The day this story takes place was a warm but muddy day, slightly windy and the sky was grey and about to rain, I believe.
My sister Helen and I were going on a trail ride up in the woods behind my grandparent’s house. Helen rode her horse—Cassidy—and I rode Britney. We climbed up a large hill and rode down trails until we came to a very large field. Helen and Cassidy galloped down the side of the field while Britney and I followed behind.
I stopped Britney when I heard Helen call to me that she was coming back up, and to “watch out!”
I turned Britney around, preparing to go back up the field, watching my sister as she loped faster—practically on top of me!
I dug my heels into Britney’s side and we ran as fast as we could, trying to stay ahead of Helen and her horse.
The race was on.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest. As
I could hear the sound of Helen’s approaching horse. The thumping of hooves rang through the air as dirt and mud flew up behind us.
Britney picked up pace on her own when she saw Cassidy coming close beside her. There was no stopping her. She was determined to win the race and not even I could slow her now.
For a minute, we were neck and neck.
Not for long, however, seeing as Cassidy is a very high-spirited Tennessee Walker and Britney is a calm Morgan mix.
She suddenly shot ahead of Britney and I, winning the race.
I patted my stead on the neck and praised her for her attempt to win the race.
Even though Britney and I lost, I still love the terrifying feeling of galloping at high speed on the back of a horse.