flyaway: inspired by true events

7/29/2019 FLYAWAY: Inspired by True Events

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NNEEVVEERR

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Copyright 2013 by Haley Graham

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S Copyright Act

of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or

transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or

retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Though this story is based on diminutive yet true events of the authorsown experiences, characters portrayed in this book are entirely

fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or deceased, is

coincidental and not intended by the author.

Printed in the United States of AmericaCover artwork by Haylee Graham.


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Dedication

This book is dedicated to so many different people and they allknow who they are. But there is an extra special thanks to my seniorclass of 2011 of Bishop Alemany High School. The constant support and

continuous encouragement when I was writing this book during mysenior year inspired me to write to the finish line. Even a few years

later, when I re-released the new and revised version of this novel, thesupport was endless.

Without each of you, this book would be nothing.

And to you, my readers,for 50% of this novels proceeds will be donated in

protecting the horses of this country.


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Part OneMy horse's feet are as swift as rolling thunder

He carries me away from all my fearsAnd when the world threatens to fall asunder

His mane is there to wipe away my tears.-Bonnie Lewis

I RAN OUT OF the small wooden house, busting through the

shutter door with a sharp jab of my palms. I slowed and turned to waitfor my sister, rubbing away the goosebumps on my arms and chatteringmy teeth against the bitter cold. The night was chilly and I wished Ihadnt had run out of the house with just a t-shirt, jeans and ruddy oldtennis shoes on. I looked up to the sky, the stars illuminating thedarkness. How beautiful the sky was compared to the rotting earth.

Faint trails of the Milky Way made light swirls in the dark and for asplit second, I smiled. Suddenly a crash from within the house

splintered the quiet air and screams from my Uncle echoed through thehouse. The smile melted from my lips.My sister, Angela, shoved the shutter door open, a winter jacket in

her right hand and her left wrist shoved to her nose. She stumbleddown the cement stairs to the grass that lined the outside of the smallhouse. With one shaky hand, she started to gruffly put the jacket overmy shoulders.

Are you okay? I asked, eyeing the deep red blood on her face that

shone in the moonlight.She bent down to my eyelevel and braced my shoulders. Just take

Mojave and go, okay? Ill be fine here.No you wont, I protested. Angelas blood was bright against the

ray of moonlight, but her tears were even brighter.


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Yes, I will, she persisted. A loud thud made the house shutter

and curses from our Uncle Terry echoed out to us. My sister lookedover her shoulder and then grabbed me more firmly. Do as I say and goride your horse. Youll be safe that way.

Butyou wont, Angela. Im not going to leave you again.I began to sob. It was like this almost every weekend. Our uncle,

who was our unfortunate guardian, would get drunk and then lose histemper at the littlest of things. If we spilled a cup of water or saidsomething remotely sarcastic, he would throw a tantrum ten times

worse than any toddler Ive ever seen. He threw furniture, plates,books, or one time he even yanked the microwave from the outlet andtossed it at the wall. That certain incident was because I didnt heat hisfood quite hot enough.

So, Uncle Terry had somemajor issues. You know how they saythat for some people, when they start drinking, their entire personalitychanges? Yeah, well, when our uncle finished off a few beers he becamethis psycho microwave-throwing circus act. I didnt even think he had

the strength to fling our 1930s style couch chair across the room.Hmm, I guess some of it deserves a chuckle.

Well, to be completely honest, the whole situation was moredepressing then humorous. For the past year we lived under a roofwhere every weekend, instead of going out with friends or having fun,we would be stuck at our small house, taking punches left and right (ordodging microwaves) from this guy. Uncle Terry was hardly ever homeon the weekdays and usually gone to his work as a late night bartender.

Makes sense doesnt it? The alcoholic bartender. And when theweekends came and he didnt have work, hed stay home and drink andwatch pointless TV the entire day.

But once those shows were over and his attention was off thetelevision screen, hed stand up from the couch and come looking mysister and me. No, not to just ask how our day was or tuck us in atnightbut to chase us around and throw stuff at us, getting angry atanything and everything. God forbid you walk in his way in the

hallway.But wait, Im getting way ahead of myself.Who am I? Who is my sister? Those questions are probably spinning

around in your head like orbiting planets. Well, to start off, my sistersname is Angela. She had the looks and I had, well, the attitude of the


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family. Angela, who was nineteen and two years older than me, had

long dirty blonde hair that traveled past her shoulders and porcelain skinthat glimmered in the night. Her features were practically chiseled bythe angels some would say.

I, on the other hand, had rough, sun-weathered skin; my facewasnt always clear of blemishes; my eyebrows werent perfectlyplucked; and my dark brown hair was always out of place. At firstglance, most people thought my eyes were just a boring green shade.But really, they were the same color as momsan entrancing hazel

green. And yes, there is a difference between green and hazel-green.Google it or something.One more thing separating Angelas looks from mine was that she

had our dads exact plain hazel eye color. Ew, my dad. Lets not gothere.

Oh, and hi, my name is Jacey Davis. Nice to meet you.And tonight? Well, tonight was just Angela being heroic. When

things got to these extremes, she would pretty much try to protect me

in any way she could. She would take the blunt of the blows for me ortry to find an escape that only I could really pursue.

She thought of me before herself. And often that would earn her abloody nose or black and blue bruises all up and down her body. Everytime she made me leave without herI felt guilty. Why couldnt Imake those sacrifices for her? Sure, I was the younger sister, the baby ofthe family, but still it just wasnt fair.

The shutter door creaked open and we both looked to see Uncle

Terrys silhouette in the darkness. He stood there, waving an emptybeer bottle in his hand and slurring the words. He was unstable and hadto lean on the doorframe for support. Angela? Angelaaaa? Are you outhere?

My sister pushed me away. Go, she breathed.Come with me, I pleaded. Mojave can carry both of us.Angela shook her head, and her eyes began to tear up again. The

blood on her face was dried by now, but she still held her left wrist to

her nose.No, if we both leave then hell know were gone. If I stay and

keep his attention on me then he wont notice where you are.ErAngela, Uncle Terry slurred.You out there with that

damnhorse? I should taketake my rifle to thatthing.


