Henry slowly reached into his waistcoat. He pulled out a gold hunter watch, the chain clinking faintly in the quiet yard. He clicked it open. The brass face caught the dull November light.
"The moment your weight is in the stirrup," Henry said, his voice dropping its cynical edge replaced by something entirely serious. If you fall, do not try to stand up immediately. Roll toward the fence.
He will try to trample you. Basia didn't answer. She turned back to the horse. She didn't mount from the ground.
She couldn't. The horse was nearly 17 hands high and her legs were too short to reach the iron stirrup without bouncing, which would only trigger him faster. Instead, she grabbed the heavy iron ring on the wooden post, hauled herself up onto the bottom rail of the fence, and balanced precariously above the mud. Ruin watched her.
His head turned slightly, the whites of his eyes glowing. Basia gathered the heavy leather reins into her left hand, twisting them through her fingers so they wouldn't slip. She grabbed a fistful of coarse mane. She didn't pray.
Praying hadn't kept the landlord away, and it wouldn't keep this horse from trying to kill her. She pushed off the fence and swung her right leg over the saddle. Gravity seized her, dropping her weight into the stiff leather seat. For one heartbeat, the world was perfectly terrifyingly still.
The wind seemed to stop. West held his breath. Henry stared the gold watch ticking loudly in the palm of his hand. Then the earth exploded.
Ruin didn't rear. Rearing was for show. Ruin dropped his head between his front knees, rounded his massive back into a rigid arch, and launched himself entirely off the ground. The impact of his hooves hitting the earth shattered the silence.