radiate that kind of joy and she practically lived at the church.