Crossed Reins

By Graysen Morgen

Barrel racing is Carly Rae Walsh’s life, until it’s ripped out from under her. With nothing to do and nothing to lose, she uses her years of horse whispering skills and intuition to train a troubled thoroughbred race horse.
Allison McKinley is a world class dressage rider who has stepped back from the spotlight to mourn the sudden death of her mother. The last thing she needs when she decides to start training again for competition, is her father’s impulsive desire to own a race horse, and his bizarre decision to choose a rodeo barrel racer as the trainer.
The two women have nothing in common except horses, and even that’s a stretch. Can they uncross the reins long enough to see what’s happening between them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Triplicity Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Feb 15, 2021

Graysen Morgen

Graysen Morgen is the bestselling author of Falling Snow, Fast Pitch, and Bridesmaid of Honor, as well as many other titles. She was born and raised in North Florida with winding rivers and waterways at her back door and the white sandy beach a mile away. She has spent most of her lifetime in the sun and on the water. She enjoys reading, writing, fishing, and spending as much time as possible with her partner and their daughter.

Book preview

Crossed

Reins

by

Graysen Morgen

Crossed Reins © 2021 Graysen Morgen

Triplicity Publishing, LLC

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events of any kind, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition – 2021

Cover Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

Interior Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

Editor: Megan Brady - Triplicity Publishing, LLC

Also by Graysen Morgen

Real Love

Playing the Game

Mission Compromised

Boone Creek (Law & Order Series: book 1)

Castor Valley (Law & Order Series: book 2)

Never Let Go (Never Series: book 1)

Never Quit (Never Series: book 2)

Meant to Be

Coming Home

Bridesmaid of Honor (Bridal Series: book 1)

Brides (Bridal Series: book 2)

Mommies (Bridal Series: book 3)

Crashing Waves

Cypress Lake

Falling Snow

Fast Pitch

Fate vs. Destiny

In Love, at War

Just Me

Love, Loss, Revenge

Natural Instinct

Secluded Heart

Submerged

Special thanks to my editor, Megan Brady.

Muchas gracias!

For my wife.

Siempre te quiero.

ONE

Tens of thousands of people were elbow to elbow, packing the grandstands, bars, and club suites of Santa Rosa Race Park. Hundreds more stood in various lines, money and credit cards in one hand and their top picks in the other, each silently hoping he or she had the winning horse or trifecta trio. The grand marshal blew the bugle horn for the ten-minute warning, meaning the betting windows would soon be closing. The jockeyed horses slowly made their way from the stables onto the track, showing off the color and design of their one of a kind silks as they were paraded in a line past the east end of the clubhouse before making a u-turn and heading out to the starting gate for the running of the Chardonnay Derby, a high stakes thoroughbred race.

Look, Carly Rae! There’s Tibby! a man who looked strikingly similar to George W. Bush said, nudging the young woman next to him.

She grinned and tucked a strand of her short, buttery blonde hair behind her ear. Daddy, I see him. Her heart pounded a little harder in her chest as her best friend since she could walk, trotted past on a large, plain brown colored colt named Magic Hat. Both the jockey and the horse were wearing hot pink and purple silks with the number five on them. They definitely got his colors right, she thought, waving despite knowing he couldn’t see her in the sea of people.

Oh, I hope he wins! her father said. I put a hundred bucks on him. Don’t tell your mama.

She shook her head and laughed. She knew George Tibbetts, Jr. like the back of her hand. They’d grown up together on her parent’s cattle ranch up in Wyoming. Tibby, as most everyone called him, was the son of the ranch foreman who had worked for her father for thirty years. He’d already had a handful of mildly successful races as a jockey, but this was only the third race for the horse. So far, neither of them had finished better than fourth together. She hadn’t had the heart to tell her father he’d wasted his money. She’d been a little more realistic, betting on him to place or show, and only twenty bucks at that. He was a long shot at 20:1 odds.

