by Ann Patty
Cairn came over and hoisted the saddle about four inches off the stand and then let go saying, “Wow, you got anything lighter weight? How much does that thing weight?”
“About 40 pounds. That's average. Come over here. If you can't pick this one up there is no hope,” Cliff waved her over and pointed to a fabric saddle.
Cairn rolled her eyes then picked this saddle up with ease, “Wow, easy. I'll take it!” And marched out to Bluebird patiently waiting. “Any instructions before I throw it up?”
“Nope, go ahead. Just center it up on the pad. Might make it easier if you throw that leg with the stirrup and the girth side over first,” Cliff was pointing and helping make the lift off easier. And with one swing up Cairn placed the saddle square.
Cairn relaxed and said, “Does this make me an expert yet?” Smiling, she wanted to see Cliff's reaction. He only shook his head with a slight smile. Cairn knew he was thinking: beginners luck.
Cliff began instructing again, “See this it's the girth. Bring it from underneath and cinch it up like this. Watch me do it. Don't cinch it tight until just before you get on. It's easier on the horse and saves pinched skin. Now come stand right here in front of me. I won't bite. At least not yet.” Cliff stood behind Cairn and took her right hand to the saddle flap and explained, “With the palm of your hand here you want the stirrup to bury itself in your armpit. If it fits comfortably, then that is your stirrup length. If not, you need to adjust the straps underneath. Now go around and do the other side by yourself.” Cliff waited and Cairn looked over the saddle with a thumbs up.
Cliff untied Bluebird and led him out of the barn, waving Cairn to follow them. The cowboy took his horse over to an arena filled with soft dirt. Then he turned to Cairn and told her to cinch up the saddle tight. She struggled with the simple task, but then Cliff stepped in to show her where and how to pull the straps to make it snug. Cairn nodded. Cliff said, “Hop on up here young lady.” Cairn surprised herself and popped right up into the saddle. Cliff led her around. Surprisingly, Cairn was relaxed. Of course she did not have to steer. Cliff looked over his shoulder and began moving away. Bluebird was stepping out into a bigger circle around Cliff who said, “This is lounging. I'll work you around me until you gain your seat. You don't have to worry about steering the horse. He is under my control on this long line. Anyway, Bluebird has taught all the grandchildren, and every first rider around these parts. He is a master teacher, better than me, so listen to him. We are going to work you in circles both ways until you relax. How do you feel?” Cliff asked.
Cairn knew she was in the best hands, so she replied, “I feel okay, I guess. Actually I feel inadequate, but I'll get over it.”
“Good. Now we'll begin,” Cliff stated and went on to give Cairn a load of information, “First, breathe, deep breaths down into your belly. This will help center and relax you. Never forget to breathe. The horse also knows when you are tense. Horses like relaxed riders. Next get rid of the tension. Start at your forehead. Wiggle it to be aware of stress then breathe that tension out. Work your way down your body to your toes. There is no rush, only awareness of your body parts. The whole point is to relax and once you do that your body will sink into the horse, become one with it. You are looking good,” Cliff was actually surprised at how quick Cairn got it. Then she explained.
“Amazing,” Cairn said then stated, “I've been doing yoga for years. What you just said ties in perfectly. I believe all realms of sports carry the same essence.”
“Maybe so,” Cliff said as he watched her position. “Now let's go one deeper. I want you to feel the horse beneath you. Feel his muscles in this walking gait. Loosen your hips and swing along with his stride. That's right. Good. Now I'm going to reverse. Your job is to ride each stride of the horse. Nothing more. Good again. I am going to reverse without telling you. Just ride the flow. And don't ask Bluebird for help.” Cliff lunged Cairn in circles, big ones, little ones, reversing direction and even stopping and backing up. Cairn just flowed with the current. When Cliff clicked to Bluebird the horse popped into a small jog trot. Cairn initially reached out for the saddle horn to stabilize, but quickly let go. Cliff could see her smiling and going with Bluebird's pace. Cliff clicked louder and the trot pace extended. Cairn concentrated on her balance. She found if she leaned back slightly riding the rhythm it got easy. Cliff told Bluebird to walk and he immediately went back into a walk. Without warning, Cairn began cantering, a very slow one, but cantering. She looked over and saw Cliff had a hand signal for everything he told Bluebird. So Cairn put her thumb up to indicate a faster canter. Within ten seconds Bluebird was loping along with big lanky strides. Cairn put her hands in the air and whooped loud. Then two bucks later, she found herself plopped in the dirt, and stunned.
