# Pine Ridge Stables



## 3barrels2harts1dream (Oct 18, 2013)

Five minutes later, Veronica Powell was driving up the gravel driveway that lead to the Powell's simple but well groomed farmhouse. It was mere seconds after the truck was parked until Savannah darted into the house and got ready to go to the barn. Off came her flared Miss Me jeans and flowy blue button up, and in its place a pair of black Dublin riding pants and a red Areopostale tee shirt. She was wedging on her Ariat barn boot when her mother walked in the back door. She sighed in amusement at the sight of her daughter scrambling so wildly to get ready. "Slow down, hon. The barn will still be there no matter how quickly you get ready," she reminded Savannah, walking into the kitchen and setting her purse down on the granite topped island. "But mom! *Reagan* is gonna be at the barn! And I can't let her get better than me before showing starts!" Savannah explained with gusto, looking at her mother with meaningful blue eyes. Veronica frowned. "You better ride for your horse and not for the ribbons, Savannah. Do you understand?" She reprimanded sternly, arching a plucked eyebrow. Savannah ducked her head. "Yes mom, I do." She replied, shoving her other boot on. With her Charles Owen riding helmet tucked between her arm and body, Savannah grabbed an apple from the ceramic bowl on the kitchen counter and headed out to the truck, her mother in tow. 
It was a short 10 minute drive to Pine Ridge Stables, and by the time Savannah had polished off her apple - she was saving the core for her horse, of course - her mother was pulling into the stable's well kept driveway. The truck was parked, goodbye's were exchanged, and Savannah hopped out of the passenger seat. She strode into the barn, the aroma of field-fresh hay and grain hitting her nostrils strongly. The barn smell was better than any chocolate chip cookie. Savannah walked into the tack room, and hung her helmet up on its nail peg. She turned around to grab her halter and lead rope when she ran into none other than the devil herself, Reagan. "Watch where you're going," Reagan snapped, her nose wrinkled in clear disdain. Savannah fumbled with her words before finding something to say. "I didn't mean to," she muttered, slipping back out into the isle and towards the pastures. She heaved a sigh. Reagan was only half of her frustration- the other part came from how she couldn't think of something quick to say afterwards. Savannah cold definitely keep her own. But prissy Reagan's demanding attitude left her tongue tied and irritated, most of the time.


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## 3barrels2harts1dream (Oct 18, 2013)

Savannah leaned against the white wooden fence of the North pasture. Soft green grass covered the hilly field, and not a single weed was in sight. In the golden light of the vibrant sun that was just beginning to touch the tips of the old willow tree's by the barn, Savannah spotted her palomino. Solaris was a six year old Appendix Quarterhorse, 16 hands high and completely full of himself. His pale, soft coat was light and dappled, and the fuzzy tips of his hair glowed as the slanted sunlight hit them. "Sol! Baby!" Savannah called, swinging her lanky legs over the fence. She rarely used the gate to enter the pastures- they were far to mainstream for her. Solaris raised his fly-masked head as Savannah walked towards him. "C'mere, my blindfolded amigo," Savannah cooed, clicking her tongue. Solaris dragged out a long snort, before grabbing one last bite of grass and ambling lazily towards Savannah. She took off Sol's grey fly mask and switched it out for his faded blue rope halter and lead rope. With Solaris matching her stride for stride, Savannah broke into a long legged run, clicking to her gelding. "C'mon Sol! Let's go!" she laughed, the lead rope slack in her flailing hands. There was no need to pull on it- Solaris would willingly canter beside her. Savannah had only owned Solaris for just over a year, but she had put every spare minute into bonding and working with him, and clearly it showed. Savannah lead Sol out of the pasture, making sure the gate was shut firmly behind them before bringing Sol into the barn. They walked past wooden stalls until Savannah had reached the pair of cross ties she always hooked Sol up in. "Let's get you prettied up." Savannah declared, merely dropping the leadrope on the packed dirt ground and giving Sol his ground tye cue.~


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## horsedream568 (Nov 29, 2013)

I like it! It's good!


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