by Ariel Tachna
“Great. You’re my new assistant,” Brett declared, not noticing how Gerald stumbled a little over his reply. “We need to help them get their ponies saddled and bridled, since they’ve never done that before. Come on; I’ll introduce you.”
“Okay,” Gerald said with a bemused smile. He’d only been riding himself for a little over two months, but if Brett needed help, he didn’t mind giving him a hand.
Between the two of them, they helped the kids get the horses saddled and bridled and into the ring with no mishaps. When all the kids were standing next to their ponies, Brett smiled at them. “Okay, everybody. Ready to get started?”
A chorus of excited cries answered him. “Good. Mr. Gerry and I will help you mount up and then we’ll see about getting started.”
Gerald glanced to Brett upon hearing the nickname again before looking at the kids. They couldn’t stop bouncing. While some of the kids were naturally excited, others were just so sweetly serious he wouldn’t dare laugh. The little girls were the best, all prim and prissy, while the boys just wanted to ride like cowboys.
Watching the kids as he helped them mount, Brett stilled hands and adjusted grips, making sure the kids were ready to ride. Seeing one little girl fumbling unsteadily, Brett waved Gerald over. “Can you help out Sara? She looks a little nervous. Just walk beside her for a bit until she gains some confidence.”
Gerald nodded. “Okay, just let me know if I do something wrong,” he murmured before moving to Sara’s side and patting her leg reassuringly.
The little girl smiled shyly at Mr. Gerry, hands twitching nervously on the reins, transmitting her unease to the pony below her. When the animal shifted restlessly, her panicked gaze flew to his face.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Gerald said gently, laying one hand over hers. “You have to hold the reins real still. Can you do that?”
She nodded slowly, her hands relaxing beneath the big, warm ones covering hers. Almost immediately, Honeycomb quieted down. “What do I do now?”
“The two things to remember with your hands are to keep still like this, right? And to pull just a little and then let loose. If you want to go, let loose a little more. To stop, pull a little. Just a little though, okay?” Gerald explained, looking up at the little girl.
“Okay,” Sara agreed as the horses started walking at Brett’s command. Her face lit up in quiet delight as she studiously kept her hands still, trying not to pull or do anything that might stop the horse from walking.
“Good job,” Gerald praised. “Just like that.”
“And ask your horses to halt,” Brett said from the center of the ring.
Gerald looked down at the smiling rider. “Okay, now, remember what I said about pulling back just a little? Do that now,” he said as he walked alongside.
Sara did as Mr. Gerry said. Honeycomb came to a stop with a shake of her head. “Why’d she do that?” the girl asked with a touch of panic in her voice.
“She’s just saying, ‘Okay, I did it,’ pretty much,” Gerald said, patting Sara’s shoulder. “You did really well!”
“Oh, okay,” Sara replied with a relieved sigh. Maybe she’d actually get the hang of this after all. She looked up to the bleachers and waved to her mother, dropping one of the reins as she did.
Gerald caught the rein before Honeycomb shifted. “Sara, don’t drop the reins like that, okay? Honeycomb won’t understand what you want,” he explained calmly.
“Oh,” Sara said, positioning her hand carefully on the rein again as Brett directed the students to turn the horses to the right and then to the left.
“Okay, this is easy,” Gerald said. “If you want Honeycomb to go right,” he pointed in that direction, “then you pull the rein on that side so her head points that way.”
Sara nodded and did what Mr. Gerry said, tugging to the right. Honeycomb turned obediently. “And I pull the other way to go left?”
“Exactly! Great job,” Gerald said with a grin.
Brett had everyone stop again as he set out a series of orange cones. “Okay, let’s see who’s up to an obstacle course,” he challenged. “Weave in and out of the cones.”
Gerald stepped back. “You can do it, Sara. Go ahead. Show Mr. Brett and your mom.”
Nervously, Sara began guiding Honeycomb through the cones. The pony tried to wander toward Brett at one point, but Sara pulled determinedly on the reins and brought her back in line. When she finished, everyone applauded. “I did it!”
