Cowboy Up
Title: Cowboy Up
Author: Eldorah
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Neal, Peter
Word Count: 2,911
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: On his first summer trip back to Peter’s vacation home upstate, Neal experiences his first horseback riding lesson. This is a timestamp to my story Hoofprints and Heartbeats, but can for the most part be enjoyed as a stand-alone if you have not read it.
Author’s Note: This was written for leesa_perrie, the brilliant artist of the prompt for the original fic, because we were both wanting some awkward!Neal learning to ride a horse!
They were quite possibly the most dreadful things he had ever been asked to wear. Well, that wasn’t entirely true - orange jumpsuits probably took that title, but they were definitely one of the most dreadful things he had been asked to wear in a long time.
They were dirty, sweaty, and made of worn brown leather, shaped to fit snugly around his foot and ending in a sharp point at the toe. The leather extended up Neal’s calf, and was adorned by green, orange, and white threaded stitching convalescing in a tawdry pattern that ended abruptly in a horseshoe design. The thick rubber soles and tall heel made him at least an inch and a half taller when he stood up, and he wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or wholly mortified that Peter’s old pair of tattered Wrangler jeans were still long enough to touch the ground, covering the entirety of the horrendous cowboy boot.
“Do I have to wear these?” Neal asked incredulously, only half in jest, as he yanked up the too-big jeans higher around his waist, “This heel is bigger than the ones Elizabeth wears to a gallery opening!”
“Not it’s not,” Peter bantered back, “And you need the heel to keep your foot from slipping through the stirrup. Now leave them on, and I’ll be back with your horse.”
Sighing, the former conman dug his toe into the dirt. He had been excited when Elizabeth and Peter invited him on their summer vacation back to their cabin upstate, the same place where he had spent some time a little over a year ago when his sentence was commuted. The place was beautiful, with a spacious cabin, big open skies, rolling fields, and horses, the latter of which Neal felt were best enjoyed from afar. Peter, however, felt otherwise and insisted that his friend learned to ride. Neal had resisted at first but then reluctantly gave in when he realized the older man would be relentless in his effort to change his mind.
Soon, the soft clod of hoofbeats prodded Neal from his thoughts, signaling Peter’s return.
“This is Araby,” Peter presented as the pair walked up to Neal, as if he were introducing two of his best friends. The horse was majestic, tall and lithe with a gleaming buckskin coat and long, dark mane and tail.
“Araby - I didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur of Irish literature, Peter,” Neal probed as he extended his hand toward the horse. A darkened muzzle leaned forward to sniff his arm before before nickering and taking a nibble of the plaid flannel shirt that Peter had also provided his less country minded friend.
“I am a man full of surprises,” Peter said simply as he ran his hand down Araby’s neck affectionately, “He’s a sweet old guy, I’ve had him for a while and he shouldn’t give you much trouble. I taught Elizabeth to ride with him when we were first married. Would you like to lead him out to the paddock?”
Awkwardly, Neal nodded and took hold of the lead rope. “How do I do this?”
“Keep him on your right side, and leave him some slack in the rope to move his head.”
Hesitantly, the younger man took a step forward, keeping the length of the cotton braided rope looped up in his left hand like Peter had done, and white-knuckle gripping the rest of it about a foot away from Araby’s head with his right.
“With confidence,” Peter said when the huge buckskin failed to respond to Neal’s slight movement forward.
Neal took another step forward, still to no avail. “I don’t think he likes me,” he said, looking up with eyes that dazzled in the sunlight sneaking through the wooden walls of the barn, “Maybe you should lead him out.”
“Hey, finally, someone who can resist your charm,” Peter said light-heartedly with a soft chuckle, “He likes you, just walk like you normally would. He’ll follow.”
Neal took a deep breath and looked back at Araby, who was staring with his ears pricked forward expectantly at Neal. Besides dogs and carrier pigeons, Neal had gained minimal experience with animals through the years, much less anything with hooves. But these beautiful animals, although somewhat intimidating, had piqued his interest and he didn’t want to let Peter down, so he tried again. Slowly, he walked forward, and he let a small smile grace his lips as he heard hoofbeats following in return. In an epically slow parade, they made their way outside into the sunlight.
