up on the mounting block, hold on to the reins here, slip your left leg in the stirrup, then toss your right leg over her.”
Vivian looked from one of them to the other, the panic back on her face.
“Just like that? We’re not going to work up to this? Don’t I have to change, or get instructions about how to do it, or learn what to do with my hands and my legs or anything?”
Tim shook his head.
“All of that will come once you’re on the horse. Easier to teach it that way.”
Vivian turned and stared at the side of the horse. She stood like that, without saying anything, for almost a minute. Malcolm almost stepped forward to tell her she didn’t have to do this if she didn’t want to, but something in her body language told him to stay quiet.
“Okay,” she finally said.
And then, before Malcolm could blink, she hopped up on the mounting block, slid her foot into the stirrup, swung the other leg over the horse, and sat down.
She looked down at Tim and Malcolm, pride and fear both clear on her face.
“Okay, now what? I’m on her back. What do I do next?”
Malcolm smiled up at her and let Tim answer.
“Good work. Now, loosen your grip. Just relax a little.” Her hands were taut on the reins. Luckily, Polly didn’t protest. With what looked like great effort, she relaxed them.
“Good, good, just like that.”
Another stable hand led Luka out, and Malcolm quickly mounted him. Vivian still looked nervous but already more comfortable than she had just a few moments ago.
“What do you say to going for a little walk around with them?” he asked. Vivian glanced into the distance and tensed up again. “Just inside the fenced area, I mean. So you can get used to this.”
Vivian made a face at him.
“Do I have any choice?”
He looked straight into her eyes and nodded.
“Absolutely, you do. It’s completely your choice. If you’re not liking this, or if you want to stop at any time, just say the word, and we’ll get you off that horse and inside to drink some tea and eat some scones as soon as possible.”
Vivian’s face softened.
“Okay. But . . . one question: How do I get her to walk?”
Malcolm grinned.
“Don’t worry, she’ll follow me and Luka. Here, just hold on, and I’ll show you.” Malcolm nudged Luka with his knees, and he walked a few steps, and Polly followed them. “See? How was that?”
Vivian smiled, but she still looked nervous.
“That was okay.” She looked down at Tim. “Did that look okay?”
Tim stepped back and nodded.
“Well done. Polly likes having you up there, I can tell.”
When they got a few lengths away, Malcolm turned to Vivian.
“He’s not just saying that, you know. He really can tell. And if he thought the horse was unhappy with you on her, you would have been off that horse within seconds. Tim is a very keen judge of character.”
Vivian nodded. He wasn’t sure if she believed him or not, but he was telling the truth. Her eyes didn’t budge from the back of Polly’s head, and he could tell it was taking a tremendous effort for her not to hold on tightly to the reins.
“It’s okay to look around, you know,” he said.
She glanced quickly at him and then back at the horse.
“It just feels like if I look in any other direction, when we’re moving like this, I’ll go off-balance and fall off.” She turned her head again and looked at him for longer this time. “I’m sure that sounds ridiculous to you.”
He shook his head. He was so pleased she was enjoying herself—despite her fear—that nothing she said would have sounded ridiculous to him.
“I can definitely see how you’d feel that way, but you have a really good seat—how do you have such great posture, anyway?”
She laughed.
“Ballet lessons as a kid. I only took them for a few years, but the posture stuff all stuck with me. And I have a job where I walk around and talk to people a lot; it helps not to be hunched over a computer all day like so many people are.”
He had to fight not to hunch over his computer—or his phone—on a daily basis.
“See, you already have a natural advantage for riding. No wonder you’re so good at this. Do you want to learn a little bit more?”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Sure, okay.”
He thought for a second.
“What would you rather do, go faster—not much