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Angela pushed me again. Get on Mojave. Youre protecting

yourselfandhim. She sniffed, accidentally sending blood down herthroat. She involuntarily coughed a few times.Hearing my sister, Uncle Terry then spat out a wicked laugh. He

began to stumble down the cement stairs, mumbling profanities.Ill be back by morning, I whispered in Angelas ear as I gave her a

short hug.She nodded and then pushed me away and it took everything in me

to do as my sister said. Forcing myself to leave her there felt like having

a hundred knives stabbing at my heart. I knew the abuse she would haveto face and how helpless she would be against it.I broke into a jog and navigated through our tiny orange tree

orchard (try saying that three times fast) which then led me to wheremy buckskin horse, Mojave, stood in a small stall. Behind me, I couldhear Angela wrestle against Uncle Terry who had now met her on thegrass. Suddenly the curses coming from the both of them silenced andall was quiet. I stopped and tried to peer through the trees, my heart

pounding in my chest. I was always scared that something greater than afew bruises would happen.

My eyes desperately for their figures in the dark. I wished I couldjust scream and then someone would come to our rescue, but we had noneighbors for at least a half a mile away. There would be no one tocome to our rescue. There was no fight herejust flee.

My eyes still searched through branches and my ears pained fromthe eerie silence. I had seen enough CSI episodes to make me paranoid

that Uncle Terry could be capable of doing worse than just hitting usand throwing things around.

Suddenly, I saw Angela push herself from the ground and walktowards the shutter door, her left wrist to her nose again. She held thedoor open and demanded for Uncle Terry to get inside the house. Hecrawled up from the grass and stumbled up the stairs, mumbling amixture of profanities to Angela before going in the house.

After Uncle Terry was inside, Angela gazed out into the orchard.

She was clearly searching for any signs of me. I bit my lip, took a firmgrip of the tree that I was huddled under and shook it viciousely. I sawher nod and then turn inside the house. Last thing I heard was UncleTerry demanding her to get him another beer.


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I cursed under my breath and kicked the dirt beneath me before

reluctanantly walking to the end of our property. I opened the swivelmetal gate that lead me to the small piece of land where my horse hadjust enough room for his stall.

Mojave, I whispered in the dark. His back was to me and I couldsee the shine of his golden buckskin coat in the moonlight. He raised hishead at the sound of my voice and turned to look at me, nickering inresponse.

We gotta get out of here, buddy, I told him softly. How about a

midnight ride?Tears began to choke me up. Was I the only one who thought this

entire situation was incredibly pathetic? That I had to ride my horse toescape from my home? I know a lot of people are dealt really bad cardsin life but the deck I had was really starting to frustrate me.

I walked to the front ofmy horses stall and rubbed his velvet nose.He shook his head up and down as though he were responding to myquestion.

I take that as a yes, I said with a half smile. His bridle hung on theside of the stall and I reached for it with shaky hands. Mojave was eagerfor me to put it over his head, and as soon as the bit was through histeeth, my horse munched on it excitedly. Again, he bobbed his head upand down.

Easy, I whispered to him as I placed the western saddle onto hisback. I tightened the cinch and Mojave stood still as I swung onto thesaddle.

The small property was guarded with barbed wire and anothersmall wired gate that let us free into miles and miles of Arizona desert.I rode up along side of it and unhooked the latch, letting it swing open.

Only the wide-open desert lay before us with Red Rock Canyon, anapporprietely named canyon with, well, red rocks, about two miles away.I could hear crickets in the brush and the water pouring over desertrocks from the many rivers in the distant ravines. Our town ofSnowflake sat in the right hand corner of Arizona and was surrounded

by deserts, ravines, canyons and crickets. Unlike Red Rock Canyon, thetown itself is illy named as a snowflake hasnt fallen here since the iceages. At times like this, when I was going to runor ride away into thenight, I appreciated that the town had a population of only fivethousand.


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Mojave suddenly cocked his ears behind him and lunged forward. I

lifted the reins to keep him steady. For a few moments, I stoppedbreathing and tried my best to listen to what had startled him. Thebreaking of dishes and the yells of my sister and retaliations of my unclecarried out to me.I let out an uneasy breath and leaned down on Mojaves mane.

Lets flyaway from here, I whispered into his ears, tangling myhands within his black mane. In response, Mojave gave a slight gruntand surged forward, sprinting to a soft canter and then at his own time,

springing into a flat out run.Darkness entrapped us and I couldnt see a foot infront of Mojaves

head. We galloped blindly in the night, Mojaves invisible wingssprouting from his sides and pushing us forward with swift strokes.Above us, a half-crescent moon hung in the darkness, illuminatingMojaves golden coat and silk black mane.

I listened to the rhythmic pound of my horses hooves and matchedit with my own heartbeats. I breathed with him as he surged forward

with each stride. I looked up, shut my eyes and raised my hands to theopen sky.This was our freedom.We were flying.


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two

I woke up wearily in the gully of Red Rock Canyon to Mojaves

muzzle in my face. His lips lapped at my hair and he snorted loudly intomy ear. I pushed him away and got up, a painful crick burning in myneck. Using a rock for a pillow hadnt played out so well. I looked upto the sky. It was still dark, but it was starting to slowly turn to a lighterblue. Daybreak was on the horizon.

Mojave nickered and I looked at him thoughtfully. I knew what hewanted. I tiredly blinked my eyes and pushed myself from the ground.Alright, I submissed. Because you asked.

I stretched my arms infront of me and then grabbed the saddle offfrom where I rested it on one of the rocks. I saddled him quickly andswung onto my horses back with ease. Once I was settled, I gave him acluck and he took off up a path that led us up the side of the canyon. AsMojave galloped, I reminisced how my mom and I used to take rides upand down Red Rock Canyon when I was just seven years old. She, atopMojave, and I, aboard her favorite horse, Jax.

Dont you like him? she would say, smiling down on the buckskin

she had just bought at an auction. It was our first day with Mojave onthe trails. We were at the bottom of the canyonand the only way upwas, well, up the canyon.

I would nod beneath the large bicycle helmet that was a little toobig for my head.


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He was a good find, she said to me with a smile. Mojave

flounced beneath her, his dark legs prancing on the earth as though itwere too hot.Did we save him? I had asked her as I sturdied the helmet above

my eyes. There wasnt much to remember about the auction we wentto where we found Mojavethe muddy, golden horse who stuck outlike a sore thumb amongst the pen full of frightened and whinnyinghorses. My mom said that he had swung his head around at her andperked his ears. She said he spoke to her in his own language. I didnt

understand it then, but I do now.Yes, honey, my mother said as she tried to steady Mojave. She

looked up at me and smiled beneath light hazel eyes. We saved himfrom bad people that would do bad things to horses like him.