“See, you’ll get the hang of it. Now, before you get in the saddle, you need to put this on,” Peter encouraged as he walked over to Neal, placing a helmet lopsidedly on his head.
“Seriously?” Neal peered out from under its too big brim as it slipped over his eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You wouldn’t want anything happening to that big head of yours, would you?” Peter said in jest.
“But -“ Neal started.
“No.”
“It’s not like -“
“No.”
“Come on, Peter, how -“
“This is not negotiable. Helmet stays on,” Peter ended the protest by taking Araby’s lead so Neal could adjust the straps, while the former conman dramatically smoothed out his hair before donning the protective headgear.
“Thank you. El would have my head if she saw you out here without one,” Peter said, “Alright, now it’s time to mount the horse. To do this, take your left foot, put it in the stirrup, grab the back of the saddle and the horn, and pull yourself up, like this.”
Peter then proceeded to demonstrate the process in a swift motion that left Neal baffled that the older man could move so quickly.
“Well, if you can do it that easily, “ Neal teased, trying to shake off the last remains of fear that was still keeping him from relaxing. The last time he had been on a horse had been on his voyage here with Rachel, and that had ended with him unconscious on the ground and face first in the mud.
Peter seemed to pick up on his hesitation, though. “Don’t worry. Araby’s a good horse, he’s not going to throw you.”
Neal nodded and grabbed the saddle, putting his foot in the stirrup the way Peter had. Clumsily, he tried to heave himself upwards, but he got stuck halfway through, unable to gain enough leverage to throw his other leg over.
The golden horse took this as a signal to walk forward slowly, and Neal was left with one foot in the saddle and the other slung halfway over the buckskin’s back, clutching ineptly to the to the animal as it started to circle around a hysterical Peter.
“Peter?” Neal called out, calmness forced into his voice, “Peter, a little help?”
“Cowboy up,” Peter said, in between snorts of laughter as he stopped the horse, “Figure it out.”
Frustrated, Neal struggled clumsily until he finally found himself with a foot in each stirrup.
“Well, that wasn’t the most elegant thing I’ve ever seen you do,” joked Peter, which earned him a scornful look from his friend.
“A little help would have been nice,” Neal said.
“Lesson one of good horsemanship,” Peter said, handing the reins back to Neal, “You have to roll with the surprises as they come. You guys are a team, and you have to figure out how to communicate, even if sometimes it feels like you speak a different language.”
“That sounds familiar,” Neal snorted under his breath, and Peter just smiled.
“Now, when you’re in the saddle, always keep your heels down,” the agent instructed, “Again to keep your foot from sliding through the stirrup.”
Neal looked down at his boots as if to make sure he was flexing his ankles.
“Good. Now, to get him to walk, you can say, ‘Walk on,’, or lightly put pressure on his sides with your feet. Not too hard, though, because then he will trot off. You’ll guide him with the reins in the direction you want to go, and pull on them to stop.”
“I know, Peter,” Neal said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “ I have been on a horse before.”
Peter held his hands up in the air, backing off.
“Okay, you just do your thing. I’ll be over here if you need me, Sundance.”
“I’ll show you how it’s done, Butch,” Neal said, tipping his helmet with a playful smile, “Walk on, Araby.”
Peter watched as Neal waited for the horse to make a move. And waited. And waited.
Clearing his throat, Neal tried again, “Walk on.”
Peter snickered while Araby used his tail to swish at a biting fly, and Neal turned red.
“Can I just interject for -“
“No,” Neal said forcibly.
“Just a hint -“
“No, you said ‘Cowboy up’, this is me ‘cowboying up.’”
Again, Peter raised his hands in the air as he walked over to the corral fence and leaned up against it. Briefly, Neal resented how authentically he pulled off the whole cowboy vibe before coming back to his senses.
Realizing that perhaps a verbal command would not be enough to prod the animal forward, Neal tried a different approach by raising both of his legs out to the side, and then kicking the horse authoritatively in the sides.
Both horse and rider jumped at the motion, but finally, Araby set off at a walk.
Beaming his best ‘I told you so’ grin in Peter’s direction, Neal asked, “Now what?”
“Why don’t you get comfortable at a walk first,” Peter said, still leaning nonchalantly along the fence, “You need to learn balance and to move with his movement before we progress from a walk.”
