Fresh Fields by Peter Kocan Page A

they was gone and that ya to come to my place for ya meals and that.”
    â€œUm, okay,” said the youth, trying to take it all in.
    â€œIf ya want to go and do ya feedin’, I’ll do the milkin’, and then we’ll go.”
    So the youth fed the animals while Clem milked the two cows in the milking yard just across from the shed.
    â€œYa can ride Gypsy, if ya like,” said Clem. “Do ya ride, at all?”
    â€œI never have,” the youth replied.
    â€œAh well, ya might as well have a go, if ya like.”
    Clem got a bridle from the saddle room and went across to where the three horses were at the hay the youth had just put out for them. He went to slip the bridle on the big one that looked like a draughthorse. It took a little time because the horse kept turning away whenever he lifted the bridle towards her.
    â€œShe’s a cunnin’ old bugger,” said Clem. “She’s twenty-two years old and knows all the tricks.”
    Clem got the bridle on her and tethered her outside the saddle room. He combed her back a little, and explained that it was to make sure there were no burrs under the saddle to make her sore. Then he saddled her. He showed the youth how she took a deep breath just as he went to tighten the strap under her belly.
    â€œI told ya she knows all the tricks,” said Clem. “And fair enough, I s’pose. I’m not keen on havin’ me belt too tight, either.”
    When the mare was saddled and ready, Clem said that they might as well get moving. The youth went to his room and put on his new boots and hat and threw his greatcoat over his shoulder. Back outside, the mare looked enormous.
    â€œDon’t be scared of her,” said Clem. “She’s cunnin’, but she won’t get outa hand. All this old girl wants is a quiet life.”
    The youth wasn’t convinced.
    â€œI’ll give ya a leg-up,” said Clem.
    The youth found himself on the mare’s back and for a moment thought he would pitch straight over the other side, but he got a desperate grip on the saddle and on the mane. He swayed there trying to get his balance. The ground looked a long way down.
    â€œI’d better lead her, if ya like,” said Clem. “That’ll let ya have ya hands free to hang on till ya find ya balance.”
    So Clem walked ahead, leading his own horse and Gypsy, and the youth clung to the mane with both hands, bobbing and swaying and trying to grip with his knees. They paused beside the barking dogs and Clem let Dolly off her chain. Then they went slowly towards the gate out of the home paddock.
    After only a few moments in the saddle the youth’s hands and knees ached from the effort of trying to grip and stay upright. The lurch of the mare’s movement began to make him feel seasick. He told himself that if he could make it to the gate he’d be okay. Meanwhile, Clem was explaining the art of falling off horses.
    â€œThe trick’s to hit the ground in a relaxed frame o’ mind. And to try not to fall under the hooves if possible, ’cos the horse might sprain a fetlock when he’s steppin’ on ya. Apart from that, it’s as easy as fallin’ off a log. In fact it’s a fair bit easier, ’cos a log usually won’t start buckin’.”
    They reached the gate and went through.
    â€œWell,” said Clem, looking up at the youth, “I reckon ya must be a born horseman. Ya sure ya never rode before?”
    The youth nodded.
    â€œWell, that’s amazin’,” Clem said, and swung himself onto his own horse with a single fluid motion. “I’ll keep on leadin’ Gypsy, if ya like. Just gettin’ ya balance is enough to learn at the moment. Handlin’ the reins can come later.”
    They rode slowly through another paddock towards the next gate. At times the old mare slowed so much that she was hardly moving.
    â€œYa need to let her know