Gerald clapped too. “Great job, Sara!”
Brett smiled over at Gerald, thrilled with the way the other man was working with the kids. If this kept up, he might have to bring him into the ring for all the beginning classes. “Okay, who’s next?”
After the lessons were done, Gerald was about to turn the corner of the barn when Sara ran up, took his hand, and led him over to her mother. He spoke with them both for a few minutes before they left, Sara smiling and waving. He waved back before walking back toward the stable.
“Nicely done,” Brett said, meeting Gerald at the entrance to the stable. “Not everybody has the knack for dealing with the younger kids.”
“Oh, I love kids,” Gerald said. “I visit my nieces at least every other weekend.”
“You have family nearby besides your parents?” Brett asked curiously.
“Oh yeah, everybody,” Gerald said. He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get going,” he said apologetically. “Meeting tonight for work.”
“I’m sorry!” Brett exclaimed. “You should have said something. Go on. I’ll see you later in the week.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m not late. But I will need a shower,” Gerald said with a smile. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here,” Brett promised. “Hope the meeting goes well.”
“‘Well’ means not so boring that I fall asleep over my salad,” Gerald said drolly as he walked backward toward the parking lot before he turned and walked to his car.
“MR. GERRY, Mr. Gerry, will you help me saddle Buckeye?”
Gerald turned around in place with a raised eyebrow, and then had to look down. Quite a bit. “Uh. Sure. You got a lesson?” he asked, peering down at the little girl already wearing her helmet and miniature cowboy boots. He didn’t recognize her.
She nodded and led him to the pony that must have seemed immense to her, even though Gerald could probably have straddled its back with his feet touching the ground. Size, he supposed, was relative.
“You know me already,” Gerald said. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Patty. And I’m five!”
“Well. That’s getting up there, isn’t it?” he teased gently as she nodded. “Okay, so what equipment do you use?” he asked, figuring she’d be able to tell him. “I figure your saddle is smaller than one I’d use, huh?” he said, smiling down at her. Why she was asking him to help, he had no idea. But he didn’t suppose he minded. Saddling a horse he could do after more than four months on the farm several times a week.
“Over here,” Patty said, showing him a saddle half the size of the one he regularly used. “And the blankets too.”
“I don’t know,” Gerald teased. “That’s an awful tiny saddle for a big girl like you.” But he picked it up in one hand, hefting it under his arm, and grabbed a blanket with the other hand.
“It’s the one Mr. Brett tells me to use,” she insisted. “It’s perfect for Buckeye.” She led him regally down the aisle to Buckeye’s stall. “I’m not allowed to get him out by myself.”
“Yes, I agree. Buckeye’s a nice guy, but you’re awfully short compared to him. He might not see you.” Gerald walked into the stall and got the horse saddled and ready before leading him out of the stall, having worked the whole time under Patty’s watchful eyes. “Ready to go?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, holding out her hands for the reins. When he gave them to her, she carefully led the pony toward the ring with all the confidence of a girl twice her size.
Gerald watched her go, smiling and shaking his head. What an odd thing. He turned and stopped short, seeing Brett watching him. “Hey,” Gerald greeted.
“Morning, Mr. Gerry,” Brett replied with a drawl. “I see you’re already in the thick of things today. Although I imagine saddling Buckeye’s a little more pleasant than mucking stalls.”
“Is that what I’m on the schedule for today?” Gerald asked.
“You’re on the schedule for whatever you feel like doing,” Brett retorted. “You’ve been around enough to know what needs to be done without me making you a list. Pick your poison, and I’ll get the kids to do the rest.”
Gerald jerked a thumb in the little girl’s direction. “Hope it was okay for me to help her.”
“It was fine. Patty knows what she’s doing—she’s been riding since she was three—but she’s too small to do it by herself.”
“Okay,” Gerald said amiably. “You just tell me if I get in the way,” he added as he pulled his gloves out of his belt. He didn’t really think about it, but he dressed for dirty work without thinking about it these days: old jeans, T-shirt, work boots, gloves.