Neal turned back to the horse and tried to feel the rhythm of his steps. It took a lap or two around the paddock, but finally he thought he was doing a better job at ‘balancing’. In fact, it seemed to come almost naturally.
“You’re looking good,” Peter called out, “Now, stop him, turn him around, and go the other way.”
Neal obliged, pulling gently on the reins, and the horse conceded. He then directed him to turn to the left in quite possibly the widest arch Peter had ever seen.
“Good,” Peter said, stifling a laugh as Neal looked at him proudly from across the ring, “Ask him to walk again.”
Like before, Neal used his feet to tap the horse against his side, this time a little more gently so as not to startle him. When that didn’t work, he tried again, a little harder. When a third attempt still remained fruitless, he looked helplessly at Peter.
“Keep trying,” Peter said, “You have to learn how to communicate with him.”
Sighing, Neal sat taller in the saddle. This time, he used more pressure as he tapped, and for a split second, he thought he was going to have to try a fifth time.
But then Araby took off like a rocket, and Neal almost fell to the ground.
He was flying, his body whipping in every direction as he tried to gain purchase. The conman tried desperately to find the horse’s rhythm, but this scarily fast gait was so much bouncier than the gentle side-to-side rocking he had succeeded in mastering a few minutes before. Absently, he wondered how on earth jockeys stayed on racehorses when they went this fast, as surely this horse was running at full speed and it took all Neal had just to stay upright in the saddle.
Regaining a minutia of composure, he remembered to pull on the reins, but the horse wouldn’t slow.
“Peter, he won’t stop!” Neal called out, his voice shaking as his body jostled erratically, “He won’t stop!”
“You’re okay, Neal!” he heard Peter call out, but Neal couldn’t risk looking up lest the horse run into something in his apparent fervor, “Just pull on the reins!”
Again, Neal tried. “It’s no-o-o-t working, Peter!” Neal called back as he lowered both hands to the horn of the saddle, clutching it with all his might to keep from flying off. He thought it might be a lost cause, though, and wondered if he should bail out now before the horse decided he would throw him off. The young man looked to the ground that was passing by at an alarming speed. Dust was cascading up around them in every direction as the horse continue to rocket forward, and just as Neal wondered how much it would hurt if he hit the ground at thirty miles per hour, something caught his eye.
Peter was running toward him with a huge goofy grin on his face. In fact, he wasn’t just running towards him, he was actually catching up to him. It actually looked as though he might just run right past them. In no time, he was at Neal’s side, grabbing the reins and pulling gently. Instantly, the horse slowed.
When he finally came to a complete stop, Neal looked up, baffled, wide-eyed, and out of breath, and Peter, who was just standing there stifling a laugh, was apparently un-phased at his partner’s near death experience.
“How did you catch up to us?” Neal asked, his wide blue eyes bewildered, “He had to have been running full speed!”
Again, Peter choked on a laugh, and Neal shot him a look.
“What?” the conman asked.
“He wasn’t going fast, Neal,” Peter said gently.
“Yes he was! I almost fell off!”
“He wasn’t going fast.”
Neal just stared blankly as his partner until Peter pulled out his cell phone, producing a video.
“You recorded that?! Real mature, Peter.”
“Hey, I wanted you to be able to see yourself from my vantage point, that way you could see your strengths and weaknesses for yourself. I had no idea you were going to do that.”
“He was practically flying, Peter,” Neal just said bluntly, but Peter just smiled and held the phone up for him to see.
Surely enough, Peter had recorded the whole thing, starting from Neal’s first attempt at mounting. Initially, he was embarrassed, but once the footage showed him walking around the ring, he was actually quite impressed with himself. He had done quite well.
But that feeling was short-lived. On the screen, Neal watched as he tried unsuccessfully to make the horse walk again after turning around. He heard Peter yelling something about communication, and then, he saw the horse take off. Only, it wasn’t nearly as fast as it felt. In fact, it wasn’t even close to as fast as it had felt. And, to make matters worse, it only lasted at most fifteen seconds, as opposed to the eternity it had felt like in the moment.
Of course, his flailing was every bit as wild as he would have imagined it to be, and his embarrassment was compounded threefold when the camera apparently ran towards the ‘runaway’ horse at least twice as quickly as the horse was moving. He saw Peter’s hand reach out and grab the reins, and then the video ended.
