I walked to a large rock on the north border of the ranch adjoining the Ferguson’s property, hoping no one noticed my absence.
Rick Ferguson came down the hill toward me. He appeared older on horseback and rode like he was part of the horse. That’s how Russ and Aunt Bess rode, as if the horses beneath them were an extension of their bodies. I knew it didn’t come from a week of riding lessons; it came from a lifetime around horses.
The black mare he rode had a perfect white diamond on her forehead. They halted in front of the large rock where I sat. The mare surveyed me calmly with inquisitive eyes and the bearing of royalty.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” I said reaching out to pet her soft nose.
“This is Treasure,” he patted the mare’s dark neck affectionately. “Are you sure you want to do this? I mean learning to ride and all?”
Jumping off the rock, I dusted off the seat of my jeans. “Yes. I want to learn how to ride,” I said with more conviction than I felt.
Rick watched me for several uncomfortable moments.
“Okay,” he said, as if I had passed some kind of test.
He dismounted, then threw the flap of the stirrup across the saddle and began undoing the straps underneath.
“Wait a minute. What are you doing?”
“The best way to learn to ride is bareback,” he said over his shoulder.
“I can’t even ride with a saddle. How am I going to ride without one?” My heart pounded and I couldn’t swallow. To keep from shaking, I folded my arms across my chest.
When the saddle was on the ground, he led Treasure over to me.
“Climb up on that rock. It’ll be easier to mount from there. I’m holding her. She won’t go anywhere.”
“Wait a minute, Rick. I don’t think . . .”
His blue eyes held me. “Will ya just get on the horse?” he asked gently.
He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. I had asked him to meet me. I asked him to teach me how to ride, to conquer my fear of horses. Now I was too scared to get on his horse. I felt foolish. What a stupid idea this was.
“Come on,” he coaxed. Then he smiled, and I knew it would be all right.
Awkwardly, I swung my leg over Treasure’s slippery back.
“Hold still, girl,” he murmured.
I didn’t know if he was talking to me or his horse. Then in one fluid motion he swung up behind me, circling my waist with his arms and taking up the slack in the reins.
“Now,” he whispered in my ear. “Let’s ride.”
He made a soft click and Treasure walked forward.
Petrified of falling, I clutched the coarse hair of her mane.
“Feel the rhythm of the horse, Maryann. Go with it; not against it.”
I leaned back against Rick, frightened, but secure in his arms. Around and around we walked in a large circle through the tall yellow grass. Finally, my body relaxed with the motion of the horse beneath me.
“Good. That’s real good, Maryann.”
He stopped the mare. “How do you feel?”
“Okay.”
He laughed. “Still not real confident, huh? That’s fine because we’re not really riding yet.”
He made a loud clicking sound and, in what seemed like two strides, Treasure went from standing still to a run. I cried out. The mare’s ears twitched backwards at the sound.
“Concentrate on the rhythm,” Rick yelled in my ear.
“It’s not working,” I cried out. “I can’t ride. I’m going to fall.” My body slide precariously to the left.
“You are not going to fall off, darn it,” he hollered, tightening his hold around my waist.
The ground whirled past. I closed my eyes. Then, a moment later, it all changed. The rhythm of the horse took over. I felt it deep inside.
Supple and responsive, the mare leaned into the gentle turns of the large circle. My body bent with her as I found my balance. We moved in harmony. It was like learning to ride a bike for the first time, only this was different because I could feel the energy of the creature beneath me. I hadn’t fathomed Aunt Bess’s passion for riding horses until today. At last, I understood the thrill of riding.
Safe and secure, I stretched my arms out to feel the air rushing past. I was flying and laughed with the sheer joy of it.
“I’m riding, Rick. I’m really riding,” I yelled.
“Yeah, you sure are.” Rick’s arms around my waist loosened a little. “I never had any doubts,” he whispered in my ear.
There, in Rick Ferguson’s arms, I fell in love.
Chapter 7
Saturday, April 22, 1961
Tomorrow’s Sunday, and we go to church,” said Aunt Bess. “We do the chores early and we’ll leave the house at nine.”
“I’m not much on church,” I said. “I’ll just stay home.” My family only went to church twice a year — Christmas and Easter.
“I don’t know what you did in Boston. Here we attend church.” Her no-nonsense tone indicated I was expected to participate. Staying home was not an option.
“Yes ma’am.”
Church was yet another difference between my old life and this new one.
Sunday, April 23, 1961
The next morning Russ joined us as we gathered in the kitchen getting ready to leave. Aunt Bess wore a navy dress with a colorful scarf tied around the collar, so different from her usual outfit of jeans and a work shirt. The simple dress transformed her, making her looked taller, slimmer, and more feminine. She looked almost pretty.
I wore a dress my mother bought for me — a flowered print in gold and brown, autumn colors. I’d tried on quite a few things before I decided on this one. Although I remembered the dress being snug, I was relieved to find it fit better now. Somehow my weight had shifted around a bit.
“Don’t you look nice,” remarked Aunt Bess approvingly when she saw my dress.
Russ had on a dress shirt in his favorite color, black, with a bolo tie. The slide was a thunderbird inlaid in turquoise, coral and mother of pearl. He looked real handsome.