Brett shook his head. “You’re not in the way.” And it was the truth. In the past four months, the dark-haired man had become almost as much a fixture in the stable as Brett himself, there easily three evenings a week, sometimes four, and most of the day on Saturdays and Sundays. They’d fallen into an easy camaraderie, joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years instead of just for months. That was the magic of a shared passion. It brought together people of similar interests and temperament—when they were there for the horses, not for the status symbol—and gave them a bond far deeper than the passage of time would suggest. “Well, not unless you keep standing in the middle of the aisle blocking traffic.”
Gerald blinked and turned where he stood to see one of the teenagers with a horse on a lead grinning. Flushing a little, Gerald moved to the side. “Yeah, well. I’ll just get back to work. I’ve got a lesson at six.”
“When it’s time to get ready tonight,” Brett called, catching Gerald’s attention before he walked off, “saddle Misfit.”
Gerald paused and turned to look over his shoulder. “What for?” he asked curiously.
Brett grabbed the nearest thing he could find—a curry comb—and chucked it at Gerald’s head. “Idiot,” he muttered affectionately. “So you can ride her at the lesson, of course.”
Gerald ducked when the comb flew by, but his eyes were wide when he stood back up. His grin was huge too. “Really? That’s great!”
“Goofball. Get to work or you won’t be done in time for your lesson,” Brett said with a shake of his head.
Gerald nodded, his grin undimmed as he headed off to get some work done. He didn’t even mind that one of the only chores left was mucking stalls; there was too much air under his heels for him to notice.
About two hours later, Gerald finished cleaning up before heading to Misfit’s stall. He stopped at the door as she met him at it, nodding her head as he got out an apple.
“You pig,” Gerald said fondly as he cut the apple into chunks with his pocket knife. Misfit nipped at his hand, trying to get the fruit. “Hey! Not my fingers!”
“If you’d hold your hand flat and let her lift it off your palm, she wouldn’t get your fingers,” Brett scolded, coming to Gerald’s side and stroking Misfit’s forelock. She tossed her head regally, returning all her attention to Gerald. And the apple.
“Yeah, I know, but she gets in a hurry,” Gerald complained, but he still fed Misfit the apple and rubbed her neck warmly before moving to hook a lead on the halter and lead her out of the stall.
Brett leaned back and watched as Gerald saddled her with competent hands, all the hesitation gone after months of practice, and he twitched the blankets into place with practiced ease and fitted the girth in just the right place around her belly. Her immaculately clean belly, Brett noted. Not an easy task given Misfit’s penchant for rolling in the mud every chance she got. “She looks good. Being adopted obviously agrees with her.”
Gerald looked up, smiling wryly. “She’s spoiled,” he muttered, but he stood and slung an arm over her neck in an adapted hug. Misfit bobbed her head as if in approval, and she didn’t shy away.
Brett just chuckled. “Bring her in the ring when you’re ready, and we’ll get started.”
“C’mon, Rotten,” Gerald said, following along behind Brett. Misfit followed sedately though her tail flipped back and forth.
They got inside the ring, and Gerald mounted. “She’s got a much more sensitive mouth than Tiny,” Brett warned, “so she’ll respond to a much lighter touch on the reins. She also responds much more quickly to your posture because I don’t use her with the beginners who don’t know what they’re doing. If you lean forward, she’ll speed up, and if you lean back, she’ll slow down, even without a nudge of your heels or a pull on the reins.”
Frowning ever so slightly as he concentrated, Gerald pulled on the reins to one side, and Misfit promptly shifted in that direction. Gerald’s eyebrow perked. “Let’s see if I don’t dump myself on the ground,” he said. He’d only done that once, thank God. Once was embarrassing enough.
“If you ride horses, you get thrown,” Brett replied philosophically. “I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve eaten dirt since I first learned to ride. Walk her around the ring a few times. Start, stop, ask her to turn. Get used to her, and let her get used to you.”
