Member-only story
It started out like most of my adventures on horseback. There were a few things which were slightly modified.
I was riding bare-back. Not even a pad between me and White Cloud. She was my first horse. She had ‘character’. Her previous owner, also a young girl, had abused her badly. It had taken me a long time to earn her trust. But now, we were a team.
I wasn’t wearing my riding boots. I had on a pair of moccasins. I loved those things. Somewhere in a past life — no doubt — I had been a Native American. I believe that is where My Warrior comes from. And my ability to ride and stay with just about any horse I choose to sit on. I rode horses for a long time. Trained and broke a couple. It was a rare occasion when I came off one not of my own accord. I had what is known in show circles as a “good seat”. I was born with it and it let me clean up in equitation classes.
For some reason that day I had chosen to braid my nearly hip length blondish hair. I didn’t often mess with my hair. I was fourteen and into horses not boys. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what I looked like — and neither did the horses.
On this particular ride, I was alone. And as we jumped from walk to gallop (no one voluntarily trots bare-back) I let out White Cloud’s throttle. We were on an abandoned dirt road in Bum Fuck Pennsylvania. There would be no traffic, no Humans, no…