“Ya can't 'whoop' on Bluebird,” Cliff walked up to her laughing. “See horses are like people. They have their likes and dislikes. A ‘whoop’ to this ole man is like getting smacked. Before I got him some kids had him. They smacked the crap out of him as they ran the Jezebels out of him and hollered their heads off. Guess what word they used? Well, Bluebird gets a flashback once in a blue moon when the W word is hollered at a particular pitch.”
“So does he have any other quirks that I should know about?” Cairn asked.
“Yeah, he likes carrot tops with spiky redheads,” Cliff laughed at he pulled Cairn to her feet. “Hold your horse, I'll be right back.” With that, he disappeared into the barn. A minute later, Cliff returned. “This is his bridle. I will show you how to put it on. First, come over here and unbuckle the halter. You can just let it drop. Bluebird don't care. I'll get it in a minute. Now stand here on the left up by his face. Good. See the top of the bridle? Put it behind his ears as you take the bit and push it up gently in between his teeth. Take it slow. That's good. Now take this, it's called the throat latch, over to your side and buckle it. Now you are bridled. Hop up my dear.”
Cairn popped up in the saddle once again. She took up the reins. Cliff told her to put herself out on the rail. Cairn played around to see what worked. Cliff had to teach again, “Look riding a horse is simple. You have your left and right rein and your left and right leg. Horses listen to everything you tell them, and even what you don't tell them. You are using a snaffle bit. It is a direct rein and right now that is best for you to connect the dots. And snaffle bits are kind. So put a bit of pressure on your right rein. Notice he gives his head only. Now put your left leg pressure on at the heal. Now he moves his body away from the pressure. This is basic, but it is a good place for you to practice. Your seat and how deep you are into your saddle will convey speed, rhythm and tempo. See your whole body works together. I don't expect you to get this all right now.”
Cairn took her new horse friend out and began playing with the pressures and signals Cliff gave her. It was like a whole new world had opened up. Cairn practiced the signals in the trot. Cliff looked on in surprise that a beginner was so adept. Once in awhile Cliff would toss in a piece of helping advice, but overall he kept still and just watched. Cairn worked at this like she did most projects: tenaciously and tirelessly. New things were meant to be conquered. Cliff disappeared into the barn and when he returned Cairn and Bluebird were loping around the arena like they had done it forever. Cliff clapped as he approached their pen. Cairn broke into the trot and came through the open gate that Cliff was holding.
“Not bad, my pretty one. Not bad. Sure you aren't pulling my leg about riding previously?” Cliff asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That was exhilarating. No. No lies. I only tell the truth. My best friend, Kelly, taught me that one. Before then I was a horrible liar,” Cairn sassed back with a mocking demeanor.
Together the couple unbridled, unsaddled, and gave Bluebird a cool sponge bath. As soon as Cairn let him back in his corral he rolled himself up into a dust bunny. Cliff filled all the hay troughs with dinner for all the critters. The black cat came running up to Cairn.
“This is your cat Cliff, isn't it?” C
airn asked as she reached down to pat the dirt off of it.
“Yup, her and her brother, although I haven't seen him around lately. Probably coyote bait,” Cliff said leaning up on a post for support. He was hurting from the bull stampede earlier. “Have you picked up Surprise yet?” Cliff said and reached down and scooped her up and cradled her on her back in the nook of his arm. Surprise!” said Cliff. The black cat turned into every bit of a colorful surprise. Those faint orange body-lines all converged to a vibrant orange and white sunburst on her under side.