Looking around us I thought we definitely looked our “Sunday best.”
“Where’s your Bible, Maryann?”
“I…I don’t have one.”
Aunt Bess shook her head. “Lord sakes. You’ve gotta have a Bible for church! Otherwise, you can’t follow the scriptures Pastor refers to in his sermon.” She patted my arm. “I’ll get you one.” She disappeared upstairs.
“I guess you didn’t get to church much,” observed Russ.
“No…no we didn’t,” I admitted, feeling uncomfortable, and at the same time, disloyal to my parents.
Aunt Bess returned and handed me a big black Bible. “You can use this one. It was your Uncle Jacob’s. He’d be proud to have you use it.”
“Thank you,” I said and took the heavy volume from her.
In the car, she turned to me in the back seat. “Didn’t your parents take you to church?”
I met Russ’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he briefly took them off the road.
“We went to the Presbyterian church,” I said as if that explained everything.
“Didn’t your church have Bible study?” she prodded.
“We didn’t go to church every Sunday.”
“Oh.” Aunt Bess took a deep breath. “Well, we’re Baptists and there’s Bible study before service.”
We pulled into the parking lot of a large white building at the edge of town.
“The church was built in 1869,” said Aunt Bess proudly. “They put an addition on the back ten years ago to hold classes and to provide space for our dinners.” She laughed. “Baptists sure like to eat.”
The parking lot was filling up when we arrived. Aunt Bess waved to people as we approached the church. I wondered what the service would be like.
“Hello Pastor Bill.” Aunt Bess shook the hand of a short man who stood by the door as we went in. “This is my niece, Maryann Madigan. I told you about her. She’s livi
ng with me now.”
He shook my hand, “Welcome to our church, Maryann.” His smile lit up his face.
“Maryann went to a Presbyterian church back in Boston,” explained Aunt Bess. “They didn’t have Bible study.”
“Is that right?” Pastor Bill said taking it all in stride. “Well good thing you’re with us now.” He looked down at the Bible I held. “I see you’ve got your Bible.”
“It’s Jacob’s Bible,” clarified Aunt Bess. “Maryann’s using it until she gets her own.”
“Good. Russ, why don’t you and Mrs. Perkins join the adult Bible study? I’ll take Maryann down to the youth group.”
I followed him downstairs.
“Here we go.” We entered a small room with an oval table in the center. Teens sat with their Bibles in front of them. Then I noticed Rick Ferguson at the far end, smiling at me next to the only empty chair.
“Go ahead, Maryann,” he said pushing me toward the empty seat. “Mrs. Connors will take good care of you. She leads the youth group.”
A small woman with short brown hair stood at the head of the table and welcomed me with a warm smile.
Sitting next to Rick, I felt self-conscious. I’d never opened a Bible before, let alone studied it.
“Let’s turn to the book of Jonah,” said Mrs. Connors. “Jonah is one of Israel’s prophets and it’s located between Obadiah and Micah in the Old Testament. I hope you all had a chance to read these three chapters.”
I began flipping pages struggling to find Jonah. Obadiah? Where was that? I didn’t know the Old Testament from the New Testament.
“Here, let me help you.” Rick leaned over and quickly flipped through the Old Testament until he found the chapter for me.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
“You’ll get used to it,” said Rick. “I’ve had a lot of experience finding Bible verses.” He winked and I blushed.
“What is the book of Jonah about?” asked Mrs. Connors.
“Obedience,” answered Rick.
A lively discussion began about Jonah, how he got to Nineveh in the belly of a whale. The hour passed quickly.
Once Bible study ended, everyone began to leave.
Rick turned to me. “How are things at the ranch?” he asked. “Have you been riding?”
“No. They…they don’t know I can ride. I’m helping Russ in the barn feeding and grooming the horses.”
“Are you now?” Rick smiled making me feel clever. “Sounds like you’re settling in just fine. We’ll have to go riding again.”
“Maryann!”
Aunt Bess stood in the door glaring at me and Rick. Startled, I realized everyone else left and we were all alone.
“It’s time for service. You best come along now.”
Rick rose to his feet, “I’ll see you later, Maryann.”
As he walked past Aunt Bess he tipped his hat, “Mrs. Perkins,” he said slipping past her.
Only because we were in church did Aunt Bess refrain from comment. I could tell by her stiff posture, flashing eyes, and flushed cheeks that she struggled with it.
The service began with singing hymns. Although I didn’t know any of them, by the time we got to the second verse I could follow along. The church didn’t have a choir, so everyone sang.
Then an offering was taken. Afterwards, people stood up and asked for prayer for people who were sick or had troubles. Other people shared something good that happened in their lives.
“I’d like to praise God for bringing my niece, Maryann, to live with me,” said Aunt Bess standing up to speak. “She’s here today with me worshipping the Lord.” Everyone clapped. I felt embarrassed by the attention. I missed Mom and Dad. My eyes got moist and I blinked back tears. Thankfully, she sat down and someone else stood up requesting prayer.
