I did it as he directed, and the mare moved forward in a smooth walk. Gunner stayed beside us, one hand resting lightly on Stevie’s neck, the other hovering near my leg. Not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the promise of it.
“See,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Your body remembers.”
And it did, the rhythm, the subtle shifts needed to communicate with the horse. When I looked at him, though, I knew that there were other things that would stay with me, more than how to ride a horse. The way Gunner’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he was pleased, how his hand felt against my spine, but most of all the timbre of his voice when his words were for my ears only.
“I think I’ve got it,” I said, growing more confident as the three of us completed another circle of the paddock.
“You definitely do,” he agreed, stepping back to watch me. “Try a figure eight, gentle on the turns.”
Bertie, who was leading our line, turned around in her saddle. “Can I try that Uncle Gunner?”
“Nuh uh, short stuff,” he chuckled. “You need more practice first. Miss. Turner has a lot more experience than you.”
“Hardly.” I made a grimacing face, making Bertie give out a loud belly laugh.
Lucas, clearly not as comfortable in the saddle, sat upright and stiff. “What’s funny?” he asked, still looking dead ahead.
“Miss. Turner made a funny face,” Bertie told him. “She’s going to do figure eights now.”
“I want to see,” Lucas pleaded.
“Hey,” I called. “I’m no barrel racer. This could go horribly wrong.”
Gunner laughed deep in his chest and moved over to Lucas. “Give Christine a little squeeze with your right leg, just there behind her girth,” he told him. “Gently, and she’ll turn around.”
Lucas completed the maneuver, with a lot of help from Christine, and raised his fist in victory. “I did it, Bertie. I got her to turn.”
Bertie, who had already turned her pony, Caleb Pontipee, grinned at him. “That was so good, Lucas.”
“Okay, guys,” Gunner said, placing his hands loosely on his hips. “Let’s watch Miss. Turner do a figure eight.”
Feeling absurdly nervous, I guided Stevie through the pattern. On my third go around I caught Gunner watching me, pride evident in his expression. Not the smug satisfaction I would have once expected from him, but something warmer, more genuine.
“Uncle Gunner, is Miss. Turner going to jump the fence next?” Bertie called from where she and Lucas watched me, wide-eyed like I’d just done something spectacular.
Gunner laughed. “Not today, short stuff. Baby steps.”
“I don’t know,” I teased, feeling bold as I circled back toward him. “I’m a quick study.”
“That you are,” he agreed, reaching up to take the reins as I brought Stevie to a stop in front of him. “But some things are worth taking slow.”
The double meaning in his words hung between us as his hands came to my waist, strong and sure as he helped meto dismount. As my feet touched the ground, I found myself pressed against him, his hands lingering at my sides as I tilted my face up to his. His body warm from the sun and an afternoon’s work.
Time seemed suspended in the golden light, the soft nickering of horses and the distant laughter of Bertie and Lucas fading as I became acutely aware of his heartbeat. It was strong and fast against my palm where it rested on his chest, shifting when my gaze rested on his lips.
“Thank you for the lesson,” I whispered, my feet rooted to the ground despite every instinct telling me to step away.
Sunset burnished his face in gold, softening the hard edges. His gaze dropped to my lips just for a heartbeat, but long enough.
“Anytime, sweetheart.” The word hung between us, heavy with something that hadn’t been there before. “You’re a natural. Most people fight the horse, trying to force control.” He paused, something shifting in his expression. “But you... you moved together. Trusted each other.”
The way he said it made me wonder if we were still talking about riding.
I felt like I understood the words he wasn’t saying—that we’d been on the same journey—that we’d started to trust each other as we worked together.
I swallowed and admitted, “Maybe I’m learning to trust more than I used to.”
Gunner scratched the back of my neck and gave me a crooked smile. “Guess we’re both getting better at this whole trusting-people thing. Weird, huh?”
