However, as I step up into the stirrup, Raylan puts his large hands around my waist and helps lift me up. With his boost, my right leg swings easily over the saddle.
Now I’m sitting on Penny’s back, and it’s damned high up. She’s wider than I expected—I’m lucky that I’m relatively tall and long-legged, otherwise, I‘d have a hard time getting my thighs around her. But the saddle is comfortable. It smells nicely of leather, and Penny smells nice too—like clean hay and sunshine. Beneath that, a not-unpleasant scent of animal sweat.
Raylan passes me the reins and shows me how to grip them.
“Just sit tight one second while I get up too,” he tells me.
He hops up on Brutus’s massive back in one smooth motion that looks as easy as stepping up on a curb. I can see this is second nature to Raylan. He sits comfortably on the large, dark horse, directing Brutus with the smallest motion of his hand on the reins, or his heel against the horse’s side.
“Give her a little tap with your heels like this,” Raylan directs me. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt her.”
I give Penny a gentle tap, and obediently she starts walking forward. She’s probably following Raylan and Brutus more than listening to me. Still, I’m glad to see that she doesn’t take off galloping.
Even walking jolts me around more than I expected. Her shoulders and haunches roll beneath me in a way that isn’t quite regular. It’s hard to catch the rhythm so I don’t bounce around in the saddle.
“You’re doing great!” Raylan says.
I have to laugh at that. We’ve only taken a couple of steps. I’m not doing great at all.
Raylan stays close to me, Brutus just a little ahead of Penny so that it’s clear who’s leading. He keeps the pace slow to start. We amble across the meadow. The grass is a little higher here, and full of tiny white butterflies that flutter upward in papery clouds as the horses swish through. The early morning sunshine makes the dew sparkle. The grass smells sweet, and the air is fresher than any I’ve tasted before. No hint of exhaust like you’d taste everywhere in the city.
It’s cool—maybe sixty degrees. But I don’t feel chilly with the sun shining on my head and warm horseflesh beneath me.
After I’ve gotten used to walking, Raylan shows me how to trot. This is less comfortable—I have to stand up more in the stirrups, and I feel ridiculous bouncing on the horse.
“It’s actually more comfortable to gallop,” Raylan tells me.
“I don’t know about that . . . ” I say hesitantly.
“Just grab the reins like this”—he shows me—“and lean forward more, so you’re closer down to her neck . . . ”
He helps me get in a better position. Then he shouts, “HA!” and the horses take off.
We’re out in an open field, bright green and velvety. The ground is soft underneath us, so I’d probably be alright if I fell. But I don’t want to test that theory. I cling to Penny with my knees, leaning low over her neck, gripping tight on the reins until they almost cut into my hands.
Her hooves thunder beneath me. Raylan is right—it is actually easier to follow the rhythm of her movement at a gallop. The wind streaming into my face is cool and clean and invigorating.
Brutus seems thrilled to be running. He’s stretching his neck out low, his powerful legs churning, not even seeming to feel the weight of Raylan on his back. The two horses run in tandem, only a couple of feet between them.
It’s beautiful, utterly beautiful. The vast stretches of the ranch seem endless all around us. The sky is like a huge, inverted bowl, brilliantly blue like Raylan’s eyes, almost cloudless. My heart is racing—partly from fear, but also from exhilaration. My hair comes loose from the ponytail and it streams out behind me like Penny’s tail. I’m not gripping the reins so tight anymore. I’m squeezing Penny with my legs, wanting her to run faster and faster. Wanting to feel exactly this, more and more.
Raylan’s right beside me. He lets out a whoop, partly to urge on the horses, and partly out of pure happiness. It’s the most gorgeous day I’ve ever seen. These animals are powerful and brilliant. They love to run. They seem to know how pleasurable it is for us, too.
Raylan keeps looking over at me, making sure I’m comfortable and safe. Making sure I’m enjoying this as much as he is.
I’ve never felt anything like this. A lot of the things I do for pleasure—swimming, running—are meant to calm me down. Put me in a zen state.
This is the opposite. I feel enlightened. I feel alive. I feel terrified and exhilarated and thrilled, all at once. I can see every golden hair on Penny’s smooth coat, every blade of bright green grass, every bird soaring overhead. I can smell the trees and the grass and even Raylan’s skin more acutely than ever.
My muscles are aching from the strain of doing something so foreign to my usual activity. But it feels good. I feel powerful like the horse. Limitless like the open space. Wild like . . . like Raylan, I guess. He always seems like a force of nature. Like he could never belong to a city or a place. He’s just himself, at all times. Wherever he might be.
At last Raylan makes a clicking sound and pulls back on the reins. Brutus reluctantly obeys, coming to a trot and then a gentle walk. Penny matches his pace exactly. I can feel her rapid breathing, and the heat of her body. I’m the same—panting and sweating. But exhilarated. Not wanting to slow down.
“Why are you stopping?” I ask Raylan.
“There’s a stream up here,” he says. “The horses can have a drink.”
He leads us over to a thicket of trees. Sure enough, I can hear water running through. The trees grow in a double line on either side of a small river. It’s like an oasis in the grass.
The day is heating up, the sun coming more directly overhead. I’m hot from the ride, as are the horses.
Raylan gets down from Brutus’s back and helps me dismount. He takes off the horses’ saddles and rubs them down. They roll around briefly on the grass, which alarms me for a moment as Brutus flops over abruptly, then rolls with his legs in the air like a dog would do. I laugh, amused to see such a massive animal behaving that way.
Penny does the same as soon as the saddle is off. It makes me happy to see them enjoying themselves, after they carried us all this way and gave me an experience like I’ve never had before.
Once they’ve rolled around, they drink from the stream, and then start cropping the soft grass, pulling up mouthfuls.
“Can they eat that?” I ask Raylan.
“Of course,” he says.
“I don’t know anything about horses,” I admit. “Or any animals, really.”
“You rode so well,” Raylan says. “I can’t believe you’ve never done it before.”
“I think it’s easier on Penny.”
“It is,” Raylan admits. “We’ve had a lot of good horses. But none as intuitive as her.”
Raylan is sweating, too. I can see the clear sweat running down his neck into the open collar of his shirt. I can smell his scent, warm like the grass, strong like the horses.
“Are you hot?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I admit.
“The water’s clean,” he says, unbuttoning his shirt. He pulls it open and strips it off, so he’s standing there bare-chested in just his jeans.