Runaway by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

“I’m so stupid, I don’t know how to do this.” But instead of bringing the bridle over, Hank disappears with it.
    Thank you! Hank must have seen right through both of us females. Pretty hard to believe that Gwennie all of a sudden wants to be riding pals. Even harder to believe that Dakota Brown can ride a horse. My breathing slows to almost normal.
    Hank reappears, leading Starlight by the bridle. “Sorry, I can’t let you ride Blackfire,” he says. “Not until I work him myself.”
    “Well, I guess I understand,” I say, going for disappointed but brave.
    “Are you sure you don’t want a saddle, though?” he asks. He opens the gate and brings his horse into the pen.
    “A saddle? No. That’s okay.” Maybe sometime I can practice saddling Blackfire, but I’ll have to read up on it first. I back up to make room for Starlight. I’m pretty eager to get away from Guinevere, but I want to stick around and watch both of them ride first.
    “Okay then.” Hank leads Starlight over to me. “I still can’t get over the fact that you ride. You’d think Ms. Bean would have been all over that. She acted like you’d never been around a farm or stable.”
    “Uh-huh.” It’s all I can say because my mouth is as dry as Iraq. I’m getting the horrible feeling that Hank hasn’t bridled Starlight for himself.
    “Want a leg up?” He bends and cups his hands like he did for Guinevere. “Don’t worry about her being blind. She’s learned where the round pen is, even when she can’t see it.”
    I can’t just leave Hank with his stirrup hands, leaning over like that. I walk up and lift my right foot, until I figure out that would put me up backwards. Even I know I should face front. I shift, stick my left foot into Hank’s hands-stirrup, and feel myself boosted up until I nearly flip over Starlight’s back.
    “Dakota, you okay?” he asks.
    Before I can tell him, No! I’ve never been less okay , Guinevere rides past.
    Starlight prances in place. Hank hands me the reins, but I’m not about to let go of the fat lock of mane I’m clutching in both hands. I couldn’t unbend these fingers if my life depended on it. Does my life depend on it?
    “Take the reins, Dakota,” Hank urges.
    I see the leather reins, knotted together and looped loosely around Starlight’s neck. “No thanks,” I say, squeezing my lock of mane.
    I hear the clip-clop of Lancelot’s hooves coming around again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the rise and fall of Guinevere’s black helmet. Why didn’t I get a helmet? I’m the one who needs a helmet.
    Lancelot swoops by us, and Starlight doesn’t appreciate it one bit. She turns, ears back, and starts after the bay. Starlight the Dominant Mare does not like being behind.
    “Whoa?” I cry, but my voice breaks and disintegrates in the sound of thudding hooves. Starlight wants the lead. She trots, only I don’t post. I bounce. And bounce. My body jostles from side to side. The only steady contact I have with the horse is my fingers clutching her mane.
    It’s not enough. Up and down. The world is bouncing. Someone’s shouting. My fingers are slipping.
    And I’m sliding down,
    down,
    down. . . .

Twelve
    I hear myself land with a thud a second before I feel the ground.
    “Dakota!” Hank is running toward me.
    Starlight stands over me, her head lowered, her muzzle inches from my nose.
    Guinevere charges up on Lancelot, stops so short that dirt sprays, then jumps off. “Dakota? Tell me you’re all right!”
    “I’m all right,” I repeat. I try to decide if I’m lying. But nothing hurts except my seat. I shake my arms, move my head. No problem.
    “Hank,” Guinevere says over my head, “I think something’s wrong.”
    “Nothing’s wrong.” I let out the sound rising through my throat and discover it’s a laugh. A giant, full-blown laugh that I can’t control.
    Hank and Guinevere stare at me as if I’ve lost my mind.
    “That was so tight!” I exclaim. “I think