7
“Here you go.” I held the ten-year-old girl by the waist, helped her sit on the horse, and handed her the reins.
“Thanks,” she said, with a huge, nervous smile.
I patted the horse’s side. His coat was shiny and silky, much like Hercules’s had been. “Don’t worry. Paul here will take good care of you,” I told her.
Over his own pinto horse, Paul tipped his cowboy hat at us. “Come on now,” he called the group of kids. “Let’s ride out of here.”
The kids pulled on their reins and turned their horses, following Paul to the fenced arena near the main stable. Smiling, I watched them go. At age ten, I’d already participated in local jumping tournaments. And won.
But that belonged to my past.
I readjusted the pink hat on my head and set out back to the stable, hoping to avoid Jimmy and his p
