Page 115 of We Drank the Dawn

Yet my skyrocketing pulse and rapidly sweating skin made me feel anything but fine.

I followed the sound of Tag’s boots in the dust until we reached the opposite side of the fence. He murmured, “Hey there, Lady,” as his hand gently patted her. He turned to me. “She’s a buckin’ horse, but she’s getting old. Retirement is just around the corner.”

“She won’t try to buck me off?”

Tag chuckled. “Not at all.” He moved past me a few steps. “Alright, Peter. I got a saddle over here on a saw horse.”

I stepped up to it, reaching until my fingers brushed leather, warm from the sun.

“I’m gonna walk you through the parts of the saddle.”

Swallowing, I nodded.

For the next ten minutes, Tag taught the saddle’s anatomy. The cantle, horn, back housing, pommel, strap, cinch, billet, fender, and on and on. My fingers slipped over each part, and I noted little designs pressed into the leather. I wondered what they looked like but didn’t ask. Then Tag gave me a pop quiz, which I passed.

The entire time, a question pressed into my brain until I had to ask.

“Why are you teaching me this, Tag?”

His movement stopped. When he didn’t immediately answer, I continued, “It would be easier to just stick me in a stall with a pitchfork or send me to gather rocks from a pasture.” I shook my head. “Why fool with teaching me how to do stuff that will just slow you down? Everyone has been really patient, but I’m not an idiot. I know that having me around hinders more than helps.”

His answer was firm but kind. “Because we all believe you can do anything you set your mind to. And we want you to believe that too.”

I shook my head. “I definitely do not believe that.”

“You will eventually.” He sounded so sure. “Sometimes the only way to stop bein’ afraid of something is to just tackle it. So, grab the saddle and bring it over here.”

Clenching my teeth, I obeyed, slipping my hands beneath the saddle and heaving it into my arms. I took the few steps between the sawhorse and Lady May and attempted to lift it on her back. She was tall though and it took me a few tries to get the blanket flat under the saddle. Finally, when the straps were hanging loose and ready, Tag walked me through how to buckle them all and how tight each one needed to be.

Somewhere along the line, Jesse wandered over. Then I heard Cooper and Harlan’s voices nearby, and to my utter horror, Nora’s loud, “Yay! Uncle Peter is riding a horse!” cut through the arena. Based on the chatter of children near the driveway, an audience had gathered, and I wasn’t happy about it. My tense limbs and quaking stomach would put on quite the show, no doubt.

“Last time you rode was…”

“Your wedding.”

“You need a refresher on how to mount?”

I wracked my brain for the instructions. “I remember Harlan teaching us. Grab the horn and put your weight in the ball of your foot while you stand, right?”

“You right-handed?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Right hand on the cantle then, left on the horn. As you stand, you can move both hands to the horn and swing your leg over. Give it a go whenever you’re ready.”

The arena fell deathly quiet. My stomach rose into my throat and heat prickled over the back of my neck. I didn’t want to do this, but I could hardly chicken out with everyone watching my every move.

I tried to swallow down my fear, but it moved into my chest, making my breaths shallow.

Thankful for the bill of my hat, I tipped it toward the ground, hiding beneath it.

My hands lifted, finding the horn and the cantle, which sat a touch higher than my shoulder level. I gripped them, but sweat slicked my palms. Only then did I realize that I’d need a free hand to stick my toe into the stirrup, so I let go of the horn and ran my hand down the fender as I lifted my toe.

Losing balance, my body slammed into the side of Lady, who was as immovable as a brick wall.

Righting myself, I held the stirrup while I stuck my toe in then moved my hands back to the saddle. Then I gave myself a mental countdown.

Three…two…one.