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“Like riding a bike, I’m sure.”
He smirks. “We’ll see about that.”
I squeeze my thighs, and Jamaica moves forward, his hooves clopping on the cement. I adjust the reins and pat his neck a few times, feeling a little unsteady. It’s been a long time since I’ve ridden.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“There are a few fences down that I need to fix over the back way.”
I look at the bag he has strapped to his shoulders and wonder how it fits everything he would need in there.
Once we’re out in the open, Sam swivels his body in my direction.
“Let’s go.”
“What?” I squawk as he pushes his horse into an easy canter. My horse leaps forward, following the other’s lead. I yelp, clambering onto the reins and squeezing tightly, hoping I don’t fall.
Once I get used to the movement, I relax. My breathing is loud in my ears and the sound of hooves hitting the grass pounds the air. The warm air slides across my skin, and at this moment, I feelfree. And that’s something I haven’t felt for a long, long time.
“Keep up, old girl!” Sam yells over his shoulder.
“Fuck you,” I mutter with a laugh, urging Jamaica to go faster.
As we canter across the paddocks, the sun out in full sight now, I throw my head back and let go. My hands move in the breeze, and I inhale a lungful of air. Sam whoops and cheers, also throwing his hands up.
Suddenly, my horse stumbles, and I fling forward, my head smacking into his neck. I tumble and fall down his shoulder, his leg hitting me before I fall in a splat on the ground. I suck in a sharp breath, the fall winding me.
“Shit!” I hear Sam cry out.
Jamaica stands beside me, peering down as if to ask, “What the heck are you doing down there?”
“You all right?” Sam asks, pulling to a halt.
“Yeah.” I shake my head, standing and brushing the grass from my jeans. “I’ll be sore tomorrow, but I’ll live.”
“Thought you were being brave on your first ride back,” he says with a chuckle.
I mount and collect the reins, glaring at Sam.
“Don’t you tell anyone about this.”
“I already filmed it to Snapchat it later when I have reception.”
“You’re a bastard.”
He grins, tipping his hat. “Thank you. Ready to keep going?”
Sighing, I nod. We jet off again, and this time I keep my hands exactly where they should be. We ride for roughly thirty minutes or so before we get to the fence line that is lying flat across the grass.
Exchanging their bridles for halters, we tie the horses loosely to a tree, where they can be in the shade, and graze while we attend to the fence.
Sam laughs, pointing to me. “You have dirt all over your chin.”
I wipe at my face and glower at him. “You be nice to me, or I’m turning around and heading home.”
“Yeah? You remember the way?”
Turning, I peer out at the paddocks and trees that look endless and all the same.
