Page 60 of My Queendom for a Horse

“You’re racing in the King George?”

“I should,” I say. “It’s the last chance for real money before the end of the year, and a new balloon payment’s due January one.”

“I thought you had an extension—” He cuts off. “Isn’t that why you’re seeing that pompous—”

“Sean isn’t pompous,” I say. “He’s a very good man, but all we’ve taken so far was a note for the extra money we needed to pay that first note. If we sell the property soon, and if we can scrounge up enough for the January payment, I’d rather not ask for more.”

“Because you like him.” John’s voice is quiet.

Why couldn’t he have been my dad? He’s hard working. He’s smart. He cares about me. I trust him. And he pays attention. “I’d like to argue with you, but you’re right. The more he does, the harder it is for me to separate whether I feel gratitude or whether I really like him.”

“That horse is the strangest creature I’ve ever seen.” John’s staring at Obsidian.

And I realize how unnaturally quiet he’s been.

Because he’s been listening.

None of this conversation is any of his business. I mean, he did agree to help me out until we’ve repaid the money I spent on saving him, but it’s not like I’m going to make an actual person race or anything. I just need him to hold tight until I can earn the money to pay off the note to Sean’s bank.

“If we can win some money at the King George, and if we can shave off the land and sell it. . .” I can’t help wincing at that thought. “Then I’ll pay the current balloon note off entirely, repay Sean for the bridge loan we got, and I’ll be in the clear.”

“So I should go ahead and enroll him?”

I sigh. “I’m not sure.” What excuse can I make to get out of racing him? “Who else is running? Do we know yet?”

“Five’s ready,” John says. “No matter who else is running.”

Five? I assumed he meant Obsidian. I should have known John didn’t want me to race on the crazy horse who just broke out of his pasture to come eavesdrop on my conversation. “Okay. Sign him up.”

Obsidian whinnies loudly and then snorts.

John’s staring at him in a very strange way. “I can see why you’re always talking to him like he understands you. It’s almost like he knows we just said we’re enrolling Five Times Fast, and he wants to race instead.”

And now, as if he wants John to figure out the truth, he tosses his head and stomps. Then he neighs again.

“He’s clearly not ready,” I say. “He’s a wildcard, and I’m not like my dad. I don’t bet on wildcards.”

Obsidian makes a whuffling sound.

“Did you know,” John says, “that your boyfriend has called me three times to make sure you’re not racing on this lunatic? He’s worried about you.”

Obsidian takes issue with that, and begins pushing me toward the old barn with his nose.

“You can’t herd me.” I swat at him.

“It’s not anywhere near dinnertime,” John says. “What’s he doing that for? It’s almost like he jumped the fence and came over here to get you. But for what? Horses don’t do that kind of thing.”

“Who knows?” I ask. “You know what? Go ahead and sign Five up for the race.”

Obsidian neighs again, even louder this time.

“Are you sure?” John asks.

I laugh. “He wants a lot of things he can’t have.”

“You must be kidding. You give him whatever he wants.” John almost looks. . .jealous.

“Do you really hate him?” I tilt my head.

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