Sheepishly, Neal looked down at Peter.
“Well,” Peter said, still trying desperately not to laugh, “I think that’s enough for today.”
Silently, Neal dismounted and led the horse back to the barn. After changing back into his normal clothes, he met Peter to walk back up to the horse.
“Alright. I admit. He might not have been going quite as fast as I thought,” Neal said, “But it felt that way!”
Beside him, Peter chuckled. “It’s okay, the trot is a tough gait to ride. It’s a lot more bouncy than the walk.”
“Now that I know that, we will have to try again tomorrow,” Neal said.
Peter stopped and looked at Neal. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I mean, if it’s okay,” Neal said quietly, suddenly self-conscious.
“Yeah, of course it’s okay,” Peter said, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.
Neal was quiet for a second before continuing.
“I had fun today,” he said, “Minus feeling like I was going to fall off. So I’d like to keep learning.”
“Good. In that case, we can try again tomorrow.”
“No video next time, though,” Neal said with a grin.
“Why, you don’t like having the one skill you lack captured on film?” the older man teased.
“Not particularly,” he said, “Ruins my image. In fact, let me see that again.”
“Oh no,” Peter said in jest, “Not until I show this to Elizabeth.”
“Absolutely not!” Neal demanded, grabbing at Peter’s phone, “Delete that now.”
“I don’t think so, buddy,” Peter said as he took off running toward the house.
“Hey!” Neal called, running after him, “Don’t you dare!”
Ahead of him, Neal could hear Peter laughing. Truthfully, the conman didn’t mind if he showed Elizabeth. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed spending time learning Peter’s pastimes, even if he looked a little awkward while he was out of his element.
Up ahead, Peter called back at him. “You’d better hurry up, Caffrey, or I am going to send this to the whole team!”
“Not if I catch you first,” Neal bantered back, and the two of them bounded on up to the house, like two kids on a playground. As much as he loved the city, it felt good to spend time out in the countryside, not having to worry about a thing. It felt good to be free.
Thank you for your time!
Author: Eldorah
Rating: G
Pairings/Characters: Neal, Peter
Word Count: 2,911
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Summary: On his first summer trip back to Peter’s vacation home upstate, Neal experiences his first horseback riding lesson. This is a timestamp to my story Hoofprints and Heartbeats, but can for the most part be enjoyed as a stand-alone if you have not read it.
Author’s Note: This was written for leesa_perrie, the brilliant artist of the prompt for the original fic, because we were both wanting some awkward!Neal learning to ride a horse!
They were quite possibly the most dreadful things he had ever been asked to wear. Well, that wasn’t entirely true - orange jumpsuits probably took that title, but they were definitely one of the most dreadful things he had been asked to wear in a long time.
They were dirty, sweaty, and made of worn brown leather, shaped to fit snugly around his foot and ending in a sharp point at the toe. The leather extended up Neal’s calf, and was adorned by green, orange, and white threaded stitching convalescing in a tawdry pattern that ended abruptly in a horseshoe design. The thick rubber soles and tall heel made him at least an inch and a half taller when he stood up, and he wasn’t sure if he should be thankful or wholly mortified that Peter’s old pair of tattered Wrangler jeans were still long enough to touch the ground, covering the entirety of the horrendous cowboy boot.
“Do I have to wear these?” Neal asked incredulously, only half in jest, as he yanked up the too-big jeans higher around his waist, “This heel is bigger than the ones Elizabeth wears to a gallery opening!”
“Not it’s not,” Peter bantered back, “And you need the heel to keep your foot from slipping through the stirrup. Now leave them on, and I’ll be back with your horse.”
Sighing, the former conman dug his toe into the dirt. He had been excited when Elizabeth and Peter invited him on their summer vacation back to their cabin upstate, the same place where he had spent some time a little over a year ago when his sentence was commuted. The place was beautiful, with a spacious cabin, big open skies, rolling fields, and horses, the latter of which Neal felt were best enjoyed from afar. Peter, however, felt otherwise and insisted that his friend learned to ride. Neal had resisted at first but then reluctantly gave in when he realized the older man would be relentless in his effort to change his mind.
Soon, the soft clod of hoofbeats prodded Neal from his thoughts, signaling Peter’s return.