“Oh my!” Exclaimed Cairn, and she came over to see the belly beaming with color. “Wow, she is a surprise. By the way what do you mean by coyote bait?” Cairn was concerned.
“Hmm. Probably shouldn't a said anything. Most all the cats in these parts are barn cats. They learn survival skills, or if they go wandering off they contribute themselves to a coyote's dinner. Survival of the fittest is just farm life.” Cliff could see Cairn writhe from the idea of a cat being eaten. “My dogs are good at guarding this place, so I don't worry to much about the cats. They are under good protection.” Cliff coughed, let go of Surprise, and leaned heavily in to the post.
“Dogs? I don't see any?” Cairn observed.
“Oh, yeah. Well I got four, but they are staying overnight with my horse at the ranch. They like their slumber parties,” Cliff winked and walked toward the stairs. “Say, you are riding great. And I don't say that to just any rookie. If you want to ride Bluebird when I'm not here then ride only in the arena. Don't leave the property. I gotta go up now.”
“Cliff, are you sure you haven't broke something?” Cairn asked, without receiving a response. “I'll be up in a bit. I'll water the cows and horses.”
When Cairn went up she realized it was late. The sun had set over the mountains. The house was still. As she passed Cliff's bedroom she stopped in the doorway. He was plumb out sprawled across the bed corner to corner. He managed to remove his clothes down to his underwear and got himself tucked under a sheet. Cairn could not help it, but feelings of endearment welled up. Could this cowboy from Drewsey be stealing my heart? Cairn didn't want to entertain that thought for she for certain could not, would not live this lifestyle out here in Tim-buck-two-land.
Bluebird
The following morning, Cairn had set her alarm for 6am. She wanted to get back up on Bluebird before the heat of the day set in. Pulling on her jeans, tee shirt and hard-soled shoes; she would take her shower later when she was sticky with sweat. The house felt vacant. Cliff was gone early. He left a note on the table: Gone early to the ranch to check my horse. Will be back by 5. xox Cairn looked at the xox, the universal language for hugs and kisses. She wondered: Is this a break through?
Bluebird was saddled up, bridled, and being lead out of the barn when Cairn saw a man standing next to the far side of the arena. One foot was propped up on a fence rail like he was going to climb over, but he didn't. The man wore a chamois outfit with fringe on the under arms and legs. His hair was black, long, and his face tanned with character wrinkles. He was definitely dark skinned, a Native American most likely. He said nothing, but waved to Cairn as she emerged into the low morning sunlight from the dusky light of the barn. Cairn squinted to adjust her vision and subverted her eyes down. When she drew near the arena the man appeared to be gone. Cupping her hands over her eyes for shade, Cairn searched the landscape. The local was indeed gone. He vanished as easily as he had come. Could he be the same spirit man that she had seen yesterday?
Apparition or not, Cairn was feeling this was nature's way in these remote valleys. Without the crowding of concrete cities and hoards of people, out here there was less, which somehow seemed to equal more. If one could remain quiet, Cairn was positive the earth would tell her secrets. At day number three on the farm, Cairn was acclimating to the terrain, the temperature, and her temporary life at the ranch. She didn't particularly like this desolate area, but she was learning to adapt.
Bluebird was lead to the middle of the arena. Cairn swung the reins over his neck. Something caught her eye in the dirt just behind Bluebird's front foot. It looked to be cloth. The arena was impeccably clean the night before, at least Cairn thought it was. She bent down to pick up the cloth and paused. It was faded red and woven; a partner to the one left for her yesterday. Cairn was in motion stillness bent over under Bluebird's belly when she got slammed in the head. She fell forward, flat on her stomach, laying full out under Bluebird. Holy hell, what happened? Cairn raised her head and looked around to find Bluebird's nose reaching around to figure Cairn out. He never moved a muscle, or a foot. Cairn got up on her hands and knees and crawled out from underneath him. The saddle had rotated fully and now rode Bluebird's belly upside down.
