Page 84 of My Wild Horse King

“Right, but how long has it been since you’ve ridden a horse?” She arches one eyebrow.

“A while.”

“I doubt Amanda Saddler will be impressed with you falling off and breaking your wrist.”

She’s probably right.

“And we need to buy a saddle.”

“Right.”

“And unless you’re planning on wearing a suit to the barrel race?” Her eyebrows shoot up. “You might need some new clothes.”

Today is going to suck.

Especially since, as it turns out, Manila, UT has exactly one place that sells clothing.

The True Value Hardware store, which also doubles as a grocery store. Their selection is not good. “And if you want a saddle,” the woman from yesterday says with a half-smile, “you’re going to have to drive into Green River.” Her face, like yesterday, still swirls, surrounded with what look like tiny golden fireflies. She’s a good person, but that doesn’t mean she can help us. In fact, that’s probably why she refused to help us.

Which is just great.

“Can I ask you something?” The woman’s face is scrunched up. “I saw you folks drive in yesterday, all piling out of an SUV. Where exactly are you getting a horse from?”

It’s a good question.

“A friend of mine is keeping her for us,” Kristiana says without missing a beat. “We’re about to go pick her up.”

The woman nods. “Most everybody around here has a saddle. Maybe you could borrow one from your friend.”

Kris smiles slowly. “My friend doesn’t have one—she already told me. But. . .” She steps closer. “Any chance we could rent one from you?”

The woman shakes her head. “No way.”

Kristiana’s shoulders slump.

“You could borrow one, though.” The checkout woman’s eyes crinkle up when she smiles. “Anyone who’s willing to sign up for a rodeo just to talk to Amanda Saddler?” She’s full-on beaming now. “I’ve gotta see it. That’s all.”

I’m not sure whether she’s looking forward to my crashing and burning in the rodeo, or whether she’s referring to watching me trying to talk to Amanda. Either way, I suppose my outlook isn’t great.

Venetia, that turns out to be the woman’s name, gives us her address—which was easier to get than Amanda Saddler’s—and then agrees to meet us in an hour. We have to go and get our horse,of course. So that’s a little tricky. When I suggested that she just let us pick up the saddle, she told us she has a dozen, and we’ll want to find one that fits our horse.

It was hard to argue with that.

“See you then,” I say.

And now we just have to show up at her house, down one person, and up one horse for which we do not have so much as a halter, bridle, or saddle pad. Then we need to get that horse to the rodeo without anyone noticing our lack of a trailer. And then I have to ride in a barrel race, not die, and get Amanda Saddler’s attention.

This is a stupid plan.

“It would be easier to just bash that old lady over the head and drag her into some empty field,” Grigoriy says.

Mirdza hits his shoulder, but it’s half-hearted.

“This does feel like it has a high likelihood of failure,” Katerina says. “I didn’t think about how complicated it would be to enter a horse race without any of the things you need to properly ride a horse.” She doesn’t mention that I’m the worst rider in the group, but I’m pretty sure it’s true.

It’s going to be a heck of a lot harder than riding bareback through the streets of New York City for a few city blocks, that’s for sure. Even that was weird, though. “You people must find yourselves in strange situations all the time,” I say.

The ride to the woman’s house, which we’re making early to hopefully avoid her noticing that we don’t have any of the proper equipment, is filled with laugh-laden accounts of the mishaps they’ve all worked through as a part of the horse-shifter relationship.

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