“This is Araby,” Peter presented as the pair walked up to Neal, as if he were introducing two of his best friends. The horse was majestic, tall and lithe with a gleaming buckskin coat and long, dark mane and tail.
“Araby - I didn’t realize you were such a connoisseur of Irish literature, Peter,” Neal probed as he extended his hand toward the horse. A darkened muzzle leaned forward to sniff his arm before before nickering and taking a nibble of the plaid flannel shirt that Peter had also provided his less country minded friend.
“I am a man full of surprises,” Peter said simply as he ran his hand down Araby’s neck affectionately, “He’s a sweet old guy, I’ve had him for a while and he shouldn’t give you much trouble. I taught Elizabeth to ride with him when we were first married. Would you like to lead him out to the paddock?”
Awkwardly, Neal nodded and took hold of the lead rope. “How do I do this?”
“Keep him on your right side, and leave him some slack in the rope to move his head.”
Hesitantly, the younger man took a step forward, keeping the length of the cotton braided rope looped up in his left hand like Peter had done, and white-knuckle gripping the rest of it about a foot away from Araby’s head with his right.
“With confidence,” Peter said when the huge buckskin failed to respond to Neal’s slight movement forward.
Neal took another step forward, still to no avail. “I don’t think he likes me,” he said, looking up with eyes that dazzled in the sunlight sneaking through the wooden walls of the barn, “Maybe you should lead him out.”
“Hey, finally, someone who can resist your charm,” Peter said light-heartedly with a soft chuckle, “He likes you, just walk like you normally would. He’ll follow.”
Neal took a deep breath and looked back at Araby, who was staring with his ears pricked forward expectantly at Neal. Besides dogs and carrier pigeons, Neal had gained minimal experience with animals through the years, much less anything with hooves. But these beautiful animals, although somewhat intimidating, had piqued his interest and he didn’t want to let Peter down, so he tried again. Slowly, he walked forward, and he let a small smile grace his lips as he heard hoofbeats following in return. In an epically slow parade, they made their way outside into the sunlight.
“See, you’ll get the hang of it. Now, before you get in the saddle, you need to put this on,” Peter encouraged as he walked over to Neal, placing a helmet lopsidedly on his head.
“Seriously?” Neal peered out from under its too big brim as it slipped over his eyes, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“You wouldn’t want anything happening to that big head of yours, would you?” Peter said in jest.
“But -“ Neal started.
“No.”
“It’s not like -“
“No.”
“Come on, Peter, how -“
“This is not negotiable. Helmet stays on,” Peter ended the protest by taking Araby’s lead so Neal could adjust the straps, while the former conman dramatically smoothed out his hair before donning the protective headgear.
“Thank you. El would have my head if she saw you out here without one,” Peter said, “Alright, now it’s time to mount the horse. To do this, take your left foot, put it in the stirrup, grab the back of the saddle and the horn, and pull yourself up, like this.”
Peter then proceeded to demonstrate the process in a swift motion that left Neal baffled that the older man could move so quickly.
“Well, if you can do it that easily, “ Neal teased, trying to shake off the last remains of fear that was still keeping him from relaxing. The last time he had been on a horse had been on his voyage here with Rachel, and that had ended with him unconscious on the ground and face first in the mud.
Peter seemed to pick up on his hesitation, though. “Don’t worry. Araby’s a good horse, he’s not going to throw you.”
Neal nodded and grabbed the saddle, putting his foot in the stirrup the way Peter had. Clumsily, he tried to heave himself upwards, but he got stuck halfway through, unable to gain enough leverage to throw his other leg over.
The golden horse took this as a signal to walk forward slowly, and Neal was left with one foot in the saddle and the other slung halfway over the buckskin’s back, clutching ineptly to the to the animal as it started to circle around a hysterical Peter.
“Peter?” Neal called out, calmness forced into his voice, “Peter, a little help?”
“Cowboy up,” Peter said, in between snorts of laughter as he stopped the horse, “Figure it out.”
Frustrated, Neal struggled clumsily until he finally found himself with a foot in each stirrup.
“Well, that wasn’t the most elegant thing I’ve ever seen you do,” joked Peter, which earned him a scornful look from his friend.
“A little help would have been nice,” Neal said.
