Facing the Music (Rosewood 1)

Thomas shrugged. “That’s up to you, ma’am. Angus is large, but he’s pretty even-tempered. A little hardheaded, but as my mama says, most men are. Willow is sweet but a little skittish. Both should be fine to ride, even for a novice rider.”

That was what Ivy needed to hear. “I think I’d probably be more comfortable with Willow.”

Blake nodded. “That sounds fine.” He looked back at the marching band, which was queuing up with Ivy’s father at the front of the group. “Looks like we should mount up.”

“Would you like some help up, ma’am?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, please. I’ve never done this before.”

A look of momentary concern flashed in Thomas’s eyes before he smiled and handed both sets of reins over to Blake. “Sure thing. Let me grab a mounting block from the trailer.” He disappeared around the corner and returned about a minute later.

“Here you go. You’re going to grasp the reins with your left hand and shift all your weight onto your right foot. Put your left foot in the stirrup, then push yourself up and swing your other leg over.”

Ivy looked at Thomas dubiously but did as she was told. With her left foot firmly in place, she hoisted herself up and swung her right leg over the horse. With both feet in the stirrups, she adjusted herself in the saddle and took a deep breath of relief.

Turning to Blake beside her, she said, “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You’ll do fine. I told you that.” He smiled wide, looking as handsome as ever. Ivy didn’t remember him riding horses, but he seemed very natural astride Angus. Everything from his plaid shirt to his worn brown boots seemed to suit perfectly.

“Did you know we were riding horses today?”

The smile immediately dimmed. “I think someone mentioned it last night at the bake-off,” he said, but she could tell he was lying.

“You knew! You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

Blake threw up his hands defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t know.”

Ivy growled low in her throat and turned back to the boy patiently waiting beside her horse.

Thomas handed her the reins. “Give her a squeeze with your legs to start her going. To stop, lean back and pull gently on the reins. Don’t tug hard, don’t yell at her, and don’t say ‘T-R-O-T,’ ” he spelled out.

Ivy frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because they both spent their summer at a horseback riding camp. If you say that word, they’ll take off. They’re trained that way.”

Ivy’s eyes widened. “We certainly do not want that.” She was nervous enough just sitting on the horse. Trotting would be terrifying. “Thanks for the tip, Thomas.”

“No problem. Dad and I will be waiting with the trailer at the other end of the parade route. We’ll help you dismount there.”

Thomas picked up the step stool and disappeared, along with Ivy’s sense of security. “How long is the parade route again?”

Blake laughed. “About a mile. We’re going down Main Street, then turning onto Second Avenue.

It isn’t that long of a trip, even for a beginner.”

“Okay,” she said, leaning down to pat Willow’s neck. “You’re a good girl. We’re going to make it through this together. I’ll give you a big, juicy apple when we’re done, okay?”

Willow snorted and shook her mane. Ivy took that as a binding agreement. Hopefully the horse would keep her end of the bargain. Ivy would buy her a whole bag of apples at the Piggly Wiggly if she made it through this parade unscathed.

“Here we go,” Blake said.

Ivy looked up in time to see the mayor’s car turn onto Main Street and the marching band start off. She gazed down at the back of the horse’s neck with dismay. How did she start this thing again? Oh yes, squeeze gently with her legs. Ivy applied a tiny amount of pressure and Willow slowly started making her way across the parking lot.

“Good girl,” Ivy said encouragingly. Blake was right beside her as they reached the edge of the lot. “I didn’t ask how to turn.”

“Gently pull the reins to the left and press in with your right leg.”

“There’s not a blinker, is there?” she asked with a nervous chuckle. Willow turned with Angus by her side and they merged into the parade proper.