I had nodded empathetically. She steadied him and in his stillness,he looked up to the sky and snorted. A hawk was circling above, castinga fleeting shadow over us. I glanced up to the circling bird, but mymoms eyes stayed on Mojave. Hes got fire in those eyes, she said.

A fire that wont be burnt outeven by bad people. Can you see it,Jace?

I looked back down to the horse and shook my head. There wereno flames in his eyes as far as I could see.

Its there, she whispered before giving him a small rub on theneck. Hes going to fly. I just know it.

My eyebrows furrowed and I cocked my head. What kind of horsewas this Mojave? A horse with fire in his eyes and who couldfly? I was

in awe.My mom looked up at me and gathered her reins. She bobbed her

eyebrows. Wanna see if he can? There was that thirst for speed andexcitement that always lightened Paige Davis face. It was my motherstrademark. She was so daring, so brave, so passionate for the invinciblebond between a skilled rider atop a powerful 1,200 pound animal.

And she would turn him, tell me to take a mane-ful of Jax and thenkick Mojave to a gallop. And that first day, Mojave took off with speed

that was naturally gifted to him. Jax would gallop behind himbutthere was no horse on the planet who could tocuh Mojaves velocity.

Once we had reached the top of the canyon, my mother had turnedto me and said, I told you! I told you he could fly!


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Thoughts of my mom stung at my heart and I tried to push them

away and instead focus on Mojave. His gate was smooth and excited.He loved the canyon as much as I did and I wondered if he rememberthat time in the canyon with him and mywell, Im going to stopthere.

We had never truly explored the mini Grand Canyonjustwandered through up and down the trails and along the gully. It was agreat way to truly escape from life because out here, it was nothing butme, Mojave and the canyons edge. Every time we galloped to Red

Rock, it felt like we were leaving the world behind and entering a wholenew one.Once we had reached the top of the canyon, the sunbeams hit us

like cannons. It was so warm and bright that I had to shade my eyes. Ikept us going across the top of the canyon, the sunbeams seeming togive us new life. Mojave galloped and stretched his neck low, the thudof his hooves making the canyon ground shake. In the past years, hehadnt grown any slower. In fact, I think he got even faster.

At the cliffs edge, I sank deep into the saddle and tugged on thereins. Mojave came to a skidding halt, sending dust clouding around usand rocks tumbling down the drop off.

For a few minutes we just watched the bright sun rise up from thedistant ground of the horizon. Mojave bunched on the bit eagerly as thepeeking sun illuminated our faces. Once it was far up in the sky, Iturned my horse and we began at a leisurely canter back across thecanyon.

As we cantered along, I seemed to become lost in my own thoughtsagain. It was almost every night that Angela would persuade me to takeMojave out and escape from Uncle Terry. Usually I would do as shesaid while other times Id just sit around in the back yard or in theorchard, ready to run in and help my sister if I heard things get bad.

Angela was nineteen and old enough to leave Uncle Terry at anygiven moment. That is if she had anywhere to go or any money to hername. My sister chose to live in the safety of the house for a year now,

only daring to leave its quarters to pluck oranges from the orchard. Butnot once has Angela set foot outside of the house otherwise. She waslike me, preferring to stay in the privacy of our own home and awayfrom all the empathy the town had to offer. Mom was notorious inSnowflake (and in the States for that matter) and her death was spread


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around from television screen to television screen. Everyone knew

about it, and so everyone talked about iteven a whole year later. Wedidnt want awkward hugs from strangers or little Im sorry for your lossclich statements. All Angela and I wanted was our moms death todissolve into ancient history, but it never did. So my sister isolatedherself in the safety (or non-safety) of our house.

Only Terry left to work at the bar and I was sent to retrievegroceries every now and then. But I never explored Snowflake anyfurther. So getting a place with Angela was just a distant dream for now.

Sparks of hope always floated through my chest that maybe, just maybe,someday Angela, Mojave and I could live by ourselves.Would we ever be able to afford Mojave on our own? I thought, a lump

forming in my throat.I didnt know what I would do without my little horse and just the

thought of losing him made my eyes sting with tears. Uncle Terry onlylet us keep Mojave because he had said it was my mothers dying wish.But the scariest thought of all was that Uncle Terry, at any given

moment, sober or drunk, could by the snap of his fingers, sell Mojaveright from under me. He could give him back to the auction thatMojave came from. He could sell him to those bad people who do badthings to horses.

I dont think I wanted to know what those people didor wherethe rest of Mojaves friends went that day we bought him. Whatever itwas, I knew it wasnt good, and I knew I would never let Mojave returnto that.

We had just entered a ravine. Mojave cantered up the small inclinewith ease, and once we reached the top of the incline, I saw a white flashout of the corner of my eyes. I snapped my head to see a white Toyotaheading straight for us. The car screeched loudly as the driver tried tostop but the tires lost traction and slid across the desert ground. Mojavejumped to the left and pinned his ears. He wheeled around to face thedanger and began to rear, striking the air with his hooves. I leanedforward on his neck, trying to press him down and praying that the car

would stop before plowing into us. It stoppedbut only with a foot tospare.

A man in a white suit, an equally white mustache, and a beigecowboy hat jumped frantically from the drivers side.

Are you okay little lady? he yelled in a thick southern accent.


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Without responding, I turned Mojave in a tight circle, trying to

prevent him from rearing anymore. He snorted and nickered loudly,leaping forward and trying to tug the reins out of my hands.The man took off his hat and wiped his forehead. Hes a feisty

one! he laughed.No, I said through gritted teeth. Again and again, I turned

Mojave in uneven circles. Hes just freaked because he almost got runover by a car!

I stopped circling Mojave and tried to hold him still but he kept

prancing in place like an excited racehorse.Well, miss, the man said in condescending tone but with a smile

plastered across his face, you came up from that ravine pretty fast!I sat deeper in the saddle and balanced Mojave with my reins. I

tried to scowl at the man but it was hard giving a mean look to an oldergentlemen smiling so brightly up at me. I then swallowed my pride andforced myself to let go of some of the anger. It wasnt as if he had triedto hit me on purpose.

Usually I dont have to worry about people driving up here, I saidin a calmer tone.

The man nodded his head in understanding. Im just scouting outthese trails for my big race in a few weeks, he explained proudly as heput two thumbs in the sides of his pants. Silence passed between us andI supposed that he was waiting for me to ask what this big race wasabout.