“Lesson one of good horsemanship,” Peter said, handing the reins back to Neal, “You have to roll with the surprises as they come. You guys are a team, and you have to figure out how to communicate, even if sometimes it feels like you speak a different language.”
“That sounds familiar,” Neal snorted under his breath, and Peter just smiled.
“Now, when you’re in the saddle, always keep your heels down,” the agent instructed, “Again to keep your foot from sliding through the stirrup.”
Neal looked down at his boots as if to make sure he was flexing his ankles.
“Good. Now, to get him to walk, you can say, ‘Walk on,’, or lightly put pressure on his sides with your feet. Not too hard, though, because then he will trot off. You’ll guide him with the reins in the direction you want to go, and pull on them to stop.”
“I know, Peter,” Neal said, a hint of annoyance in his voice, “ I have been on a horse before.”
Peter held his hands up in the air, backing off.
“Okay, you just do your thing. I’ll be over here if you need me, Sundance.”
“I’ll show you how it’s done, Butch,” Neal said, tipping his helmet with a playful smile, “Walk on, Araby.”
Peter watched as Neal waited for the horse to make a move. And waited. And waited.
Clearing his throat, Neal tried again, “Walk on.”
Peter snickered while Araby used his tail to swish at a biting fly, and Neal turned red.
“Can I just interject for -“
“No,” Neal said forcibly.
“Just a hint -“
“No, you said ‘Cowboy up’, this is me ‘cowboying up.’”
Again, Peter raised his hands in the air as he walked over to the corral fence and leaned up against it. Briefly, Neal resented how authentically he pulled off the whole cowboy vibe before coming back to his senses.
Realizing that perhaps a verbal command would not be enough to prod the animal forward, Neal tried a different approach by raising both of his legs out to the side, and then kicking the horse authoritatively in the sides.
Both horse and rider jumped at the motion, but finally, Araby set off at a walk.
Beaming his best ‘I told you so’ grin in Peter’s direction, Neal asked, “Now what?”
“Why don’t you get comfortable at a walk first,” Peter said, still leaning nonchalantly along the fence, “You need to learn balance and to move with his movement before we progress from a walk.”
Neal turned back to the horse and tried to feel the rhythm of his steps. It took a lap or two around the paddock, but finally he thought he was doing a better job at ‘balancing’. In fact, it seemed to come almost naturally.
“You’re looking good,” Peter called out, “Now, stop him, turn him around, and go the other way.”
Neal obliged, pulling gently on the reins, and the horse conceded. He then directed him to turn to the left in quite possibly the widest arch Peter had ever seen.
“Good,” Peter said, stifling a laugh as Neal looked at him proudly from across the ring, “Ask him to walk again.”
Like before, Neal used his feet to tap the horse against his side, this time a little more gently so as not to startle him. When that didn’t work, he tried again, a little harder. When a third attempt still remained fruitless, he looked helplessly at Peter.
“Keep trying,” Peter said, “You have to learn how to communicate with him.”
Sighing, Neal sat taller in the saddle. This time, he used more pressure as he tapped, and for a split second, he thought he was going to have to try a fifth time.
But then Araby took off like a rocket, and Neal almost fell to the ground.
He was flying, his body whipping in every direction as he tried to gain purchase. The conman tried desperately to find the horse’s rhythm, but this scarily fast gait was so much bouncier than the gentle side-to-side rocking he had succeeded in mastering a few minutes before. Absently, he wondered how on earth jockeys stayed on racehorses when they went this fast, as surely this horse was running at full speed and it took all Neal had just to stay upright in the saddle.
Regaining a minutia of composure, he remembered to pull on the reins, but the horse wouldn’t slow.
“Peter, he won’t stop!” Neal called out, his voice shaking as his body jostled erratically, “He won’t stop!”
“You’re okay, Neal!” he heard Peter call out, but Neal couldn’t risk looking up lest the horse run into something in his apparent fervor, “Just pull on the reins!”
Again, Neal tried. “It’s no-o-o-t working, Peter!” Neal called back as he lowered both hands to the horn of the saddle, clutching it with all his might to keep from flying off. He thought it might be a lost cause, though, and wondered if he should bail out now before the horse decided he would throw him off. The young man looked to the ground that was passing by at an alarming speed. Dust was cascading up around them in every direction as the horse continue to rocket forward, and just as Neal wondered how much it would hurt if he hit the ground at thirty miles per hour, something caught his eye.
