Trying not to show how nervous I feel, I slip my left foot into the closest stirrup. Raylan is holding Penny steady, though I suspect she would have stood there patiently either way. Even though she radiates gentleness, and she isn’t nearly as massive as Brutus, she’s still much taller than I expected. I don’t quite see how I’m going to get my other leg over her back, when that back is higher than my shoulder.

However, as I step up into the stirrup, Raylan puts his large hands around my waist and helps lift me up. With his boost, my right leg swings easily over the saddle.

Now I’m sitting on Penny’s back, and it’s damned high up. She’s wider than I expected—I’m lucky that I’m relatively tall and long-legged, otherwise, I‘d have a hard time getting my thighs around her. But the saddle is comfortable. It smells nicely of leather, and Penny smells nice too—like clean hay and sunshine. Beneath that, a not-unpleasant scent of animal sweat.

Raylan passes me the reins and shows me how to grip them.

“Just sit tight one second while I get up too,” he tells me.

He hops up on Brutus’s massive back in one smooth motion that looks as easy as stepping up on a curb. I can see this is second nature to Raylan. He sits comfortably on the large, dark horse, directing Brutus with the smallest motion of his hand on the reins, or his heel against the horse’s side.

“Give her a little tap with your heels like this,” Raylan directs me. “Don’t worry, you won’t hurt her.”

I give Penny a gentle tap, and obediently she starts walking forward. She’s probably following Raylan and Brutus more than listening to me. Still, I’m glad to see that she doesn’t take off galloping.

Even walking jolts me around more than I expected. Her shoulders and haunches roll beneath me in a way that isn’t quite regular. It’s hard to catch the rhythm so I don’t bounce around in the saddle.

“You’re doing great!” Raylan says.

I have to laugh at that. We’ve only taken a couple of steps. I’m not doing great at all.

Raylan stays close to me, Brutus just a little ahead of Penny so that it’s clear who’s leading. He keeps the pace slow to start. We amble across the meadow. The grass is a little higher here, and full of tiny white butterflies that flutter upward in papery clouds as the horses swish through. The early morning sunshine makes the dew sparkle. The grass smells sweet, and the air is fresher than any I’ve tasted before. No hint of exhaust like you’d taste everywhere in the city.

It’s cool—maybe sixty degrees. But I don’t feel chilly with the sun shining on my head and warm horseflesh beneath me.

After I’ve gotten used to walking, Raylan shows me how to trot. This is less comfortable—I have to stand up more in the stirrups, and I feel ridiculous bouncing on the horse.