On that day they were ran into a barn, loaded on a cattle truck, brought to my home, and unloaded in a small pen where I kept them. Each day they grew visibly tamer, until finally I could touch them as they ate their grain and hay. At length they allowed me to pet and brush them. A tall chestnut mare with flaxen mane had become my favorite. I chose to ride her first.
Babies are easy to tame.
Since they trust you, they seldom buck. Each time I came off her, she never ran away, but stood over me instead, staring down at my prone body with curiosity in her eyes. Three times I hit the grass, but being the smart mare she was, she accepted my weight on the fourth try. I don't recall consciously teaching her to move away from my leg, or to whoa. It was she who read my body language.