Gerald nodded distractedly, giving Misfit very careful directions. Though she pranced a bit to the side a few times, for the most part she obeyed the tentative commands.
Brett let horse and rider work out their own communication. He could advise and guide, but ultimately, it came down to trust between the two actively involved in the process. When Misfit seemed to settle in, he spoke up. “Ready to try it at a trot?”
Glancing up, Gerald nodded, though he took a deep breath to settle himself. “Why am I nervous?” he asked with a soft laugh.
“I don’t know,” Brett replied seriously. “Why are you nervous?” If it was mostly just anticipation, that was fine, but if Gerald truly did not feel ready, he didn’t want to push too hard.
Gerald swallowed. “I just want to do it right so I can ride her more after this,” he admitted, looking up to meet Brett’s eyes.
“The worst that can happen, and I wouldn’t have put you up on her today if I didn’t think you were ready, is that you aren’t ready for her yet. So you’d ride Tiny for a few more weeks until you are ready for her. I’m not setting you up to fail or for either of you to get hurt,” Brett assured Gerald. “I want this to be fun for both of you.”
Relaxing a little, Gerald nodded. He leaned over to slide his hand along Misfit’s neck. “Let’s go, girl,” he said, indicating for her to walk. Once she was moving, he asked for a trot.
It was a little awkward at first to Brett’s experienced eye, Gerald having trouble catching the much faster rhythm of Misfit’s gait when compared to Tiny’s loping strides, but after a few uncomfortable bounces—Misfit tossed her head in protest each time he came crashing down on her back—they managed to find their balance and move with reasonable grace around the ring.
Gerald let Misfit keep trotting as he got used to her movement, although he knew already he’d be sore tonight, just like the first few weeks when he’d first been learning to ride. Good thing he was using an English saddle now, he thought wryly. A saddle horn would have been murder. After several laps around the ring, Gerald slowed Misfit to a walk and finally to a stop next to Brett.
“Bet you’re glad you’re riding English these days,” Brett joked when Misfit halted right next to him. “A couple of those bumps would’ve been really painful if you’d had a saddle horn in the way.”
Gerald winced even though he’d been thinking the same thing. “I’ll remember that in my hot bath tonight,” he said, looking down at the other man from his higher vantage point. It used to
strike him as odd, looking down at his teacher. But now he found he didn’t mind the view. His lips twitched. “More practice time?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Brett agreed. “Do it again and again and again until you can do it without thinking. Oh, and pay attention to which diagonal you’re on this time. You were on the inside instead of the outside last time.”
“I was?” Gerald asked as he turned Misfit to start her walking again. “I think I was so focused on trotting at all that I didn’t even think to look.”
“It’s fine,” Brett assured him as Gerald and Misfit moved back to the edge of the ring. “She might get annoyed with you just because she’s well enough trained to expect you to be on the correct diagonal, but you’re not going to hurt her or yourself. You’re much more likely to bother her bouncing around than posting on the wrong diagonal. Try it again.”
“It’s a lot to remember,” Gerald said distractedly as Misfit started trotting again. He got with the motion much more quickly this time, and after some time he tried to check where he was posting, but it threw his motion off. After another round about the ring he pulled Misfit to a slow stop. “Going to need more practice.”
“That’s what we’re here for,” Brett replied easily. “You’ve got the hang of it until you think about it, and then it throws you off. Ride long enough, and you won’t have to check anymore. You’ll be able to feel from the way she’s moving which foot is forward when. It just takes time and experience. Do you want me to tell you when you’re off rather than having to look for yourself?”
“That would help,” Gerald said with a nod as he turned Misfit about. She listened to him pretty well, not giving him trouble. Gerald could tell she was trained well, probably by Brett, he’d bet.
“Okay, get her to a trot, but don’t start posting until I tell you,” Brett directed. When Misfit was moving, he called, “Up, down, up, down,” in time to her moving feet. As soon as Gerald was on the correct diagonal, he stopped, letting his student keep the pace on his own. Damn, he was a fine-looking man. Too bad he was straight.