Peter was running toward him with a huge goofy grin on his face. In fact, he wasn’t just running towards him, he was actually catching up to him. It actually looked as though he might just run right past them. In no time, he was at Neal’s side, grabbing the reins and pulling gently. Instantly, the horse slowed.
When he finally came to a complete stop, Neal looked up, baffled, wide-eyed, and out of breath, and Peter, who was just standing there stifling a laugh, was apparently un-phased at his partner’s near death experience.
“How did you catch up to us?” Neal asked, his wide blue eyes bewildered, “He had to have been running full speed!”
Again, Peter choked on a laugh, and Neal shot him a look.
“What?” the conman asked.
“He wasn’t going fast, Neal,” Peter said gently.
“Yes he was! I almost fell off!”
“He wasn’t going fast.”
Neal just stared blankly as his partner until Peter pulled out his cell phone, producing a video.
“You recorded that?! Real mature, Peter.”
“Hey, I wanted you to be able to see yourself from my vantage point, that way you could see your strengths and weaknesses for yourself. I had no idea you were going to do that.”
“He was practically flying, Peter,” Neal just said bluntly, but Peter just smiled and held the phone up for him to see.
Surely enough, Peter had recorded the whole thing, starting from Neal’s first attempt at mounting. Initially, he was embarrassed, but once the footage showed him walking around the ring, he was actually quite impressed with himself. He had done quite well.
But that feeling was short-lived. On the screen, Neal watched as he tried unsuccessfully to make the horse walk again after turning around. He heard Peter yelling something about communication, and then, he saw the horse take off. Only, it wasn’t nearly as fast as it felt. In fact, it wasn’t even close to as fast as it had felt. And, to make matters worse, it only lasted at most fifteen seconds, as opposed to the eternity it had felt like in the moment.
Of course, his flailing was every bit as wild as he would have imagined it to be, and his embarrassment was compounded threefold when the camera apparently ran towards the ‘runaway’ horse at least twice as quickly as the horse was moving. He saw Peter’s hand reach out and grab the reins, and then the video ended.
Sheepishly, Neal looked down at Peter.
“Well,” Peter said, still trying desperately not to laugh, “I think that’s enough for today.”
Silently, Neal dismounted and led the horse back to the barn. After changing back into his normal clothes, he met Peter to walk back up to the horse.
“Alright. I admit. He might not have been going quite as fast as I thought,” Neal said, “But it felt that way!”
Beside him, Peter chuckled. “It’s okay, the trot is a tough gait to ride. It’s a lot more bouncy than the walk.”
“Now that I know that, we will have to try again tomorrow,” Neal said.
Peter stopped and looked at Neal. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I mean, if it’s okay,” Neal said quietly, suddenly self-conscious.
“Yeah, of course it’s okay,” Peter said, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.
Neal was quiet for a second before continuing.
“I had fun today,” he said, “Minus feeling like I was going to fall off. So I’d like to keep learning.”
“Good. In that case, we can try again tomorrow.”
“No video next time, though,” Neal said with a grin.
“Why, you don’t like having the one skill you lack captured on film?” the older man teased.
“Not particularly,” he said, “Ruins my image. In fact, let me see that again.”
“Oh no,” Peter said in jest, “Not until I show this to Elizabeth.”
“Absolutely not!” Neal demanded, grabbing at Peter’s phone, “Delete that now.”
“I don’t think so, buddy,” Peter said as he took off running toward the house.
“Hey!” Neal called, running after him, “Don’t you dare!”
Ahead of him, Neal could hear Peter laughing. Truthfully, the conman didn’t mind if he showed Elizabeth. He would never admit it, but he enjoyed spending time learning Peter’s pastimes, even if he looked a little awkward while he was out of his element.
Up ahead, Peter called back at him. “You’d better hurry up, Caffrey, or I am going to send this to the whole team!”
“Not if I catch you first,” Neal bantered back, and the two of them bounded on up to the house, like two kids on a playground. As much as he loved the city, it felt good to spend time out in the countryside, not having to worry about a thing. It felt good to be free.
Thank you for your time!