Cowboy Colt by Dandi Daley Mackall Page B

feels thankful. And I wonder if it can be worship to be sitting on a pinto, feeling the morning breeze, and hearing the pounding of hooves on a dirt road.
    After my ride, I brush Dream. Then I check on Bullet. “How’s it going, ol’ boy?”
    I turn him out to the backyard. He goes straight for the grass. I run my hand down his neck, back, and hip. They feel equal in length. That’s something to look for in a horse. It means good balance.
    I move back to his head and scratch behind his ears. Dream loves this, but I guess Bullet doesn’t. He flicks his ears and pulls his head away. I keep scratching until I find a spot right under his jaw. When I scratch there, he closes his eyes halfway and relaxes. “You like that, don’t you, boy?”
    I take my time examining Bullet’s head. Small ears. Broad between the eyes. The only slender part on this horse is at the throat, where the halter’s throatlatch goes. He has a nice, clean line there. I know that’s a good sign—it usually means the horse can bend his head and neck easily. That’s important for a barrel horse.
    Flecks of white are sprinkled through the gray on his face, like white freckles. But he has a pretty face. A good head.
    I back up and get an overall look at Bullet. It’s hard to see past the fat and roundness. But his body is square. That’s something Mr. Harper says he looks for in a quarter horse. Plus, his legs are straight and not too fine boned. Bullet has good shoulders. Solid withers. And a strong back, even if it is too round and broad right now.
    â€œBullet, you are going to make Colt Stevens a great quarter horse,” I whisper. “I just hope he can see that.”
    When I leave for school, the two horses are on opposite ends of the yard. They aren’t fighting. But they sure aren’t acting like friends.
    * * *
    â€œWait until you see what I got Colt for his birthday!” Larissa exclaims.
    We’re at lunch on Thursday. All anybody can talk about is Colt’s birthday party. And Colt isn’t even here to enjoy it.
    â€œI still can’t believe I’m going to miss the whole party,” Ashley complains. “I wish Dad wouldn’t make me go to that horse show in Breckenridge. What did you get Colt, Larissa?”
    Larissa shakes her head. “I’m not telling. One of you might spoil the surprise.” She looks at me a second too long. “But I’ll give you a clue—electronic!”
    â€œElectronic?” Cassie repeats.
    â€œAnd handheld,” Larissa adds. “But that’s all I’m saying.”
    They bat around other ideas for gifts. I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want anybody to know what my gift is until Colt sees Bullet for himself.
    Ethan beats me home after school. I find him sitting on our front step, watching the building going up across the street.
    I sit beside him and stare into Colt’s yard. Wow! How did they build it so fast? The entire frame is up, filled in, with a big door in front and high windows. Through the front windows you can see a loft upstairs and stalls downstairs.
    Are you sure Colt’s parents don’t know he’s getting a horse for his birthday? Ethan signs.
    How could they?
    Maybe they saw Bullet and figured it out. He shields his eyes from the sun for a better look. It’s definitely a barn.
    I shake my head. No way. They started building before we got Bullet.
    I don’t think I’ll ever understand Colt’s parents. Maybe they’re just building that thing to make their place look better. Maybe they’re running out of room in the garage for all Mr. Stevens’s toys. He has a mini tractor, a riding mower, weed whackers, power washers. Maybe he’s going to collect more antique cars or something. He used to try to get Colt to work on old fancy cars with him. But Colt was never into cars. He’s like me. He would rather have a horse.
    * *