This was very different from the church I’d gone to with my parents. In Aunt Bess’s congregation, everyone knew one another and shared the ups and downs of their lives. There was a feeling of community in this little church. In the one I had attended in Boston people worshiped in their own cocoon, privately.
Pastor Bill referred to several Bible verses during his sermon. Even though the pews had Bibles, most people brought their own. I struggled to keep up. With my aunt’s help, I found each one of the verses.
We ended by singing another hymn.
Afterwards coffee and cake were served in the new addition at the back of the church. There were three different cakes and a plate of cupcakes that were a big hit with the little kids. Everything was homemade and delicious.
Aunt Bess introduced me to so many people my head spun trying to remember all their names. Finally I excused myself and got another cup of juice.
“Maryann.”
I turned. Rick stood beside me.
“I’d you like to meet my Dad.”
A tall, broad man stood behind Rick. He had dark hair with gray over his temples and warm brown eyes. I’d know him anywhere. He looked just like Rick, only older.
“Hello, Maryann. I’ve heard a lot about you from my son.” He held out his hand.
Alarmed, I looked at Rick as I shook his father’s hand.
What had he told his father about me?
Rick grinned.
Then Russ joined us.
“Hi Doug,” he said. He and Russ’s dad walked away chatting comfortably about town politics and the weather.
“What did you tell your dad about me?” I grilled Rick.
He laughed, enjoying my uneasiness.
“Only that I met the new girl in town and she was real pretty.”
Speechless, I stared at him. Me, pretty? My cheeks felt hot.
“Can we meet later to ride?” he asked.
“I….I think so,” I stuttered.
“How about two-thirty? In the meadow?”
“”Okay.” My mind whirled. How could I get away from the ranch without causing suspicion?
“Maryann. Russ. It’s time to leave,” declared Aunt Bess. Ignoring Rick and his dad as if they were invisible, she headed to the door.
“Well I gotta go,” I said to Rick.
“See you later,” he said.
I smiled.
Rick was so handsome and I looked forward to meeting him. I needed to know how to ride I told myself justifying the lie I’d tell to sneak off to meet him.
Uncle Jacob’s Bible felt heavy as I formulated the lie I was going to tell Aunt Bess. My stomach churned as I left the room.
Russ said goodbye to Rick’s dad, then followed me.
I felt Rick’s eyes following me the whole way out.
Chapter 8
Sunday, April 23, 1961
Carrying my sketchbook, I hurried to the meadow that adjoined Table Top Ranch. I’d told Aunt Bess I was going sketching. I was nervous about telling the lie and had trouble finishing my lunch.
Rick already stood in the meadow next to Treasure. My heart stopped. He was so handsome. Just thinking that, my cheeks flushed. Hopefully, he’d think it was from running, not my inner-most thoughts about him.
“Sorry I’m late,” I gasped, out of breath.
“You’re not late, I’m early.” He smiled at me and I felt as if I could do anything.
“I…I told my aunt I was going to do some sketching,” I said placing my book and pencil case on a large rock.
“Are you ready for another lesson?” he asked.
“I guess.” What if I fell off?
Rick saw my unease.
“Come on. We’re gonna leave the saddle on this time. It’ll be easier.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
He gave me a leg up. The saddle squeaked as I adjusted my weight in it. The smell of horses and leather surrounded me. Then I walked around Rick in a big circle through the yellow grass.
He taught me how to steer using the reins on Treasure’s neck. If I wanted to go right, I put the left rein against her neck. The opposite rein to the direction I intended to go. I caught on quickly. St
ill, we were only walking.
“Come here,” he called. “I need to adjust your stirrups.”
I moved to the center of the meadow while he adjusted them, his hand felt warm on my leg. I felt all tingly inside as he fixed the length — something he probably did hundreds of times. To me, the attention he gave to it made me feel special. He checked each side, and then stood in front of Treasure.
“Good, they’re even.” he said. “It should be easier now. They were too long before.”
Then I went back to circling around him again. Walking was easy and I felt confident.
Then Rick made a clicking sound and Treasure began to trot. I yelped, startled.
“You’re going great,” he encouraged as I bounced around on Treasure.
“Just sit still,” he called.
Easy for him to say. He wasn’t sitting on a trotting horse,
“You need to grip her with your legs. That will keep you from sliding around.”
I tried to follow his advice.
“Sit back a little. That’ll help, too.”
I leaned back trying to grip Treasure with my legs. Her ears flicked back. How patient she was with my fumbling attempts to ride her.
“Sorry, Treasure,” I told her softly and her ears flicked back towards me again.
Then it changed and Treasure’s gait got smoother.
“Good. Now I’m going to make her go faster.”
“Faster?” I shrieked. “No, Rick…” My words were lost as the horse took off and I was thrown forward by the momentum. I would fall off. I just knew it.
“Don’t lean forward. Sit up,” he shouted.
I tried to follow his instructions, my heart beating so loud I wondered if he could hear it. The ground whirled by. Then I looked up instead of down.
Oh God, why did I agree to this? I chided myself.
“That’s good. Sit up straighter.”
I straightened up and realized I was riding. The horse beneath me felt as comfortable as a rocking chair. Automatically, I sat deeper in the saddle on the turns.
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