37. Jillian
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jillian
Elliott’s standing in front of one of the stalls. “Come on, guys, let’s get you a nice horse to ride on.” He looks over his shoulder and smiles at us. “This is Buttercup, and she’s a very sweet girl.” Jamie approaches the tall door and tries to peer inside, but he’s not tall enough.
Elliott holds his hands out to Jamie. “Do you need a lift?”
Jamie raises his arms to be picked up. Something loosens in my chest and then snaps into place like a puzzle piece finding the spot it belongs to.
Elliott places Jamie on his hip like he’s been doing it his entire life. I approach the stall and look in over the gate. The horse is light brown with a creamy-colored mane and tail.
“You two step back while I bring Buttercup out and then I’ll show you how to saddle her, okay?” Elliott sets Jamie down.
I take Jamie’s hand and walk back several steps.
Elliott opens the gate and brings Buttercup out and then tethers her to both sides of the wall. He points at the ropes. “This is called a cross tie. Normally, when working on a horse, you do this to keep the horse centered, stable, and safe. Buttercup doesn’t really need this, but I’ll show you the right way to do it so you know. Deal?”
Jamie signs yes .
Elliott points to the gear on Buttercup’s head. “This is called a halter, and these are reins. It’s what you use to control the horse and tell her where to go or when to stop. Kind of like a collar and leash for a dog.”
I’m learning as much as Jamie. “What about the thing that goes in their mouth?”
“That’s called a bit. We don’t use that here. I don’t care what anyone says. It’s not comfortable for the animal.”
“Oh, I always see that in movies.”
“It’s used because the riders can better control the animal with pain. But a horse is ridden from the back, not from the mouth. A good rider and a well-trained horse don’t need such devices. We’re lucky to have an excellent ranch hand who gently trains all the horses and cares for them.”
Another little puzzle piece falls into place. This man has a very soft side. And I bet he doesn’t reveal that side to many.
Elliott gestures at the horse. “Now that Buttercup is safely tethered in the cross tie, it’s time for introductions. Come closer.”
I let go of Jamie’s hand, and he approaches the horse with quiet, measured steps.
“Good job, Jamie. That’s the right way to introduce yourself. You want to be gentle. Horses spook easily. Now hold the back of your hand out. Let Buttercup smell you.”
Jamie lifts his arm, and the horse takes half a step forward. She sniffs Jamie’s hand and then flaps her lips on it, which makes Jamie giggle. The sound takes me by surprise, and I gasp, then laugh when Jamie looks at me with the happiest of smiles on his face.
“Good job, Jamie. That means she likes you. Now come to her side and pet her shoulder. You can use both hands, gently. Yes, like that. She likes it.”
I catch Elliott’s gaze and mouth, “Thank you.”
He smiles. “We’ll get Jamie set up first and then it can be your turn.”
“Me?”
“Yes. We’ll get acquainted with the horses in the paddock now and later we can all go for a ride. Have you ridden before?”
“Yes, but not in many years.”
“It will be fun. But first we need to get Buttercup saddled. Jamie, you’ll be my helper. See that red blanket over there? Bring it to me, please.”
Jamie is eager to help.
“Thank you. This is called a saddle pad. It’s like a cushion to keep the horse comfy. It goes on first.” Elliott places the pad on Buttercup’s back. “Do you know what comes next?”
Jamie points at the saddle.
“That’s right. But I’ll get it. It’s heavy.”
Elliott places the saddle over the pad. “Now we put the saddle on top of the pad. It’s like putting a comfy seat on the horse’s back. Then we make sure it’s centered and snug. This part is called the girth. It’s like a big belt that goes under the horse’s belly to hold the saddle in place. We need to be gentle and make sure it’s not too tight or too loose.”
Jamie’s eyes are fixed on everything Elliott is doing .
“These are the stirrups.” Elliott points to the long leather contraption. “They hang from the saddle, and you need to adjust the length for your legs so you can put your foot in this spot.” He points at the metal base.
“Then it’s done?” I ask.
“Not quite. Before you mount the horse, you need to make sure everything is in place correctly. Check that the saddle is secure, the girth is snug but not too tight, and the stirrups are set at the right length for your legs.”
Then he follows through. Pulling and tugging and ensuring Buttercup is comfortable. “Are you ready to be a cowboy?”
Jamie’s lips move like he’s going to speak, but he nods instead. My heart gallops inside my chest.
Elliott untethers Buttercup and we walk beside him as he brings the horse outside and into a large, fenced area. He goes inside, and we stay on the other side of the paddock. I tilt my face to the sky, enjoying the warmth spreading across my face. Leaning against the corral, I brace my arms on the top row while Jamie stands on the slats, watching Elliott work with the horse.
I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Did you really try to ride a cow when you were six?”
“Guilty as charged.” He chuckles at the memory. “I thought it would be like riding a horse. Boy, was I wrong. Grandma loves telling that story to anyone who will listen.”
“Wait, it ran? With you on its back?” My laughter grows.
“It sure did. I didn’t expect the cow to take off and managed to hold on for all of five seconds before I got dumped on a pile of”—he glances at Jamie—“cow poop.”
“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth, but there’s no stopping the laughter.
Jamie is divided between grinning and making a disgusted face.
“Let’s say I learned my lesson.”
This is one of those moments where a lasting memory is created. And I can see myself telling this story over and over like Grace does.
“What did you do after?”
“Grandma would not let me into the house covered in?—”
Again he glances at Jamie and curbs the curse word.
“Covered in dung, so she got the hose and washed me off right in the yard. Then threw my clothes away because there was no way those clothes would go into her washer.”
I look at my son. “That is a funny story. Right, Jamie?”
“Your turn, Jillian,” Elliott prompts, his gaze warm and inviting. “What’s your most embarrassing childhood story?”
I hesitate for a second, searching my mind. Filtering through the memories and looking for something that didn’t include CJ.
I grin. “I got one.”
“Please go on, don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”
I look at Jamie, gauging his reaction. “I had to be about seven or eight. It was summer, and I was playing outside with a kite my dad got for me. It got stuck in a tree.”
Elliott pats Buttercup’s neck. “Did you climb it?”
“You know it. And I got the kite. Tossed it down. It was all good up to that point.”
His eyebrows pop up. “Then what happened?”
Jamie is watching me as eagerly as Elliott .
Heat rises on my cheeks. “Well, I was climbing down and decided to jump the last four or five feet. And the back to my T-shirt got hooked on a branch and ripped right off me.”
He’s laughing now. “Wait, you were shirtless?”
“Yes. I landed fine and was so proud of myself I didn’t even realize I lost my shirt until the kids started pointing and laughing.”
“Oh no.”
Yep, my face is burning now. “That’s when I felt the breeze and looked at myself and then up at the tree. My shirt was hanging from it, ripped nearly in two.”
Elliott doesn’t bother to cover his mouth and laughs freely.
“What did you do?”
“Got the kite and held it in front of me and went back home. Got a good scolding from my mother that day. And my father got yelled at for giving me the kite.” I laugh at the memory, a lot less painful and cringy now than it had been before I told it.
There’s a little bit of magic in sharing embarrassing stories with someone you care for. The thought surprises me. I care for Elliott. More than I expected. Fear tries to poke at me, old habits trying to come into the light, but I shove it down.
Jamie looks at me with wide eyes.
“What about you, Jamie?” Elliott asked. “Any stories to share about you?”
Jamie shook his head in an emphatic no.
We both laugh, and Elliott brings Buttercup to a wooden platform near the fence. That I know is called a mounting block.
“All right. Who’s ready to go horse riding?”