The ranch owner informed them that delivery wouldn’t be arranged until later that afternoon, so An Feng returned home with Joanna.
He spent the next few hours playing with the dogs and continuing his English lessons.
Around five in the afternoon, his phone buzzed.
Outside, a heavy-duty Ford pickup hauling a massive horse trailer pulled up along the driveway.
The stables had already been swept clean.
The delivery crew carefully guided the five horses into their respective stalls, letting An Feng know they had already been fed for the evening.
“Well, it’s getting late,” Joanna said, packing up her notebook.
“We’ll leave them to settle in tonight and start your actual training tomorrow.” The next morning, An Feng woke up exceptionally early.
He wolfed down his breakfast, threw on a long-sleeved plaid shirt, slipped into dark denim jeans, and pulled on his riding boots.
He topped the outfit off with his brand-new cowboy hat and buckled a decorative leather belt around his waist.
As he walked, the heavy silver accents clinked softly.
He couldn’t help but grin, snapping a few quick selfies in the mirror.
Hearing a car pull up downstairs, An Feng grabbed his gear and headed out.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw Joanna.
Unlike his casual cowboy getup, she looked like she had stepped straight out of a British equestrian magazine.
She wore a tailored black riding jacket over a crisp white polo shirt, fitted white breeches, tall black leather boots, and a matching velvet helmet.
An Feng let out a low whistle.
“Wow.
Look at you!
You look incredibly cool.” Joanna flushed slightly, offering a elegant smile.
“Thank you.
Ready to get started?” When they walked down to the estate’s private riding arena, they saw a rider already galloping against the backdrop of the rising sun.
As they drew closer, An Feng realized it was Old John.
He looked like an entirely different person on horseback—agile and confident as he easily guided a beautiful, responsive reddish-bay Quarter Horse.
John rode over to them, bringing the horse to an effortless, smooth halt, and dismounted with practiced ease.
“That was amazing, John!” An Feng said, giving him a thumbs-up.
John tipped his hat to An Feng, then turned to Joanna, his eyes twinkling.
“Well, look at you.
I haven’t seen a proper English riding habit in these parts in a very long time.” Joanna smiled warmly.
“Good morning, John.” Looking at them side-by-side, An Feng could see the clear cultural divide.
The classic English style was all about tradition, posture, and precise, elegant form.
The American Western style was rugged, practical, and casual—mirroring the independent spirit of the frontier.
It was like watching a highly trained martial arts master stand next to a wild, free-roaming hero.
“First things first,” Joanna said, breaking the silence.
“Let’s check in on the horses.” They headed into the stables.
Joanna walked him through their feeding routine, explaining how to balance pasture grass with corn and oats, and how to use carrots as rewards.
Since John had already handled the morning feed, they moved straight to the next order of business.
“They need names,” Joanna said.
“Any ideas?” An Feng walked up to the stall of his bay Andalusian.
The horse raised its head, its dark, intelligent eyes studying him.
“Let’s go with Philip,” An Feng decided, scratching the horse right behind the ears.
Joanna smiled, looking over at her brown Arabian.
“Then mine is Angelina.” With the names settled, Joanna turned to him.
“So, Alex, tell me honestly—do you have any actual riding experience?” “I’ve ridden before,” An Feng admitted, “but definitely nothing formal.
Back when I was a kid in the countryside, I used to jump on the work horses we used for hauling farm loads.
We rode bareback, ran them wild through the fields, and fell off constantly.
It was pretty chaotic.” Joanna laughed.
“Okay, so we are definitely starting from scratch.
Forget all those bad habits and listen to me carefully.” She pointed to the cross-ties in the aisle.
“Before you even touch a saddle, you have to secure the horse.
Always use a quick-release knot.
If the horse panics, you need to be able to pull one string and free them instantly.” An Feng tied Philip up and watched as Joanna demonstrated how to tack up Angelina.
She hoisted the saddle onto the horse’s back, sliding it into place before gently reaching underneath to pull the girth loose.
“When you tighten the cinch on a Western saddle, or the girth on an English one, do it slowly,” Joanna instructed.
“Some horses will bloat their bellies with air to resist it, or they’ll get defensive if you yank it too hard.
Keep your movements smooth and calm.
Don’t do anything to startle them.” She showed him how to gently slide the bit into the horse’s mouth and fit the bridle over its ears, her movements slow and deliberate.
“These horses have already had basic training, so they’re accustomed to the gear.
As long as you follow the proper steps, they won’t fight you.” She untied Angelina and held the reins close to the bit.
“When you lead them out, always stand next to the horse’s shoulder, holding the reins with your right hand.
Never stand directly in front of them.” She walked Angelina forward a few paces.
“See?
A well-trained horse will happily walk right beside you.” An Feng carefully led Philip out of his stall, making sure to stay by his shoulder.
“Good.
Remember, never walk directly ahead of a horse you don’t know well,” Joanna warned.
“They need to see you, but they shouldn’t feel like you’re blocking their path.” An Feng nodded, realizing just how disciplined professional riding was.
