Free Paint the Wind by Pam Muñoz Ryan Page A

with the sweet grassy aroma of damp hay. As she approached the enclosures, several horses lifted their heads and whinnied.
    She straightened the kerchief around her neck, snuggled her hands in the unzipped pockets of the vest, and whispered, “I’m going to ride a horse. A real horse.” A spurt of excitement laced with anxiety coursed through her mind and her stomach. Would riding a horse feel the same as reading about riding a horse?
    Curious about a blue plastic container a few feet from the corral, Maya stopped and lifted the lid.Immediately, two horses edged as close to the bars as possible. Inside the container was some type of grain with a delicious smell that reminded Maya of oatmeal-and-molasses cookies. She scooped out a bit and with a cupped hand, fingers pointing up, held it through the bars. “Do you guys like this stuff?”
    â€œMaya!”
    She whirled around.
    Aunt Vi hurried toward her.
    â€œWhen you hold out your hand to a horse, especially if you have food in your hand, hold it flat and tight. A flat hand looks bigger. Believe me when I say that a horse could chomp those fingers and it wouldn’t feel one bit good.”
    Maya swallowed hard. She turned back to the horse and leveled and tightened her hand. The horse deftlynibbled the food from her palm, its gigantic lips as tender as a baby’s cheek.
    â€œOkay. Let’s get started. Follow me,” said Aunt Vi.
    â€œWhere’s Payton?” asked Maya as they entered the corral.
    â€œAfter that prank last night, I told him to stay in camp during your lesson. You don’t need more than one critic while you’re learning. First thing, never sneak up on a horse or come up from the direct behind or the direct front, because they can’t see you there. Most people approach a horse on the near side, which is their left. Always let them know you’re coming.”
    Maya followed Aunt Vi into the corral, taking timid steps to avoid the occasional droppings.
    â€œHey there, Seltzer,” said Aunt Vi. “I’m right here,boy.” She slipped the halter over the horse’s muzzle and buckled it. “When you lead a horse, hold the rope a few inches from the halter clip, stand to the side, and walk as if you were the Queen of Sheba. You don’t want to lead a horse by standing right in front of it because if it got spooked it would run right over you. Here, you take the rope and lead him to the tack bench.”
    Maya knew she wanted to try, so why was she hesitating? Take the rope , she told herself.
    She wavered. Maybe it would be better to tell Aunt Vi that she’d rather wait until tomorrow or some other day.
    Maya followed the rope from Aunt Vi’s hand to the horse’s face. She was surprised at the length of the lashes and the intense eye, which seemed to look through herand read her thoughts. There was something hypnotic about being in the horse’s presence, as if she were under a spell. Was that her hand reaching for the rope? Was she the one leading Seltzer out of the corral to the tack bench? Or was it all a dream?
    â€œThere’s an imaginary circle on the ground below the horse’s shoulder,” said Aunt Vi. “That’s your safety zone for not getting run over or kicked. You can do most things to the horse from that spot on either side. Now we’re going to groom the blanket area.” She handed Maya a currycomb.
    Maya copied Aunt Vi’s small circular movements with a currycomb and then the long sweeping strokes with a dandy brush. She watched Aunt Vi use the hoof pick to pull out the packed dirt embedded in the horseshoes. Then they took turns combing the mane and tail.
    â€œSee how I put the blanket pads over the withers and his back and lift the saddle into place, letting it down lightly?” said Aunt Vi. “Now I’m going to drop the cinch and then come around … and thread the latigo strap through the rigging ring and tighten