She nodded, but I could see the fear clinging to her. Her shoulders were up to her ears. Her knees pinched tight. Eyes wide like they’d seen a ghost.
I studied her for one more second, then made a quick decision. “Mind if I hop up behind you?”
She blinked. “You want to get on…withme?”
I was already swinging up behind her. The mare barely flinched, being well trained and used to two riders, as I settled in, my thighs bracketing Andi’s, and leaned in slightly. “Let me show you something,” I said, voice low by her ear. “Horses are insanely sensitive. They feel everything we do…pressure, tension…even what’s going on in our heads.”
Slowly, I slid my hands under her arms and gently splayed them just below her ribs. “Right now, imagine my hands are your legs.This…” I gave a firm, inward squeeze. “This is what you’re doing.”
Her breath hitched.
I waited. “What does that feel like to you?”
“Like…panic,” she said softly. “Like you’re scared.”
“Exactly,” I murmured. “That’s what the horse feels. She doesn’t know if you’re scared of her, or something else, or if she should be scared too. But that energy? She feeds off it.” I softened my grip, sliding my hands lower slightly to rest at her hips. “Now…try letting go of the fear. Relax. Breathe.”
I felt her inhale, deeper this time, then exhale slowly.
“Good,” I said, nodding. “Feel the difference?”
She nodded.
I kept one hand lightly on her hip as the other took the reins. “Let’s walk.” I guided the mare forward with a soft nudge. She stepped out smoothly, and I felt Andi’s body soften—still a little stiff but loosening.
We made a slow circle, then another.
“You’re doing great,” I said after a minute. “Think you can try it solo now?”
She glanced back at me, her eyes brighter. “Yeah. I think I can.”
I slid off smoothly and landed beside her, giving her leg a small, reassuring squeeze as I handed her the reins and backed away. With a gentle nudge, she moved the mare to the rail, but I saw it—the way her back went straight. The way her legs tensed. She clung to the horn with one hand, reins clutched tight in the other. Her posture screameddo not trust this horse, and the mare was starting to feel it.
“Hey,” I called out gently. “How’s it going?”
“I’m scared I’m going to fall off.”
“You won’t.” I stepped closer but kept my hands to myself. “Take a breath. Relax your legs a little.”
Her thighs were rigid, gripping the saddle like a vise.
“Remember, when you get all tight like that you’re telling her you’re scared,” I said. “Horses feel everything. That’s what makes them incredible…and unforgiving. They mirror you.”
She looked down at her hands, at her death grip on the horn. “What do I do?”
I stepped a little closer. “Trust her. And trust yourself. Let your hips move with her, not against her.”
She tried—sort of—but still looked like a scared-to-death statue sitting on one of our calmest horses.
“Okay, now you’re getting it,” I said. “Feel how her body rocks under you?”
“Kind of.”
“That’s because you’re still fighting it. You want the real trick?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m scared to ask.”
“Move your hips like you would…” I paused for a second, hesitating on just how blunt I should be with her before settling on, “...in bed.”
