twenty-three

“Ready?” Forrest asked.

Sara eyed the horse, then Forrest. “For what? Is this our mode of transportation?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Live is always better than mechanical, isn’t it?”

Refusing to back down from the challenge in his eyes, Sara replied, “Sure.”

She wasn’t sure how to mount, however. If she remembered correctly, even carousel horses had stirrups. This one didn’t even wear a saddle. All it had was a bit in its mouth and a rein. She wasn’t even sure those were the correct words.

“You ever ridden a horse?”

“What a question!” She put her hands on her hips, imitating Sheena. “Not only have I ridden a horse, I’ve also ridden a tiger, a lion, a unicorn, and a big white swan with a tremendous wing span.” As he laughed, she added, “That was a beautiful carousel. Even had music in the background.”

She didn’t add that her dad had to stand on the carousel beside her with his hand around her waist when she rode the wooden animals.

She liked Forrest’s laugh. “Here,” he said, putting his hands together for her to step on. “Step up, then swing your leg over.”

No problem. She’d seen that done. She stepped and swung, just as he yelled, “No!”

Too late. She sat on the horse’s rump, facing its tail, which switched her body like she was a fly.

Forrest bent over laughing.

She decided to remedy the situation and turn herself around. She placed her hands in front of her, like she’d seen gymnasts do on a pommel horse, lifted her weight off the horse and shifted toward the horse’s head.

She wasn’t quite as agile as she’d thought, so she ended up on the side of the horse with one leg on its tail and her other leg on her hand.

A panicky plea of “Helllp” escaped her throat as the horse jerked its tail out from under her leg, throwing her off balance. It shook its head as if to say she shouldn’t have done that and pawed the ground, indicating it would like to kick her if she were within reach. She feared she was in danger of ending right by those hooves because she now had her right hand in the air like a cowboy riding a bronco at a rodeo.

It threw her. Or she slipped. Whatever! She reached for the tail and the mane, but they were out of reach. She slid down the horse’s rump, while her one free hand stirred the air. Suddenly, her left hand came loose, but her leg, uncontrollable, headed straight for Forrest’s head. It would serve him right if her foot knocked him out. He had no business laughing at her like that.

Forrest tried to catch her, but when her left hand smacked him in the face, then her body twisted and her right leg swung around toward his head, he lost his balance and landed on his backside with her across his chest.

Sara wasn’t sure what they were doing. Moaning, laughing, crying, or what.

Finally, when she managed to raise herself up on her hands and look him in the face, he quipped, “Looks like you fell for me, Sara.”

She laughed. “And vice versa.”

In more ways than one, Sara Honey. . .cutt, he thought.

Sara had to press her hands against his chest to get herself off him, then managed to sit next to him, with gravel biting into her own backside.

He sat up, then slowly got to his feet. “Are you all right?” He reached for her.

“Don’t know.” She warded him off with her hands. “Let’s try this one limb at a time.”

She stretched one leg out, then the other, then bent them, rolled gently from hip to hip, leaned forward, then took a deep breath. “Okay. Now, help me up. Slowly.”

He took her hands and pulled gently until she could brace her hands on his forearms and pull herself the rest of the way up.

She brushed off her backside, did a marching step, and decided she was okay. “How do you get on?”

“If there’s a saddle on her, I use the stirrup. If not, I stand on something. And I have been known to just grab hold and hoist myself up.” He looked rather miserable. “Would you rather go in the truck?”

“No. I don’t mind riding backwards if you will.”

“Let’s try it another way,” he said. “Can you get up on the wall?”

Sara walked over and looked at the wall. “Only petunias on the other side. So I’ll try it.” In a second, she stood on the wall. Forrest led Lady, as he called the horse, around.

“Want me in front or back?”

“I think front,” he said. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Sara started to laugh, then looked at his face. He wasn’t grinning. He just looked, and she looked back. Strange as it seemed to her, she didn’t want to be lost. Carefully, she draped a leg across the horse, slipped down on Lady’s back, and grabbed the mane.

“Good girl,” Forrest said.

She didn’t know if he meant her or the horse, but next thing she knew, he’d hopped up on the wall, plopped down behind her on the horse and had her hand him the reins.

Well! Adam had said she oughta be in movies. He must have been wrong. In the movies the girl got to put her arms around the cowboy, lean against his back, and hold on for dear life.

Forrest didn’t even crowd her. “She’s gentle,” he said. “But you can hold onto her mane or around her neck. Or even take hold of the reins, if you need to.”

Forrest made a clicking sound with his tongue, pulled on the rein, and Lady began to trot along the side of the house until she turned into the woods along a dirt road that Sara hadn’t noticed before. He was right. The horse was gentle. Balancing on the horse’s wide body was much easier than balancing on the narrow seat of a bicycle. Sara’s legs seemed to mold to Lady’s sides. She began to feel as one with the horse and felt safe in the arms of Forrest, although his arms barely brushed hers as he held the reins.

She turned her head and asked over her shoulder, “Did you call her Lady?”

“Yep. Her full name is Skeptical Lady,” he said. “My dad breeds horses on the ranch. This one didn’t turn out to be of the caliber he wanted, so I took her. She’s perfect for my purposes.”

“For what?” she said, again turning her head toward him, so he could hear her. “The slow Texas trot?”

“Ah,” he said. “You’re ready to live dangerously, huh? Okay, Skeptical Lady. Show this skeptical lady how you canter.”

Sara didn’t know what Forrest did or said, but the mare began to move faster. Still not like in the movies. And not fast enough that she needed to back up against Forrest to stay balanced.

“Great ride,” Sara said, her voice sounding much like a yodel, with the up and down jarring movement.

“Better than in the truck,” he said. “Lady knows how to avoid the potholes. My truck’s tires haven’t learned that trick yet.”

Sara looked out at the dark woods. The trees hugged the road, with branches making a canopy. She liked the mystery of it. This was more fun than riding in the back seat of Albert’s Lincoln Town Car or Vivian’s BMW, either of which purred along like a graceful cat gliding over the interstate. She’d been able to hear every word Albert, Adam, or Sheena said in those cars without effort.

But on the horse, with the clip-clop of hooves and Sara’s periodic “umps” forced from her by the up-and-down rhythm of the horse, she had to yell to make herself heard. Most of the time, Forrest would respond, “Huh?” and she had to repeat herself.

She liked the firmness of the horse’s body, feeling her own hair blowing away from her face, the cool air on her arms, and the warmth emanating from Forrest Paridy’s arms.

She and Forrest were quiet for awhile. Darkness shrouded them except when the wind parted the branches, allowing the moonlight to filter down and make diamonds on the trail. It reminded her of a huge glass spinning globe she’d seen in a hotel ballroom.

This was nature’s ballroom.

The sound of horse’s hooves, the rhythm of the movement, the wind whispering secrets in her ears must surely be what was called in ancient days the music of the spheres.

Did Forrest hear it too?

He must have, for a movement and command caused Skeptical Lady to canter a little faster. That’s when Sara began to feel like Kate Winslet standing on the bow of the Titanic, looking out unafraid over the vast ocean. With Leonardo DiCaprio right behind her, Kate probably felt free and young and totally unencumbered.

Sara only hoped her ride wouldn’t end like the Titanic’s.