Page 80 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

Carson barely seemed to move, and that was what made it impressive.

There was no fighting the animal beneath her. No obvious pulling or correcting. Blueberry responded to movements I could barely see.

They reached the first barrel at a speed that made me expect the horse to blow past it.

She didn’t.

Blueberry dropped into the turn. Carson moved with her like they weren’t two separate entities, but rather one unit.

For a second, they looked less like a rider and horse and more like one damn animal.

Dirt sprayed. The crowd got louder as she approached the second barrel and the third. Then straight home.

The person filming started screaming before the time appeared. So did everybody else.

Carson crossed the line and looked toward the clock. Whatever composure she’d had disappeared as her entire face changed.

The Carson I met two days ago was beautiful. There wasn’t any denying that. But this girl was something else entirely. Alive might have been the only word for it.

She threw one hand into the air and leaned down over Blueberry’s neck, laughing while the horse pranced beneath her.

Someone behind the camera yelled her name. Then a man appeared near the arena fence. I recognized him before the camera focused.

James.

He had been younger too. Less gray in his hair. Broader through the shoulders. A cigar pinched between two fingers even though he was standing beneath a sign that clearly said NO SMOKING NEAR ARENA.

Carson saw him. She practically launched herself off Blueberry.

James caught her around the waist. The camera shook while the person recording laughed.

His voice carried faintly over the noise. “That’s my Sunshine!”

I stopped the video. For a second, my living room was completely silent. I’d forgotten he called her that.

But the way James said Sunshine wasn’t some random nickname. There was pride in it. The kind a man couldn’t fake if he tried. I hit play again.

James held Carson’s face between his hands and said something the microphone didn’t catch. She laughed and pushed him away before immediately hugging him again. Blueberry stood beside them, reins hanging loosely while Carson kept one hand against her neck.

The video ended.

I sat there, staring at the black screen.

Then clicked another. This one was from Tennessee. Carson was older, and the video quality was better. She was nineteen, according to the description. Different arena, an even bigger crowd, but Blueberry was at her side and they got the same result. First place, like it was as easy as breathing.

Another.

Georgia regional qualifier. Second place after clipping a barrel.

Another.

First.

Another.

First.

Dad had undersold her. The whole town had.