Page 18 of Bales and Brawn

Muscles I didn’t even know I had, certainly not ones I’ve felt before. I manage to stagger down the stairs like I’ve aged fifty years overnight.

“Feeling it, are you?” Zane asks as I walk stiffly across the barn.

“Who knew there were muscles so deep in your butt. I can feel it right in here.” I push a finger somewhere in the middle of my butt cheek, and he follows my movement.

His eyes blink a couple of times and then he says gruffly, “I told you to relax more.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve been riding forever.” He gives a grunt, which could almost be a chuckle.

“Now are you ready to learn how to saddle her?”

“Only if you’re sure I’m worthy and I’m not going to give up,” I say drily, and it earns me another grunt chuckle, but he shows me anyway.

At first it’s a bewildering mess of leather and straps and metal rings, but Zane is patient and goes through it several times until it starts to make sense about what goes where, and I make a passable job of tacking Bonnie up. Then he hands me her reins.

“What’s the lesson for today?” He doesn’t answer but heads into the next stall and leads out a black horse I hadn’t noticed. It’s already saddled and ready to go.

“We’re going for a ride,” is all he says as he leads the way out of the barn, leaving me to follow him. He checks that I mount alright, and then clips a rope onto Bonnie and attaches it to the horn of the saddle of the other horse before swinging effortlessly up.

“What’s his name?” I ask as he sits easily.

“Blackwing.” Yeah, that suits him.

We set off walking past the paddock where I’ve been having lessons and out towards the hay fields. It’s a much more open space, and I’m glad he also has hold of Bonnie, not that she shows any sign of carting me off towards the horizon. Now that I’m in the saddle, perversely, my muscles don’t ache as much as when I was walking. I sneak a few looks over at him. He does look good on a horse, and it’s more than just being relaxed. It’s like he belongs there, as if he’s settled into himself and he’s not pretending to be someone else. I’m still pondering over this curious state when he suggests a trot.

“Oh god, okay.” I say and prepare myself to be shaken about. Maddeningly, he doesn’t seem to move at all, and I try to adopt his posture more, finding it does actually help.

“Want to try a lope?” he asks, just as I think I’m finally getting the hang of the trot.

“What’s that?”

“It’s faster than a trot, but smoother. I think you’ll like it.”

“Well, I’ve got nothing to lose except my dignity and my breakfast,” I say and get that almost-grin again, which makes my chest flutter slightly. Either that or it’s the effect of the trotting. He urges his horse forward and Bonnie follows.

“Oh. Actually, that’s not bad,” I say as soon as I get the rhythm of it.

“Told you.” He looks over and gives me an appraising look. “Much better.”

I try not to sit a little straighter at his praise and fail.

We circle a large field and then start to head back towards the farm. Suddenly the horses break stride and go back to a juddering trot. I’m wholly unprepared and lurch forward.

“Woah,” I shout and both horses stop dead. I slowly pitch over Bonnie’s shoulder and end up on my back looking up at the blue sky, the breath knocked out of me.

Zane is off his horse and looming over me within a second.

“Are you alright?” Concern is etched on his face.

I sit up and wheeze until the air can re-enter my lungs. Nothing appears to be broken.

“I think so.”

He offers me his hand, easily pulling me up onto my feet, and I brush myself down.

“I still have my breakfast, so I guess it was just my dignity, then,” I say and he chuckles.

“I did say they were trained to stop at woah.”