Anticipation buzzed all around as the horses were led into the starting gates. Carly Rae and her father jumped to their feet along with everyone else. The pistol pop that started the race was silenced by the roar of the crowd. Everything seemed to happened in slow motion as the gates burst open and the massive horses shot out like rockets. Carly Rae missed Tibby because her eyes were drawn to a horse in blue and white checkered silks, named Sir Rigsby. He was dark bay colored with nearly black legs and not a single speck of white. She remembered seeing him trot by with the number seven on his side. He’d seemed completely unfazed by the noise of the crowd, and his handler and jockey both had difficulty directing him.

Now, as she watched the start, she knew something awful had happened. When that horses gate burst open, he didn’t take off like the others. He was much more timid and wound up throwing his jockey. Several track employees rushed to help the jockey while a nearby handler grabbed the horse, who was muddling about like he had no clue what was going on.

He finished third! her father yelled. Damn.

What? Carly Rae looked up at the screen in the center of the track. The top four finishers were listed. Sweet!

Don’t tell me you won money on that, her father chuckled.

Of course, I did. She grinned. Did you see that horse throw the jockey? Number seven, I think.

No. I missed it, he replied as they began exiting with the rest of the crowd.

I’m going to go see Tibby. He’s probably back at the stable by now. I’ll catch up with you outside.

Don’t be too long. I’ll find George. We need to get to the airport. You know how much I hate flying, he sighed.

I know, but you’re glad you came, right?

Sure. I wouldn’t have turned down the invite. Tibby and George are family. Besides, I got to see you. He smiled.

She stood on her tip toes to kiss his cheek.

You have a long drive, he said, checking his watch.

I’m staying in Reno tonight. Everything is all packed and ready. I’ll get Firefly loaded up and head out in the morning.

It’s going to take you two and half days to get home.

Nah. It’s about thirteen hours from there. I’ll be home in a day and a half. I’ve done it many times.

He shook his head at his only child as she walked away.

*

I don’t know what to tell you. That goddamn horse won’t listen to anyone! a man growled.

Carly Rae turned her head to see two men, one in jeans and the other impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit. They were standing outside of the stable door for horse seven, Sir Rigsby.

What’s going on? she asked, giving Tibby a hug.

I don’t know. They’ve been arguing for a few minutes.

Carly Rae watched the horse with his head poked out of the open upper half of the stall door, completely unaffected by their raised voices. Several other horses were starting to become restless.

Great race, by the way. I won sixty-five bucks off you.

He laughed. Magic took off too fast on me and burned out. I think we could’ve at least finished second.

She felt bad. She’d missed the entire race. You know that horse threw his jockey, right? It was like he could care less when the gate opened.

Weird, he mumbled, turning to watch the confrontation.

You’re fired! And take your shitty jockey with you too! the well-dressed man shouted.

That piece of shit horse is a joke! Good luck loser! the other guy yelled back as he walked away.

You’re about to be for sale, the well-dressed man grumbled in the horse’s direction.

Looks like the owner just fired his trainer and jockey, Tibby whispered.

Yeah. Something isn’t right. She kept watching the horse. Suddenly, she grabbed Magic Hat’s empty metal oat pail and slammed it against the door of the open stall next to him. All of the horses began to whinny and rustle around…all except Sir Rigsby. Even his owner was startled enough to jump off the ground. I’ll be damned, she whispered and set the bucket down.

What the hell did you do that for? the man in the suit said as she stepped closer. He was tall and broad with beady brown eyes and a square jaw. His neatly trimmed hair was dark and thick, but his mustache and goatee were salt and pepper colored.

I know what to do with that horse, she said.

Huh?

Your horse.

You want to buy him? he asked.

What? No. Train him.

Train him? He shook his head. Young lady, I have no idea what you’re getting at. Who are you, anyway?

I’m sorry. She stuck her hand out. Carly Rae Walsh.

He chewed the side of his cheek, wishing he had a cigar as he perused her. She was country girl cute, dressed in Wrangler blue jeans, brown, square-toed boots, and a peach colored, V-neck shirt that hugged her slender frame. Her short blonde hair was parted on the side and barely long enough to tuck behind her ears. The ends sort of flipped up in the back just above her collar. Striking baby blue eyes bore into him and a playful smile spread across her face as she waited with her hand out. She looked young, way too young to buy a race horse.

