"Are you sure you can teach me to ride a horse?" Machiavelli asked the others worriedly. He looked around the Jeep. All the others looked perfectly calm, but the Italian was feeling more nervous by the minute.
"You'll be fine," Billy soothed. He held the Italian's hand.
"Unless the horse bucks you," Black Hawk called from the wheel. Machiavelli whimpered and Billy smacked the Native American on the back of the head sharply.
"Don't listen to him," Scathach said, turning around to look at Billy and Machiavelli. She smiled, showing her pointed teeth. "We're all here to help you."
"Yeah, all of us," Black Hawk admitted from the wheel.
"Why are you so worried?" Billy asked. "Surely you had to ride horses when you were traveling all over Italy as a politician."
Machiavelli was holding his hand tightly. "I was never good at it. Besides, I was always in a carriage, not on the horse."
Billy leaned forward to talk to Scathach. Quietly, so Machiavelli wouldn't hear, he asked, "Is this a good idea? He seems really scared."
She leaned back. "I think he'll have fun once we get him going. Remember, there's a lot of things he's done recently that scared him and he's always had fun in the end."
"True," Billy agreed reluctantly. He leaned back in his seat and threw his arm around Machiavelli. The Italian leaned into his touch. Billy rubbed his arm roughly. "You're going to have fun, Mac. I'm going to put you on the gentlest horse. Nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to."
Machiavelli winced when they went over a big bump in the road. "And you'll stay with me the whole time?" Billy nodded. "Maybe we should just go back. What about Pup? And John?"
"The Flamels are watching your dog," Scathach broke in. "And you need some time away from John."
The Italian turned to Billy. "You were a good rider, weren't you?"
Billy smiled. "I was a great rider. I could pick things up off the ground, turn around in the saddle, shoot a gun..."
~MB~
"Don't you want to ride horses like Scathach and Black Hawk? I could just watch from the sidelines," Machiavelli trailed behind Billy. He breathed deeply. The stable smelled like hay, leather, and just the faintest traces of manure. "You like riding horses, you don't have to babysit me..."
Billy slung his arm around Machiavelli. "I can ride horses whenever. I want to be with you." He steered the boy towards the stall at the end of the stable. "We're not even going to put you on a horse yet. You're just going to get used to her."
They stopped in front of the stall. Machiavelli looked up at the horse. "She's awfully big, isn't she?"
Billy petted the horse's muzzle. "She's the gentlest horse they have. I checked." He picked Machiavelli up, guiding the boy's hand over the horse's neck muscles. The Italian sat on the stall door, keeping one hand wrapped around Billy's shoulders and patting the horse with his other hand. The mare bobbed her head up and down appreciatively. "See, she likes you already."
"What's her name?" Machiavelli asked, swinging his leg back around the stall door and dropped down to the ground.
"They call her Wind Blown." Billy pressed his thumbs into the core of an apple and split it into two parts. He handed one part to the Italian. "Hold it out on your hand, but keep your fingers flat."
Machiavelli did as he was told. He giggled a little when the horse's tongue brushed up against his hand. He looked over at Billy, who'd begun to brush down the horse. "Can I help?" he asked. He felt shy, as though he had met Billy for the first time.
Billy pushed a stool up beside the horse. "Here," he said, settling behind Machiavelli. He showed the Italian which brushes to use and how to use them. The outlaw ducked under the horse's head and began to work on the other side of the horse.
Machiavelli smiled, hearing him begin to sing Roy Orbison songs. He wanted to join in, but lost his nerve, and instead hummed along with the American.
~MB~
After lunch time, Billy carried Machiavelli on his shoulders. They'd caught up with the other two immortals, Scathach accompanying them back to the stable and Black Hawk continuing to ride his horse in the bigger paddock.
Machiavelli chattered excitedly to both of the adult immortals. At the stable entrance, he swung off of Billy's shoulders and dropped lightly to the ground. "This is my horse," he told Scathach, pulling her behind him.
"You still nervous?" she asked him, nudging the Italian with the tip of her boot.
Machiavelli looked up. "Not too much," he said. "You're going to stay with me, aren't you?" he asked, looking back and forth between Billy and Scathach.
"Absolutely," Billy answered, leading Wind Blown down the stable aisle. When they were out in the small paddock. "You know if you were just a bit taller, I'd have you step into the stirrup and pull yourself up, but you're still a little too small for that." He hefted Machiavelli up. "You always get on a horse from the left side," he told Machiavelli. "And sit with your back straight."
Machiavelli felt the familiar wave of nervousness sweep over on him as he sat on the saddle of the horse. Billy patted his thigh, settling his other hand on the Italian's back. Scathach handed him the reins. "You've got to hold them firmly, but not tightly."
"Relax, Mac," Billy soothed. "To get the horse to begin to walk, you squeeze its sides with your lower legs. Scathach's going to lead you and I'll be right here. When you're ready," he said patiently.
Machiavelli took a deep breath and squeezed the horse's sides. Instantly, the mare began to walk forward. He glanced at Billy nervously, but let the horse move forward. He felt some of the tension leak out of his body. Billy kept his hand on the small of his back, reassuring him.