She is also absolutely laughing.
"Your posting is a little off," she says, in a voice that is admirably steady given the circumstances.
"I can see that."
"Try to feel the rhythm instead of counting it."
"I was not counting it."
"You were definitely counting it."
From the fence I hear Maisie's giggle escape before she catches it, followed immediately by Remy making absolutely no effort to catch anything.
I post wrong twice more and then something clicks and I find the rhythm and it smooths out and I complete a full circle of the round pen at a respectable trot.
Small victory. I'll take it.
I realize there's active betting happening during my third lap at the trot.
It's Silas who gives it away, which is remarkable because Silas gives almost nothing away as a general rule. He's still near the fence with his fence post tool but he's watching Maisie with the particular attention of someone tracking something specific. When I complete the lap without incident he makes a small movement that looks a lot like a man marking something down in his head.
I pull Copper to a walk and look at Maisie.
Maisie looks at the sky with the exaggerated innocence of a child who has absolutely been caught doing something.
"What's going on over there?" I ask.
"Nothing," she says immediately.
"Maisie."
"We're just watching."
"Watching and what else."
She looks at Remy. Remy looks at the horizon. The horizon offers him no assistance.
"We may have a small friendly wager," Maisie says carefully. "About how the lesson goes."
I look at my eight year old daughter sitting on a fence rail in her turquoise boots having placed a bet on my survival of a horseback riding lesson.
"What are the terms?" I ask.
She brightens immediately because she has been waiting to explain this. "Remy says you fall off before the canter. Silas says you make it through the whole lesson but something goes wrong at the end. I said you do fine because you practiced."
"You bet on me."
"I bet on you," she confirms proudly.
"How much?"
"Dessert rights for a week. Whoever loses does the dishes and the winner picks what Jolene makes for Sunday."
I look at Remy. "You bet against me."
He has the decency to look slightly apologetic. "I bet against you falling before the canter, specifically. I think you make it to the canter. I just think the canter is where things get interesting."
"Interesting."