Where did you say you were from? he asked, returning the firm grip of her handshake.

I didn’t. Mister…

McKinley. Harris McKinley.

Mr. McKinley, what I am trying to say to you is, your horse can be trained, and he can be trained to win. I know what to do with him.

What did you say your name was? Carly something? I’ve never heard of you. Are you a trainer?

Carly Rae Walsh, she repeated. I’ve trained many horses. I’m actually a professional barrel racer. I’ve won a few championships. My point is, I know what to do with your horse.

What makes you so sure? I wasted a lot of money on the trainer I just fired and he was highly recommended by the man who sold me the horse. The jockey was supposed to be great, too.

Do you know your horse is hearing impaired? she said, crossing her arms.

What?

Deaf. He can’t hear anything. That’s why he is having such a hard time. It’s not his fault.

Mr. McKinley’s eyebrows rose.

That’s why I slammed the bucket. I watched him move before the race. I could tell he was different. He threw the jockey because he has no idea what is going on around him. I’m sure that fancy trainer you just fired had no idea. He probably spent hours whipping him instead of teaching him to use his other senses.

You got all of this just by watching him?

Yes, sir. I’ve spent my entire life on a horse. My father…who is probably impatiently waiting on me at the moment, owns a cattle ranch. I’ve been riding horses and moving cattle since I was big enough to ride a pony. I’ve been barrel racing for the past twelve years. I’m quite good at it. Anyway, I have three months free in my schedule. The next big race here is the Golden Stakes. I can have your horse ready by then.

You really think you can train a deaf horse to be a derby winner?

Why not?

He shrugged, knowing at this point he really had no other choice. It was that or sell the horse he’d bought as an investment to hopefully make some money. If he sold it, he’d certainly be losing money.

Where do you live? My horse was kept with the previous trainer, but I’m moving him to my stable in Sonoma.

Reno at the moment. I am usually touring with the barrel racing circuit, but like I said, I’m free for the next three months. I was actually heading back to my family’s ranch in Wyoming in the morning.

He nodded…sighing lightly as he thought for a moment. I have a small guest house on the property. You can stay there rent and utility free. I’ve spent enough money on this damn horse as it is, but I’ll pay you $1000 a month. If he wins, you get a ten percent cut. If he doesn’t, you’re fired and he’s out of here.

I can work with that. I’ll need to stable my barrel horse and train with her as well…in my spare time, of course.

Our stable has plenty of open stalls. We have a covered and open arena. You can use the open arena all you want. We probably have barrels you can use. Just stay away from the covered arena. My daughter is a classically trained, world champion dressage rider and that is her training area.

Carly Rae nodded. We have a deal. She held her hand out.

Three months. You promise Sir Rigsby will be ready?

He’ll be more than ready.

Mr. McKinley shook her hand. I hope you’re right, he mumbled. I’m putting a lot of trust in you.

I know that. You should probably know I’m not barrel racing for the next three months because I was suspended by the racing federation.

What for?

Another competitor tried to kill my horse and we got into an altercation. What she did was proven. She was banned for life, but because I got into a physical fight with her and spent the night in jail, I was suspended for six months. I’m halfway through my suspension. I don’t regret what I did. My horse is my life. I’d do it all over again.

I understand. Thank you for telling me. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. Here is the address to our property and my phone number. How soon can you be there?

Tomorrow.

Great. We’ll get you set up in the guest house and put on the payroll. We have a stable hand named Ollie. He feeds the horses, mucks the stalls, and pretty much does everything else as well. I’m sure you have your way of doing things. Just show him what you want and how you want it. He’s a good worker. Also, Arthur Wallace is my daughter’s trainer. You may see him around. They work together two or three times a week.

Sounds good. I should be there around lunchtime tomorrow.

He nodded and walked away.

Um…what the hell was that? Tibby asked.

I got a job. Long story. I need to get moving. Our fathers have a flight to catch, and I need to get back to Reno. I’ll call you. She hugged him quickly and took off running towards the parking lot.