He held a big smile and looked as though he was ready to burst with

pride. After a minute, he was the one who finally spoke. Dont youwant to know about the race? he asked, looking honestly confused.

No, I replied dryly. But by the look on his face, I could tell heprobably wasnt going to turn and leave.

Well Im going to tell you about it anyway! he said happily,stepping closer to Mojave. Im sponsoring an international race thathappens once a year to determine whom is the best endurance riderinthe world! Its called, he held up his hands inthe air in emphasis, TheGreat Desert Race.

Howoriginal, I muttered blankly. Something about the raceseemed familiar and I racked my brain for any explanation.

The Great Desert Race. Where have I heard that before?


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The mans face fell a little at my dry comment and I found myself

feeling guilty for being so sarcastic towards him. However, I justcouldnt get over the fact that he had almost plowed into my horse anddidnt give me much of an apology. Thinking about how panickedMojave was made my face blush and my jaw grit, but I couldnt getmyself to just turn Mojave around and canter away from the man. Asmuch as I didnt want to admit it, the mention of this desert racenonsense intrigued me.

Now itll have four phases, he exclaimed as held out four fingers

and emphasized every word he said. A thought crossed my mind and Ismiled to myself. More than anything I wanted to ask him if he had everbeen an enthusiastic car salesman in his past life, but I just bit my tongueand pretended to listen to whatever he was hollering about.

First phase: competitors must careen their way up and down thevast inclines of Red Rock Canyon. In a quicker voice he said, I dunnoif you know where that is but its this little canyon just

I know where Red Rock Canyon is, I snapped with a roll of my

eyes. The mans smile wasnt discouraged.Good! Thats excellent! Now, scond phase: those competing will

maneuver through the dangerous Elk Passage! The man took a deepbreath in and bolted his eyes shut. He was completely silent for a fewseconds. He looked as though he were reminiscing a good lookingwoman and not the greenlands of Elk Passage.

The third phase! he abruptly yelled, surprising me and spookingMojave. Now the third phase is extremely demanding of both horse

and rider! It consists of crossing the border into New Mexico andpassing through the sixty foot wide White River!

Um, I raised my hand as if I was in a classroom. Wouldnt that betwo phases?

The man furrowed his white caterpillar eyebrows at me.Frolicking over the border and drowning in Suicide River, I tried

to explain, Two phases. Not one.Its called White Riverand they are joined, he clasped his hands

together loudly, because they are so treacherous and so frightening tothe riders core!

I wont question youfurther, I said, putting my palms up.The man nodded curtly and again, for a few moments, he was eerily

silent. Like he had done before, he suddenly burst into sentence.


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Mojave head shot up and I frantically grabbed at the reins as he

threatened to rear again.The fourth phase will be descending down the perilous, death-defying and life-snatching two hundred foot tall Azure Hill!

Slowly, I nodded my head in mock understanding.Azure Hill. I knew that name oh too well. My stomach churned as

if I was on a spinning rollercoaster and my face flushed red.Well, I muttered nervously, gathering my reins and turning

Mojave. Thanks for the, uh, informative talk.

Wait! he called. I stopped and Mojave pranced impatientlybeneath me.I didnt mention the winning purse, he said as he walked closer

towards us.Oh, how could you forget that, I snapped through bitter sarcasm.He beckoned for me to lean closer to him. I blinked my eyes

irratibly before obliging to the man.The winner receives five hundred thousand dollars, he whispered.

My eyes grew wide and my jaw dropped. Fivehundredthousanddollars for a long distance race? I stuttered.As in five, zero, zero?

I wasjust going to make it a hundred grand! he said though ashrug. His smile never wavered beneath his white mustache. Youknowto match the race distance of a hundred miles. But then, Ithought, Carson, that aint right! Because the elements in this race areunlike any other. The winner should get a hefty prize, I say!

I ran his words back through my skull. Hundred miles? I repeated

hoarsely, feeling faint. Even my mother had only competed in a fewhundred mile races.

The man flashed a bright smile. Ive designed this race to test bothstamina and speed. Thats why the best of the best are riding in this!Riders from England, China, France, Ireland, even our tropical ridersfrom Honolulu will be competing! After all, this is The Great DesertRace, he said with a chuckle.

Of course, I mockingly agreed with him. Well good luck withthat Mister

Browan.My eyes widened. The Mayor?


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He thumbed his beltloop and nodded proudly. This race is going

to bring even more attention to Snowflake this year! Mr. Browan thanpopped an eyebrow at me. And whats yourname, little lady?Jacey Davis, I said curtly. Good riddance, Mr. Browan. Then,

with a nod, I urged Mojave into a trot.When I was about ten feet from the white-suited man and I had

thought I was finally free from him, he called after me one more time.Oh and one more thing!

I rolled my eyes to the sky and turned Mojave.

If you want to enter the race, you have to drop off some legalwork. Just for verification and all.No worries, I told him with the shake of my head. I dont race.Ah, of course. Well by the looks of your golden pony, you

probably wouldnt show well in the race anyways, hmm?For the second time in those few minutes, my jaw dropped. Fury

built within me and my eyes burned into Mr. Browans back as heheaded to his truck. This time I was the one calling out to him.

Hey! I yelled.Mojaves the fastest thing you and your southerneyes would ever see!

Mr. Browan slowly turned and cocked one furry eyebrow at me.Then prove it, Ms. Davis.

And with the tip of his hat, he turned away, leaving me scoldingmyself for falling into that trap. Of course Mr. Browan had purposelyinsulted Mojave so I would get worked up and threaten to prove himwrong. Sad thing was, the trap worked and now more than anything, I

wanted to prove how fast Mojave really was.But then I had to remind myself that some fear inside my heart had

kept me from distance racing for this long and would keep fromentering this great race too.

Moms accident, I thought somberly as I galloped Mojave back on thetrail leading to the place we were forced to call home.


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three

I rode Mojave to the base of the fence of our property to find UncleTerry standing with his arms folded over his chest. He shaded his eyesfrom the sun as he spotted me with fuming eyes. The sun illuminatedhis laugh lines (which made no sense to me because he hardly laughed)and the ripples and creases of his weathered skin. Uncle Terry eitherlooked furious or deep in thought. One of the two but I couldn'tdifferentiate which one. And whichever one it was, I didnt care.

