The horse turned its long nose towards the fence and huffed a sound that could only be taken as agreement. Slowly, Blake ran his fingers down the white blaze that marked the length of the animal’s face. He’d touched most of the horses at some point over the past couple of weeks, he’d even brushed, wiped, blanketed, and helped dig muck out of their shoes. He’d never been on one, though. Not even one of the little fair ponies as a kid. “I don’t think I need another reason to cry today,” he said, twisting his mouth into a wry grin and trying to make it sound like a joke.
Connor patted the horse’s backside. “Come on, trust me. Put your leg over and get up here behind me. This isn’t a double saddle, so you’ll have to sit on the blanket over his backside and shove your crotch up against the sad
