ALEX DE CRUZ - MAKING A FOOL OF MYSELF

Alex de Cruz has had a passion for fiction and writing since reading Hemingway as a teenager. Recently, he's become fascinated with writing flash fiction, short stories, and creative nonfiction. Alex’s work has been published in CafeLit, Flash Fiction Magazine, and Potato Soup Journal. He has forthcoming stories in Adelaide, Bull and Cross, and Down in the Dirt. He grew up in Santa Cruz, California and now lives in Santa Barbara with his wife, after spending forty years in the Midwest. 

Making A Fool Of Myself
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​      I thought of myself as a rather good horseback rider. When I was twelve, I started working at Mrs. Night’s Riding Stables, near my home. For the first couple of years, I did grunt jobs, like cleaning the horses’ stalls and pitching hay down from the loft. By the time I was sixteen though, Mrs. Night had me leading trail rides. Her stables were near a large county park that covered several hundred acres and had miles of riding trails. Sometimes toward the end of the day when the last trail riding group had returned, I’d take one of the better horses into a corral and do a little jumping, nothing big.
      Ann and I had been seeing each other for several weeks. I really liked her. When we’d had dinner together the previous week, I learned that she was very fond of horses and rode herself. There was a riding stables that I went to occasionally, usually just by myself. It was about an hour north of Madison, Wisconsin, where I was living at the time. The great thing about this place was its trail rides didn’t just entail seating on some poor worn-out old horse in a dusty nose-to-tail line, that slowly moseyed along behind a bored trail guide. They had good horses with some spirit left in them. There were also nice trails on their property that led across meadows, through woods, and even crossed a creek several times. They were also remarkable in letting good riders do things like gallop with their horses. Most importantly, I’d gotten to know Charlie, the guy who ran the place, well enough that he let me go riding by myself.
 
 
 
      I’d made reservations and Ann and I showed up on Saturday morning. The weather was gorgeous, the first really beautiful spring day after a long winter. Charlie already had two horses saddled up for us, based on what I’d said over the phone about Ann’s riding experience. He then looked at me and remarked, “You’ve been riding here quite awhile. As I recall, you’re a pretty good rider, right. Do you want to ride Corky? Now Corky’s a great horse, but you’ve got to make sure he knows you’re the boss.” Well, what could I say with the horses already saddled and Ann standing right there, other than, “Sure!” Charlie then added, “We’re short on trail guides today. You can head out on your own.”
      We had a wonderful two-hour ride and were almost back to the stables. Corky and I had gotten along like old friends, once we understood each other. We entered an open field and could see the barn and corrals on the other side. You could sense the horses’ anticipation of getting the riders off their backs and something to eat. Ann, who was riding behind me, shouted, “This has been terrific. I haven’t had this much fun in awhile.” I turned partially around in my saddle and chimed, “Let’s have one last gallop across the pasture. Ann frowned a little and replied, “I don’t think I will, but go ahead if you want.”
     Corky was none too pleased about this change in plans, especially since the other horse wasn’t coming. He initially balked, but then I coaxed him around and he seemed to be fine. I’ll admit; the thought crossed my mind that this was a great chance to impress Ann with my riding skills. I soon nudged Corky from a walk to a trot. Then with a couple of taps of my heels and a little encouragement, “Come on Corky, let’s go”, he broke into a canter, then a full on gallop. It was great; we were really flying. That’s when Corky decided to show me who was really in charge.
      Without any warning, Corky virtually did a ninety degree turn in mid-stride. One instant I was sitting on a saddle with a horse under me, and the next I was flying through the air. I hit the ground with a heavy thud. I was lying flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me, and somewhat dazed. I lay there for more than a ten count, while I caught my breath and tried to figure out how badly hurt I was. As I raised my head, there was Corky standing off to the side. If a horse could talk, he’d be saying, “Now you know who’s boss.” Were his lips slightly curled in a smile, or was that just my imagination. At least I’d been lucky in my choice of a landing pad. Since it was a pasture, there was a thick mat of grass and the soil had been moist and soft. The outcome could have been far different, if I’d come down on rocks or something else hard.
       When I finally managed to stand up, I glanced toward the stables. Not only had Ann been watching, but Charlie and a couple of the stable hands had caught the show also. I’d made quite a fool of myself. There was nothing else to do than get back in the the saddle and walk Corky to the stables. After getting there and dismounting, Charlie walked over. In his slow drawl, he commented, “I’ll say this for you, at least you know how to pick a nice soft spot to land, when a horse throws you.” My lower back remained sore for about a month, my pride was dented for longer though.