TWO

I don’t see why you keep wasting your time with that horse, Allison McKinley grumbled, eyeing her father as she dismounted her large dapple grey mare. And why does this new trainer have to live here? The last trainer kept the horse at his stable.

A young man appeared, taking the reins from her and walking her horse towards the stable. Give her a couple of treats from the red bag in the feed room, please, Ollie, she said, removing her riding helmet and turning her attention back to her father.

She doesn’t live in the state, he replied, lighting a cigar.

I thought you were quitting, she scolded.

He shrugged. There’s more. Her horse will be stabled here too, and she has free rein of the property…except the covered arena. He watched his daughter’s face distort as her mind raced. She’s a barrel racer, so in her off time, she’ll be training in the open arena.

Great. She gritted her teeth. She and her horse didn’t need any distractions. He hired a country bumpkin rodeo queen to train his thoroughbred. He’s lost his damn mind.

She’s here, he said, seeing his phone ringing to allow someone through the front gate of the property.

Wonderful, she muttered and walked away. Her horse needed to be brushed and fed.

Give her a chance, Allison. I need this horse to win, he called to her back.

*

Carly Rae had no idea what to expect. Her father had given her one of his fatherly wisdom speeches on the way back to Reno, mostly telling her she could do anything she put her mind to, while reiterating the fact that training a thoroughbred was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done. He’d never tell her what to do, only offer advice. Her mistakes were hers to make, and she rarely made them.

Here we go, she said to the empty cab as she put the truck in drive and waited for the gates to swing open. She followed the road that wound around towards what appeared to be the stable and work area, with the opposite way leading towards a large, two-story house.

She turned down the blues song blasting on the stereo and pulled to a stop, killing the engine when she saw Harris McKinley wave. He was walking towards her, dressed in pressed jeans and a black button shirt under a black blazer. Brown leather shoes matched his brown belt. A thin line of smoke rose from the cigar in his right hand.

Mr. McKinley, she said, getting out the truck and holding her hand out to him. She was dressed in jeans, boots, and a white tank top that hugged her upper body.

How was the drive? he asked.

Fine. I’m sure Firefly is ready to get out, stretch her legs, and eat a little hay, though.

Take a walk with me first. I’ll show you around.

The stench of his cigar wafted in the air, making her stomach roll. Nevertheless, Carly Rae fell in step as he pointed out the white stable building with green trim, in front of them. Next to it on the right were the side by side arenas; one was completely open and the other was covered with a tin roof. Two turnout pastures were on the other side of the covered arena and adjacent to the stable, and a large pond sat about twenty-five yards away on the opposite side of the stable.

Let’s head inside, he said, snubbing out his cigar before ushering her into the stable. The hay barn is on the back of the building. The tack room and feed rooms are here on the right, the stalls are in the back past the wash and brush area. We have eight of them. Sir Rigsby is on one end and my daughter’s horse, Luna Mist, is on the other end and the opposite side. Feel free to choose whatever one you want, but please be courteous to my daughter. She prefers to have the stalls around her horse empty.

Sure. Carly Rae nodded.

Speaking of my daughter… he said as a woman walked out of a stall wearing tan jodhpur riding pants, a black short sleeved shirt, and black knee-high riding boots. A chestnut colored braid hung down past her shoulders. She turned milk chocolate brown eyes in their direction as she closed the gate of the stall. Allison, I’d like you to meet Carly Rae Walsh.

Hi, Carly Rae said, extending her hand.

The woman standing in front of Allison looked every bit the part of a country girl with Wrangler jeans, square toed western boots, and a shiny buckle on her leather belt. The only thing missing was a cowboy hat which she probably had somewhere. Her naturally bright blonde hair and grinning smile made her look young…too young to be a horse trainer. Allison avoided the big blue eyes staring back at her.

Nice to meet you. That’s Luna Mist in the stall back there. I’d appreciate it if you would avoid startling her, she said. Father, she added, kissing his cheek before walking out of the stable.

She’s not as cross as she seems. Her mother, my late wife, was French, but raised in the United Kingdom. Allison attended boarding school there. That’s where she learned to ride dressage. She’s every bit of her mother from tip to toe. He smiled. I just wish she’d ease up a little. Dressage is her entire life, he sighed.

