We stayed quiet for a while, and I watched our surroundings change. We left the stockade and Western buildings of Bravetown behind. In their place, lush grassy plains stretched out to my right side, dark emerald hills rolling in the distance, while trees bordered the road on Noah’s side. Had he given me the side with the view on purpose?
I was watching a small plane pass overhead when Irealized that this place was quiet. Not artificially so, like the sensory deprivation tank I’d tried once. We were out in the open, but there were neither cars nor people. Only buzzing insects, rustling leaves and two horses trotting along. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been anywhere this perfectly, naturally quiet before.
It wasn’t until we had to file through another gate and my thighs tensed around the saddle that I noticed I hadn’t been squeezing my knees together to stay upright like I usually did on Tornado.
“Something feels strange about riding Crumble. Is it the saddle? Is it because she’s smaller? Why does this feel so different?” I asked when Noah led us down a path surrounded by trees. My bare shoulders welcomed the shade. I didn’t burn easily, but we’d been out in the sun for an hour or two, and my racerback top didn’t cover much skin.
“Crumble’s a Tennessee Walker,” he explained. “Her breed is known for having a smooth gait. You don’t get jostled around as much.”
“Oh, yeah, wow. Huh.” Crumble’s head bobbed up and down but from the shoulders back, she was perfectly balanced out. “Oh my god, this is actually nice.”
“You like riding now, princess?”
“I’ve liked riding for a long time, just not on horseback.” The words were out faster than I could recall why we’d been quiet the whole morning in the first place. “Don’t reply to that. I don’t want to fight.”
“Okay.”
I watched Noah for any sign of resurgent maliciousness, but he just tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes atthe rustling leaves overhead. If I hadn’t still been mad at him, I would have stared at the flexing muscles in his neck, the sharp contour of his jaw or the way the warm sunlight brought out a few flecks of green in his pale blue eyes. But I was mad at him, so I bit my tongue and fixed my eyes to my horse’s twitching ears.
“Can Crumble do the show?” I asked. “I’d much rather be abducted like this.”
“No, she’s too small,” he replied, “and I’m not starting her in shows.”
“What does that mean?”
“Crumble is a great horse for beginners and people who have balance issues. It would be a disservice to make her learn tricks and routines for stunt shows.”
“Are you, like, the master of horses at the park or something?”
“No.” He laughed, and it was such a chesty and pure sound that I just now realized I’d never heard it before. “Tornado, Cookie and Crumble are my horses. I just get to keep them at the park.”
“Really?” I leaned down slightly and carefully slid a hand to Crumble’s neck to give her a light pat. “You’re so sweet, and you let that grumpy old man sit on you? I hope he’s treating you nice. Giving you all the carrots you could dream of.”
“The grumpy old man thinks we should take a break over there.”
Noah led us toward a small pocket off the side of the track where two benches had been set up. He was off Tornado in an instant and tied him to the back of one of the benches. He looked like he’d done this a hundred timesbefore. Maybe he had. Completely at home on horseback and in the countryside, somewhere between the trees.
Crumble whinnied under me and tapped her hoof against the ground.
“Okay, no need to be impatient,” I muttered.
We’d been over this. Swing one leg over the saddle, keep my weight on the leg still in the stirrup, pretend it’s a ladder. This was fine. Crumble was smaller than Tornado. Even if I dropped, it wouldn’t be far, and the ankle braces inside my boots would absorb the worst of it. I inhaled, closed my eyes for a moment, then swung my weight back.
Somehow, I got both my feet planted securely without getting hurt. I’d done it. A light laugh burst from my chest.
I turned to find Noah just two feet away, hands outstretched as if he’d been ready to catch me.
“Good job. I think you’ve earned yourself some chocolate.”
Unfortunately, Noah’s idea of a snack was all healthy foods, aside from the peanut butter cups. He’d packed fruits and veggies, some crackers, trail mix and two bottles of water. He even had one of those soccer-mom lunch boxes that allowed him to put everything in different compartments.
I was nibbling on my fifth piece of chocolate and had just slid Crumble one of the carrot sticks when a low rumble overhead made her ears twitch.
“Was that thunder?” I glanced up at the green roof above us.
“Yeah,” Noah huffed. He clicked the lid back on to the box. I’d barely unfurled my legs from beneath me by the time he’d packed up. “I thought the birds were actingstrange earlier, but the forecast said it wouldn’t roll in until tonight.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you speak bird language?”
