Emma and the Cutting Horse by Martha Deeringer

just beginning to relax when John
looked across the fence at her and asked, “Want to take a shot at
ridin’ a cutting horse?”
    Now her heart was in her throat again.
    “That bay gelding tied to the fence in the
back of the arena is an older fella. He knows his stuff and ain’t
too hard to ride. I’d like for Miss Dellfene to be in the arena
when another horse is cutting cattle. She needs to learn that she
can relax when other horses are working the herd. I’ll talk you
through what to do. Want to try it?” John asked.
    Emma looked mutely at her father.
    “Go ahead,” he said. “You’re a good rider,
and it’s always fun to try new things. I’m sure John wouldn’t ask
you if he didn’t think you could do it.”
    “Okay,” Emma said. “Tell me what to do.”
    “There’s a bridle hanging on the saddle
horn,” John told her. “Put it on him and ride him around a little
to get the feel of him and warm him up.”
    The bay gelding was smaller than Ditto, and
had a Roman nose. Emma slipped his halter off, and he opened his
mouth to accept the bit and stood quietly while she pulled the
bridle over his ears. She led him a few steps away from the fence
and tightened up the cinch. When she stepped on, the stirrups were
much too long.
    “Take him over to your dad and get him to
shorten the stirrups. You have to keep your weight on your feet
when you’re ridin’ a cutting horse.” John said.
    Emma’s dad came into the arena and put the
stirrups up until she felt comfortable in them. The saddle had a
very different feel than her own saddle. It was a cutting horse
saddle with a wide pommel. Oxbow stirrups swung from the stirrup
leathers and helped hold Emma’s feet in position. The seat of the
saddle was completely flat with no built-up area in the front and
it had a smaller horn for easy gripping. She moved the gelding over
to the rail and walked him several rounds in the back half of the
arena so the cattle wouldn’t be disturbed. When she squeezed him
with her legs he broke into a rough trot, and Emma had to put most
of her weight in the stirrups to keep from bouncing.
    “Kinda rough, ain’t he?” John asked,
chuckling as she passed by. “Lope him a round or two and then I’ll
tell ya how to get him into the herd and cut a calf.”
    Emma pulled him back to a walk and then
tapped him with her outside heel, asking him to lope. He had a nice
slow lope, but his circles got smaller and smaller, as though he
was in a hurry to get to the center of the arena and stop. Emma
reined him over to the fence and made him stay close to it, and
when he realized that she was not going to let him choose the
course, he did as she asked.
    John got back on Miss Dellfene and walked her
to the center of the arena.
    “Bring him over here, Emma, and I’ll fill you
in on what to do,” John said.
    Emma walked the gelding over to John, and
Miss Dellfene backed her ears and stepped away, as though the
gelding’s presence offended her.
    “You have a good seat in the saddle,” John
told her. “Your dad told me that you have been riding colts for him
for years and know what you’re doing.”
    “Thanks,” Emma said nervously.
    “Don’t worry about what to do when you get a
cow cut out. Lucky knows his business; all you have to do is keep
one leg on each side of him. Once you get a cow out, drop the
reins. Well, don’t really drop them; just give him a lot of
loose rein and hold on to the saddle horn with one hand. Maybe even
both hands. When he starts to work the calf, keep your weight in
the stirrups and push on the saddle horn.”
    “Push?” Emma asked.
    “When you push, it forces you back against
the cantle of the saddle so you don’t flop around so much. You can
stop him anytime by putting your hand on his neck, just in front of
the saddle horn. Don’t try to turn him with the reins; a cutting
horse has to work the calf all by itself. I’ll tell ya when to
quit.”
    “I hope I’m not about to make a fool