Runaway Horse

Chapter 3

I hear a man step into the cart, and for a moment I stop breathing. I think he sets down some more boxes, and then I definitely hear him leave. He closes the door behind him. That must mean the train is leaving soon. Thank god.

Even so, I hold Beau close to my chest; we won't move until we know for sure the train is moving. As I lie in this train, I let myself think about my parents-well, the few things I remember of them, and my old home, on the ranch.

Mom had long blonde hair, just like me. Her blue eyes matched the sky. But the thing I remember most about her was how she rode. Her horse, Strawberry, was a roan mare, who was half Arabian, half mustang. When Mum road that horse, they looked as if they were one animal, connected by an invisible force. Mum almost never used a saddle, always going bareback and bridleless. After all, when she rode Strawberry, it was as if they shared a mind.

Daddy was a tall, strong man. He always wore his cowboy hat, so I don't really remember what his hair looked like. He rode a huge Palomino gelding named Bronco. Daddy always rode western. He always tried to be macho, but when Bronco got colic, I saw how he was just mush inside. Daddy walked with that horse all night long, and though he'd never admit it, I know he cried tears of joy when that horse was out of the woods.

Then there was my horse... well, really he was just a pony. My beautiful black Pony of the Americas, Charcoal. He was everything I could have asked for. My parents gave him to me when I turned three. But I only did pony rides then- I couldn't really ride. I didn't learn to steer on my own till I was five. But it came so naturally to me.

The day of the accident was my first trail ride- No, I can't let myself think of that. It still hurts too much.

I pull the only thing I have left of my parents out of my pocket- a photograph of all of us. We had a family photo taken a few weeks before- no, I can't think about it.

In the photograph, Mom is on Strawberry, wearing a white dress that flows all around her. Daddy is up on Bronco, his hat almost covering his eyes. And I'm sitting on Charcoal's broad back, a huge smile plastered across my face. In the background, you can see the barn, and a little bit of the pasture.

We had a ton of horses. Still, those three were, without a doubt, our favorites.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when the train suddenly lunges forward. We are on the move.

Now is my chance to look around and decide what I can use.