Page 33 of Wingwoman
“You’ve got to show her who’s boss,” Daisy said.
“Um, that’s not entirely true with Gypsy,” I called out, hoping to intercept before Hope took some really bad advice. That old bat was stubborn and slow… until she wasn’t. Gypsy might be old, but she had some fire left in her.
“Gypsy knows how to gallop when she wants to. And you’ve never ridden before, Hope. Go lightly when you kick at first… build up to that,” I said, finally catching up to the girls.
Hope rolled her eyes as she glanced at Daisy. “I’ve been trying to give her light kicks. It’s not working.”
“Then you’ve got to give her more oomph,” Daisy said, her chin tilted high.
Like I don’t know my own fucking horse? “Hope, trust me. Be careful. Don’t give it more oomph—”
Hope didn’t wait for me to finish. She lifted both her legs and brought down her heels hard against Gypsy’s side.
My sweet old lady erupted in a whinny and took off at a full-on gallop, Hope’s screams receding fast as she got further and further away from us.
“Fucking hell,” I grunted, then thrust my heels into Diesel and took off after her.
Gypsy was charging away from me at a speed that would have qualified her for the Kentucky Derby.
“Oh my God! Help! Gypsy, stop!” Hope cried, her screams causing the crows to fly out of the trees above us.
Thankfully Diesel was a damn fast horse and earned his name. Galloping after them, we had just about nearly caught up. We were close enough for me to see Hope tugging the reins with one hand and clutching the saddle with the other. “Gypsy, please! Whoa, girl, whoa!”
“Hope!” I shouted. “Stop pulling to the left!”
“What!?” she shrieked.
Unfortunately, the way she was tugging the reins had aimed Gypsy off the path. The horse veered toward the woods where, just our luck, riding this fast got exponentially more dangerous.
Diesel and I had just about fully caught up to her and were rounding in at her side, next to Hope and Gypsy. The woods were only a few dozen feet away and at the speed of which we were galloping, we’d be amidst branches and roots in no time.
“Oh my God, Josh! Help! Help me!” she screamed, her brown hair whipping free from her ponytail and lashing the sides of her face.
I balanced myself on Diesel, holding his reins in one hand and reaching for the center of hers with the other. I had to stop them at the same time or else one, or both of us, could get seriously injured.
“On the count of three, help me tug her reins and saywhoareally loudly, got it?”
She nodded, clutching the other side of the reins as I counted.
“One, two, three!”
I yanked back on both of our reins. “Whoa, Gypsy!”
For once, Hope actually listened to me and I felt her pull the reins at the same time.
Both of our horses slowed down, but at the last minute, Gypsy swung to the left, sending Hope shoulder first into the trunk of a one hundred year-old redwood.
I saw it like it was in slow motion.
Her wince as she hit the tree.
The whiplash as her head snapped to the right, also crashing into the roughly textured tree bark.
And then she went down.
Nine
HOPE
