It just felt like maybe this was what healing looked like, felt like. It felt like saying yes was better than saying no.
With a backpack filled with sandwiches and water bottles, I return to the corral to see Ledger there waiting for me. God, he looks good. The morning sun is hitting him just so, his hair flecked with sunlight, his milky brown eyes melting me all over again, his muscles pulling at the seams of his plaid work shirt, his jeans hugging his ass. He's got two quarter horses saddled up, and I appreciate the thought. He chose the most calm, patient horses on my uncle's ranch. I know because I've been watching and analyzing all the horses that my uncle cares for out here. And Ledger knew which would be the best ones for a novice like he thinks I am.
When I reach him, he smiles. "Any regrets in saying yes to this date?"
I shake my head. "Not a single one," I tell him honestly. "I got that food packed and plenty of water," I say.
"Good," he says. "It's supposed to be pretty hot out today. But the trail will be cool; there's lots of trees. And we're going down to a lake, so it'll be cool once we get there, too. And it'll give a chance for the horses to get some shade and rest before we head back."
"Will it be a long ride?" I ask him. “It’s been a while since I’ve explored out here.”
"Nah, I don't want you to get too tired, considering this is your first time. And if you hate it too much, we can just stop. You just say the word, honestly. But the trail's easy. It's totally flat. And when we get to the lake, I promise it'll be worth any bumps that your ass endures."
I laugh. "All right. So, what happens next?" I say, playing a ridiculously innocent part. And for a moment, I feel bad for being so coy. But I know he is enjoying it, the ability to teach me something. And so I let him relish this moment as he takes my hand and he lifts me up, placing my foot in a stirrup. I let out a little squeal as he grabs me by the waist, helping me get up over the saddle. It feels good to let him take control.
I never ride like this, with my hand gripping the horn like a lifeline. And I know my back is stick-straight, not relaxed like the cowboys out here. This horse feels different than Chestnut. Smaller, and less regal. I brush away the pride I felt when riding him.
I tell myself to stay calm, to not panic. And as I do, I think of the meditation app, how it’s been telling me – on repeat – to take big, deep breaths. To exhale slowly.
I do just that. In and out, nice and slow.
As I do, I take in the sweet scent of the wheatgrass, the familiar smell of the horse.
"What's his name?" I ask Ledger.
"Sonny," he says. "And I got Cher."
I laugh. "That's cute."
"Yeah. Your aunt and uncle named a few of the horses after musicians. It's kind of funny."
“They love music, and not just country, all types."
Ledger laughs. "What about you? You like any type of music in particular?"
I shrug. "I don't hate country music, but I don’t two-step or anything."
Ledger chuckles. "Damn, I got to change that."
"What, you like to country dance?"
"Hell yeah," he says. "I'm a country boy. Growing up, it was all about going down to Whiskey Run, going out dancing. Got to get you in some cowboy boots."
I laugh, tossing my head back. "I don't know about that."
"Oh, I can see it now. Get you a little cowgirl hat, some cowboy boots. Oh yeah. Maybe some tight-ass jeans."
"These jeans are pretty tight."
He shakes his head, "Not tight enough for that ass."
I laugh and I know my cheeks are bright red.
"Don't be embarrassed," he says. "It'd look good on you."
I lick my lips, feeling totally unnerved. "Well, your jeans are pretty tight too," I tell him.
"You noticed?" he says.
"Yeah, I'm a little concerned," I tell him playfully. "Honestly, I mean, are you even going to be able to get up on that saddle?"
He chuckles. "Damn, you're not pulling any punches."
I laugh, and I use my calf to put pressure on Sonny’s side, gently easing him to the right.
Ledger notices. "Look at you, a real natural."
I bite my lip, realizing my mistake, thinking he's going to call me out immediately and know that I am a trained rider, a competitor, a professional.
But instead, he just reaches for my hand. I offer it to him, and he squeezes it. "We're going to go left at the corral and head down the trail together, side by side. How's that sound?"