Page 91 of My Wild Horse King

“Um,” Gustav says. “Not exactly.”

She looks heavenward and mutters something I can’t quite catch under her breath. “Come with me.” She tosses her head, and Gustav spins me around to follow.

I’m a little worried she’s going to report us to someone. She’s a tiny little girl. She doesn’t look like she’s even twenty yet, and she looks like she weighs less than fifty kilos. Her light blonde hair’s pulled into a ponytail that streams down behind a blue cowboy hat. (Or is it a cowgirl hat, with a girl wearing it?) Her horse’s tiny, too, a sorrel mare with a floofy white-blonde mane that looks fully twice as thick as any other horse’s mane I’ve seen in my life.

“I’m Emery,” she says. “And that’s my cousin.” She points with her free hand. “Whitney’s the best barrel racer here, and she always wins. But the great thing about barrels is that they have different brackets. So even if you don’t make 1D, you can still win money in 2D or even 3D.”

“But how?” Gustav asks.

Whitney has walked up, atop a big, brassy chestnut gelding with a gorgeous face blaze. She doesn’t look much bigger than Emery, but on her horse, she towers over her cousin. “What’s going on?”

“This poor guy’s never barrel raced. He was asking me if it matters which barrel they take first.” Emery purses her lips.

I expect Whitney to laugh.

She smiles. “Ah, your first barrel race is the most fun.” When she starts talking, she looks way less fierce than I expected. “You should definitely run a round or two before we go, though. The idea is to rate around the barrels.”

“Rate?” Gustav must be frowning, because both Whitney and Emery laugh.

Emery takes over again. “It means slowing the horse down a little. You have to make them a pocket on the far side, too, so they don’t just crash right into the barrel when you go to turn.”

“Okay,” Gustav says.

“What made you want to run in the race if you’ve never done it?” Whitney asks.

Gustav sighs. “There’s this woman in town, and my dad managed to really make her mad, but I need to ask her a favor.”

Both girls’ eyes widen.

“It’s not about money,” he’s quick to say. “I just need to see if she has some old family stuff I think she may have held on to, and I don’t even want to take it. I just need to look at it.”

“Who is it?” Emery asks.

“Her name’s Amanda Saddler,” Gustav says, speaking quickly. “I think she’s a sponsor for the rodeo, and I’m hoping she’ll be here and we can try to talk to her again.”

“You already tried once?” Whitney asks.

Gustav nods. He shifts in the saddle, and I can tell he’s uncomfortable by the whole thing, but he’s doing things right. These girls clearly know Amanda, and they seem inclined to like Gustav. I’m not surprised. What’s not to like? He may be too old for them, but he’s good looking, and he’s nice.

“After you’re done racing, we might be able to get her attention,” Emery says.

“Do you know her?” he asks.

Both girls giggle. I’m taking that as a yes.

“You do?” Gustav sounds so clueless.

I stomp my foot.

“She’s our grandma,” Whitney says. “I’d say we know her, yes.”

“Oh.” Gustav nods, a little embarrassed. And then it’s our turn, apparently. Based on our draw number, we have a certain warm-up time. Gustav guides me with his feet, mostly, and a little with the reins, but I do appreciate how careful he is not to pop me in the mouth.

Before I know it, we’re just outside the small dirt arena. Another horse—a large grey, is lining up, and then he’s shooting through the alleyway, almost rearing back in his glee, it appears.

“A lot of horses get hot in the alley,” Whitney says. “It’s pretty common for the ones who love to race, but if you’re not careful, they can get so excited it’s hard to get them to go in. You’ll want to do everything you can to keep your girl calm.”

Gustav pats my neck. “I think I can handle that part.”

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