Part 23 (1/2)

”I can think of a lot of cases where that wouldn't be very handy.”

Cynthie laughed.

”You can rein her like any other horse, too, except she's pretty old and won't run, no matter what. Victor found her for Greg and had the boy riding her before he learned to walk.”

Inside the barn Peter was saddling the old mare and Greg was playing with

Sorry. When he saw them come in, he brought Sorry over to Winn.”Does that dog ever go outside?” Winn asked, scratching the furry head thatleaned against his leg.

”She's not exactly a watchdog, is she?” Cynthie agreed.”Peter says not all dogs got to be watchdogs,” Greg said.”Some dogs is just friends.””Are friends,” Winn said, and Greg dutifully repeated it. Winn had noticed some time ago that he was always hearing about things Peter said but hardlyever heard Peter say anything himself.

”Ready.”

He heard Peter going by, leading the horse. He felt her warmth and smelled

the distinctive scent that was horse. With Greg's hand in his, he followedthe horse outside.He was really going to ride again. He felt both excited and frightened. At the same time, he wanted to pretend it didn't matter.

It was a way of protecting himself, just in case he couldn't do it.

He took a few minutes to get to know the horse who was supposed to teach him

how to ride again. She didn't seem as old as Cynthie had indicated. He had expected some poor old nag with her head hanging to the ground.

They had put his own saddle on her. The stirrups shouldn't need adjusting.

He had a habit of tightening the cinch just before he mounted, but he was afraid if he did it now, it would look as if he didn't trust Peter.

Or that he was procrastinating which he probably was.

He grabbed the saddle horn, grateful no one had offered to help him up.

After two tries, he used his left hand to guide his foot into the stirrup.

Finally he swung into the saddle--and almost off the other side! Peter

caught him before he fell, but he couldn't quite gain his balance.

Having his right foot guided into the other stirrup didn't help as much as hethought it would.”Stand up in the stirrups,” Cynthie instructed.She had to be kidding. He'd feel even less secure if he tried that.”Stand up in the stirrups,” she repeated. She was close to the horse, her hand on his thigh.

”When you

sit back down, you'll have your directions straight again.”

Directions he took to mean up and down. He followed her instructions and felt better when he was seated again. He gave himself a couple seconds toget used to the feeling.

”I think I'm all right now,” he said, trying to relax.

”Here goes,” he mumbled.

”Oh, come along boys and listen to my tale; I'll tell you of my troubles onthe Old Chisholm trail.

Come a ti-yi-yippy, yippy, youI Yippy youI Come a ti-yi-yippy, yippy youI”The mare had started walking as soon as he had started singing, just asCynthie had predicted. He was afraid to stop singing even to catch hisbreath, for fear she would stop and go back.

”I woke up one mornin' on the 01' Chisholm Trail A rope in my hand and a cowby the tail.”

He thought he heard someone call out. He had a feeling Greg had decided torun along behind.

”Oh, it's bacon and beans most” -- Something seemed to grab at his face.

He raised his arms to fend it off.

Tree branches! The old gal had decided to get rid of him! He had stoppedsinging, but she was still walking slowly. He kicked his boots free of the stirrups and took the fall.

Greg ran up, out of breath, moments after he hit the ground. Winn rolled over and came to a sit ting position. ' ”Peter says, when you fall off, you got to get right back on again.” ”Shut up, Greg.” It had been an instinctive reaction. ”Sorry,” he mumbled, coming to his feet. Cynthie was beside them in a moment.

”Are you hurt?” A finger touched a scratch on his face and he pulled away. ”No, I'm all right, I guess.” He dusted away dirt he couldn't see and ranhis fingers through his hair. ”I bet that's the only tree in two hundredmiles of prairie and that horse just had to walk under it.”

Cynthie laughed then covered her mouth.

He heard the sound as she m.u.f.fled it and tried to picture how she looked.

”Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

Cynthie saw a hint of a smile in his dimples and let herself laugh with

relief.”Well, you're supposed to hear the tree.””Hear the tree?” he asked, incredulously.”What do trees say?”Cynthie laughed even harder. Greg's small fists punched at her legs but she hardly noticed.

”If you didn't sing so loud, you'd know.” The dimples deepened in earnest,and she wanted to throw her arms around his neck, she was so glad to see them.Peter led the mare up to the little group under the tree.”Wanna ride her back?” he asked.”Shut up, Peter,” Greg said.”Greg...” Cynthie scolded, but Winn stopped her.

”No, that's my fault,” he said.

”And Peter's right. I'll ride her back.”