Not because it's technically impressive. I'm aware it's not technically impressive. But because three weeks ago I had never done a single ranch thing correctly and right now I am canteringa horse around a round pen in Texas and it's working. I didn't get here from a book.
I got here from showing up every morning and doing the work.
Laney calls out from the center of the pen. "Sit deeper. Don't let your weight come forward."
I sit deeper.
"Better," she says. "Now bring him back to the trot."
I bring him back to the trot. Then to the walk. Then I ask Copper to stop and he stops and I sit there for a second breathing and letting my heart rate find its way back to something reasonable.
The fence is quiet.
I look over.
Remy is staring at me with his apple frozen halfway to his mouth like a man whose afternoon has not gone according to plan. Silas has a very small smile on his face that he's not bothering to hide. Maisie is on her feet on the second fence rail with both fists in the air like I've just won something significant.
"That's dessert for a week," she announces loudly. "Pay up Remy."
"He grabbed the saddle horn," Remy says, but his heart isn't in it.
"For like two seconds," Maisie says. "That doesn't count."
"It absolutely counts."
"Laney," Maisie calls over. "Does grabbing the saddle horn for two seconds count as falling off?"
Laney has walked up to Copper's head and is checking the bridle with her back partially to me. She's quiet for a second longer than the question requires.
"No," she says. "It doesn't count."
Remy points at her. "You're supposed to be neutral."
"I'm supposed to be his instructor." She looks up at me and there it is again, that thing in her expression that she doesn't always catch in time. "He did the work. That counts for something."
I look down at her from the saddle.
She looks up at me.
Copper shifts underneath us and neither of us moves. The morning sits quiet around the round pen and I think that this is the best I've felt since arriving in Texas.
Maybe longer than that.
We untack Copper together.
It happens naturally, the way things between us have started happening naturally when neither of us is paying close enough attention to stop it.
Laney shows me the proper way to pull the saddle. I do it without dropping it this time, which is progress from last week when I nearly took out a bucket and Remy's shin in one move. She checks the horse over while I hang the bridle. By the time we're done the whole thing has the easy rhythm of something we've been doing together for a long time.
Which we haven't.
That's the part that keeps catching me off guard.
Maisie has dragged Remy toward the barn to show him something she found yesterday. Remy accepts with the resignation of a man who knows arguing with Maisie is a losing proposition. Silas has actually gone back to the fence post he's been pretending to work on all morning. The round pen is quiet.
Just me, Laney and Copper beneath the warm mid morning Texas sun doing its level best to remind everyone who's in charge around here.
Laney runs a brush along Copper's neck in long easy strokes. She does it without thinking, the way she does most things around the horses. Like the motion lives in her hands rather than her head.
