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I was grateful for the subject change. “He’s good. Wyatt said the guys got him checked out by the vet and he got a clean bill of health, no injuries. He’ll be ready to go for the next one.”
“Absolutely not!” Mom exclaimed. “You tried him, and he already got you injured. You need to sell him.”
“No way.” I looked to Dad for help. He usually took my side in this kind of thing, but he was thoughtful for a moment.
“Cal…” Mom started.
“Hold on,” he said. “We’re not selling the horse.”
I sighed in relief.
“However, you’re not getting back on him anytime soon.”
I sat up straighter at that. “What?”
Dad held up his hand. “Kinsley, you have a concussion. You will not be getting on any horse for at least a few weeks.”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“Agreed.”
I whipped my head around to look at Wyatt, who was awake, his mouth a hard line. My vision blurred from the movement and the nausea rolled through my stomach again. How long had he been awake? Traitorous bastard.
“Gambler stumbled,” I told them. “It wasn’t his fault!”
“He was worked up before the race. You didn’t have him under control. He went way too fast and overshot the barrel, just like he had last weekend.” Wyatt’s eyes bore into mine.
I was going to kill Wyatt. I shot him a murderous look, so he knew it was coming, but he only looked back at me coolly.
“I’ll get it worked out,” I promised them, my eyes pleading.
“No, Kinsley. The horse is dangerous,” Mom said in her no-nonsense tone.
“He’s not!”
“Regardless of whether he is or isn’t, you’re not riding him right now,” Dad said.
“If he’s not exercised regularly, he’ll be way worse when I do get on again.”
“We’ll get someone to—”
“Wyatt,” I blurted.
Confusion flashed across their faces.
I turned to Wyatt. “Can you ride him for me? Keep him going and fit so he’s ready for me?”
He frowned and hesitated. Seconds ticked by as I held his stare. I could see thoughts swirling in his eyes, turning over and over. I silently pleaded with him, willing him to accept.
“Please?” I begged, not caring about my pride.
He looked at my dad for approval, and I rolled my eyes.
“Hey! This is between you and me, cowboy,” I told Wyatt. “I don’t need you two”—I jerked my finger back and forth between them— “teaming up to manage me.” Stupid men. “I need you to ride my horse while I recover. When I’m better, I will get back on him.” I shot my mom a look that said I didn’t want to hear anything about it and then looked expectantly at Wyatt, who hesitated but finally nodded tersely.
“Alright,” he agreed.
“Fine,” Dad said.
