It was hard to believe he was twenty years old, grew up in Montana, and had never been on the back of a horse until today, but it was true. They’d had trail-riding excursions during high school, but they weren’t cheap, so Jeremy hadn’t gone. He was currently fourth in the long line of riders plodding along a trail in the open woods. He tried to remember everything Joshua had told them to do—keep the reins soft, don’t kick the horse’s flank with your heels, keep your spine straight, and your shoulders relaxed and down. But he felt so fucking high up. And he could picture a dozen catastrophes without even trying. “That ol’ Josey, he’s eyein’ those berry bushes.” This was from Charlie, who was riding just behind Jeremy, the pair of them smack in the middle of the procession. “Iffin he starts to move his head to the right a’tall, ya give a little tug on the reins to let ’im know ya won’t put up with his nonsense.” What? You mean I have to control a crazed, berry-eating horse my first time out?
