Page 18 of Cowboy in Colorado

I adjust my hold on the reins. “Like this?”

Theo nods. “Yep, just like that.” She puts a palm between my foot and Tinkerbell’s ribs. “Now, keep your heels away from her. You can hold on with your knees, your thighs, your calves, just keep your heels away. Tapping her with your heels means go faster. You can squeeze, but don’t tap or kick, or she’ll think you want her to go faster.”

“I don’t think I’ll want her to go faster.”

“No, probably not yet. I mean, there’s no rush in the world like being on the back of a fast horse galloping like the wind, but I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet. For now, just hold on with your legs.” She pulls one leg away. “Basic commands—if you want her to go left, put your right leg hard against her ribs and your left leg away, like this. She moves away from pressure. So pushing your right leg against her means go left. Make sense?”

“I think so.”

“That works in combination with the reins, which is obvious—pullgentlyon the right rein to go right, and vice versa. You really don’t need the reins, as she’ll listen just to leg commands, but it’s good to know, especially for a first timer. You are going in a straight line, more or less, so you shouldn’t need to turn at all, but it’s good to know anyway.”

“How do I stop her?”

“Pull back with the reins and squeeze hard with both legs.” She frowns. “Well, just be gentle. Don’t panic. You don’t have to jerk or squeeze like crazy—that’ll just irritate her. Squeeze with your legs, pull back on the reins, and say ‘Whoa.’ Easy.”

“Ha, yeah…easy,” I say, my voice faint. “Anything else I need to know?”

“About horse riding?” She laughs. “Just about everything. That should get you there and back, though.” She lifts a finger. “Oh, wait. One last thing.” She grabs the reins down near the bit. “In case of emergency, like she’s freaked out by something and starts acting up like she’s gonna throw you—which, again, is very unlikely—reach way down her by her head and pull hard so her face is by your knee. She can’t buck or rear if her head’s like this. It’s called short-reining, and it’s just for real emergencies.”

“Got it. But there won’t be any emergencies, right?” I ask.

Theo grins. “Not a one. It’s just a nice easy ride across the pasture, that’s all.” She pats Tinkerbell again. “She’s a sweet girl. Talk to her. She hears you, and she’ll respond to you. Just talk like you would to a dog, encouragement, stuff like that.” She lets go of the bridle. “Now, I’ll open this gate here, and you just ease her through it. Shift your butt forward and tell her to walk, and she’ll start walking. Then, just give her some slack and she’ll take you to Alpha.”

It’s hard to keep my breathing even, and fear of failure is the only thing keeping me from getting down off this huge animal. She’s wide, tall, powerful. I’m sitting on her and I’m hyperaware of the fact that this creature weighs a thousand pounds and can run at a dead gallop for hours, can pull a wagon weighing several hundred pounds, could throw me, stomp on me, kill me. Yet, she’s letting me sit on her back, holding a piece of leather connected to some metal in her mouth. That’s all that’s controlling her—and my trust in her training.

I’m dizzy, and I have to grit my teeth as Theo walks toward a metal gate a dozen feet from where I sit on the horse. Swinging it open, Theo gestures me through.

I gulp, grip the reins tighter, and shift my seat forward like Theo instructed. “Walk, Tinkerbell.”

With a snort that sounded almost amused, she plods forward, and then we’re in motion and the whole world is tilting as the earth under me moves. Or so it feels.

“Ooohhhh shit!” I gasp. “Ohmygod, slow down!”

Theo is doubled over laughing. “She can’t go any slower or she’ll be stopped, Brooklyn!” When she’s regained her composure, she calls after me, “Calm down, woman. You’re perfectly safe. You’re just sitting on big, living, breathing motorcycle. One with a mind of her own and four legs instead of two wheels. You just have to be calm and stay in control.”

“Calm and in control,” I repeat. I rub Tinkerbell’s neck. “I’m calm, and I’m in control.”

Tinkerbell snorts, whinnies softly, and angles for the fence without me so much as twitching the reins, as if to say,no, lady, I am in charge. I spend the first few minutes just learning to stay seated in the saddle, and even after a few minutes, it’s obvious I’m going to be sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. But after a while, I realize it does feel oddly natural to be in the saddle. I also realize why Theo wanted me to change shoes—the slick, slippery, angled soles keeps sending my feet sliding into the stirrup, until I have to angle my foot to hook the heel against the stirrups…the process of learning this means I accidentally nudge Tinkerbell with my heels, sending her into a trot.

At which point I promptly scream, forget everything Theo told me, and lean forward against the horse’s neck, howling and panicking and screaming. But, she doesn’t stop or slow down.

“Tinkerbell, stop! Stop!”

What did Theo just tell me? How do I stop?

Shit, shit, shit!

Squeeze with my heels, pull back on the reins, and say whoa.

I fight through my panic, jolting and jouncing on the back of this massive, trotting beast; tug on the reins, squeeze with my legs. “Whoa! Tinkerbell, whoa!”

Immediately, the horse stops dead.

I collapse forward against the saddle and her neck, the horn digging into my chest. “Okay, okay. I can do this.”

Why am I doing this again?

Oh, right, to prove myself to Dad. Which means making my mark in a unique way. God knows this idea is unique. And crazy. An historical village? What was I thinking? I should’ve gone with the all-inclusive resort—at least that would’ve meant a trip to a tropical beach somewhere, instead of landing me on the back of a horse in the middle of Colorado’s wilderness. Panicking.