Dakota Sterling's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Dakota Sterling wanted to win the championship held on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot, but she had no horse that could stand the place. The young mare she'd raised bolted at every slammed car door. Cracked pavement spooked her worse than snakes. Today Dakota led her onto the lot to try again, and the mare froze the second her hooves hit the broken asphalt. A delivery truck backfired. The mare screamed and yanked back so hard the lead rope tore Dakota's palm. She hit the pavement on one knee. Blood welled through her jeans. The mare bolted to the far fence and stood there shaking, eyes rolling white. Dakota stayed down a moment, breathing hard. The championship was six weeks out. She couldn't train a horse that couldn't cross the parking lot. She knew what she needed. Not a young horse fighting its own nerves. She needed one that had already heard every crowd and crack the arena could throw. So she made a call and drove two hours to a rancher selling off his string. The horse stood in a pen at the back. A chestnut gelding, thick through the chest, one ear notched from years of work. He didn't flinch when the rancher dropped a metal gate behind him. He'd spent his whole life in the arena, and it showed in the calm set of his head. Dakota clapped her hands beside his face. He only swiveled an ear at her. "He's steady as they come," the rancher said. "But he won't gentle for a stranger fast. He's testy till he trusts you." Dakota ran her hand down his neck. He tolerated it. Steady wasn't the same as broke-to-her. She needed control, and fast. From her truck she pulled the piece of tack she'd built for exactly this. A bridle rigged with small weights along the cheekpieces and noseband. The weight kept a hot head low and quiet, gave a rider leverage without a harsh bit. She slipped it over his ears. He tossed once, then felt the drag of the weights and settled. She stepped up into the saddle. He shifted, tested the reins, found them heavier than he expected. His head came down. She turned him left, then right. He answered. She paid the rancher in cash and loaded the gelding into her trailer. Back at the parking lot, she rode him onto the cracked asphalt. A car alarm went off across the lot. The gelding's ear flicked, nothing more. Dakota let out a breath she'd held for weeks. She finally had a mount that could stand the ground she meant to win on. Then the gelding planted his feet and refused to move forward. The weighted bridle held his head, but not his will. He tolerated the noise. He would not yet take her orders. She had a horse that could stand the lot, and a horse that wouldn't listen. Training started now, and she had six weeks.