I understand passion for something. Barrel racing is very much my life as well.

Yes. He nodded in agreement. Anyhow, the guest house is up a little closer to the main house, just around the corner, he continued as they walked back outside. Ollie! he called, relighting his cigar.

A young man came out of the covered arena where he’d been re-grading the dirt with the tractor a few minutes earlier.

This is Carly Rae. She’s Sir Rigsby’s new trainer. Anything she says, goes. She has a barrel racing horse that will be stabled here, and the open arena is hers to do as she pleases. Also, she will be staying in the guest house, so please get her the key as soon as possible so she can get settled in.

Yes, sir, he said, sticking his hand out to her.

Carly Rae smiled and shook back. I’m sure we’ll get to know each other well.

Yes, ma’am.

You don’t have to call me ma’am. Carly Rae will be fine.

Got it. Let me go get you that key. It’s in the stable office.

Well, I’ll leave you to it. Ollie can go over everything on Sir Rigsby with you. Let me know if you have any questions. I’m usually around or up at the main house.

Thank you, she said. As soon as he walked away, she turned back towards the barn and Ollie appeared with a key ring that had two keys dangling from it.

One is for the guest house. The other is for the stable, he informed.

Great. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand, I have a mare that I need to get out of that trailer and into a stall. I’m sure she’s tired, hungry, and as excited as I am to check out her new home for the next three months.

Sure. He smiled, walking alongside her. This is a nice rig you have here.

Carly Rae pulled the back door of the trailer down, revealing the chestnut colored palomino horse. She had a black muzzle and an interrupted white stripe on her face. All four of her legs had white socks, and her mane and tail were as light, buttery blonde as her owner’s hair. Seeing Carly Rae made her neigh with excitement.

Hey girl. It’s time to go get settled, Carly Rae soothed, patting her side and her neck as she stepped inside and removed the reins from the bar they were tied to. Come on, she said, clicking her teeth.

The horse began backing out of the trailer into the sunlight.

She’s gorgeous! Ollie exclaimed.

Thank you. Carly Rae smiled a row of perfect, white teeth. Firefly, this is Ollie. He’ll be nice to you, if you’re nice to him, she said. This is my girl, Firefly. We’ve won two pro rodeo barrel racing championships together.

Wow. That’s amazing, he replied, patting her neck and letting her sniff his hand to get used to him.

She’s very gentle, but will bite if you mistreat her.

Good to know. And don’t worry, Firefly. I’m gentle, too.

Come on, girl. Let’s go pick out a stall, Carly Rae said, tugging her reins slightly to get her moving as she led her inside the stable.

I’d recommend this one on the end across from Sir Rigsby. Ms. Allison keeps Luna Mist on the other end. She’s not too keen on anything being around her.

So, I’ve heard. This stall should be fine. Carly Rae opened the door and led the horse inside.

If you turn that nozzle down there, the trough will fill up with spring water. Does she eat a special diet like Luna Mist and Sir Rigsby?

Yes. I have a couple of 50lb bags of her feed mix in the trailer. She also gets alfalfa hay as a treat, she said as she turned on the water and removed her bridle. Here you go, girl. This is your home…for a few months anyhow.

I’ll go get her food stored in the feed room. Would you like me to give her a pail now? Tomorrow is my order day, so I will add her food to the list. Let me know if there is anything else you need to put on there.

Ollie, you don’t have to do all of that. I can take care of her.

"It’s not a problem, Ms. Carly Rae. I’m the stable hand, so it actually is my job."

It’s just Carly Rae. There’s nothing formal about me. She smiled.

He nodded.

Well, if you don’t mind doing your job, I guess I’ll go find this guest house and get settled in.

You can see the main house from here. The guest house is just off to the left. You can’t miss it. You can drop your trailer out where the other trailers are kept. There’s a gravel parking space out front of the guest house for your truck. It’s one of those tiny houses, so there’s no garage or anything, but it’s pretty spacious. Mr. Harris had it completely remodeled just last year. Everything is brand new. It has all of the furniture and pots and pans and stuff.

