Twelve
Placing my hands where Ty showed me, I grabbed the saddle and hefted it off the rack.
When he told me I was going to saddling up my ride by myself today, I’d had that initial moment of panic. A brief period of sheer terror. It only took a few calming breaths to remind myself that I could do this, that I’d been watching and helping Ty do it for over two weeks. If I hadn’t learned by now how to do it myself, then I didn’t deserve the cowgirl title.
Roughshod stood there calmly chewing on the carrot I had swiped from Genevieve’s salad fixings last night. I walked up to her side, swung the saddle up, and managed to get it square on saddle blanket already sitting on her back on the first try.
“Nice,” Ty said. “Next you need to—”
“Secure the cinch,” I finished. “I remember.”
Moving
