Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Better,” Jensen says. He’s got that focused look again, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “But the mountains aren’t going to be this smooth. Let’s try a trot.”
Before I can protest, he clicks his tongue and Duke picks up speed. The gentle walk becomes a bone-jarring bounce that has me clutching the saddle horn harder, the impact of the stride shooting up through my tailbone. It hurts, and more than that, my lungs seize up with the fear that Duke is suddenly going to spook at something and I’m going to go flying off. My body is too old now to take such a fall.
“Don’t fight it,” Jensen calls. “Sit back into it. Absorb it.”
I try, but everything feels wrong. I’m bouncing all over the place like a sack of potatoes, my knuckles white on the reins. Just when the horror takes over and I think I’m going to fall, Jensen is jogging at Duke’s side and reaching up, his hand at my back, steadying me.
“Like this,” he says before stepping away, and suddenly I feel the rhythm he’s trying to show me. “There. Now you’ve got it.”
The sun climbs higher as we work, and sweat trickles down my spine despite the morning chill. But slowly, painfully, I start to get the hang of it. By the time Jensen calls for a break, my legs are shaking but I’m still in the saddle.
That feels like victory enough for now.
Jensen helps me dismount, his hands firm on my waist. My legs nearly buckle when I hit the ground, muscles trembling from the unfamiliar activity. He steadies me before stepping back.
“How’re ya feeling?” he asks, taking Duke’s reins.
“Like I just did a thousand squats.” I stretch, trying to work out the stiffness. When I look up, I catch Jensen watching me, his expression darkening before he turns away.
He busies himself checking Duke’s tack. “You’ll be hurting worse tomorrow. But you did better than I expected.”
“You mean for a city girl?” I say wryly.
“For someone who’s afraid of horses.”
I stiffen. “I’m not afraid…”
“Please.” He gives me a look. “I can read people. It’s all over your body language. Something happened to you? Or just a general fear of horses?”
“I was obsessed with horses, actually,” I inform him. “When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was ride. My dad finally gave in and booked me a lesson at an equestrian center. English style and all that. Got thrown minutes into it. Hit my head pretty hard. Thank god I had a helmet on.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. “Never got back on after that.” Not even when Lainey got older and begged for me to go on trail rides with her so we could pretend to be pioneers. If only she could see me now.
He nods like this confirms something. “Fear’s not always bad. Keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive.” His gaze drifts to the mountains. “Up there, you need a healthy dose of fear.”
I follow his gaze. As much as I know that the Sierra Nevadas are a tough mountain range, they’re also heavily trafficked by hikers in the summer and backcountry skiers in the winter. The amount of times he’s looked at the peaks with a combination of fear and reverence are enough to make me wonder what he’s really afraid of. Last night it seemed it was wild animals, but maybe it’s something more than that. Superstition, perhaps?
Duke’s head suddenly snaps up, ears pricked toward the tree line. The horse’s muscles tense, a tremor running through his body.
“Easy,” Jensen says soothingly, but he’s not looking at the horse. His eyes scan the shadows between the trees, where the morning sun hasn’t yet reached.
Duke shifts nervously and something moves between the trunks—maybe a deer, maybe a shadow.
Maybe something else entirely.
“What is it?” I can’t help but whisper, as if I don’t want it to hear me. Whatever it is.
“Mountains are full of things that don’t want to be seen.” His voice is low, sending a shiver down my limbs. “Best to let them be.”
The moment stretches, loaded with things neither of us are saying. The forest remains dark and still. Then Duke relaxes, the spell breaks, and Jensen steps back, though his eyes linger on the trees.
“That’s enough for today,” he says. “We’ll work on your seat tomorrow, providing the storm ain’t so bad.” His eyes latch onto mine, looking more green in the morning light. “You felt it, didn’t you?”
A chill tickles my neck. “Felt what?”
“Whatever got Duke spooked, got you spooked too.”
He starts leading Duke toward the barn and I follow. “Well, it’s hard not to be spooked when you keep looking over there and talking about how I need to fear the mountains.”
He grunts, nodding his head slightly. “Well, up there, when you get that feeling? Trust it.”