Page 61 of My Queendom for a Horse

“Why do you let him push you around? You know horses are pack animals. The more you let him get away with, the worse he’ll be. He thinks he’s either the top of the herd, or you are, and you keep letting him best you. It’s dangerous.”

Obsidian bends his head toward the ground like he’s about to graze, but instead he picks up one of the rocks he was pawing at with his teeth. He lifts his head and bumps my hand.

And then he drops a rock onto my palm.

It’s pretty—a strange greenish color. But what the heck do I need a rock for? Is he trying to look even more insane to John? “Um. Thanks?” I tuck it in my pocket, hoping John won’t ask. I have no idea what I’d tell him. A horse is handing me rocks, now?

Obsidian rubs his big, gorgeous black head against my arm, like a cat might do when it’s happy. Or when it’s marking its person.

“I’ve been training horses for my entire life,” John says. “Mostly they’re predictable, but sometimes they surprise me. But in more than sixty years, I’ve never encountered one that strange.”

“Which is why I can’t treat him like all the others.”

“You want to race him at the King George.”

I sigh. “I do. I’ll admit it. But I feel like this is Five’s year, and if we keep Obsidian out of the way, he can probably win it. He’s predictable, willing, talented, and he doesn’t scare me or anyone else.”

“You could have Finn ride Obsidian again,” John says.

Obsidian’s nostrils flare and he coughs. Horses don’t sound good when they cough.

Even John can tell that he’s expressing his unhappiness with that idea. “I swear, I thought you were nuts at first, but he does act like he can understand us.” He shakes his head. “It’s. . .uncanny.”

“I could ride him, and Finn could ride Five.”

“It would be like a reversal of Down Royal.” John harrumphs. “I suppose so. Should I call him and register them both?”

“If Finn agrees, sure. Let’s see what happens when we both ride all out.”

A few minutes around Obsidian—not behaving like a total nutjob—and John’s ready to let me ride him? Interesting. As we walk back to the old barn, the grooms we pass now so accustomed to seeing Obsidian without a halter that they don’t even react, I think about why he came over in the first place.

“I’m selling the land,” I say. “I know you overheard and already know.”

He snorts.

“I’m sure that’s your way of saying I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t keep bailing my dad out. The only way I can make myself safe is to stop giving him rope to hang me with. We’ll have to sell our family land—” I just can’t seem to say that without choking up.

Without anyone to be brave for, this time, choking up turns into full-blown tears.

Obsidian isn’t acting like a lunatic now. He’s utterly still, his big horsey head pressing against my face. His huge, velvety soft lips nuzzle my cheek, and he sighs.

“I know—I’ll stop. I’m sorry. It’s just that.” I hiccup. “My mom and I love this farm way more than my dad ever did. My mom wasn’t even born to this family, but she loved it. The legacy. The history. The security of having land all around us.”

Obsidian bumps my chin with his nose.

“I have to sell it, though. As long as my dad owns half of it, as long as I keep paying his debts off, he’ll just keep gambling. If it has to go anyway, we may as well use the sale to pay for the big mistake he already made.” I slap my forehead. “Two. Remember those guys from last night? They’re suing us now, for the sixty grand. Dad signed some IOU paper, I guess.”

I start for the old barn again, and Obsidian keeps up.

It’s kind of strange having a conversation with someone who can’t speak. But it’s also sort of cathartic. Without being able to talk, he can’t argue with me. He presses his head to my side again, and then paws at the ground.

“What?” I’m annoyed now. Why’s he pawing so much today? When I follow the motion to what he’s pawing at, it’s more rocks. For the love. “Stop that.”

He bends down again and picks them up, dropping two or three in my hand. They’re nice-looking crystals, but since when do horses collect rocks? “Yeah, thanks.”

I can only deal with one crazy thing at once, thank you very much. I drop them in my now very dirty pocket.

“Look, I know you want to help, and that’s why you keep handing me rocks or whatever. But I’m not someone who knows anything about rocks or how to sell them. I know one thing—horses. So the best thing you can do is run your best at the King George.” I stop right in front of the barn doors. “That is what you were saying, right? You want to race with me?”

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