Page 97 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

“We couldn’t have you riding horses in tennis shoes,” I said.

Mom offered Hen coffee, and soon we were both done with breakfast and walking to the barn. Liv was already there, riding Fred, the paint horse, around the pen. She trotted easily, perfectly at home in the saddle.

We Griffen kids had to be, growing up with our parents. Dad expected nothing less than our best, and if we ever got thrown off the saddle, we had to get right back on.

When Liv spotted us, she waved and easily slid out of the saddle. As she got closer, Hen said, “You look like a natural up there, Liv! Such a baddie.”

“Thanks, girl,” Liv said. “We’ll have you doing the same in no time.”

“I’m willing to try it,” Hen said with a hint of doubt in her voice as she nervously rubbed her hands together.

We walked her to the horses lined up in front of the barn and introduced her to Star. She was a pretty chestnut mare, eleven years old with a white blaze running from her nose to her forehead, covered with her shiny mane.

Hen gently patted Star’s neck. “That’s the smell from the barn. Horses.” She breathed in deeply. “I love that smell.”

I grinned. Seeing Hen take so easily to my life... it was just that much more proof that we belonged together.

We told Hen about the parts of the saddle, how to use the reins to lead the horse, and then it was time for her to get on. She looked nervous at the size of the horse, so Liv brought out a five-gallon bucket for Hen to stand on to give her some more height.

With the extra lift, we had Hen on Star’s back in no time. She gripped tightly to the saddle horn as she slipped the toes of her boots into the stirrups.

I held on to the reins, leading her around the pounded-down dirt of the pen. She rocked atop the horse, slowly getting used to the movements. Liv held up her phone, pointing it at Hen. “Smile big!”

Hen gave her a cheesy grin that made my heart soar.

“How are you feeling about it?” I asked. “Ready to take the reins?”

With a determined look, Hen nodded, and I handed her the leather straps. I went to go stand by Liv, and we both gave her directions from time to time until she was walking in steady circles around the pen.

“Time to speed it up!” Liv challenged. At the nervous look Hen gave her, Liv said, “You’re ready, girl! Go for it!”

Hen carefully tapped her heels to Star’s sides, and Star walked a little faster.

“Bit harder,” Liv called.

With the extra nudge, Star took off at a trot, Hen’s legs clinging to the horse’s sides.

“I’m doing it!” she cried.

“That’s right, baby!” I yelled, pumping my fist in the air. “You’re fuckin’ doing it!”

58

Henrietta

Confession: I like my men sweet, and their talk dirty.

My legs feltlike rubber as I stepped on land for the first time. “Okay, now I know why all those cowboys walk funny in the movies.”

Liv laughed. “It’s a bit awkward at first, but you get used to it with some practice.”

Frowning, I said, “No way to practice where I’m from. I don’t think I could convince Mom to let a horse have part of her garden.”

Smiling, Liv said, “You’re welcome back for a practice run any time. I’m sure Ty’s already told you about Gage’s frequent flyer miles.”

“Your whole family is so generous.”

Liv smiled. “When you grow up out here, you learn that everyone needs a leg up from time to time, including us.”

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