20 
20 Sasha
MY LEGS SHOOK AS I Grasped watson’s reins and a handful of black mane, and managed to get into the saddle before he crab-stepped toward Reeser and Lauren. I pulled on the reins and pressed my left boot against Watson’s side, signaling him to move away from Lauren and her mount.
Watson jumped sideways as if I’d shocked him with my boot. Your movements and signals need to be more sensitive, I chastised myself.
I kept my hands low over Watson’s neck, stilled my body in the saddle, and pulled ever so slightly on the right rein. Watson followed my cue, and we started to move through a large circle. My eyes, narrowed through Watson’s ears, wandered for a second to the sight at the track fence.
Had a Chatter update gone out that I didn’t know about? My friends, Lauren’s friends, and several other volunteers from Safe Haven stood along the track rail. I half expected them to be betting on who would “win.”
But this wasn’t a race. It was exercise. Unless Watson miraculously calmed down in the next several minutes, I was going to have a hard time keeping his speed in check. I was glad that Quinn had a mount saddled up and ready to come to my—or Lauren’s—aid if we needed it.
Watson faced Reeser, and I nodded at Lauren. “Ready to get them on the track?” I asked in a soft voice. I didn’t want to spook Watson or Reeser.
“I’m ready,” Lauren answered.
The younger rider could have been a jockey if she wasn’t so tall. She was controlling Reeser without showing signs of forcing him to do anything. He was responding to her cues, and I envied her—I knew that my seat wasn’t that secure when I had been her age.
We edged Reeser and Watson closer to each other. I kept Watson at a super-slow walk—wanting to make sure he was comfortable around Reeser.
“I want to let Watson feel out Reeser,” I said to Lauren, not shifting my gaze.
“Good idea,” she said. “Reeser is fine so far.”
Neither horse was bothered by our voices. Ah, probably because of all the noise at the racetracks, I thought. These guys are used to announcers shouting and noisy crowds.
The group that had gathered along the wall, however, was silent. I spotted Jacob’s red coat among the mostly black and blue ones, but couldn’t look at him long enough to meet his eyes. I had to pretend the crowd didn’t exist.
Lauren and I entered the track on our horses, and they moved comfortably at a walk. We kept a space of about four horses between them.
“This is like a dream,” Lauren said. “Can you believe what we’re doing?”
I let out a half inch of rein. Watson bobbed his head, grateful for more room. “No, I feel like an announcer is going to call our names and we’re going to load the horses into a starting gate.”
“Ooh, I forgot about that,” Lauren said. She let Reeser walk a little faster. The chestnut moved well under her, and he was calm. “I’m a little claustrophobic. I don’t know if I’d like being in that tiny space.”
“It does look small on TV,” I said. “I bet that—”
Watson threw his weight forward, pulling hard on the reins. Leather seared my fingers, but I didn’t let go. I scrambled to regain the amount of rein I’d lost. Watson flattened his black ears against his head and shook it from side to side.
“Easy, easy,” I called. “It’s okay, boy.”
Watson rose into the air, ignoring my words. He stretched his front hooves toward the gray sky, and I started slipping out of the saddle.
I am not falling off!
I twisted black mane in my fingers and pushed my own weight forward, against Watson’s neck, throwing him off balance. As quickly as he’d reared, he had all four hooves on the ground. My heart thumped in my chest. I tapped my heels lightly against Watson’s sides—I wanted him to keep moving forward and not try to rear again.
“Sasha,” Lauren said in a quiet voice. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t answer. I kept my fingers entwined in Watson’s mane and used every part of my body that was in contact with his to try and feel for a hint—even the slightest clue—that he was going to rear again. But once seemed to be enough. Watson walked in a straight line and obeyed my commands.
“Now I’m okay,” I answered.
“That was really scary,” Lauren said. “I know you can handle it, Sasha, and you weren’t scared at all. But if you want to go back and let Quinn find someone else to ride these guys, I’m cool with that.”
I smiled. “You’re silly to think I wasn’t scared. Being on a thousand-pound-plus horse that could flip onto his back and crush you beneath him is terrifying. I just can’t let Watson know that’s how I feel. I’m okay to keep riding unless things really start to get out of control.”
