Page 125 of My Cowboy Trouble
"Shit."
"Yeah. We might actually have to listen to this presentation."
"Could be worse," I say, watching her disappear into the barn. "Least she's trying to make us money instead of spend it."
"Give her time," Trent says. "She'll figure out how to do both."
By the timewe get to the south pasture, Kenzie's already got Buttercup saddled and is leading her around the makeshift course we set up yesterday. Three barrels arranged in a triangle, nothing fancy, but enough to make it interesting. The mare's prancing a little, tossing her head like she knows something's up.
"She looks nervous," Asher mutters.
"The horse or Kenzie?" I ask.
"Both."
But when I look closer, Kenzie doesn't look nervous at all. Focused, maybe. Determined. Like she's mentally preparing for battle.
"Alright, boys," she announces as we approach, "I've been thinking about strategy for the tourist barrel racing experience?—"
"No tourist barrel racing," Trent cuts her off. "Regular people will get themselves killed."
"But if we had a beginner course?—"
"Princess," I interrupt, "you're barely a beginner yourself. Let's see if you can stay on before you start planning to teach others."
"I'm just saying, there might be market demand?—"
"The market can demand whatever it wants," Asher says with a grin. "Doesn't mean we're selling it."
She opens her mouth like she's going to argue, then closes it and shakes her head. "Fine. But I'm adding it to the presentation."
"Add whatever you want to your charts," Trent says. "Right now, just try not to fall off."
She checks the stirrups one more time, then swings up into the saddle. "What are the rules again?"
"Ride around the barrels in a cloverleaf pattern," Asher explains. "Right barrel first, then left, then the far barrel, then back to the start. Try not to knock any over, but more importantly, try not to fall off."
"And if I do fall off?"
"Get back on and finish," Trent says.
"And if I refuse to get back on?"
"Then you buy dinner," I add.
"Well, can't have that. I don’t get paid."
"Hey now?—"
"Are you timing this?" she interrupts.
"Nah. This isn't about speed. It's about staying upright."
"Good. Because I'm pretty sure tourist barrel racing would need to be timed for competitive purposes?—"
"No tourist barrel racing!" all three of us say at the same time.
She laughs and nudges Buttercup forward. "Fine, fine. But I'm making a note."