I rode up to the fence and hopped off Mojave, slipping the reins

over his head and leading him through the small gate. Instantly, UncleTerry was at my side.

"Where were you?" he demanded, looking down at me. I ignoredhim and kept walking Mojave to his stall. "Hey!" he said in a loudervoice.

Still, I didn't answer him but kept my eyes to the ground, cluckingto Mojave to walk faster. Suddenly the reins were pulled out of myhands. I spun around to see Uncle Terry yanking furiously on Mojaves

mouth. "Stop the damn horse and tell me where you were!"Mojave bobbed his head and anxiously walked against him, pinning

his ears flat against his neck.


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"Let go!" I yelled at Uncle Terry as I snatched the reins back and

instantly put myself between him and Mojave. "I was riding in thecanyon alright? Now leave him alone!"I gave soothing words to Mojave and then bundled his reins up

infront of me, keeping his head close over my shoulder. Uncle Terrycame up behind me and grabbed my other arm, yanking me around toface him.

"This horse ain't hardlyyours!" he yelled down at me, his wordsstinging me like a thousand bees. My heart skipped a beat and I tried to

find the words to speak, but couldn't. I had nothing to retaliate withand no way to defend myself because in all truth, Mojave wasn't mine. Inever bought him, I didn't pay for his hay or his farrier visit.

"You dont got a single dime to this animal," he shouted as he stucka finger in my face. "Don't you everforget that! I only keep it cause thatwas your mother's dying wish. Otherwise it'd be shipped to the gluefactory in a blink of an eye! Do you understand me?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked to the ground,

nodding my head slightly. The thought of Mojave being anywhere butin my hands made my whole body feel numb.

Uncle Terry rubbed his bloodshot brown eyes with the palms of hishands. When he looked back down at me, he spoke in a softer tone."Now I got a call from a neighborfourmiles away saying they saw youand Mo-Mojeeveyhere"

"Mojave!" I snapped."Whatever!" he yelled, anger leaking from his words. "Well that

neighbor called complaining that he's seen you riding across his propertylast night round midnight. Said he almost put his rifle to you because hethought that horse mightve been some mountain lion!

I glanced at Mojave. Thats one hell of a mountain lion.Uncle Terry let his chest fall in a sigh. I knew he didnt appreciate

my smart ass remarks but that was exactly why I said them. Jacey, canyou tell me why you were out there that late? I mean damnit! Do I needto put a tracking device on you?"

My eyes flickered up to him, sudden anger making my face flushand hot tears form at the edges of my eyes. I focused all my attentionon keeping my voice from wavering but I could hear my words rattle offmy tongue. "I was trying to get away from you.


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All Uncle Terry could do was look at me with confusion, cocking

his head and blinking several times. I watched as Uncle Terry's facewent from bent out angry to merely sad and confused."Thats what your sister said when I found He stopped,

snapping his jaw closed. His eyes were restless in his blinking as hegnawed on his own shame. He then whispered, I-I have to go.

I lethargically turned and led Mojave into his stall, taking his bridleoff and letting him drink from his water bucket. When I started tounhinged the cinch and slip the saddle off, I looked back to the fence.

There to my surprise, Uncle Terry was still standing, lost in his ownthoughts. He looked up from his trance and caught eyes with me, inwhich case I instantly looked away and busied myself with brushing thesweat from Mojave's golden coat.

I heard the gate squeak open and shut close and I glanced up to seeUncle Terry speedily walking into the orchard. I bore my eyes into hisback as he sped up the steps and went through the shutter door,slamming it behind him. After a few more moments, I heard his truck

engine start up from the front of the house and his truck pull away fromthe drive way. Instantly, I buried myself into Mojave's neck. Tears I hadbeen holding back suddenly relinquished and I cried for several minutes.

"He doesnt even remember," I said between sobs. "He neverremembers, Mojave." At the sound of his name, my golden horseturned and playfully lipped at my jacket.

I gave him a slight smile and rubbed his muzzle. "But at least I haveyou right?" Mojave responded with a sigh and then turned back to graze

for scattered straws of hay. I patted his neck blankly, my mind turningback to Angela. I caught my breath, remembering Uncle Terry's words.Found her where? Under the porchlike three months ago whenAngela needed to find some escape? Or sleeping beneath the orangetrees in the back yard?

The slightest comfort that Mojave had offered was gone and I feltthe heavy weight of guilt settle in. I always felt guilty when my sisterhad taken all the blows for me and I didn't know how to help her or

make anything better. All I did was hide from the reality or in my case,ride away from it.

"I'm not doing that anymore," I said aloud. "I'm going to take thehits as hard as Angela does. Its just not fair." I nodded to myself and


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made a promise to stay at the house the following night, even if it meant

hiding under the porch with my sister.I gave Mojave a few quick pats and kissed his muzzle, saying mygoodbyes as I quickly jogged back up to the house.

When I entered through the shutter door, a loud crunch echoedwhen I took a step into the kitchen. I stopped short and cast my eyesdown to see a large shards of plate crumbled beneath my tennis-shoe. Ilooked around in horror to the many broken dinnerware, glasses, mugs,and vases that covered the entire kitchen floor. I felt my blood run cold

and my heart beat loudly in my ears. I couldnt even imagine the hellthat Angela had to go through the night before.I walked cautiously through the kitchen, shards shattering beneath

my feet. "Angela?" I called out in the silent house. When I heard noreply, I continued walking in the living room and then turned left intothe hallway, cautiously looking around the corner, half expecting to seeUncle Terry instead of my sister. I walked slowly into Angelas room tofind Angela asleep in her bed, her hands tucked under her head for a

pillow. Dried blood was crusted on her nose, her lips, and on her chin.Fear struck me as I could see her shirt was blotted with blood too. Isighed and picked up a pillow off the ground, quietly tip toeing to herbed. When I took a step besides her, the floorboard beneath mecreaked, giving away my position. Angela popped one hazel eye openand I froze.

You gonna suffocate me with that thing? she asked sounding stuffyand hoarse.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. You caught me! I laughed,lightly throwing the pillow at her.

Angela struggled to sit up, pushing herself up on her elbows. Shetried to sit up more but a look of pain crossed her face and she lay backdown. I frowned at her, panickly trying to search where she was hurt.She then stretched out her arms infront of her, a big dark blue bruiselining her right wrist.

What happened? I said, eyeing her wrist as I sat on the edge of the

bed.Angela rolled her eyes. Dont you think thats a bit rhetorical? she

said with a small laugh, holding out her other hand for me to grab it.


