curry comb or dandy brush, and it seemed rude to ask a stranger if she could borrow grooming gear.
Sam unknotted the flannel sheâd tied around her waist when it grew too hot, and used it to rub Ace down.
The gelding stared back over his shoulder. His brown eyes looked almost apologetic. His ribs heaved as if heâd run hard.
âItâs not your fault, boy. Itâs mine,â she told him.
âSam, no matter how many times you apologize to him, Ace wonât understand,â Jen said.
âYou donât know that.â
âSure I do. Just watch. In a few minutes, heâll be drinking water, standing in one of these huge box stalls filled with cedar shavings, and heâll have forgotten all about it.â
Jen was probably right. Ace rarely held a grudge. But today her mistake had been lots worse than usual.
âHow can you be sure?â Sam asked, watchingJen lead her horse down the barn row to cool off. Silly looked curious and alert, not exhausted like Ace.
âBecause it wasnât a traumatic event.â Jenâs voice floated back to Sam. Then she returned. âHe was distracted by the mare, just like you were. When he turned back and saw that girl in his path, he spooked. Thatâs all. Next time heâs in a parade or someplace congested like this, heâll know what to expect.â
There wonât be a next time, Sam thought. This is one cow pony whoâll be staying home.
Her hands were cold and shaky, despite the temperature. She pressed her palms against Aceâs warm hide, feeling comforted even if he didnât.
She led Ace after Silly, and the gelding took easy strides. Heâd begun relaxing.
âSamantha Forster, please report to the first aid station.â
Both girls stopped. Silly kept walking and only halted when she realized Jen wasnât coming with her.
Sam stared at Jen. Then, slowly, half afraid sheâd imagined the official-sounding voice, Sam asked, âDid they just say what it sounded like? My name?â
Jen stared at the public address system as if sheâd glimpse a face behind the speaker. Then she nodded.
âSamantha Forster, if youâre on the grounds, please report to the first aid station.â
âWhy would they want me?â Sam asked.
Jen mulled that over as she opened a stall and turned Silly in.
âObviously youâre okay,â Jen said then.
âObviously,â Sam answered. âBut maybe someone thought I was hurt in that horrible display of non-horsemanship in the parking lot,â Sam said.
âShut up,â Jen requested in a sensible tone.
âOrââ Sam felt her stomach dip with fear. âWhat if that little girl was hurt after all?â
âWill you quit being so paranoid?â Jen scolded. âIf she was hurt at all, it was from her dad scooping her up and clamping her in that bear hug against his chest.â
âBut maybe after he took a closer look at her,â Sam began.
âSam! Snap out of it!â Jen sounded as if she was out of patience.
Sam turned Ace into the stall next to Sillyâs as Jen kept talking.
âIn case you didnât hear him, that father thanked you for âkeeping your horse under control,â remember?â
âThen what is it?â
âWouldnât it be faster to quit guessing and go see?â
Sam threw down her flannel. Of course, Jen was right.
Sam pretended she didnât see Jen retrieve the flannel shirt and begin folding it. âI donât even know where Iâm going,â she muttered.
Ace neighed longingly after her.
Horses sure do forgive more easily than people, she thought.
She headed toward a trailer that looked like it had been set up as an office. Could that be the first aid station?
Everyone she passed wore some kind of pass around their neck, or a fluorescent wristband. Clearly she should have one, too. She was hurrying between barns, threading her way past
Sam unknotted the flannel sheâd tied around her waist when it grew too hot, and used it to rub Ace down.
The gelding stared back over his shoulder. His brown eyes looked almost apologetic. His ribs heaved as if heâd run hard.
âItâs not your fault, boy. Itâs mine,â she told him.
âSam, no matter how many times you apologize to him, Ace wonât understand,â Jen said.
âYou donât know that.â
âSure I do. Just watch. In a few minutes, heâll be drinking water, standing in one of these huge box stalls filled with cedar shavings, and heâll have forgotten all about it.â
Jen was probably right. Ace rarely held a grudge. But today her mistake had been lots worse than usual.
âHow can you be sure?â Sam asked, watchingJen lead her horse down the barn row to cool off. Silly looked curious and alert, not exhausted like Ace.
âBecause it wasnât a traumatic event.â Jenâs voice floated back to Sam. Then she returned. âHe was distracted by the mare, just like you were. When he turned back and saw that girl in his path, he spooked. Thatâs all. Next time heâs in a parade or someplace congested like this, heâll know what to expect.â
There wonât be a next time, Sam thought. This is one cow pony whoâll be staying home.
Her hands were cold and shaky, despite the temperature. She pressed her palms against Aceâs warm hide, feeling comforted even if he didnât.
She led Ace after Silly, and the gelding took easy strides. Heâd begun relaxing.
âSamantha Forster, please report to the first aid station.â
Both girls stopped. Silly kept walking and only halted when she realized Jen wasnât coming with her.
Sam stared at Jen. Then, slowly, half afraid sheâd imagined the official-sounding voice, Sam asked, âDid they just say what it sounded like? My name?â
Jen stared at the public address system as if sheâd glimpse a face behind the speaker. Then she nodded.
âSamantha Forster, if youâre on the grounds, please report to the first aid station.â
âWhy would they want me?â Sam asked.
Jen mulled that over as she opened a stall and turned Silly in.
âObviously youâre okay,â Jen said then.
âObviously,â Sam answered. âBut maybe someone thought I was hurt in that horrible display of non-horsemanship in the parking lot,â Sam said.
âShut up,â Jen requested in a sensible tone.
âOrââ Sam felt her stomach dip with fear. âWhat if that little girl was hurt after all?â
âWill you quit being so paranoid?â Jen scolded. âIf she was hurt at all, it was from her dad scooping her up and clamping her in that bear hug against his chest.â
âBut maybe after he took a closer look at her,â Sam began.
âSam! Snap out of it!â Jen sounded as if she was out of patience.
Sam turned Ace into the stall next to Sillyâs as Jen kept talking.
âIn case you didnât hear him, that father thanked you for âkeeping your horse under control,â remember?â
âThen what is it?â
âWouldnât it be faster to quit guessing and go see?â
Sam threw down her flannel. Of course, Jen was right.
Sam pretended she didnât see Jen retrieve the flannel shirt and begin folding it. âI donât even know where Iâm going,â she muttered.
Ace neighed longingly after her.
Horses sure do forgive more easily than people, she thought.
She headed toward a trailer that looked like it had been set up as an office. Could that be the first aid station?
Everyone she passed wore some kind of pass around their neck, or a fluorescent wristband. Clearly she should have one, too. She was hurrying between barns, threading her way past
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