Watch Me Go by Mark Wisniewski

the Galaxie.
    “Come on,” he said without looking in. “We’re all right.”
    I adjusted the helmet’s chinstrap, and Colleen stepped out and Tug stepped out, and
     Colleen grabbed Tom fiercely by the wrist.
    “He rigged it before we got here,” Tom said. “Because he was worried this particular
     owner would come early.”
    “So the rookie
is
here,” Colleen said.
    “Don’t worry,” Tom said. “We’re all right.” He still had fewer white hairs than brown.
     “We’re all right as long as we get gate number two.”
    “But
Tom
,” Colleen said.
    “Colleen? I’ve known Bill Treacy for twenty-odd years. Yes, the man’s dishonest, but
     I know how he sounds when he lies.”
    I stood beside Tug now, and Jasper headed off to the back of a trailer, then returned
     leading Equis Mini by the reins. Equis Mini was indeed a tiny chestnut, thirteen hands
     at most, but he had sheen without sweat and fine composure, too, and he wasn’t soaped
     up at all.
    Jasper saddled him, then settled him by ruffling up and patting down his mane. “Horse
     looks right, Tom,” he said. “All he needs isa top-quality jock.” He winked at me, and Tug studied his face, as candid a face as
     any nearby.
    I turned to Tug. “Should I do this?”
    “Of course,” Tug said. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, right?”
    Tom squeezed my shoulder and said, “Riders up,” and I took his leg up and mounted.
     I felt regal up there, in command of the world almost, my vision actually sharper,
     my worn jeans with holes in the knees apparently inviting the gaze of most every man
     there. By some instinct of their own, it seemed, my hips urged Equis Mini forward,
     and Equis Mini moseyed toward the gate. He looked tight enough for sure, ears pricked,
     Jasper and Tom flanking him, Colleen and Tug flanking them, my mother finally stepping
     out of the Galaxie.
    Near the gate, Jasper handed me a whip, and Tom held my ankle. “Take him out to that
     barbed wire and back,” Tom told me quietly. “You don’t want him standing as long as
     it’ll take to make the wagers and so forth.”
    “Sure,” I said, and Equis Mini responded to my heels, trotting proudly toward the
     sun. He felt geared up and eager to run, and after we reached the fence and began
     heading back, I saw the rookie and glanced off quickly, because his way of looking
     at me assured me that, in his mind now, I was his to desire.
    And now, as if Equis Mini were having misgivings of his own, he stopped trotting to
     stand. Maybe it’s my weight, I thought. Maybe I will always be too heavy. He dropped
     his head and held it low. He stayed there, fifty feet from the gate, as the rookie
     jock was mounting his horse. I leaned down and whispered “Treat a lady right” into
     his ear, and he seemed to consider this, then raised his snout and blinked.
    But as Tug would tell me later more than once, the rookie’shorse was all muscle no matter what angle you saw him from, the rookie jock easily
     smaller than me. And then my mother sidled up near Colleen and held hands with her
     as they stood on the number two lane side of the dirt track, and Tom climbed onto
     the outside of the number two stall.
    “I guess,” Tom said loudly, “we get this one.”
    I steered Equis Mini toward him. “They’re entering their stalls!” a drunk on the rookie’s
     side of the track shouted, and I pulled up Equis Mini, to let the rookie jock get
     in the gate first. He did, and after his people closed him in, I turned Equis Mini
     around and let him walk a big circle, to let the rookie’s horse get fractious, and
     my glance over at Tug had me sure Tug was realizing I was a lot more experienced—with
     both horses and men—than Tug had thought when he’d met me.
    Then, after the rookie’s horse began rearing up and its jock flipped his whip under
     his armpit, I steered Equis Mini toward the correct stall, and Jasper loaded him quickly
     and Bill Treacy buzzed open the gate.