The horse moved forward and ambled over to where Mack was waiting. The bulk of my rear end was pushed up off the saddle by two very tense ass-cheek muscles.
He couldn’t breathe for a little while, due to all the laughing he was doing. I, on the other hand, was sweating-hot and cranky, wondering what had possessed me to listen to this idiot and get up on this monster when I knew damn well it would be a mistake. He could charm the fangs off a snake if he wanted to. “Can we go back now? I think I’ve seen enough scenery.”
Mack leaned over and grabbed my horse’s reins, pulling the animal up next to his. “Get over here, girl,” he said, wrapping his hand around my neck and pulling me closer. He leaned in and kissed me right on the mouth.
I squealed against his lips, fearing I was going to fall too much to appreciate their warmth.
“I gotcha,” he said, putting his arm around my waist and steadying me. My horse shifted under the saddle, but she didn’t move away.
I let him kiss me this time briefly before pushing him back. It felt too nice not to. “You’re going to make me fall,” I said, pushing him away.
He smiled, all kinds of happiness lighting up his eyes. It made me think of sugary sweetness and vulnerability, things I never showed anyone. Things I’d removed from my repertoire a long time ago. He’s braver than me.
“I think you’re going to be a natural in the saddle,” he finally said.
I tried to hit him, but he was too far away. “I think when I finally get off this thing, I’m going to kill you. I hope you can run fast.” I plucked the reins off the horse’s neck and held them in a slightly-less-shaky grip.
“Is that a promise? Cuz if it is, I can run extra slow and give you half a chance of catching me.” He winked and clicked his tongue, sending his horse forward and leaving me behind again. He spoke to me without looking back. “Pick up the slack in the reins, but don’t pull on them. Rest your toes in the stirrups but don’t squeeze the horse with your legs. Just pretend you’re straddling a log. Find your center balance.”
“Straddling a log,” I grumbled quietly to myself. “Why don’t you go straddle a log, you big dope.” I gathered up the reins and pictured myself riding a stupid log over a stupid rushing river, letting my stupid moccasined feet just hang down.
The horse moved forward instead of backwards, and after a while I was surprised to find her pace calm and relaxing. The rocking motion soon worked its magic on me, lowering my blood pressure and dispersing the images of death that had crowded my mind. I took a deep breath and exhaled, letting out all the tension that had gathered. As my butt cheeks took a vacation from turning into rock, I settled lower into the saddle and found the process of riding the horse almost pleasant.
We wound our way through some trees and piles of rock, steadily moving uphill towards a near mountain range. Sitting high up on the tall horse, I could see everything normally blocked to me when on foot, the vista spreading out before us like an impressionistic painting done entirely in nature’s most beautiful shades of green, brown, and blue.
Neither of us spoke, making it easier for the sounds of the wild West to trickle in and take over my normally busy-with-words mind: a hawk screeching; wind blowing through branches; leather squeaking and creaking on the saddle; the horses’ footsteps over rocks and crunchy plant debris … swish, clop, swish, swish, clockle, crack … swish, clop, clop, crack. A bark announced the arrival of one of the ranch dogs, who raced past us and took the lead on the path.
Maeve’s words came back to me, how she liked to let the men drive so she could enjoy the scenery … how Baker City was one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I’d argued with her then in my mind, but right now I wasn’t, and I knew I never would again. It was wild here and untamed for sure, but its savage beauty was something I’d never seen before in real life, living in cities and their suburbs. Majestic was a word that came to mind as I scanned the landscape around me. A spiritual place. It made sense that Native Americans had chosen to settle in this area of the country. I felt really connected to the Earth for some reason.
It was crazy to be feeling this way when I was a city-girl at heart, but denying it would do me no good. The irrational, emotional part of my brain might be claiming that I’d suffered a nervous breakdown over my destroyed wedding plans or the fallout that awaited me back home, but the fully functioning rational brain inside me and my heart too were both telling me the truth: that this place isn’t just a city on a map. It’s a home - a place where a person could be herself, and surround herself with people who loved her and respected her and laughed with her.