“No. I’m fine.”

“Don Armand liked English saddles. He said it was the only saddle a gentleman should use. He used to say Western was for the lower class.”

From his tone, I perceived some resentment toward my father. But to me, knowing that my father made the same choice was reassuring. By God, I would learn to ride as well as this man!

I attempted to balance my body on the mare’s back, but my initial courage diminished as the creature started to move. ¡Madre mía! The ground looked too far down and I didn’t want to fall again. I couldn’t bear the humiliation a second time. I clung to her mane with both hands and pressed my thighs against her sides.

When I looked up, Martin was staring at me.

Gone was his mocking demeanor. He’d turned dead serious. There was something odd about the way he was looking at me.

“What?” I said.

It took him a moment to answer. With his eyes still set on me, he said, “Use the reins to guide her. Right one when you want to turn right, left when you want to go left.”

I told myself to calm down. He was probably just surprised that a man didn’t know how to ride a horse.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve ridden before. I’m just out of practice and this horse doesn’t know me.” I straightened my back and pulled on the right rein. Surprisingly, Pacha turned right, following Martin’s horse.

As the mare continued down a dirt trail flanked by trees with enormous leaves, I could feel every muscle on the horse’s back under my thighs. I tightened my grip on the reins, trying to concentrate on the view instead of my transportation.

After a long silence, Martin finally spoke.

“You’re lucky to have come at this time of the year.” He geared his horse away from the trail into a maze of overgrown vegetation. “We’ve just started collecting the pods so you’ll see the entire process.”

The horses’ hooves crumpled the gray, dry leaves padding the ground. Hummingbirds chirped from the towering branches and a rooster crowed nearby. As we advanced into the heart of the plantation, the gurgle of a stream became louder. A mild scent of bananas filled the air.

“We plant banana trees to help with the growth of the cacao trees,” Martin said, pointing at a shrub with leaves of a deeper green. “They provide shade from direct sunlight and also protect them from excessive winds. So do these cedars.”

I raised my gaze toward the abundant branches and leaves of a few overgrown trees shielding the area like giant umbrellas.