For Sam: A new-girl small town cowboy romance

Chapter 31 Sam

Irefuse to be a blubbering mess two days in a row. Tommy’s words in his room were so simple and sure and his kiss before we left was soft and tender. He already reads when I need reassurance, when I need to be seen, and when I need time to process.

“Are you ready?” he asks, one hand on my waist, the other on the top of the saddle.

Which is strapped firmly to a horse. I asked him to check it. Twice.

I look down at him from the steps, which is an odd feeling.

“She’s truly the best horse for a new rider.”

The horse in question is standing pretty still, like she would wait as long as I need until I feel ready. But I was raised to not make others wait, so I reach out and put my hands on the saddle.

“Oh my.”

The horse gives a little huff. It doesn’t feel judgmental, but since I haven’t spent time around horses, I could be wrong.

“That’s it, cowgirl, nice and easy.”

If I wasn’t so out of my element, I might have laughed at Tommy using that nickname as I’m attempting to keep my right foot firmly grounded on the top step while turning my left to get into the stirrups.

“What’s the singular word for stirrups?” I ask, trying to take my mind off the sheer size of this horse.

“Stirrup.”

“Okay.”

Stirrup, I amend in my mind. My left foot is contorting to get into the stirrup.

“Alright,” Tommy says, totally unphased by my technical question. “Now, just like we practiced a few minutes ago, swing your right leg over.”

“You’re absolutely sure the saddle is tight?” I ask, willing away the automatic internal chastisement reminding me that I could be offending him and his ability to do something quite elementary for him.

“I wouldn’t let you get on this horse if I wasn’t.” His voice is steady and sure, not a hint of judgment at my ridiculousness.

Chuck is getting ready to ride his horse out to see the cattle, but, as Tommy assured me, he has been a jokester without giving me a hard time for climbing his brother like a tree right in front of their house and in full view of the stables. Matt is around here somewhere with Caleb, but thankfully they’re out of view. I just know at any moment both brothers and the literal rodeo star could come out and just watch me fail spectacularly.

Except, with Tommy right here, my brain is aware of all these things without focusing on them. Instead, it’s right here with this horse.

“What’s her name, again?” I ask, not trying to hide the fact I’m stalling. I can’t believe I already forgot this horse’s name.

“Bella, short for Isabella.”

“Thank you.” Part of me wants to start asking Bella questions about how best to proceed so I don’t spook her.

“Sam.” My name from his lips helps me focus.

“Would you count to three?” I blurt.

“Of course,” he says, giving my hip a tiny squeeze. “One.”

I release the air from my lungs in a shaky exhale, willing at least some of the nerves to follow.

“Two.”

A steady breath in as I hold my balance and squat down just a little, everything zeroing in on Tommy’s next word.

“Three.”

Pushing off the step, I’m half airborne, feeling the strange sensation of one foot in a stirrup which is now driving my movements. As expected, the leather saddle isn’t a cushioned seat, so when my butt lands, it’s a feeling of sturdiness.

I look down at Tommy who is grinning from ear to ear.

“What do I hold?” I ask, wishing for a handle and realizing all of the practicing we did has left my brain.

He hands me the reins, which feel ridiculous for me to be holding. As usual, he must sense my trepidation.

“She’s tied up, don’t worry. And I’ll be leading her until you’re ready.” He rubs Bella’s nose. “Can I help you get your right foot in?”

I was so focused on getting my leg over and what I’m supposed to do with my hands that I missed that one foot feels solidly in its stirrup, while the other is dangling. The blood drains from my face thinking of how easy I could just tip right over.

A gentle hand on my calf jolts me out of that line of thought.

“You’re doing amazing.”

He guides my foot into the other stirrup.

“Try standing in the stirrups just like we practiced,” he instructs, my body reacting immediately.

“Good,” he says with a smile, looking at how high I’m off the saddle all the way down to where my foot is pressing against the stirrup holding me up. Somehow. “Everything looks great here. Are you comfortable?”

His blue eyes find mine. I nod at him, lowering myself to a seated position.

“Would you like me to take Bella for a little walk? We’re staying inside this little corral.”

I look around the enclosure, heart pounding with nerves and excitement. Bella isn’t their largest horse by far, but she feels enormous underneath me. My legs feel her body heat through my jeans already. I can tell when she takes a breath just because of the smooth movement. She seems unbothered by me.

Clearing my throat, which feels right from this stress, before I squeak out a “yes”. There’s something so new and so unique to being on top of a horse. It’s terrifying to be at the mercy of a living creature this big, fast, and powerful, but it’s also empowering and healing. Giving a certain degree of control away like this is freeing.

I must make a sound of surprise when she starts walking because Tommy looks back to see if I’m okay. I give him what must be a slightly-crazed smile instead of one of confidence because he chuckles softly, leading Bella on. The walk jostles me more than I thought and I use the different techniques Tommy mentioned in the stables for steadying myself. It’s not long before I feel the rhythm of her motions. The pattern of how each of her feet touch down and how that shifts me without making me feel like I’m being thrown off. It makes me think that you need to be engaged with the horse for it to be a comfortable ride. There’s a mutual respect, and a way to connect that allows you to flow with the horse’s movements.

It’s easy to see why so many people love this.

“Look at you go, cowgirl.”

“I’m not sure I can be considered one just yet,” I say, looking around this enclosed space and then down at Tommy who is calmly walking while holding a rope connected to Bella’s bridle.

“As someone who grew up around horses, I can officially say the nickname has been well-earned and you’ll be wearing a ten-gallon hat in no time.”

“I could simply borrow yours.”

He stops our first lap and turns to look me in the eyes. “You’re ready for that?” His voice is gravelly and the intensity in the question is palpable.

“To wear a hat?” I ask, confused at the turn this has taken.

Realization washes over his features.

“Ah, city girls might not have the same traditions.” His hand rubs his five o’clock shadow and he shifts his weight to one foot.

“What have I missed?”

“Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”

Well, that’s news to me.