The work they had done together, and the rides Henry took the colt on, created a bond between the two of them that neither one had ever felt before. Every morning the colt met Henry at the gate, and every morning Henry took the colt on some new and exciting adventure. Sometimes the adventure meant going out on one of their rides together in the desert. Another time it was Henry teaching the colt how to accept the swinging of a lariat overhead while Henry roped fence posts, barrels or the a roping dummy Henry had constructed out of a saw horse and a black plastic steer head he had bought in town. On another day, Henry taught the colt how to go quietly in a trailer, stand relaxed inside, and come back out. Henry also taught the colt how to stand when someone picked up and cleaned his feet; something the colt had been terrified to do not so long ago.

One of the colt’s proudest moments, however, was the day Henry brought him out and saddled him up, just as he had done so many times before. This time, Henry also brought Mic out of his pen. Mounting the colt, Henry took Mic’s lead rope, dallied it around the saddle horn, and Henry and the colt ponied Mic out across the desert—just as Henry and Mic had done with the colt all those weeks before.

While the colt had no idea how long it had been since Henry first threw a leg over his back, he was beginning to realize that the hot, dusty months they had passed through were beginning to come to a close. The days were gradually getting shorter, the nights cooler, and ever so slowly, he was beginning to shed his summer coat and a heavier, winter coat was beginning to grow in its place. It was on one of those cooler mornings, when the air was still crisp from the night before, that Henry came to get the colt. He groomed the colt, as he always had, placed the familiar saddle pad on his back, and then the saddle. But almost immediately, the colt realized something was different. The saddle Henry put on him was not the saddle he always wore when Henry rode. It was different, somehow—not at all uncomfortable, really—just different.

Henry bridled and led the colt to the arena where the woman, Jessie, was waiting with a smile on her face. “Are you sure you want to do this,” the colt heard Henry say to the woman.

“Yes, Henry. Don’t worry. I feel fine,” the woman answered.

“I know…but what if he should act up or go to buckin’? I wouldn’t want you to get hurt again.”

“Has he acted up or bucked with you?”

“Well, no…”

“Then he won’t with me.” The woman smiled. “For crying out loud, Henry. Have some faith in your horse. He’s got faith in you.”

Henry slowly moved to the colt’s head and held him while Jessie climbed in the saddle. It was a strange feeling for the colt, to have someone other than Henry on his back. He turned and looked at the man standing next to him. “You take care of her, you hear?” Henry said calmly and quietly. “No foolin’ around, I mean it.”