Nothing But Horses by Shannon Kennedy

two
lunch detentions will work.” I turned him in a small circle and led
him forward. “Or a parent conference with his mommy for that
matter.”
    “Try saying his mom will go to class with him
all day,” Rhonda suggested. “Eddie hates it when I do that at his
school.”
    “It’s embarrassing,” Eddie said. “My friends
make fun of me for days.”
    “I can see that.” I spun Nevada in another
circle. He danced and yanked on the reins. What a monster. I hadn’t
even tried riding him yet. I heard Grandma talking to Grandpa, but
I couldn’t pay attention to what she said. When I glanced back at
our homemade grandstand, my grandfather and Dave were leaving the
barn.
    The problem with walking Nevada when he
didn’t want to manner up was that he knew he could use his size
against me. I jerked on his mouth again. He had to focus. I
wouldn’t let him break away from me and trample over top of the
other riders, especially since Autumn was here with her Shetland
pony. I didn’t want this fourteen-hundred pound moron to win.
    If I took him back to his stall, he’d learn
that temper tantrums paid off and he’d continue bullying me for the
rest of his Morgan/Belgian/Quarter-horse life. I was getting
majorly ticked so his days were numbered.
    “You could tell him to be nice or Santa won’t
bring him any carrots,” Autumn told me, her pony cruising placidly
beside her. “It works on Dream.”
    Before I answered, I heard Grandpa call from
the side gate. “Permission to join the class?”
    “Everybody stop and stand still,” Mom said.
“Keep circling him, Sierra. Come on in, Dad.”
    The aluminum gate opened and Luchenbach
entered the arena at a stately walk. I heard laughter from the
bleachers as the students glimpsed Nevada’s mommy. Dave brought her
over in front of my horse, reversing her so we could follow the
giant red horse. The guys hadn’t taken time to saddle her—they’d
just brought her down to the indoor arena on her bridle.
    “You are so busted,” I said, glaring at the
four-legged brat who pranced next to me. “Now, everyone knows
you’re a total chicken-goober.”
    My gelding nosed me, then stopped and stood
quiet for the first time since the class began. I petted him, now
that he wasn’t being a snot. “I’m so rationing your carrots.”
    Dave chuckled. “I’m figuring you can play
‘follow the leader’ and he’ll be ready to work independently after
lunch.”
    “Sounds good,” I said. “He’s smart enough to
know that I can’t thump him in front of an audience.”
    “I read somewhere that horses are as smart as
three-year-old kids,” Dave told me. “Mine always knew when and
where to safely pitch a fit.”
    I laughed. I had to admit the guy made me
feel better, but not in an icky way. He reminded me of Robin’s dad
who always jumped in to look after her. Mom instructed everyone to
start walking around the ring again and Nevada followed Luke. She
could have cared less about the brightly colored barrels and the
candy canes. She was just happy to be part of the herd in the
arena. She nickered at the crowd on the bleachers when they
applauded as she approached.
    Mom called for a reverse and we all changed
directions, circling the arena again. Nevada was totally calm now,
even if his mom followed instead of leading him. In a few moments,
we stopped again. Everyone else tied a knot in their reins, but
since I had a romal on mine, a long crop attached
to the end of my reins, I didn’t need one. It wasn’t actually meant
to hit a horse, but more of a noisemaker to move cattle when
cowboys did stock work. However, when Nevada balked, the leather
poppers came in handy to get his attention. I glanced over
my shoulder and saw Dave position Luke’s. Did he plan to ride her
bareback?
    I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to stay
on the ground. She was a steady old mare. Still, a lot of folks
wouldn’t want to try riding a horse for the first time in a game
setting. What if she