myself up. The problem was, I wasn’t strong enough for this awkward movement.
Ray’s hands were firm on my hips as he helped me into the space behind where Laura sat in the saddle. His strong fingers gripped my body like I’d never expected, and it sent chills dripping down my spine all the way to my toes.
His eyes were unreadable as he looked up at me. “Good?”
I swallowed and nodded. My voice was not to be trusted right now.
He handed me the camera and went to his horse, easily getting on like his sister and brother had. After gently toeing his horses sides, it took off at a trot, and his brother went with him, but his sister turned to me.
“Hold on tight with your legs and put an arm around my waist if you need to. Okay?”
She was all business, but there was a kindness in her voice that instantly warmed me to her. I nodded and followed her first instruction. The back of the horse wasn’t comfortable, but heat radiated from the horse’s body, warming me up already. I put my camera strap around my neck and held on to the back of the saddle with my other hand.
She started slower than the others, for my benefit I was sure, but soon we were bouncing toward the pasture and I had my arm around her waist. Unlike me, she was solid, muscled from years on the farm.
I wondered what they thought of me and my extra curves. Did they judge people like me? More specifically, did Ray?
At the barbed wire gate to the open, grassy expanse, Ray hopped off his horse, detached the post, and tossed it aside.
“He’s leaving it open?” I asked Laura.
“So the cattle can come through here.”
“How far are we going?”
“Three miles there and three miles back.”
I balked. Six miles at this pace? “How long will that take?”
She shrugged. “Depends on how the cattle do. Three or four hours maybe.”
I did the math in my head. That would still give me plenty of time to drive home before the store closed to grab my inhaler refill. We were fine.
Once I had enough video of us walking the horses, I switched my camera off and just took in the plains around me. How did this exist just an hour and a half from my house? From the beach?
When we reached the end of the pasture, Ray did the same thing to the gate on this end. Then, we started down a rutted dirt road. Up ahead there was a yellow sign. Road not maintained by county. Travel at your own risk.
This was the sticks. But it wasn’t the kind I had imagined with outlaws and guns and guys in stained white undershirts. No, it was peaceful out here. A nice change of pace from the rush of the city and everyone’s constant demands that needed to be answered immediately.
Ahead, Ray opened another gate, and I wondered if he was tired climbing up and down from his horse so often. The quick way he moved told me probably not. He was used to hard work—wouldn’t shy away from a challenge.
“This is where we have the cows,” Laura said. “We’ll walk the fence and catch any stragglers, then start pushing them toward the feeding pens.”
I nodded and held on as she started along the barbed wire fence with her family. I had no idea how, but the cows responded to the horses and the other way around. Star seemed to have an instinct of how to get a cow to move with the herd, swinging her long neck to guide them, and stepping in just the right places.
As we pushed the cattle onto the road, Ray and his brother expertly maneuvered their horses, keeping the herd together. They moved fast and turned at the drop of a hat, cutting off rebellious cows, stopping them before they had a chance to make their escape. Mooing and dust filled the air in a cacophony that felt as natural as the rising and setting of the sun.
Laura stayed toward the back, catching stragglers and gently pushing them ahead. It was a slower pace than the boys were moving, and I appreciated it.
“How did you guys learn to do this?” I asked, holding the camera out to capture her answer.
Her voice warmed, biting through the chill in the air. “Our dad taught us. I was riding before I could walk.”
I smiled at the obvious respect and affection in her voice. “I bet