Thief of Happy Endings by Kristen Chandler

Author:Kristen Chandler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-06-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

THERE ARE GOOD mornings and there are great mornings. A morning when I get to make buttermilk muffins with Mrs. Sanchez is a spanking-great morning. Plus, I may be a little hopped up on horses and Justin. We are well into our fourth dozen when Justin comes riding right up to the kitchen on his buckskin.

“I need some help with the mustangs.” He’s back to being sour-faced.

Mrs. Sanchez says, “She’s busy.”

“It will only take a minute, Mrs. Sanchez. Por favor. Es importante.” His accent is worse than mine.

“Biscuits are important,” says Mrs. Sanchez.

Justin employs the face of sadness.

“What’s up?” I ask.

He holds his arm down to me. “Do you think you could ride double if we just walk? We’re only going up the hill.”

His buckskin seems safe, but you never know. “Where do I sit?”

“On the back.” He holds his arm down farther and kicks his foot out of the stirrup so I can put mine in. “I don’t have all day.”

Mrs. Sanchez rolls her eyes. “Ten cuidado. I like this one.”

I have to put my arms around Justin to stay on. I know Justin can keep the horse calm. I just don’t know if I can stay on. I feel like a five-year-old. His shirt smells like hay. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is you. You don’t learn about mustangs in a book,” he says, all the ornery gone from his voice. “I’ll show you something way better than a book.”

“I like books.” My words bounce out of my mouth and fall behind me. “Are we going far away? I really was helping Mrs. Sanchez.”

“Trust me. Mrs. Sanchez doesn’t need any help. And you’ll like this better.”

Having him say that, about trusting him, makes me feel immediately worried. I realize that if I’m sitting on this horse with him, I must trust him in some way. At least when it comes to horses. I’m just not sure how it happened or if it’s a good idea. We ride up the hill like we’re going to bring the mustangs in from pasture, but then we keep going. He asks, “You okay?”

I am still holding on tight. My skin itches. “Is this going to get me in trouble?”

“Not if you don’t tell anybody.”

Justin clucks his buckskin to a trot.

“Seriously?” I say, bouncing. He keeps trotting. I squeeze tighter.

“I need to breathe once in a while,” he says.

I say, “And I need to stay on.”

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