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Twenty-NineWINNIE
The thing about falling in love with your friend is you get to kiss them whenever you want. If they’re being sweet? Kiss them. If they look hot hauling hay bales? Kiss them. If they are being annoying and won’t shut up about the statistical importance of something smart or other… kiss them to make them stop talking.
Kissing is literally always the answer.
Is Case perfect? No. Am I? Hell no. Buttogether, we do pretty all right.
I meant what I said when I told him I would be mad if he didn’t go to college. There are people who are destined to make the world a better place, and he’s one of them. That’s not to say he wouldn’t be great in the PBR. I’m convinced he would be good at about anything he tried, but losing Walker changed him. Or maybe freed him. Not that he was trapped—that sounds bad—but he would have done anything for Walker. That stupid-ass list being case. in. point.
Now it’s time to do something for himself.
If you told me six months ago I would feel that way about Case Michaels, I would have laughed in your face. But I didn’t really know him. I only thought I did. I didn’t know myself back then either. The Winnie of Before never in a million years thought she would race on the circuit, that she could make money doing it, that she could buy Mab with that money.
Present-Day Winnie owns a horse. A freaking horse.
Queen Mab belongs to me, totally. All of her parts, even her chompers.
Unreal.
Present-Day Winnie qualified for the Texas State Rodeo finals. As a rookie.
Present-Day Winnie has little girls lining up for her autograph. Girls who know not only her name but her horse’s name. Girls who tell her they want to be like her when they grow up.
And Present-Day Winnie lost her virginity to a very kind, very handsome man who looks at her sometimes like she invented sunshine.
It hasn’t been all rainbows and butterflies this summer. More like grit and blisters from working my ass off in the hot sun day in and day out, but it’s exactly everything I was too afraid to dream up for myself.
That’s the issue, though. Rightthere. Fear. This is exactly what I was afraid might happen. Things would work out and I would achieve my dreams, and now all of a sudden, I’m in it. I’m attached. I’m obsessed with this life. This morning, Garrett woke me up by jumping in my bed and yelling my name over and over. Apparently, a clip of me on Mab during our qualifying run last weekend was shown on some cable sports highlights show, and the national rodeo audience has gone buck wild trying to find out more about the rookies from outsideAmarillo. It’s been turned into a Cinderella story; encouraging little poor girls everywhere they,too, can be champions.
Except I know the story of Cinderella. Every girl who grew up in a trailer knows that story—not the Disney version or the one with Hilary Duff texting on her ancient phone but the real version. The one where Cinderella has the fucking night of her life: the dress, the shoes, the boy, the magic, and then poof! Midnight comes and goes, and she goes back to her shitty servant job in her hovel of a home, because that’s real life. This summer has been my magic ball, but with September comes midnight. Jesse and Garrett will be back in school or out of it, depending on my brother, and my dad will hide in his bedroom, only coming out to leave for work or eat the food I put on the table. Case will be off to school, and I’ll be home, with a family to support and a horse all my own.
Case would say I’m being cynical. That things have changed this summer and I don’t “have to carry everything on my shoulders.” But isn’t cynicism the armor of eldest daughters everywhere? It’s kept me together this long. Why shed it now?
I’ve already qualified, but I’d registered and paid the fees for a second qualifier this weekend as a precaution, because I didn’t want to put all my eggs in one basket when it came to state. So instead of sitting it out, I decide to go and invite my family. Today’s competition is close enough to easily drive, so I asked my dad to bring Garrett and Jesse. Case is sitting in the crowd somewhere with them. He’s not riding tonight, choosing to drop a few rodeos since he’s no longer gunning for the PBR. He’s told me his plans for Vegas and his promise to Walker to win the buckle for both of them. But he’s ahead of the curve already with the wins in his pocket. As long as he does well at state, he’ll qualify. He’s accepted a place on the college rodeoteam, though, which I think is great. Maybe doing it as an amateur will help him remember what he loved about it in the first place.
Anyway, I wanted my family to see me qualify, in case I never get the chance to do it again. I want Garrett to know I chased my dreams and found more of them along the way. I want Jesse to see what hard work can do for you. I want my dad to see me as something other than his housekeeper.
Armor, armor, armor.
Mab is in rare form and dances through the alley. She’s flawless through the clover, and we pull some of our best times. At Camilla’s encouragement, I’ve started working with a few other horses to back Mab up. She’s plenty for local shows that are spread out and only two or three rounds, but we don’t want to burn her out or cause her injury from overworking during the more extensive events. National events can have up to two rounds a night, ten days in a row.
But none of the horses have Mab’s magic. They’ll be close enough to be competitive, but I can tell she’s gonna pitch the mother of all equine fits the first time she has to stay safe and cozy in her stall while I reach for the bridle of Risky Business or Pistol Annie.
Add the new horseflesh to the list of things I’m steadily ignoring as I prep for a career run I’m not convinced I’ll be able to fulfill. Owning Mab means her chance for national glory lies solely with me. Can I in good conscience hold her back?
Ugh.
I press forward in my saddle, stroking Mab’s neck while waiting to enter the arena for the victory lap. I eventually spot my family and Case near the fence line, behind the third barrel. Case is sandwiched between my siblings, waving another glittery handmade sign that says,MAB IS QUEEN OF OUR HEARTS.
Figures they’d be cheering on my horse. I snicker. “See that, Mab? You’ve got fans! You’ve practically reached pop star status.”
Somehow, across the arena, I meet my father’s eyes. He’s staring at me, noticeably still amid a veritable sea of people buzzing with enthusiasm. I’ve never seen this look on his face before. He looks… thoughtful. Determined. There’s a fire in his eyes that I can see from here. That I canfeelfrom here.
I don’t know what that means.
One of the rodeo organizers says, “All right, Winnie, you’re up. We’re ready for you! Take your lap!”
I spur Mab into a gallop. This is her favorite part. I think it has to do with all the cheering. My horse is kind of vain. I wave, beaming at my family and throwing a kiss their way. There are more signs than the one my sister made, some even withmyname on them. It’s nuts how fast news travels.
