Page 69 of Courage, Dear Heart

Jamie is eager to help.

“Thank you. This is called a saddle pad. It’s like a cushion to keep the horse comfy. It goes on first.” Elliott places the pad on Buttercup’s back. “Do you know what comes next?”

Jamie points at the saddle.

“That’s right. But I’ll get it. It’s heavy.”

Elliott places the saddle over the pad. “Now we put the saddle on top of the pad. It’s like putting a comfy seat on the horse’s back. Then we make sure it’s centered and snug. This part is called the girth. It’s like a big belt that goes under the horse’s belly to hold the saddle in place. We need to be gentle and make sure it’s not too tight or too loose.”

Jamie’s eyes are fixed on everything Elliott is doing.

“These are the stirrups.” Elliott points to the long leather contraption. “They hang from the saddle, and you need to adjust the length for your legs so you can put your foot in this spot.” He points at the metal base.

“Then it’s done?” I ask.

“Not quite. Before you mount the horse, you need to make sure everything is in place correctly. Check that the saddle is secure, the girth is snug but not too tight, and the stirrups are set at the right length for your legs.”

Then he follows through. Pulling and tugging and ensuring Buttercup is comfortable. “Are you ready to be a cowboy?”

Jamie’s lips move like he’s going to speak, but he nods instead. My heart gallops inside my chest.

Elliott untethers Buttercup and we walk beside him as he brings the horse outside and into a large, fenced area. He goes inside, and we stay on the other side of the paddock. I tilt my face to the sky, enjoying the warmth spreading across my face. Leaning against the corral, I brace my arms on the top row while Jamie stands on the slats, watching Elliott work with the horse.

I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Did you really try to ride a cow when you were six?”

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckles at the memory. “I thought it would be like riding a horse. Boy, was I wrong. Grandma loves telling that story to anyone who will listen.”

“Wait, it ran? With you on its back?” My laughter grows.

“It sure did. I didn’t expect the cow to take off and managed to hold on for all of five seconds before I got dumped on a pile of”—he glances atJamie—“cow poop.”

“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth, but there’s no stopping the laughter.

Jamie is divided between grinning and making a disgusted face.

“Let’s say I learned my lesson.”

This is one of those moments where a lasting memory is created. And I can see myself telling this story over and over like Grace does.

“What did you do after?”

“Grandma would not let me into the house covered in?—”

Again he glances at Jamie and curbs the curse word.

“Covered in dung, so she got the hose and washed me off right in the yard. Then threw my clothes away because there was no way those clothes would go into her washer.”

I look at my son. “That is a funny story. Right, Jamie?”

“Your turn, Jillian,” Elliott prompts, his gaze warm and inviting. “What’s your most embarrassing childhood story?”

I hesitate for a second, searching my mind. Filtering through the memories and looking for something that didn’t include CJ.

I grin. “I got one.”

“Please go on, don’t leave me hanging in suspense.”

I look at Jamie, gauging his reaction. “I had to be about seven or eight. It was summer, and I was playing outside with a kite my dad got for me. It got stuck in a tree.”

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