"How d'you think the cowboys do it? Balance the stirrups over 'is barrel, yell 'giddy-up', an' hold on for dear life? Trust me, once you got your legs spread over his back, you'll be glad for the comfort'a all this."

She has absolutely no intentions of warning him about how sore he'll be this evening. Let him figure that one out on his own.

Soon enough, there are two saddles set with the rest of the tack, and Kate's moving back in to inspect his work.

"Y'ever miss a spot with your shavin' soap? Skin gets all bothered an' aggravated?"

She fishes another brush out of the bucket, this one smaller, with softer bristles.

"How pleasant would you be if someone was always rubbin' up that spot? Y'gotta git his legs, an' all his girth. Once that's done, use this t'brush his face; just move the bridle's straps so's you can get on underneath."

Beat.

"You're doin' a good job. An' you're almost done, promise."