Sounds good. Let me know if you have any trouble out of her. I’ll come out later and check on her.

I’m sure she will be fine. I’m here from six to five Monday through Friday. I feed the horses breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and turn them out while I muck the stalls. I also wash and brush them. I can tack them up if you need me to as well. I also drag the arenas once they are closed for the day. Let me know if there is anything you need done.

As a matter of fact, I need three barrels for the open arena. If you tell me where I can find them, I’ll get them myself.

We usually have some. I’ll look around for you.

Thanks. I’m not in any rush, but I’d like to have it set up by the end of the week, she said, patting Firefly’s head.

THREE

The guesthouse was unlike anything Carly Rae had ever seen. It was a rust brown colored rectangle with an A-frame roof, similar to a large shed or garage. The front door was blue and the windows had white trim. An open concrete porch ran the length of it, surrounded by a three-foot tall, dog ear picket fence, painted the same color brown as the siding. Two blue Adirondack chairs were together near the door.

The upside-down L-shaped kitchen was the first thing she saw when she stepped inside. White marble countertops had blue cabinets underneath and a matching, small square island was in the middle. Drawers were on one side of the island and two bar stools were adjacent to each other on the opposite side. Brown floating shelves were along the wall above the counter top, over the stove and in the corner, holding the dishes and glassware, and pots and pans hung in the opening in the middle. All of the major appliances were stainless, but a white coffee pot and microwave blended into the corner of the otherwise bare counter. A window above the sink looked out over the property.

To the right of the kitchen, just passed the island, sat a chocolate colored suede couch with a chaise on one end, and a small coffee table. All of the walls in the house were white shiplap and the open beams were the same brown color as the kitchen shelves. Two large horse pictures hung on the wall, flanking the window over the couch.

The tightly-spaced bathroom, just on the other side of the kitchen wall, had a standard tub and shower combo with a glass door, a small cabinet with a ceramic bowl on top for the sink, and a compact toilet. Next to that room was a bi-fold door that hid the apartment style, over/under washer and dryer combo.

The end of the short hallway opened to the bedroom. A full-size bed was in the middle, with floating nightstands in the wall on either side, and a low-profile dresser along the opposite wall. The black furniture and shelving contrasted nicely against the white shiplap walls and bedding set. A flat screen TV hung on the wall next to the door of the small walk-in closet.

Carly Rae spent most of the barrel racing season living out of her horse trailer or the apartment she rented in Reno near the stable where she kept her horse, so she was used to small spaces and had always packed lightly. It had taken her less than thirty minutes to unpack and get situated in her new living space.

*

It was dark by the time Carly Rae made her way back out to the stable. A nightlight system stayed on to keep it from being pitch black inside, and each stall had a switch for its own overhead light as well. She wasn’t completely familiar with her surroundings, so she flipped on half of the overhead lights, leaving the lights over the stalls off, before quietly opening the door to Firefly’s stall and slipping inside.

What do you think of your new home, girl? Have you met your neighbors? she asked, petting the horse’s neck in long strokes. I know it’s not permanent, but three months is a lot longer than anywhere else. She reached back, pulling half of a fresh carrot from her back pocket. Don’t tell the others, she whispered, holding it while Firefly chomped down. I think you’re going to like it here, she continued. I have a big job ahead of me and I’m going to need your help.

When the large mare finished the carrot, Carly Rae shoved that hand into her front pocket and used the other to pet her face as she yawned. It’s been a long day for both of us. I’ll see you in the morning, she said before walking out and closing the door.

*

Half of the lights are on in the stable, Allison said when she walked into her father’s home office. The entire room was the color of an aged whiskey barrel, except for the antique crème colored, leather chairs across from the desk, and the black wingback chair her father was sitting in. The upper half of an entire wall had a built-in bookcase full of books, with large drawers filling the bottom half and a marble fireplace situated in the center.

She padded barefoot over the thick area rug and leaned against the corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the chairs, crossing her arms as she looked out at the property. Her eyes scanned over the heavy-duty Ford truck parked at the guest house, and focused on the stable a