Cairn got up and dusted herself off. She grabbed the horn of the saddle and hoisted it upward to Bluebird's back. It wouldn't budge. Now Cairn got it. She never fully cinched up the girth. The question was how to get the saddle in the upright position again when everything was upside down. Cairn reefed and pulled and pushed the saddle hoping to get it topside, but no luck. Blueberry stood patient, his head down in waiting. Finally, Cairn did the obvious. She loosened the leather cinch. The saddle fell to the ground making a puff of dust. Bluebird had seen it all. Without flinching, batting an eye, or swishing his tail, he stood still as a statue.
Cairn restarted from the ground up. It took awhile, but eventually Bluebird was wearing an upright, proper saddle. And, it was cinched up nice and snug. “And, that is how it's done, Bluebird,” Cairn told the horse as if he was clueless. “Yeah, I know. You've had more saddling time in your life than I'll ever do in mine. Gosh you are a good boy.” Cairn petted his neck and then mounted the saddle.
Cairn reminisced a certain truth: there are things that can only be learned by mistakes, then her thought expanded to: and this horse is the perfect catalyst for such learning. Cairn realized then that having the privilege of being in the presence of a horse can allow a person to grow and gain great knowledge in ways unique to and only imparted by equines. Cairn had just experienced that a horse will reflect or deflect your every movement. They mirror your inner and outer being. And although horses are impressively large, their size is an illusion for their sensitivities are a subtle language of great magnificence. Cairn could see where equestrians are constantly challenged by the mastery of such depths of learning that each horse can unveil. Cairn's depth of understanding deepened as she rode Bluebird around the corral. Just in her folly of a fallen saddle, Cairn was able to embrace Bluebird's equine essence; that was one of being a saint of understanding.
Feeling her hips sway to and fro. Letting her body rock with Bluebird's gait. Relaxing and breathing and relieving all her body tension allowed Cairn's mind to absorb more. One hand fiddled inside her light jacket pocket. She withdrew what she placed there before her head on collision with the saddle. It was the faded, woven piece of blanket. Cairn stuck it back in pocket. She would save and compare it to the other found yesterday.
Cairn had a thought: The dark man must have placed it there in the arena for me to find. And in finding it, he helped save me from a bad saddle wreck. Could it be that this spirit was guiding—helping—me find my way while here? Three days and three vanishing men. Each one gave Cairn something of value. The chief along the river imparted introspection. The warrior on the hill, guided her reconnection with the outside world. This local native left a token to protect her from a potential accident. Cairn wondered: Were these all the same men, perhaps one spirit guide sent to follow and protect me?
For the next hour and a half, Cairn rode Bluebird into a slight sweat. She played with rein positions and leg pressures. She practiced leg yields, which made her mount move on various diagonals. Bluebird was cooperative and knew before Cairn asked what she wanted. He was a smart old one. Getting the mechanics understood was a fun challenge. But the true school of horsemanship went beyond these body basics. Attuning to a horse's physique, and truly understanding its psyche, reached above elem
entary principles. The mastery of a horse seemed somehow fundamental. Yet man was the recipient of profound learning that spanned thousands of years in partnership with the horse. Cairn began to see why cowboys—all horse people—held their mounts in high regard.
Cairn loved to lope. It was easy. A liberating sensation. Bluebird's rocking horse gait put a smile on her face. While she was on the farm, Cairn decided to treasure these moments on Bluebird. She recognized this life was not for her. The more Cairn agreed with this admission, the more freedom of self-came. Not having to commit to anything at this ranch, but only each moment, released her conscious from any fault. Her whole life seemed directed and hedged in and restrictive. Even her job, that she loved, was institutionalized. One could not get more rigid with regulations than working in a brokerage house where numbers ruled life.
