Page 11 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

I shake my head to remind myself that I’m not really a horse.

“Alright, now we’re going to walk and stop.” She clucks and starts walking.

I want to walk alongside her, but I can’t think of a good reason that I should be doing this, and it makes me feel stupid. I’m not really a horse. Acting like her little ‘good boy’ just to see her smile is beneath me. I lift my head and neigh. Loudly.

“Alright, alright. You just got off the trailer. I bet you’re hungry.” She raises her eyebrows and tosses her head. “Water’s over here.” She takes off at a run.

I could run her over. I could trample her. Her behavior doesn’t show a lot of sense. It makes me concerned for her well-being when I’m not around anymore. I hope with other horses, she exhibits a bit more caution. I finally trot off behind her, because Iamthirsty, but that’s the only reason.

It’s certainly not because I wanted to see her smile again.

But if I did, I’d be happy to see that she is.

“Good boy.” She’s leaning against the fence near the water trough when her phone rings. “Shoot,” she says. “I shouldn’t really be in here if I’m distracted.” She sighs as she fishes the phone from her pocket. “I’ll call them?—”

She freezes.

I can’t help lifting my head from the water trough, which tastes surprisingly good given how greenish the water looks. It’s easy to glance at the screen, given that I can see in a 320-degree field of vision right now.

It says the Salt Lake County Metro Jail is calling.

Thathardly sounds promising. Why would someone in jail be calling her? She taps the phone and whips it to her ear. “Heaston?”

“It’s me,” a man’s voice says. I can barely hear him, but Icanmake out his words. Their eyesight may be whack, but at least horses have decent hearing.

“I thought you could only call once?”

“The sheriff who runs this place is chill,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not a recorded line.” It almost sounds like he’s reminding her. “I wanted to see if you’d had any success asking your parents for money.”

Someone from thejail’s asking her for money? From herparents?

It hits me then—Steve and Abigail? Is this their daughter? The one I heard them say wanted to be a vet? It would explain why she was there. Maybe this call will explain why she stole me without telling them about it. Most importantly, maybe I can puzzle out how we’re linked, why, and how to terminate it.

“I didn’t ask them,” she says. “It’s a weird thing to ask for.”

He’s silent.

She squirms. “I’m sorry, but they already don’t like you much, and?—”

“You know, almost every girl in Utah would be delighted to date me. All the parents I’ve ever gone home to meet have loved me.”

He’s implying it’sherfault they don’t like him. I don’t really like that.

“I know,” the girl says. “I’m so sorry.”

“Look, Izzy, I’m going to be vindicated, even if I have to rot in here until the trial, but the longer I’m in here, the more my practice will fall apart. The longer I’m here, the more time my partners have to try and come up with bogus evidence against me and the more time they have to turn my clients against me.”

What partners?

“I know,” the girl, who’s apparently named Izzy, says. “I didn’t get money from them, but I did retrieve that gorgeous stallion you told me to bring back.” She clears her throat.

He’s silent for a moment, and then he chuckles. “Oh. Good.”

“The problem,” Izzy says, “is that I can’t find the papers for it. I can’t sellyourchestnut stallion unless it has papers. Papers that show it’s a thoroughbred with a blaze. Papers that someone could use to race it.”

Again, he’s silent for quite a while.

“Tim?” Izzy asks. “Are you there?”

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