Song of Her Heart by Irene Brand Page B

be the small palomino with a golden coat and silvery mane and tail. He would ride the brownish quarter horse. As Mason spoke fondly of the two horses, and detailed their capabilities, Norah reached out a tentative hand and stroked the palomino’s flanks.
    â€œYou have nothing to be afraid of,” Mason promised her. “I’ve been weeding out my tamest mounts and taking them to the Bar 8, and following instructions from the H & H, Doug has been exercising them for the children when they come. But the palomino is gentle, too.”
    â€œI’ve learned all of my ranch lore from Wild West movies,” Norah said nervously, “where the horses all seem to be bronco-busting animals. And where city slickers are sometimes given a bucking horse to test their mettle.” She turned solemn blue eyes toward Mason.
    â€œI wouldn’t put you on an animal like that,” Mason assured her. He was eager to introduce Norah to his way of life in a manner that would make her love it as much as he did.
    Recognizing his sincerity, Norah touched his forearm. “I know you wouldn’t, Mason. I was joking with you. I’m a slow learner, but be patient with me, and I’ll soon catch on.”
    Mason assessed her clothes. “It might have been wise for you to bring a coat, but I have a couple of blankets on the burro if it cools down.”
    He wore a blue flannel shirt, heavy blue jeans and a suede vest, looking every bit the cowboy of a century ago.
    Mason motioned her toward the horses, and put his hand on the mane of the palomino. “This is Daisy,” he said. “If you like her, she can be your personal mount while you’re here.”
    When the mare turned soulful, liquid eyes in her direction, Norah felt as if she’d made a new friend.
    Mason lifted the bridle. “This serves the same purpose as the steering wheel on your car. The metal part of the bridle, called a bit, fits in the horse’s mouth. The reins, these long, narrow leather strips, are attached to the bit. If you want the horse to turn left, you gently pull the reins in that direction, and so on. But tonight, don’t be concerned about that. Just concentrate on staying on the horse. Daisy will follow me.”
    Norah touched Daisy’s long nose, and the mare tried to nuzzle her fingers.
    â€œShe likes apples,” Mason said. He took a red apple from his pocket and extended it toward Daisy. She mouthed the apple and started chewing.
    â€œAlways mount a horse from the left side,” Mason continued, illustrating as he talked. “Take the reins and the horse’s mane in your left hand and put your left foot in the stirrup.” He indicated a wooden, flat-bottomed ring. “With your right hand grab the back of the saddle. Spring up, swing your right leg over the horse’s rump and switch your right hand to the pommel of the saddle here in the center. Sit easily in the saddle and put your right foot in the stirrup.”
    He mounted the horse with a swift, graceful movement. The blood rushed to Norah’s face, and she gasped in admiration of his powerful body.
    Dismounting, Mason looked at Norah quickly, apparently thinking his instructions had caused her confusion, for he hastily said, “It takes practice to give you self-confidence, so I’ll help you this time. Eventually, horseback riding becomes as natural as breathing, and you won’t even think about what you’re doing. Lift your left foot to the stirrup, and I’ll boost you into the saddle. Ready?”
    It seemed like a long stretch to the stirrup, but when she managed to reach it, Mason put his hands around her waist and smoothly lifted her into the saddle. His touch was electrifying! The warmth of his hands seemed to sear her flesh through the heavy layers of clothing. She wished she wasn’t so sensitive to Mason’s masculine appeal. She excused her reaction by reasoning that she hadn’t been exposed