Once we were inside, I showed her how to clip the horse’s halter to the crossties and she watched, wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure whether the horse—or maybe even I—was going to bite her or something.
“Be right back,” I said, heading to grab the tack. When I returned, her face had gone pale.
“Still fine?” I asked, brow raised.
She gave me a sheepish nod. “What do you do first?”
The corner of my mouth lifted, just a little. “I’ll show you how this works today,” I said, settling into a steady tone. “Next time, I’ll talk you through it while you do the work. After that, you’re on your own.”
The look on her face saidterrified, but she nodded again.
I saddled the mare slowly, talking her through every step, and she watched carefully. “And that’s how it’s done,” I said when I stepped back. “Simple, right?”
“You did that really fast,” she said.
“Years of practice.” I chuckled. “You’ll have it down in no time. Come on.”
I handed her the reins and, together, we walked the mare outside to the round pen. Closing the gate behind us, I gestured for her to stop and explained how to get on. “Left hand on the saddle horn, left foot in the stirrup. Then grab the back of the seat with your right hand, haul yourself up, and swing your right leg over to the other side.”
She blinked at me. “You want me to grab what and put my foot where?”
I grinned. “Saddle horn. Stirrup. Right here.” I pointed to each.
“Oh. Okay,” she said, looking adorably overwhelmed.
She gave it a go—gave it effort—but didn’t make it far.
“Want some help?”
“Please.”
I crouched beside her, cupping my hands for a leg up. “Foot here. Ready? One, two, three?—”
She pushed off just fine, but the momentum was a little too much. She went up, over, and then straight back down—hard—into the dirt.
“Holy shit, are you okay?” I rushed around the horse, concerned but at the same time shocked as shit.
“Ow,” she said, pushing herself upright.
“Did you bruise your butt?” I teased, only after it was obvious she was physically okay.
“Ha, ha,” she deadpanned.
“Sorry,” I said, still grinning. “I’ve just never seen anyone do that outside of a movie.”
I offered my hand. She brushed the dirt from hers, took mine, and I helped her up.
“I think I’ll try it without your help this time,” she said with a determined look.
“You got it.” I stepped back and watched.
She hesitated with one foot in the stirrup, her hand white-knuckled on the saddle horn. I could already tell her whole body was locked up tight. Still, she gave it another go, hauling herself up and over. She didn’t fall this time, but the second her weight settled into the saddle, the mare shifted uneasily beneath her.
Andi gasped and grabbed the horn again. “She’s moving.Why is she moving?”
“She’s reacting to you,” I said, stepping in close. “You’re tense, and she feels it.”
The mare sidestepped again, and I reached for the reins to settle her. My voice stayed calm, even. “Hey, easy girl. You’re okay.” I ran a hand along the mare’s neck, then looked up at Andi. “Breathe, Andi. You’ve got this.”
