Page 13 of My Queendom for a Horse

But Latvia will always be my home. Latvian hills are mostly covered in forests, and we pass hundreds of miles of forest to reach Zasa parish, which was where I promised myself I’d call. The crisp clear air, the bright blue skies, and the long drive down to our beautiful, old, cobbled-together home help to calm my nerves. Only, I put it off again—it’s too early to call. The reception’s not great. I’ll wait until we’re home. As we get closer and closer to Daugavpils, I get more and more nervous.

We finally pull onto the long driveway after another long night of driving. I slept a handful of hours while John and Dad drove, so I’m far less exhausted than I could be. Still, it takes its toll.

As we approach the homestead, everything looks exactly the same as when we left. Our sprawling home’s still painted bright red with contrasting white window frames. The wooden siding looks well kept and the silhouette made by the sharp angles on the window frames and protruding turrets form the backdrop to some of my first memories as a child. Gambling-induced debt notwithstanding, my dad has managed the home quite well. Even if it hasn’t been updated in thirty years, at least it’s been well maintained.

A few hundred yards away, our main stable practically shines. It’s built in the prettiest spot on our entire farm, framed by impressive old trees, and set back from the main road. My family has always loved their horses more than almost anything else. I came by it honestly.

In fact, I snuck away to sleep in the stables dozens of times as a child. That foundational love of horses has never changed, not for me anyway. The barn’s painted a bright white and repainted every two years without fail. My mom’s parents offered all sorts of lavish things as wedding gifts when she married my dad, but all she wanted was a new stable.

Each of the box stalls are 16 feet by 16 feet, a full six feet larger than the standard, and the sliding doors still work seamlessly, even almost forty years later. The only thing we’ve really had to redo are the drainage lines. Oh, and we had to install new pavers on the floors. My grandparents gave me money for that for my twenty-first birthday. It makes cleaning up after our beautiful horses much more convenient, and it was exactly what I wanted.

I’m close enough now that I can see the enormous enclosed arena behind the stable, too. That was initially created by my paternal grandfather, Ivanov, and it’s been renovated several times. It makes winter training possible, although I’d have made it a few hundred yards bigger if I designed it myself. I suppose even then, cost was a factor. Our family has always cared more about horses than money, but it takes money to buy supplies and pay for labor.

Thinking about money reminds me of what I have to do. After I get Five Times Fast and Obsidian Devil unloaded and released in pastures to graze, I trudge back to the house and pull out my phone. I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at it when Dad notices me standing like a statue.

“We should have just sold the farm, milu.” After his initial shock over my irresponsible purchase, Dad didn’t even scold me. He knows the loan is his fault, and he knows it shouldn’t be my job to fix it. But we’ve waited too long to sell it now—it’s either pay the first portion of the balloon note, or lose it to the bank.

We both know I have to call him. My hand shakes where I’m holding the phone.

“I love Liepašeta as much as you do,” he says, “but losing it won’t be the end. We can find another farm. Build another barn. Keep on living.”

His words are hollow, though. He and I both know that begging for Sean’s help is our only play.

“Do you think Rickets lured me in and convinced me to buy Obsidian Devil so we’d default on the loan?” I’ve been wondering that the entire way home.

Dad sighs. “He’s very good at sensing people’s weaknesses. It’s his superpower.”

Strangely, I don’t regret buying Obsidian, even knowing it may have been a setup. He would’ve beaten Five if I’d been riding him. “I still think that in the long run, he was a good investment, even if it plays into Ricket’s filthy hands. We can race him, we can breed him, and we could end up with an entire line of winners.”

“But we don’t have time to race him before the money’s due.” Dad’s eyes are sad.

“Man zel, Papa.” It’s true. As much as I hate the idea. I thrust the phone at my dad. “You dial and hit talk. Then hand it to me.”

He does as I ask, and while the phone rings, my pulse pounds in my ears. What am I going to say? How will I—

“Hello?”

He answered. I wasn’t sure whether he would, since mine is an unknown number to him.

“Hello?” he asks again.

“It’s me,” I say. “And the thing is. . .”

“Let’s talk about it in person,” Sean says. “I’m in Latvia.”

“What?” I splutter. “You’ll—I don’t—”

“I’m opening a branch here,” he says. “We can get lunch. I’ll come by and pick you up.”

“No, not lunch. This isn’t a date—”

“You need money,” he says. “I think that’s at least worth a lunch.”

I grit my teeth. “Alright.” It feels like I was kicked in the stomach. He’s in Latvia? Why? What’s he doing here?

“I’ll be by the house around noon.”

“Uh-huh,” I say. And then I hang up.

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