Chapter 9 A New Kind of Driving
The massive rumps and powerful legs of the Belgian horses dwarfed her small vehicle, leaving her feeling insignificant. A thought struck her: how had the generations of her physically slighter female ancestors navigated a world populated by such formidable creatures? She could understand how someone like Evan, with his innate strength, might have survived, his power seeming to match that of these animals. Yet, even he, she realized, would be no match for their brute force. His command over them stemmed from a different kind of power, a mastery of understanding and subtle guidance.
“Kind of amazing to watch them, isn’t it?” he commented, his voice filled with a quiet admiration. “I’ve always been fascinated by a team in harness.”
“I was just thinking that,” she confessed, the shared sentiment a welcome bridge between them.
“You want to try driving them?” he offered, the question unexpected.
“I… ummm…” she faltered, her mind racing. “I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do,” he reassured her with a smile. “There’s nothin’ to it. HO!” His sharp command brought the horses to an immediate halt. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She opened the car door and stepped out, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The fear of making a mistake, of potentially harming the horses or crashing the car, was more intense than anything she’d experienced before.
“Just crawl right up there on the hood,” he directed, indicating the car’s front, “and sit down with your butt against the windshield.” She did as he asked, and he handed her the reins.
“What do I do?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Just hold the ‘off-line’ in your right hand and the ‘near-line’ in your left,” he instructed.
She looked down at the leather reins, then at her hands, as if they belonged to a stranger. The sheer intensity of her nerves was beginning to cloud her judgment.
He noticed her hesitation, her wide-eyed gaze. “Remember,” he prompted gently, “the near side is where you get in the car.”
Suddenly, it clicked. She placed the left rein in her left hand and the right rein in her right. A small, almost embarrassed laugh escaped her. It was so perfectly logical, so obvious, yet her anxiety had rendered her brain momentarily incapable of processing it. She still couldn’t quite believe that she was about to do this, perched on the hood of the car, reins in hand, ready to guide a team of magnificent horses.
"Thread the lines between your middle and ring fingers," Evan instructed, his voice calm and steady. "Let the ends drape back over your palms."
She squinted, her city-worn hands fumbling with the unfamiliar leather. The reins felt coarse and alien. Seeing her confusion, Evan stepped closer. He gently repositioned her fingers, his touch surprisingly careful. "Now, hold them firmly, but don't pull. Just feel their mouths. Ready to start them?"
She hesitated, her mind racing back to his strange command from earlier. "Yay," she said, her voice barely a whisper. The two draft horses stood motionless, their ears twitching at the sound of a fly.
Evan chuckled. "A little louder. I don't think they were impressed."
"Yay," she repeated, adding a touch more volume. Nothing.
"Put some anger in it," he advised, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"But I'm not mad at them."
"I know. But they need to hear that you're in charge."
She took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of her frustration with her broken-down car and this bizarre situation. "YAY!" she yelled, the sound sharp and commanding in the quiet air. The horses jolted forward as one, and a surge of raw, living power traveled up the reins and into her arms. The force was immense, threatening to pull her right off the car's hood. She gasped, instinctively leaning back and gripping the lines until her knuckles turned white.
"Easy, now," Evan's voice cut through her panic. "Just let them walk. All that power is pulling the car, not you."
She loosened her death grip, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Beneath the nerves, a novel thrill was taking root, the exhilarating feeling of commanding such strength, of doing something wild and completely unheard of in her world. "What about steering? The brakes?" she called out, turning to face him.
But he was gone. A flash of panic seized her until she saw him sliding behind the wheel of her car. He offered a confident nod, placing an amount of trust in her that she would never have placed in herself.
They crested three small hills, the dust pluming behind them. As they neared the turn-off for the ranch, Evan leaned out the driver's side window. "When we get to the lane, just ease back on the 'off-side' line a bit. They'll turn."
Her stomach tightened. Off-side, near-side. The terms were still a meaningless jumble in her mind. Logic, however, suggested the right rein for a right turn. As they reached the lane, she gently tugged the line in her right hand. The horses responded immediately, turning smoothly onto the dirt path. A jolt of accomplishment, clean and sharp, shot through her.
They rolled into the ranch yard, flanked by a barn and a modest house. "Alright," Evan called. "Pull back on both lines and tell them, 'HO!', same as before. Mean it."
"HO!" she commanded, her voice ringing with newfound confidence. The horses came to a perfect halt.
"I'll make a freighter out of you yet," he grinned, hopping out of the car. "Go on, get your things. You can take the extra bedroom in the house." He was already unhitching the horses, his movements efficient and practiced.
"I can't stay here," she protested, the reality of her situation crashing back down. "I need to get my car towed, call..." Her words trailed off. He wasn't listening, already leading the team toward the barn. His casual dismissal stoked the embers of her temper. "Hey!" she called after his retreating back. "When are you taking me to town?"
"When Ryan comes," he answered without turning.
The reply ignited her frustration. He seemed entirely unconcerned with her predicament. She wrenched open her car door and began viciously stuffing scattered clothes into her luggage, her anger compounding her sense of helplessness. None of this was her plan. She was stranded in the middle of nowhere, her car just towed by actual horses. This place was primitive.
After slamming the car door shut, she grabbed her bags and stormed toward the house, trailed by the two curious dogs. She dropped her luggage inside the door of the spare room and gave one of the bags a satisfying kick. Sinking onto the edge of the bed, she seethed. Her mind spiraled, a vortex of frustration, confusion, and a strange, grudging respect for the man who had just taught her to drive a team of horses. How could anyone live like this, so isolated? What was wrong with him? And why, she wondered with a fresh wave of irritation, did she give a damn?
She lay back, the swarm of questions buzzing in her head. The silence of the house was absolute, a stark contrast to the constant hum of her life back in Pittsburgh. Between the lack of sleep and the emotional whiplash of the day, her mind felt heavy. The endless, circling thoughts began to blur, and exhaustion, deep and absolute, pulled her under.