The black horse and rider whiz by me as they speed toward Brenna and Blitzen. Mr. Quinn leans close over Starfire’s neck, urging him on. Starfire passes Trickster in a flash and pulls up alongside Blitzen.
Mr. Quinn leans over and grabs Blitzen’s dangling reins, and Starfire hits the brakes and slows down. Blitzen strains for a second and then calms down. Both horses trot, then walk. Finally, they stop.
Brenna is safe! She gives Mr. Quinn a wobbly smile as he slips off Starfire’s back. He holds Blitzen’s head so Brenna can dismount.
Trickster has stopped running, too. Now that the race is over, he’s ready to eat again. He has wandered off to sniff a patch of ferns, trying to decide if they would be tasty.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I say. “You’re already in trouble. You don’t want to get a stomachache on top of everything else.”
I pick up the lead rope and start to walk him to Mr. Quinn, but he flinches and lifts his right hind leg.
“He’s hurt it again, hasn’t he?” Mr. Quinn demands harshly from the trail. “Strained the hock, maybe fractured something.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Stay where you are, David,” Mr. Quinn orders. “Brenna, go on back to the other trail. I’m sure Linda is looking for you by now. Tell her today’s lesson is over. I want the horses back in the barn, now.”
“Um, sure,” she says. “Thanks for helping me.”
Brenna looks a little shook-up, but Mr. Quinn looks positively awful. His face looks like someone drained all the color out of it. All the friendliness, too. His jaws are moving like he’s grinding his teeth, and his eyebrows are pulled down into a frown. I’ve seen that look before—when I got in trouble last year.
“Go on, Brenna,” Mr. Quinn repeats. “I need to talk to David.”
I don’t like the way that sounds.
Brenna shoots me a look like she wishes she could help but can’t, then she leaves. It only takes a minute until she’s out of sight.
“I don’t know what spooked Blitzen,” I explain to Mr. Quinn, as he leads Starfire over. “Brenna got her walking and she just took off.”
Mr. Quinn doesn’t answer.
“Maybe she got stung by a bee or something.”
Still nothing. Starfire shakes his head to shoo away a pesky fly. Trickster lifts his sore leg to take the pressure off.
Mr. Quinn hands me both Starfire and Blitzen’s reins. “Hold on to these—tightly.” Then he checks Trickster over, running his hands down the length of the leg. Mr. Quinn’s so quiet it’s making me nervous.
“How is he?” I ask. “Is he going to be OK?”
Mr. Quinn pats Trickster’s back.
“I was stupid,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“I was stupid,” he repeats, unbuckling his riding helmet. “I thought you were ready, that you had done some growing up.” He runs his right hand over his short black hair. “Dr. Mac said you were reliable, and Trickster definitely took a shine to you. Horses have a good judgment. Usually.”
He sets his helmet on the ground and tucks up the stirrups that hang from Starfire’s saddle. “But I was stupid. You’re not ready to be responsible around horses.”
“Uh-oh. The R word—responsibility.
“You went barreling into the exercise ring hollering so loud I could hear you clear down at the end of the barn.” I hold my tongue about that. “What if your carelessness had caused a horse to dump somebody?”
“But that didn’t happen!”
He ties the riding helmet to Starfire’s saddle. “No, but you slapped Blitzen’s rear end. That did happen. I saw it. I was watching all of you head up the trail, thinking how good you were with Trickster. Then you let him graze without tying him to anything—”
“There was nothing to tie him to!” I interrupt.
“—and you spooked Blitzen. By the time I was back on Starfire, those two animals were tearing toward the woods, and Brenna was in danger.”
“But you make it sound like I did it on purpose. I was just patting Blitzen. I didn’t mean to scare her. I had just shown Brenna how to make her walk. Blitzen’s my friend. I would never do anything to hurt her.”
“You were careless. You smacked Blitzen because you weren’t thinking. You didn’t tie Trickster properly. Why? Did it seem like too much work? Because you figured no one would find out?” He takes off his gloves and smacks them angrily on his jeans.
I feel like I just got kicked in the stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I never thought …”
“That’s it—you didn’t think,” Mr. Quinn says. Blitzen’s ears twitch at the sound of his angry voice. “And people who don’t think have no business being around horses. Now run to the barn and get Dr. Mac. I don’t want to move Trickster until we wrap his leg.”
I know I should do exactly what he says, without arguing, debating, or anything. But I have to ask.
“Mr. Quinn, what about our deal?” I ask. “Can I still ride him when he’s all better?”
Mr. Quinn’s eyes narrow, and he looks right through me.
“The deal is off.”