Chapter 15
The next Founder’s Ride happened six months late.
Not because tradition demanded it.
Because I wanted to ride.
Important distinction.
We changed almost everything else.
No ceremonial saddle switch.
No Keeper of the Reins.
No automatic meaning if somebody dismounted early.
Safety checks happened openly between Martin and another groom.
Boring.
Excellent.
Arthur complained the ritual had lost mystery.
“Good.”
He rolled his eyes.
Milo attended from the courtyard.
He did not ride.
No one asked him to.
Caleb watched from a separate area by Milo’s invitation.
That mattered.
Before mounting, I checked my own girth.
Not because I distrusted Martin.
Because responsibility does not insult trust.
Milo saw me.
“Good?”
“Good.”
He nodded.
Then went back to his snack.
Perfect.
I completed the hill ride.
No dramatic gallop.
No need to prove age wrong.
At the overlook, I stopped.
The capos expected some speech.
I gave them none.
Then I handed the reins to Martin and walked back down part of the trail because my knee hurt.
Arthur stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
He smiled.
“Six months ago you would’ve ridden through pain just so Caleb couldn’t say you were old.”
Probably.
He was right.
Interesting.
I had spent so much time condemning Caleb for needing performance that I nearly missed my own version.
Strength does not require proving every rumor false.
Sometimes your knee hurts.
May you like
You walk.
The organization survives.
