Echo Burning

huffing gently. He smiled. I’m the boss, O.K.? He put the back of his right hand up near its nose. It was something he had seen at the movies. You rub the back of your hand on its nose, and it gets to know you. Some smell thing . The skin on its nose felt soft and dry. Its breath was strong and hot. Its lips peeled back again and its tongue came out. It was huge and wet.
    “O.K., good girl,” he whispered.
    He lifted the saddle two-handed and dumped it down on her back. Pushed and pulled at it until it felt solid. It wasn’t easy. Was it the right way around? Had to be. It was shaped a little like a chair. There was a definite front and a back. There were broad straps hanging down on either side. Two long, two short. Two had buckles, two had holes. What were they for? To hold the saddle on, presumably. You bring the far ones around and buckle them at the side, up underneath where the rider’s thigh would be. He ducked down and tried to grab the far straps, underneath the horse’s belly. He could barely reach them. This was one wide animal, that was for damn sure. He stretched and caught the end of one strap in his fingertips and the saddle slipped sideways.
    “Shit,” he breathed.
    He straightened up and leveled the saddle again. Ducked down and grabbed for the far straps. The horse moved and put them way out of his reach.
    “Shit,” he said again.
    He stepped closer, crowding the horse against the wall. It didn’t like that, and it leaned on him. He weighed two hundred and fifty pounds. The horse weighed half a ton. Hestaggered backward. The saddle slipped. The horse stopped moving. He straightened the saddle again and kept his right hand on it while he groped for the straps with his left.
    “Not like that, ” a voice called from way above him.
    He spun around and looked up. Ellie was lying on top of the stack of hay bales, up near the roof, her chin on her hands, looking down at him.
    “You need the blanket first,” she said.
    “What blanket?”
    “The saddle cloth,” she said.
    The horse moved again, crowding hard against him. He shoved it back. Its head came around and it looked at him. He looked back at it. It had huge dark eyes. Long eyelashes. He glared at it. I’m not afraid of you, pal. Stand still or I’ll shove you again .
    “Ellie, does anybody know you’re in here?” he called.
    She shook her head, solemnly.
    “I’m hiding,” she said. “I’m good at hiding.”
    “But does anybody know you hide in here?”
    “I think my mommy knows I do sometimes, but the Greers don’t.”
    “You know how to do this horse stuff?”
    “Of course I do. I can do my pony all by myself.”
    “So help me out here, will you? Come and do this one for me.”
    “It’s easy,” she said.
    “Just show me, O.K.?”
    She stayed still for a second, making her usual lengthy decision, and then she scrambled down the pile of bales and jumped to the ground and joined him in the stall.
    “Take the saddle off again,” she said.
    She took a cloth off of the equipment post and shook it out and threw it up over the mare’s back. She was too short and Reacher had to straighten it one-handed.
    “Now put the saddle on it,” she said.
    He dropped the saddle on top of it. Ellie ducked underneath the horse’s belly and caught the straps. She barely needed to stoop. She threaded the ends together and pulled.
    “You do it,” she said. “They’re stiff.”
    He lined the buckles up and pulled hard.
    “Not too tight,” Ellie said. “Not yet. Wait for her to swell up.”
    “She’s going to swell up ?”
    Ellie nodded, gravely. “They don’t like it. They swell their stomachs up to try to stop you. But they can’t hold it, so they come down again.”
    He watched the horse’s stomach. It was already the size of an oil drum. Then it blew out, bigger and bigger, fighting the straps. Then it subsided again. There was a long sigh of air through its nose. It shuffled around and gave up.
    “Now do them tight,” Ellie said.
    He pulled them as tight as he could. The mare shuffled in place. Ellie had the reins in her hands, shaking them into some kind of coherent shape.
    “Take the rope off of her,” she said. “Just pull it down.”
    He pulled the rope down. The mare’s ears folded forward and it slid down over them, over her nose, and off.
    “Now hold this up.” She handed him a tangle of straps. “It’s called the bridle.”
    He turned it in his hands, until the shape made sense. He held it against