Continuing through the pasture, we rounded a small pond where I had first learned to fish. A light breeze stirred ripples across the glinting surface. Caught up in the adventure, I felt incapable of speech. Debbie must have sensed this and had let me experience the ride in silence. A small, well-used path curved past the pond and down toward a stream, and we trotted towards it. Red-winged black birds hopped from the bushes at ponds¹ edge into the cloudless sky.

The gentle decline made easy footing for Tiny and Princess. I reached up and trailed my hand through branches that I could never have reached unaided, turned to Debbie, and smiled. ³This is great, Debbie, thanks for doing this.²

³We should let them get a drink,² she said. So, we led them to the stream. Swirling and occasionally gurgling, clear water poured over odd-shaped limestones while minnows darted in and out of the grasses hanging into the stream. Tiny and Princess, tails swishing and ears twitching, stepped into the water up to their knees and bent their heads to drink. ³That should be enough,² and with that said, Debbie kicked her heels into Tiny¹s flanks, urging her out of the stream. We eased the horses back onto the bank.

The stream now on our left, we headed back toward the farm house, passing rocks scattered at the foot of the hill on the right. Debbie coaxed Tiny into a trot and Princess caught and passed Tiny. ³Debbie, what do I do?² I yelled. Princess galloped faster. Slipping back and forth in the saddle I yelled again, ³Debbie!²