“He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes he does. Look at the way he’s staring at me. He’s hoping I’ll die a horrible death right here and now.”
Sara snorted, “That’s ridiculous.”
“Look at him!”
“I am. It’s a horse for God’s sake. He can’t wish anyone dead. He probably just has gas or something.”
I eyed the brown animal dubiously. “I dunno.”
“I thought you said you’d done this before.”
I cut my gaze to Sara, unable to help the indignant expression that I know flickered across my face. “Yeah, but those were nice, old horses.” I glanced sideways at the horse as he stamped, apparently impatient with the discussion. “Not some rodeo reject.”
“Chance is not a rodeo reject. He’s a good, sweet horse. He’s just ready to get out and go.”
“Can we let him run off some energy first?”
Sara rolled her eyes. “C’mon. Let’s go get our gear.”
Twenty minutes later, I sat uneasily in the saddle, Chance the Devil Horse dancing beneath me. I tried to calm my nerves, knowing the animal could sense fear. “Easy,” I murmured, more to myself than Chance. “Let’s both of us calm down.”
