Martin smiled for the first time since I’d met him, but it didn’t seem like a friendly gesture to me, more like a personal victory of sorts. He set a minuscule black saddle on the horse’s back and pulled the leather girth under to tighten it around the belly. He’d chosen a white mare for me called Pacha, like the Incan queen, he said.

I stared at her long legs. How on earth was I going to climb this creature without tearing my pants in two?

Martin adjusted his own saddle, which was significantly larger than mine and made of a rougher leather with intricate leaf designs carved throughout. It also had a big horn sticking up on top. Was it too late to change my mind?

My pride didn’t let me. I would climb on this horse and ride it even if it killed me.

In one swift move, Martin got on his horse. The saddle seemed to mold to his body. He made curious sounds with his tongue that communicated something to the animal. I had no idea what the message was, but the gelding must have understood because he shook his ears lightly and turned toward the trail.

Mimicking Martin, I rested both of my hands on Pacha’s back and squeezed my left foot in the stirrup. I hoisted myself up, but the mare pulled away every time. I could sense Martin’s eyes on me. My face burned. I gripped a mass of Pacha’s hair with my left hand to hold her still and rested my right hand on the saddle. Then, I pulled myself up and crossed my leg over her back.

Finally!

Without letting go of Pacha’s hair with one hand, I reached out for the reins, but before I could touch them, she reared. Like a marble, I slid all the way to the ground, where I landed right next to a pile of manure.

My pride hurt more than my back and buttocks, which is saying a lot because I had little cushion to muffle the fall and the pain throbbed from my tailbone to the top of my spine.

“Are you all right?” Martin asked me. His voice came out as though he were laughing. It only angered me more.

Yes, laugh all you want, Sabater, but the first thing I’m going to do when I’m the rightful owner of this hacienda is kick you out!

I supposed it would be of no use to expect him to help me up.

Being a man was dreadful.

I stood up, trying to shake the dirt off my bottom, but it was filled with mud. Pacha glanced at me with defiance. I would show her who was boss! Seizing the saddle, I hoisted myself up again, this time with more energy.

“We can switch horses if you’d like,” Martin said. “Some people find it easier to ride in this kind of saddle.”