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I nodded, then grabbed her left hand and helped her sit up. When

she was done piling pillows behind her with one hand, she shrugged hershoulders lightly, a small smile forced upon her lips.It's just a bad bruise, my sister said, pushing a dirty blonde strip of

hair behind her ear. I cringed, feeling as the atmosphere in the roomgrew heavy. Angela acted like "a bad bruise" was something to be takenas lightly as a "bad hangnail." It hurt me knowing that she plastered asmile on her tired face, just for my sake. I struggled with what to say toher, my jaw opening and closing. No words came out.

Finally Angela spoke. He doesnt remember."I know, I said under my breath. He and I got into it when I rode

back up here.Angela blinked a few times. About what?Well, I said, crossing my legs in a pretzel on the bed, I guess the

neighbors saw me last night and reported it to him. He then went offabout how Mojave isnt technically my horse and that I paused,barely able to whisper the words, that he could sell him if he wanted

to. I looked down at the bed, feeling tears forming at my eyes. The lastthing I wanted Angela to see was me crying. My sister reached acrossthe bed and laid her hand on mine.

Hey, she whispered, Ipromisedyou I would never let anythinghappen to Mojave.

Herwords were only a slight comfort while Uncle Terrys wordswere still orbiting in my mind. I sniffled loudly just as a tear rolleddown my cheek. Angela gave my hand a squeeze and then added, I

mean it, Jacey.After a long pause I finally spoke, my voice quivering.You shouldnt have to deal with this, I shook my head and rubbed

the tears from my eyes. Youre nineteen! You can leave and gosomewhere else! Dont let me and a horse stop you.

Angela sat back, her eyes wide and her lips parted as if I had justspoken something crazy. Her voice was a hushed whisper and she shookher head lightly. You and that horse are everything to me. I would benothing without you two.

But you shouldnt be forced to stay herejust for us! I protested,my voice raising.

Youre right." She cocked her head and then added, But I chooseto stay here, Jacey. End of discussion.


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She put her chin up, crossing her arms infront of her chest and I

knew I had lost any argument. My sister was so stubbornand thatswhat I loved about her.Fine, I said, crossing my own arms and thrusting my nose into the

air. But I am notgoing to run away anymore.Angela watched me for a second and then surprisingly bursted into

laughter.Is that your stubborn face? she asked between laughs. Angela tried

to impersonate my expression and through the side of her mouth

mumbled, This is what you look like!I blew through my lips in a few laughs at how ridiculous she looked.Still giggling, I reached over the bed and hugged my sister.

I mean it though Angela, I said into her hair.Ill never leave youbehind again. End of discussion.


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four

Make me a bloody Mary, Uncle Terry slurred as he sprawled outon the couch, waving his empty beer bottle up in the air. It was onlyeight oclock at night and Uncle Terry was on his way to becoming astupid drunk. For now he was harmless and relaxed, but later my sisterand I both knew he would turn violent and angry.

I walked through the living room towards the kitchen.Lets hope you pass out, I called to him as I passed by the couch. In the kitchen, Angela was mixing a bowl of lettuce and spinach.

She wore a small yellow and white fleeced apron and her hair was tiedback from her face.Youre lucky hes in his calm stage, she said as she nudged the

bowl aside and began to chop up carrots. I wouldnt push it though.I gave a smirk and then popped my head out of the kitchen, leaning

against the doorframe. Better yet, I called out to him, lets hope youdrink yourself to death!

Uncle Terry lifted his head and stared at me with a blank face. My

uncles auburn brown eyes looked at me like I spoke a foreign language.I stuck my tongue out at him, scrunching up my face to look as sour as Icould before he put his head back down and waved me off. I returnedto Angela, who was shaking her head and trying to fend off a smile thattugged at her lips.


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You, she said, pointing the knife at me, are testing unsafe waters.

So you better know how to swim fast if the shark comes out.I gave her a wry smile and then turned with my back facing thecounter. "Don't worry," I said, bouncing a few times on my toes andthen giving a jump that pushed myself on the counter next to Angela."I'll have my harpoon ready."

My feet swung only a few inches from the kitchen floor, and Ithought about the many times I had sat on the kitchen counter as a littlegirl. Back then, my feet swung far above the floor as I would watch my

mom bake chocolate chip cookies for me and Ang. Now, replaced withthat memory, was Angela, chopping carrots and making us dinner. Andshe wore the same apron Mom used to.

"Jacey?" Angela's words cut into my thoughts.I snapped my head up at her. "Sorry, what?"She was eyeing me. "I asked if you even know how to swim?Of course, I replied before quickly adding, Well not that good.

But Dad, my voice wavered and the words felt foreign in my

mouth. I took a deep breath and continued, Dad taught me when I wasyoung.

Angela nodded solemnly, casting her eyes to the floor before sheturned back to chopping the carrots.

I sat beside her for awhile, listening to the rhythmic pounding of theknife hitting the cutting board as it diced the carrots. In the other room,I could hear the cartoon voices of characters from The Simpsons. It wasUncle Terry's favorite night show to watch. He usually watched two

episodes to then turn the T.V off only to get up from the couch andinterrogate my sister and me. Interrogation turned to accusations,accusations turned to yelling, yelling turned to hitting/furniturethrowing, that turned to chasing, and chasing turned to me and Angelahiding.

How much I wished that The Simpsons could play all night long.My thoughts returned to my dad and the memory of him throwing

me up in the air at a hotel pool orbited my mind. I had big, puffy

yellow floaties hooked to both of my tiny arms."Ready for takeoff?" My dad would say, a giant smile pressed

against his teeth. His hair was short, his hazel blue eyes sparkled andthere were only faint wrinkles rimming around his mouth.


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I would nod to him with an excited giggle. He would put me in his

arms and tell me to take a deep breath. I would plug my nose withstubby fingers and close my eyes shut. Then I felt the cool water washover my face, plug my ears and tickle my hair as my dad dragged mebeneath the surface. And every time, I would trust that he wouldn'tkeep me down for too long before shooting me out of the water and afew feet into the air.

I trustedmy dad. Trusted.There was a question that had been bothering me for the past eight

years. And right now, it deserved to be answered.Do you I hesitated, not knowing what Angelas reply would

be. Do you suppose Dad ever thinks about us?Angela stopped dicing the carrots and froze. She looked up and

stared straight infront of her and I could see her eyes begin to water.I dont know, Jace, she half whispered, her voice trembling as she

fought back the tears. I tilted my head to the side, watching herempathetically.

