I turned to see Ricky still standing outside the stall.
“Come,” I said. “Introduce yourself and give him a pat.”
Wary, he entered slowly and hugged the wall of the stall, coming around on the side of the horse.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t sneak around him. You’ll spook him. Come straight to him. Let him see you. Let him know you’re kind and you’re coming to see him.”
“How do I let him know I’m kind?”
“Talk to him, gently, softly.”
He looked at Buster.
“Come to him slowly.”
He took a few steps closer. “Hello, Buster. I’m Ricky. Ricky Stone. I’ve worked on a number of movies, but I’ve never been asked to ride a horse before so...”
Buster whinnied and took a step back.
“What does that mean?”Ricky said.
“I think he questions your sincerity.”
“Well, Buster,” Ricky said. “I need to learn how to get on a horse, and I need to learn fast. Are you with me?”
Buster whinnied again and shook his head.
“Perhaps you could compliment him instead of giving him your list of needs.”
He glanced up at me. “Right.” He approached Buster. “Hey, boy. You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are. And you’re a gentle boy, aren’t you? So gentle...just like Betsy.”
Ricky finally made physical contact with the animal and Buster accepted the gentle touch.
“I’ll show you how to ready him for a ride,” I said.
I left him alone with Buster and went to the tack room to pick up a bridle and saddle.
“Here you go,” I said as I returned.
“What am I supposed to do with all this?”
“This,” I said, holding up the bridle. “The bit goes in his mouth, this over his cheeks and back up here past his ears with the reins resting here.”
He glanced at the tiny saddle. “I thought saddles were big and manly.”
I smiled. “This is an English saddle. What you’re thinking of is a Western saddle.”
“Can’t we get one of those?”
I let out a laugh. “I seriously doubt the men of the Jane Austen era rode on Western saddles.”
With my help, he managed to get the bit into Buster’s mouth, got the bridle on properly and even put the small saddle atop Buster’s back and buckled it up properly.
“Good.”
Ricky leaned into me. “You’re a very good teacher,” he said, his eyes implying so much more. “I don’t think that I would be doing this if I were with anyone else. You have a way of calming me, of reassuring me.”
“It helps to have a good pupil,” I said. “You’re very open to learning everything there is to know.”
