bay horse and led him toward the gate, squinting into the sun that sat on the rim of the hills behind the cabins. “Right now?”
“Sure thing.” Charlie said he would ask Hadley for a ten-minute break, then join her at the round pen.
So Kirstie had Rocky inside the ring and was lunging him on a fifteen-foot rein when Charlie joined her. “He noticed the saddle slung over the fence,” she told him quietly. “I let him sniff at it for a while. He seemed OK about it, but I don’t know how he’ll be when I put it on his back.”
“He’ll be great,” Charlie told her. “I’ll take the rein while you fix his saddle.”
She took a deep breath. It was now or never. As Charlie slowed the horse from a trot to a walk, then reined him to a standstill, she approached with the saddle.
“That’s right, nice and easy,” Charlie said softly, as Rocky’s ears flicked and he bowed his head.
Kirstie lifted the heavy weight level with Rocky’s shoulders. Her arms ached with the effort, but she didn’t let the saddle drop straight down on the horse’s back. Instead, she let him turn his head to look, waited until he’d agreed that it was OK to go ahead, then eased it onto the curve of his back. Gently, gently, she lowered it until it rested comfortably in position.
“Easy, boy!” Charlie whispered. The lunge rein stayed relaxed in his hands.
“You’re doing great!” Kirstie soothed. She didn’t let Rocky see how keyed up she was as she lowered the cinch, took the strap under his belly, and brought it up the other side. Before the horse knew it, the buckles were fastened and stirrups lowered.
Rocky shifted under the new weight and the feel of the tight cinch. But he didn’t seem to seriously object.
“Good boy!” Now she praised him and patted him, rubbed his neck and shoulders, made a great fuss. “Trot him around the ring while I fetch the bridle,” she told Charlie, dashing to the tack room once more. As she unhooked a bridle from its peg, she saw Hadley and said he should come and watch. Then they bumped into Matt and Sandy in the yard. “Everyone come and see this!” Kirstie insisted, running back into the pen.
And now she was confident that Rocky would trust her with the rest of the tack. She might even be able to ride him. But she mustn’t be too eager.
Slow and easy
, she told herself. Charlie grinned at her and she grinned back as she approached the horse.
“Now this bridle is just like a head collar,” she explained. “There’s a metal bar that slides inside your mouth, and a few straps around your face. I fasten it real simple, and the reins go over your head, like so.” Kirstie talked as she worked, conscious of her small audience standing at the gate.
Rocky shook his head and snorted. He felt the cold metal in his mouth; a strange sensation for the horse from the flat Wyoming plains. He turned to look at Kirstie with a big question mark in his eyes.
“This is so I can get up on your back,” she told him, keeping her voice calm and cheerful. “Sure, I know it’s a whole lot of fancy stuff and you’d let me on without it, but it helps me stay up there, believe me!”
“Try riding him,” Charlie urged.
Kirstie glanced at her mom, who hesitated, then nodded.
So Kirstie slid her left hand down Rocky’s neck and took hold of a bunch of coarse black mane along with the slim rein straps. She bent her left leg and hooked her foot into the stirrup, then, holding onto the curved back of the saddle with her right hand, she heaved herself off the ground and slung her free leg over.
“Yes!” Charlie breathed.
She was in the saddle, looking down at Rocky’s broad shoulders and long, coppery brown neck. He was skittering sideways, dancing a little, but not seriously misbehaving.
“That’s excellent, Kirstie!” Sandy called across the pen.
“Cool.” Matt nodded his approval.
Hadley said nothing, as usual.
But as the old wrangler called Charlie to help him saddle the other
“Sure thing.” Charlie said he would ask Hadley for a ten-minute break, then join her at the round pen.
So Kirstie had Rocky inside the ring and was lunging him on a fifteen-foot rein when Charlie joined her. “He noticed the saddle slung over the fence,” she told him quietly. “I let him sniff at it for a while. He seemed OK about it, but I don’t know how he’ll be when I put it on his back.”
“He’ll be great,” Charlie told her. “I’ll take the rein while you fix his saddle.”
She took a deep breath. It was now or never. As Charlie slowed the horse from a trot to a walk, then reined him to a standstill, she approached with the saddle.
“That’s right, nice and easy,” Charlie said softly, as Rocky’s ears flicked and he bowed his head.
Kirstie lifted the heavy weight level with Rocky’s shoulders. Her arms ached with the effort, but she didn’t let the saddle drop straight down on the horse’s back. Instead, she let him turn his head to look, waited until he’d agreed that it was OK to go ahead, then eased it onto the curve of his back. Gently, gently, she lowered it until it rested comfortably in position.
“Easy, boy!” Charlie whispered. The lunge rein stayed relaxed in his hands.
“You’re doing great!” Kirstie soothed. She didn’t let Rocky see how keyed up she was as she lowered the cinch, took the strap under his belly, and brought it up the other side. Before the horse knew it, the buckles were fastened and stirrups lowered.
Rocky shifted under the new weight and the feel of the tight cinch. But he didn’t seem to seriously object.
“Good boy!” Now she praised him and patted him, rubbed his neck and shoulders, made a great fuss. “Trot him around the ring while I fetch the bridle,” she told Charlie, dashing to the tack room once more. As she unhooked a bridle from its peg, she saw Hadley and said he should come and watch. Then they bumped into Matt and Sandy in the yard. “Everyone come and see this!” Kirstie insisted, running back into the pen.
And now she was confident that Rocky would trust her with the rest of the tack. She might even be able to ride him. But she mustn’t be too eager.
Slow and easy
, she told herself. Charlie grinned at her and she grinned back as she approached the horse.
“Now this bridle is just like a head collar,” she explained. “There’s a metal bar that slides inside your mouth, and a few straps around your face. I fasten it real simple, and the reins go over your head, like so.” Kirstie talked as she worked, conscious of her small audience standing at the gate.
Rocky shook his head and snorted. He felt the cold metal in his mouth; a strange sensation for the horse from the flat Wyoming plains. He turned to look at Kirstie with a big question mark in his eyes.
“This is so I can get up on your back,” she told him, keeping her voice calm and cheerful. “Sure, I know it’s a whole lot of fancy stuff and you’d let me on without it, but it helps me stay up there, believe me!”
“Try riding him,” Charlie urged.
Kirstie glanced at her mom, who hesitated, then nodded.
So Kirstie slid her left hand down Rocky’s neck and took hold of a bunch of coarse black mane along with the slim rein straps. She bent her left leg and hooked her foot into the stirrup, then, holding onto the curved back of the saddle with her right hand, she heaved herself off the ground and slung her free leg over.
“Yes!” Charlie breathed.
She was in the saddle, looking down at Rocky’s broad shoulders and long, coppery brown neck. He was skittering sideways, dancing a little, but not seriously misbehaving.
“That’s excellent, Kirstie!” Sandy called across the pen.
“Cool.” Matt nodded his approval.
Hadley said nothing, as usual.
But as the old wrangler called Charlie to help him saddle the other
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