Im sorry for bringing it up, I said quickly, feeling regretful forasking the question. I knew Angela had been devastated when Dad leftus. While I was always attatched to my mom, Angela had been ten andwas much closer to Dad. To this day, it was still hard for her to talkabout his departure.

No, she said shaking her head. Dont be sorry. Check on Terrywill you?

I nodded and poked my head out of the kitchen. Uncle Terry was

half on the couch and half off, snoring loudly with his mouth wideopen. He still clutched on to his empty beer bottle and I shook my headdisapprovingly.

Unbelievable, I muttered under my breath. Hes out, I said toAngela when I returned by her side. I silently watched as she thentossed the sliced carrots into the bowel of greens. Her mouth was in afine line, her brows crooked into a frown. There was tension on herface and I knew that talking about Dad was hard for her.

I had always wanted to ask Angela what she remembered from theday that Dad left us, but I never could find the perfect moment to doso. Angela already had so much weighing her spirits down and even theslightest mention of Dad put my sister in a somber mood. I tapped myfingers on the counter, debating to ask more questions.


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Do you think maybe hes looking for us? I blurted.

She kept busying herself around the kitchenorganizing dishes,tossing croutons into the salad mix, rubbing down the counters with asponge. I wasnt sure if she had heard me and I was about to repeat thequestion until she finally answered a tense, I dont know.

I bit my lip and decided against asking any more questions. Angelahad sounded like she was going to burst into tears.

A knock from the front door startled us both and I heard UncleTerry spring awake from his sleep and fall off the side of the couch. I

reluctantly left Angela and walked out of the kitchen. But as I left, Icould hear my sister's muffled sobs. Right now, she needed to be alone,and so I didn't turn back.

You're good at that, I thought shamefully. Not turning back.As I walked through the living room, I looked down to see Uncle

Terry pointing an index finger at the couch, cursing at it and calling itnames. I shook my head and kept walking past him.

Aint you gonna help me? Uncle Terry asked in a shrill tone,

rubbing his head.Nope." My hand rested on the door handle.Jacey dontopen that thing yet, he drunkenly called out to me.Through a breath I asked why not.Because, he said matter-of-factly, pointing to the couch. I need

to teach this guy a lesson first.Of course you do, I said as my Uncle swung a fist at the couch.

His fist missed the cushions and dropped heavily to the floor. You

damn coward!" he pointed a finger into the couch as if he were poking aman in the chest.

I opened the door slightly and almost jumped back in surprise.There, in a light blue suit, Mr. Browan stood with a handful of papers.

Mayor Browan, I greeted with forced enthusiasm.Oh, please, Jacey, he giggled with a dismissive wave. I tell my

my county citizens to call me Carson or Mr. Browan! Takes the edge offand establishes that I am a townspersonjustlike you.

I smiled, but it was tight on my lips. Okay, Mr. Brown, what areyou doing here?

Howdy! he said with a hidden smile under his white mustache. Iremembered your last name and was able to ask some friendlytownspeople where the Davis residence was.


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Oh, thats creepy, I said slowly.

Those were not my intentions, he said with a cackle. But it wasmandatory that I get these release papers to you and since I was in thearea, I thought Id drop by!

And here you are! I said through a tense smile on my face. Butwhat papers?

Well is there a parent or guardian home with you, Ms. Davis?I nodded and then called for Angela to come to the door. Uncle

Terry was still on the ground, taking swings at the couch. He looked up

and stared at me blankly for a few seconds.Jacey, he slurred loudly, will you make me a mar-gah-ree-tah?I gave a quick glance at Mr. Browan. He was still smiling but his

white caterpillar brows had furrowed together. He looked confused.No you silly goose, I yelled at Uncle Terry, forcing myself to give

a playful laugh. Just a family friend, I explained to Mr. Browan. Hisexpression lightened but he still seemed a little unsure. Panic raced inmy heart. If Mr. Browan found out Uncle Terry, our guardian, was a

drunk lunaticThis could turn very bad, I thought to myself.But to my horror, I felt a push against my right side and looked up

to see Uncle Terry, stumbling and leaning against me for support. Hiseyes were bloodshot and he squinted them at Mr. Browan.

Wheres the goose? he asked, struggling not to fall over.Mr. Browan instantly put the papers under one arm and stuck his

hand out in greeting. Mayor Browan.

My uncle pushed passed me and stood in the doorway. He stared atMr. Browans hand and poked it with his index finger which just senthim into a fit of laughter. I watched in disbelief as Mr. Browanwithdrew his hand and examined it, looking puzzled.

This is my friend, uh, Jim, I quickly said, grabbing a hold of UncleTerry and trying to push him back in the house. Say hi, Jim.

Hi, Jim! Uncle Terry called outway too loudly.Angela! I yelled louder into the house, trying to push Uncle Terry

from the doorway. I heard the shutter door slam close and Angela cameswiftly to my side, holding handpicked oranges in her apron.

Sorry, she said, eyeing Uncle Terry, I was in the orchard. Whosat the door?


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The Mayor. Just come outside quick, I hissed behind my teeth as

I gave Uncle Terry one last push.Angela hustled through the doorway and I followed behind her,slamming the door shut behind me. For a few seconds, I stood holdingboth hands onto the door's handle incase Uncle Terry tried to open it.The door shook a few times and I pulled with all my weight against it asAngela made polite conversation with Mr. Browan on the porch.

Finally the door stopped shaking and I took a few deep breathsbefore walking stiffly to the end of the porch. Angela offered for him to

sit at any one of the four plastic chairs collecting cobwebs around theirlegs and dried mud. Suddenly I felt ashamed about where we lived andthe fact that Mr. Browan's expensive blue suit was probably going to geta dirt stain or two.

I took the chair across from him and my sister sat in a chair besideme, bundling up the oranges in her lap.

Whats this about? Angela asked Mr. Browan urgently, lookingfrom me to him. Jacey whatd you do?

Its what Ms. Davis isgoingto do, Mr. Browan said with a smile.I cocked my head at him and frowned. He leaned closed towards us.You,he said, pointing to me, are going to enter my Great DesertRace.

I sat back, blinking a few times. No Im not, I said, shaking myhead frantically.

