It was a universal truth among horse people that if you were renting a horse, it was wise to downplay how much experience you actually had. The people who ran businesses like this had seen and heard it all, and they always—always—had at least one horse in the herd who could be relied upon to humble the cockiest of riders.
Eric and I knew what we were doing, but we had also signed up for an enjoyable trail ride. We weren’t here to show off or make sure everyone knew how advanced we were. So, neither of us volunteered that we had any experience riding horses beyond“I’ve ridden before and I know how to stop and steer.”
One of the other people in the group, a woman named Jackie, announced, “I’m competing in fourth-level dressage and I’ve been to Regionals in Hunter/Jumper. Iknowwhat I’m doing.”
Carole kept her expression mostly placid, but the mischievous sparkle in her eyes almost made me laugh out loud. Ooh, Jackie was in for it today, wasn’t she?
Carole turned to the barn hands. “Bring out Lucky, Star, Bubba, and Kirby.”
The boys nodded, but I couldn’t help noticing that when she said “Kirby,” they both raised their eyebrows, then smirked.
Something told me Kirby was the creature who would be bringing Jackie down a peg today.
Minutes later, Eric glanced past me, then did a double take, and his eyes went huge. “Ooh, shit.” He gestured in that direction. “How much you want to bet that’s going to be Jackie’s horse?”
I turned, and I couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.
One of the hands was coming back with two horses. A tall bay plodded along to his left. At his right? A chestnut with its ears pinned and tail swishing. It had to be a mare. Had to be. Among horses, there was no bitchier creature than a chestnut mare, and this one gave off “chestnut mare” energy like few I’d ever seen.
I clapped a hand over my mouth. Eric did his best to stifle a laugh, but he was failing miserably.
As the guy walked past, I caught a glimpse of the name plate on the mare’s halter:
Kirby.
Oh, yeah. This was going to be an interesting ride.
Carole brought out two other horses, and we waited while she and the hands got them all saddled. When they were ready, we were each given a helmet and a horse, then directed to the arena to ride for a few minutes and get used to our respective horses.
I was assigned to Star, a tall black mare with—as her name suggested—a tiny white star on her forehead. She was pretty mellow, though she clearly did not like Kirby, which seemed to be mutual. Duly noted.
Star had a long stride and a fast walk. Her trot was a bit choppy, but fortunately, I’d learned to ride English, so I knew how to post—standing up and sitting down in time with her gait for a smoother ride. Her canter was smoother than her trot, and not too fast, either; more of a rocking lope that was seriously comfortable to ride. I doubted we’d be doing much if anycantering on the trail, but it was still fun. Felt nice to be literally back in the saddle, too.
It's long past time—I need to get a horse.
As I slowed Star to a walk, Carole eyed me from where she sat on Hank, a giant thoroughbred. “I thought you said you didn’t have much experience.”
“Well, I mean…” I shrugged. “I’ve never shown fourth-level dressage.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Smart man. Smart man.”
I just chuckled.
She nodded toward the other end of the arena, where Eric had Lucky in a slow, easy canter. “Your boyfriend kept the same card close, didn’t he?”
“My—” I cleared my throat. “Oh, he’s not—I mean, we’re not…”
“Oh!” She snapped her head toward me, her face full of horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume! You guys just…” The horror deepened. She probably thought she’d just told a straight guy he seemed gay.
“We’re not together, but we’re not straight either,” I clarified.
The relief was palpable. “Okay. I’m—still, I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me.”
“Eh. It’s fine.” I flashed her a smile and shrugged. Then I watched Eric and Lucky. God, I could see why she’d clocked that he knew more than just how to steer and stop a horse. There was a way inexperienced riders often sat while a horse moved that gave them away. They were a little stiff, almost like they were resisting their body’s attempt to movewiththe horse. It was pretty obvious at the walk, but impossible to miss at the trot or canter, since they were faster and had more exaggerated movements.
With experience came a certain suppleness and looseness. The hips and back adapted smoothly to every motion, and the rider effortlessly moved with the horse.
Eric… was definitely experienced. Maybe he wasn’t competing, but he knew what he was doing, and he was so comfortable that he made it look effortless.
