Chapter 1: A Bright Beginning

A Chapter by Nicole_Howard

My heart pounded a mile a minute as I sat cross-legged in the back of my mom’s cluttered SUV. The tight riding breeches that were coming dangerously close to being too small for me were already plastered down with a thin layer of cold, nervous sweat. Large horse-dotted pastures rolled by on either side of the car, just a snippet of the marvelous farm that waited up ahead. I could vaguely make out the large jump field, and watched in awe as the girls in advanced lesson urged their horses to soar over huge, brightly colored show jumps.

That’ll be me someday, I thought, a grin spread like wildfire about my face. But it won’t be here, it’ll be at our barn.

My mom always had the same burning passion I did for horses. I’d been a dream of both of ours to own a stable, where we could ride to our hearts’ content. After years of searching for the right place to buy, we finally found it, Green Hill Estates, as the previous owners called it. Twelve acres of nothing but- you guessed it -green hills. Currently, the paperwork was being filed for the purchase, and we wouldn’t be able to move in for a couple more weeks. Until then, I could ride here, at Golden Ridge Stables.

The car suddenly jolted to a halt, shaking me back to reality. Grabbing my large water jug, I shoved the door open and hopped out. The chilly winter air nipped at my bare hands and face, causing me to pull my thick, furry jacket tighter around my body. Now that I was out of the car, my riding nerves shot skyward. I couldn’t wait for the lesson!

“Bye Mom! See you at 7:30!” I gave her a cheesy smile and wave before quickly slamming the door shut.

She furrowed her eyebrows at me from behind the dirty window, before reluctantly nodding and pulling away.

This was my fourth week here, and even though the property was huge, I already knew every square inch of it. I’d even made a couple of friends in that short period of time. Since I didn’t own a horse yet, I had to ride one of the lesson ponies, it’s been different each time so far. Last week, I rode a sassy, hot-tempered mare named Choice. I’ll admit that she was gorgeous; sporting a sparkling, healthy bay coat, with a charcoal black mane and tail, but her attitude was horrible. She’d shied at the very sight of a jump, and refused to go on when asked. I could only pray I wasn’t on her this time.

After a short walk to the stable, I’d finally reached the entrance. Gripping the cold metal handle, I slid the door open and crept inside the warm, inviting room. Smells of hay and hoof oil reminded me of where I belong. Here, with horses. I was the only one there so far, which surprised me. Horses usually filled every cross tie by the time I arrived, leaving me to tack up outside. At least now I could be warm. Still, a strange feeling came over me. I shrugged it off and focused on the task ahead.

Veering into the tack room and I looked up at the small piece of paper listing the horse assignments. Scanning this list, I caught my name, Samantha Reynolds- Outlaw. Outlaw? I’d never heard of him before. And by the sound of his name, he was probably worse than Choice. Great, another difficult horse. Sighing, I placed my belongings on the large rack, already crammed with other people’s items, then headed down the isle of stalls on the great search for this so-called “Outlaw”.

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After what seemed like forever, I found him. Munching on what seemed to be oats, stood a gorgeous 16 hand-high, ash grey gelding; a small, white star was planted in the middle of his forehead. He seemed to take no notice of the scrawny, blonde haired girl standing in front of him.

“You’re Outlaw?!” my jaw had dropped from its hinge at the stunning picture in front of me.

Outlaw’s massive head swung upward, still chewing, and stared at me with liquid brown eyes. I stared back in amazement. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad? My hand automatically stretched forward and grabbed the fancy leather halter from its hook. I gripped it tightly, and let myself in his stall. Even though we were indoors, a stream of frosty steam could be seen coming from his nose every time he exhaled. I stood there for a second, and was caught off guard when he decided to lean forward and nuzzle my fingers.

I realized he was trying to tell me to go on, he wouldn’t bite. -con-