What will a mother do for love?  To what lengths would she go to make her children happy?

My sons expressed one great desire as we planned our summer trip to Montana. They wanted to go horseback riding in the mountains.

This wouldn’t have been so unreasonable except that I’m terrified of all hairy mammals. So, we spent nine of our ten vacation days exploring the wilds of Montana.  I kept hoping that if I put off horseback riding long enough we’d be hit by a blizzard, hurricane, or typhoon.  No such luck.  On that tenth day, I peered out of my lodge window to see a big cloudless sky.  My heart sank.

At the corral, Lucinda greeted us. I walked toward the gate to meet her, but she growled, “Step away, honey.  You don’t want to spook them horses.”

Spook them?  Gosh, no!  I jumped back.

Lucinda collected a small fortune from our family and the other patrons who would be riding.  Next, cowboys brought out a string of horses and began helping people get on them.  Lucinda led out an enormous black creature with red eyeballs.  It snorted as it skipped toward me. Skipping?  I’d prefer a horse that ambled.

“This here is Satin.”  Lucinda smiled.

Did she say Satin or Satan?  Either way, this was not the docile horse I’d envisioned.

I glanced at my oldest son, seventeen and the epitome of cool.  He squinted and pointed his chin toward Satan.  The heartless child was warning me not to make a scene.

I narrowed my eyes at him and then let Lucinda hoist me up into the saddle.  I’m not that heavy but the distance was great.  So, it took her several tries, the last of which was more of a toss than hoist.

As I perched unsteadily, I could hear her complaining.  “Dang puny legs.”  No matter how she tried to adjust the stirrups, my feet fell short.

People glared at me as if this were my fault.  I’d have glared back but I didn’t want to express any negative emotion that could set off Satan.

Finally, Lucinda gave up.  She called to another cowpoke.  “Go get Rosy!”

As I tumbled to earth from Satan’s back, I looked up from the dust to see Rosy, a pinkish animal with the head and tail of a horse, but definitely the body of a pig, a fat pig.

I had no trouble getting on Rosy’s back because her belly hung two feet off of the ground.  I did have trouble sitting on her back because it had to be three feet wide.  My legs stuck out at ninety-degree angles.

The trail guide, a sweet boy who hadn’t yet grown facial hair, began telling us the rules of the road, shouting loudly so that the folks at the far end could hear.   I prayed that his yelling wouldn’t cause a stampede.

“Don’t make your horses gallop,” he said.  No problem there.  “Keep a safe distance from other horses because if they are too close, they will bite each other.”  I’m okay with that.  “Don’t let the horses graze.  If they eat baneberry, they could get sick and die.”  All right, I’ll watch out for the baneberry.

Two minutes later, I knew why Rosy was so rotund.  She paused at every bush to take a nibble.  The great outdoors was her personal Burger King. I’d have yanked on the reins, but I was reluctant to irritate Rosy.  Although it was a stretch, I pictured my porcine creature rearing up and tossing me off the mountainside. I felt slightly guilty exposing Rosy to baneberry poisoning, but I was much more afraid of exposing myself to a painful death.

Finally, the trail guide said, “Ma’am, you have to let that horse know who’s charge!  Hold them reins up high!”

Of course, this horse knew who was in charge.  She was in charge.  But, I held the reins high.  After fifteen minutes of no noshing, Rosy got downright peevish and bit up into the rump of the horse in front of her, inspiring that creature to kick back about six inches from my face.

Thank God we signed up for just a ninety-minute ride.

Finally, with the corral in sight, I experienced one more equine delight.  When a horse at the head of a line begins to pee, all the rest are inspired to do the same. Rosy peed vigorously.  Since I was sitting twenty-four inches off of the ground, I got treated to a warm smelly splattering.

Back at the lodge, the boys asked if they could hop into the saddle the next day. What a tragedy!  We didn’t have time.  We had to catch a plane in Kallispell.

Now, back home in Virginia as I recall our trip to Montana, I am quite certain of what this mother will never again do for love.