Pony Dreams by K. C. Sprayberry Page A

away from the pain. If I did, Adam looked like he
might cry. He never cried, crying was for babies and girls. He had
told me so many times, when he pulled a splinter from my finger or
cleaned up my scrapes.
    “Hurts,” I finally said. “Everywhere.”
    “Oh, honey, those are the best words I've
ever heard. Let's get you off the ground.”
    He supported my back with one hand while
using the other to help me stand. As I straightened, everything
spun in circles. Ma raced toward me, looking a bit like a drunk I
once saw walking across the desert. I took a step but the spinning
intensified, and I stumbled forward.
    “Damn!” He swept me into his arms and walked
over to Ma. “She's shaken up,” he said.
    “In the house,” she said in a sharp tone.
“Set her on her bed and take off her shoes. You're sure about
nothing worse?”
    “Yes, ma'am,” he said, and then he glanced at
the corral. “Bart, take care of the horses.”
    Tears flowed down my face. It was a stupid
accident, and now I would never have another chance to ride a
mustang. Pa would throw a fit when he heard about this, and it was
my fault.
    Lying against my oldest brother's
double-breasted shirt, I tried hard to stop crying but listening to
his heart thump-a-bumping sure didn't help.
    Holy heck! Adam's panting like he ran all
the way from Carson City.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    The terror etched
into Adam's sun-browned skin frightened me even more. He never,
ever let his fear show, so I didn't get scared.
    He looks just plain petrified. How bad is
this?
    Adam booted the door open and carried me to
my bedroom.
    “I can't tell you enough to pay attention
when you're on a half-broke horse. What were you thinking?” he
asked.
    “I'm sorry,” I sobbed. “Two things hit the
horse and another whizzed past my ear. Please, don't hate me.”
    He unlaced my boots. After he eased them off,
he rotated my ankles and ran his hands along my legs again.
Standing, he pulled off his hat and swiped a hand through his hair.
The longish brown mass clumped together from the sweat on his
head.
    “You scared me out of a year's growth.” He
plopped the hat back on his head. “I don't know how I would have
explained to Pa if something had happened to you.”
    I burrowed into my pillow right as Ma bustled
through the door. She carried a pot of steaming water in one hand
and soft rags in the other
    “Check the chicken I've got boiling,” she
said. “Tell Bart I'll need carrots from the garden. One of you will
have to gather eggs and milk before supper.”
    “Yes, ma'am.” Adam bolted through the
door.
    The door slammed behind him, and I began to
worry. I was alone with Ma, and she didn't look at all happy.
    “You weren't paying attention, were you?” she
asked.
    “No, ma'am,” I said.
    “I heard Adam tell you to do that. Why didn't
you?”
    “I tried to. Honest, Ma.”
    My lie, the one I told by not saying
something about the Johnsons, rose up. The end over end tumble
through the air slowed in my memory, until I saw Gabriel smiling
near the barn.
    “I didn't mean to lie,” I cried. “But I
didn't want to get into trouble.”
    “If you mean not telling me about Horace and
his no-good sons showing up, I already know. I saw them run off,”
she said. “What does it have to do with not paying attention on a
horse?”
    “I think I saw Gabriel near the barn before
the horse threw me.”
    “We'll check later,” she said. “Lie
still.”
    For an hour, she poked and prodded. She held
onto my chin and stared into my eyes, and then she asked me to say
how many fingers she held up. Finally, she held me upright on the
bed and stripped me down to my chemise and drawers. After a light
washing, Ma lowered a flannel nightgown over my head and assisted
me under the blankets.
    “You'll be fine, but you'll stay in this bed
until I tell you otherwise,” she said. “Do you know how lucky you
are?”
    I nodded.
    “Abby, I've never heard of a gal breaking
horses. I didn't think you