“Sounds good,” Lauren said. “Want to trot?”
“Let’s. It’s time to let these boys burn off some energy.”
Without any prodding from me, Watson switched from a fast walk to a trot. Reeser trotted beside us. Lauren and I posted to our horses’ trots, but I knew neither of us had to. Watson’s trot was the smoothest of any horse I’d ever ridden. I was pretty sure it was the same for Lauren and Reeser.
The horses’ hooves churned up the loose dirt on the track, and the longer we trotted, the less Watson acted out. Lauren and Reeser kept pace with us—the gleaming chestnut was a great match for her. I knew that she had a gray mare—Whisper, I think—at Canterwood, but if she hadn’t gotten her own horse yet, Reeser would make a good one.
“Canter?” I called to Lauren.
“Ready!” Lauren said back.
I sat deep in the saddle and gave Watson a little extra rein. I pressed my knees against his sides, and he responded instantly. Simultaneously, he and Reeser started cantering. We followed a gentle turn of the track and passed a mile marker. I wasn’t sure which one it was—but I knew jockeys watched them to determine how far they had gone or how much of the race was left.
Watson cantered happily, an ear forward and one ear back. His strides were longer than Charm’s, even though Charm was part Thoroughbred. I barely moved in the saddle, and all I could hear were the pounding hoofbeats of the two horses and the whoosh of wind in my ears.
Reeser and Lauren kept up beside us. I looked over for a fraction of a second, and we smiled at each other.
I thought back to Callie’s worries at the beginning of break—that my friends and I had to watch our backs because of how talented Lauren and her friends were as riders. I hadn’t seen much of Lauren’s rider friends aside from the jumping at Briar Creek. Now I was getting a front seat to Lauren’s riding. She had everything a rider needed to do well at Canterwood. Better than “well.” Despite that, I didn’t feel threatened. Lauren wasn’t a mini-Heather—a Heather back from our early days. Lauren loved horses. She loved riding. She seemed more like me than I think she realized.
Reeser pulled ahead by a half stride. Watson didn’t charge after him like I expected. As a reward, I let out more rein, and with a snort, Watson increased his speed. The two horses cantered side by side.
Watson’s rhythmic breathing mixed with the sounds of hoofbeats on the track made me grin.
It was time.
“Go?” I asked Lauren.
“Go!” she said.
I eased my hands up along Watson’s neck and lifted myself so I hovered above the saddle. Watson seemed to almost pause for a second—as if he was testing that I was really asking him to gallop. He must have gotten confirmation, because he moved into a ground-eating gallop. I kept him in hand and didn’t allow him to move to the top speed I knew he was capable of achieving.
I sneaked a peek to my left, and Lauren was bent low over Reeser’s neck. The shiny chestnut’s mane flowed against Lauren’s face, and she smiled.
“This is awesome!” I said, hoping Lauren could hear me.
“The best!” Lauren said.
We swept past Quinn and the crowd along the rails. Watson didn’t push for a faster pace. I’d given him what he wanted—a chance to run.
Lauren and I let the horses continue their controlled gallops. Sweat broke out around Watson’s neck as the reins rubbed against his coat. I kept him even with Reeser, and he didn’t fight me to overpower the other horse.
“Easing up,” I told Lauren.
She nodded. “Me too.”
I gathered the reins and slowly brought Watson down from a gallop to a canter to a trot and finally a walk. It didn’t feel as if I was riding a live wire anymore. Or holding a ticking time bomb. Watson tossed his head playfully, happily.
Reeser, breathing hard, was as winded as Watson. The other ex-racehorse’s nostrils flared as he breathed fast. Despite the exercise, there was a bounce in his stride.
“Wow,” I said. “That was one of the best rides in my entire life.”
“Oh, me too!” Lauren said, all smiles. “I still can’t believe it just happened.”
I edged Watson closer to Reeser and held up a hand. “To us having a chance to play jockeys.”
Laughing, Lauren slapped my palm. “To us, indeed!”