Back in his village, nobody cared about “shoulder positioning” or “quick-release knots.” You just hopped onto a horse’s back—sometimes even jumping on from behind—and hoped for the best.
‘If I tried jumping onto Philip’s back from behind right now,’ An Feng thought, ‘he’d probably kick me straight through the stable wall.’ “Before you mount, lead them in a few circles,” Joanna continued, walking Angelina in a tight figure-eight.
“It helps them get used to your presence and calms their nerves.
They’re like kids—they need a transition period to trust you.” Once Angelina relaxed, Joanna adjusted her stirrups, held the reins firmly, and swung her leg over the saddle in one fluid, practiced motion.
Angelina shifted slightly, but Joanna quickly adjusted her weight and spoke softly, immediately settling the horse.
“She’s incredibly responsive,” Joanna said, a brilliant smile lighting up her face.
She squeezed her heels, guiding Angelina through a slow walk, then a smooth trot, and finally a controlled canter.
Within minutes, they were gliding effortlessly over a low training hurdle.
An Feng applauded, genuinely impressed.
Old John joined in, showing off some Western moves.
While Joanna rode with a perfectly straight, elegant posture, John leaned slightly forward, his body loose and adapted to the rhythm of the horse, looking entirely at ease.
After a few laps, Joanna brought Angelina to a stop.
“Alright, Alex.
Your turn.
Give it a try.” An Feng approached Philip.
He gathered the reins in his left hand, put his left foot into the stirrup, and prepared to swing up.
“Wait,” Joanna called out.
“Only put the ball of your foot—about one-third of your boot—into the stirrup.
Never slide your foot all the way in.
If the horse bolts and you fall, you don’t want your foot getting trapped.” An Feng nodded, but the instruction brought back a sudden memory of him as a kid, desperately clinging to a work horse’s mane.
He let out a chuckle, stepped up, and swung his right leg over.
But as he came down into the saddle, his right boot accidentally brushed hard against Philip’s sensitive flank.
Philip, startled by the sudden pressure, bolted forward before An Feng could even find his right stirrup.
“Whoa!” An Feng gasped.
The horse surged ahead.
For a split second, An Feng lost his balance, but his old instincts kicked in.
Instead of panicking, he leaned low, clamped his thighs tightly around Philip’s barrel, and gripped the reins, using his core to anchor himself to the saddle.
Philip neighed, rearing up slightly on his hind legs.
The sudden tilt felt like a roller coaster, the ground dropping away beneath them.
A less experienced rider would have slipped off the back instantly.
“Alex!” Joanna cried out, she and John immediately moving to intervene.
John reached for his lasso, ready to catch the horse’s neck if things went sideways.
But An Feng wasn’t going down.
He stayed glued to the saddle, using his legs to absorb the bucking motion.
As Philip tried to twist, An Feng dug his heels in slightly, letting the horse feel the pressure of his spurs.
Realizing he couldn’t shake his rider, Philip gave up on bucking and broke into a fast gallop around the arena.
An Feng pulled back firmly on the reins, guiding him into a tight circle.
Philip’s head pulled back, and he finally slowed to a stop, snorting loudly in frustration.
“Easy, boy.
Easy,” An Feng muttered, panting slightly as he patted the horse’s muscular neck.
Within seconds, the tension melted away.
Philip stood still, realizing the man on his back wasn’t going anywhere.
Joanna and John rode up, their eyes wide with disbelief.
“My god, Alex.
I thought you said you didn’t have formal training!” Joanna said, letting out a breath she had been holding.
“I don’t,” An Feng grinned, his heart still hammering.
“But I like him.
A horse without a little fire is no fun anyway.” John laughed, shaking his head.
“Well, you certainly broke him in, boss.
He knows who’s in charge now.” For the rest of the day, An Feng practiced the finer points of riding.
He quickly realized that while his natural balance got him through the rough moments, he still had a lot to learn.
He couldn’t make Philip perform elegant side-passes like Joanna, nor could he get the horse to stop and back up on a dime like Old John could with his Quarter Horse.
“So, who’s the better rider?” An Feng asked John later that afternoon, nodding toward Joanna.
John watched Joanna patiently guide Angelina around a series of barrels.
“Joanna is incredibly precise.
Her dressage and formal training are flawless.
But when it comes to ranch work and riding miles of rough terrain, that just takes years of dirt under your fingernails.” As the sun began to set, the riding ended, but the work didn’t.
Joanna showed him how to properly care for the horses after a workout.
An Feng learned how to pick hooves, wash away sweat, and use different brushes—curry combs, dandy brushes, and body brushes—to clean their coats.
He even helped muck out the stalls.
By the time they finished, An Feng was covered in dust and sweat, his muscles aching in places he didn’t know existed.
“Do you do this every time you ride?” he asked, leaning on a shovel.
“Every single time,” Joanna said, wiping her brow.
“It’s how you build a bond with them.
They need to know you’re the one who cares for them, not just the guy who rides them.” “Fair enough,” An Feng smiled.
It was hard work, but as he looked out over his quiet, golden vineyard with his dogs resting nearby and his horses settled in their stalls, he felt a deep sense of peace.
His new California life was turning out to be exactly what he wanted.