He led her down the path to the corral where the smell of manure and warm hay and horses hung in the air. A dozen horses grazed in groups of twos and threes along the low stone fences topped with desiccated cow bones to keep them from escaping. When he whistled, a chestnut with black mane and tail raised her head and looked over her shoulder at them.

The mare, her coat glistening in the afternoon light, trotted to the fence gate in front of them. Tomas stroked her nose, speaking quietly. “You can touch her,” he said.

She caressed the softness of the mare’s nose, stroked the sides of her face, touched her fleshy lips with hesitant fingers. She cupped her hand over an ear, drinking in the mare’s unmistakable scent. The horse stood quietly, with large, unblinking eyes watching her. Then she nickered softly.

“Could I ride her?” Cayatu asked.

“Here?  Now?”

She tugged at his arm. “Could I learn to ride?”

“Jimeno wouldn’t allow it.”

She was drawn to the mare by a force she did not understand. “Let’s go into the corral, Tomas.” She didn’t wait for an answer, taking his hand and leading him to the gate. Looking around, to make sure they were alone, he threw up his hands and lifted the latch.

The horse came over to them. Standing close to her, Cayatu felt her size and power. It sent a shiver of excitement through her. “How far can she take you?” she asked Tomas.

“I could ride her all day.”

“Show me how to get on her back. I want to feel what it is like to ride.” She stepped closer to Tomas, so she could put both her hands on his shoulders and coax him with her smile. “No one is here. Show me.”

“I should not…” He turned around again to make sure they were safely alone. “But for you…” He walked to the far side of the corral, taking a blanket from a wooden stand. He tossed it on the mare’s back, then a saddle.

Cayatu studied Tomas’s skillful work. A tinge of fear, mixed with the anticipation of a new adventure, sent a shiver up her spine. What a capable husband he would be, she decided.

“I should not do this,” he said again, adjusting the cinch, his eyes scanning the path once more for trouble.

Cautiously, he took her to the mare. He showed her how to mount and helped her put a sandaled foot into the thin iron stirrup. When she stalled half way up—one foot in the stirrup and her hand gripping the pommel—he clasped hands for her to step on and lifted her the rest of the way.

Giddy with joy, Cayatu giggled as she settled herself. From this new, high vantage point she felt tall. She could feel the strength and power under her. Looking off in all directions, she saw farther than she had ever seen standing on the ground. From the mare’s back she could see trees in the lemon orchard the priests had planted down the hill from the corral, and beyond them to the rooftops of the adobes in the village, and the walls of the fort down the hill. She could see the sails of a ship, brightly lit by the arcing sun.

Tomas seemed smaller when she looked down from the saddle. Her world had a new dimension. She felt the thrill of a new kind of freedom. The mare’s flanks breathing in and out were a gentle sensation under her. Cayatu trembled. No wonder a horseman has so much power, she thought. She reached down with her hand to stroke the horse’s neck. The mare moved forward.

A new swell of excitement surged over her as the horse took a step, shifting her weight from one side to the other. She was moving. Without any effort, she was moving forward. If she knew how to direct this horse, it would take her wherever she wanted to go. It would take her away from the mission, she thought.

“Oh, Tomas,” she called out. “I’m free.”