Mr. Browans face fell and he too sat back in his chair.But, the Daviss are notorious for being champion endurance

riders throughout the world!Silence passed between all of us and I saw Angela avert her eyes to

the oranges in her lap.Mr. Browan looked from me and my sister desperately. Paige

Davis rode for me in The Great Desert Race just last year!And died,I emphasized.Everything fell to an awkward lonely silence. Finally Angela spoke.

Dont mind my sister, MayorI mean, Mr. Browan, she said softly,

dodging a hard look to me and then locking eyes with Mr. Monopoly.Its been hard for us this past year. Our mother, as you know, was aninternational champion. Our father, I saw Angela hesitate as shespoke softer, Daniel Davis was an Hall of Fame trainer. One ispassed and one isgone.


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Like theres really a difference, Angela, I said under my breath.

She gave me a slight shrug, twisting her mouth. My sister lookeddown at the ground and I could see her tears twinkle in her hazel eyes.Talking about mom and dad separately was hard enough. Talking aboutthem together, strewn into the same sentence, was torturous.

Mr. Browan sighed and thoughtfully looked off in the distance.Silence fell between all three of us and I grew impatient, not wanting tocarry out this conversation anymore.

Who are you two living with? he questioned, searching our faces.

Our moms brother, I replied through gritted teeth.The man nodded. Well, Im glad youre both in a stable home,

he said, gesturing to our house behind him. Angela and I exchanged aquick glance knowing that stable homewasnt exactly how wed nameour living situation. After a pause, he looked to me, the frown stillcreasing his forehead. Wouldnt you want to carry on the legacy?Redeem your Ms. Davis death with a win of your own?

Angela was the one who answered.

Jacey, here, followed in our mothers footsteps for quite awhileuntil our mom she began to choke up.

was killedon Azure Hill. The last element of your spectacularrace, I snapped angrily. I will not be competing, Mr. Browan. I stoodup from the chair so quickly it fell backwards on the porch. Thats myfinal decision. Now excuse me.

I turned and with my back stiff, walked across the porch and intothe house. I pushed the door closed with my back, then slid down its

frame and sat against it with my knees pushed up to my chest. I satthere and put my head in my hands, my mind spinning. I could feel thelump crawl up throat as tears blurred my vision.

Youll have to excuse her, I could hear my sister say through thedoor. Moms death was really hard on her.

I pressed my ear up against the frame, trying to hear more clearly.I understand, Mr. Browan said somberly.Paiges accident was

hard on all of us.

There was silence and I was about to pull away from the door whenAngela spoke up again.

What are those papers? she asked.The older man sighed. Theyre registration and release forms for

the qualifying race."


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Ill take them, Angela said.

The race is four miles long and starts at the Desert Stretch twomiles east from here, Mr. Browan explained. Make sure she knows tobring these filled out with a copy of her birth certificate. Just so wehave records on the age of our contenders.

She might change her mind.I sure hope she does, I heard Mr. Browan say.I dont know of a

better racing family in Arizona, much less the whole dang U.S.A slight chuckle rose in my throat and I blew through my

lips. What family? I whispered, pushing away from the door.I didnt want to hear anymore, so I walked through the living room

and the kitchen and decided to go check up on Mojave. The shutterdoor slammed back against the house with a sickening thudas I threwit open with force.

Dusk settled outside as the sun began to hide over the horizon. Itwasnt dark yet though, so I decided that I would have a good tenminutes of light left. The crickets were already chirping and owls

hooted in the distance. Above me, stars began to decorate the skysthrough the light sky.

I walked furiously, frowning at the ground and stubbornly makingup my mind that no, I would not race. I knew there was more fear inmy heart than anger. I was angry at Mom for racing that day; I wasangry that she left us in the hands of Uncle Terry; I was angry that shedidnt leave us any will, any moneyanything at all.

But more than all that put together, I was scared. Scared that the

same thing would happen to mescared that I would put Mojave indanger, scared that I would fail not only myself, but my sister, Mr.Browan and everyone else who counted on me to win. The best way tohandle this situation was to just not dive into it. Simple as that.

Suddenly I stopped in my tracks and held my breath. I couldvesworn I had heard the piercing cry of a horse. I concentrated hard,trying to make out the horses neighs. Then I heard it.

A horses panicked whinny and the shouts of a man pierced the

night air.Wheres Uncle Terry? I wondered, looking around our yard. The

faint shouts and the horses whinny continued in the distance.


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Suddenly, I couldnt breathe and my eyes grew wide as something

clicked in my head. I took off running, sprinting as fast as I could. Thehorses cries started getting louder as I ran through the orchard.Im coming Mojave! my mind screamed as my heart pounded faster

than my legs could run.


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five

When I reached the end of the orchard, I didnt stop running. I ranto the barbed wire fence and ducked underneath it as fast as I could

without getting pricked. Mojaves ear-piercing screams were loud and Icould see Uncle Terry stumbling around in the stall, waving a leadropein his hands. Mojave stood against the metal bars, his rear facing UncleTerry and his ears flat against his neck.

Stop! Uncle Terry stop!I screamed to him as I threw myselfbetween the stall bars. I landed on the other side and approached myuncle slowly.

Even from several feet away, I could smell the alcohol in his breath

and in his clothes. I instinctively put myself between him and my horseas Mojave nervously paced behind me. I cast a glance towards him,feeling my blood boil hotly in my ears. On his rear were horizontallines from where Uncle Terry must have smacked him with theleadrope.

Give me the rope Uncle Terry and lets go back inside, I said tohim in a shaky voice. The leadrope hung loosely from my uncles handsand he stood there with a dazed look on his face.

Who was that at the door? he demanded from me, anger rising inhis voice. I almost jumped back at his random question.

Just a businessman, I answered, stepping closer to him, eyeing therope. I had to seize the right opportunity to lunge for it and grab itfrom him.


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Youre lying to me! he screamed, throwing the leadrope over his

head and then slamming it down on me with force. It wrapped aroundmy shoulder and hit the left side of my back in a loud thud. The painburned, but with my right hand, I yanked the leadrope from myshoulder and gripped it until my nails dug deep into its fibers. Using allmy weight, I tried to yank it out of Uncle Terry's hands. But he alsopulled the leadrope, sending me flying towards him. My uncle caughtme by my hair and held my face up to his.

You called the police. Theyre going to take me away, huh?he

hissed. Spit droplets flew onto my face and even though my heart wasbeating from pure fear, I couldn't push the slight disgust that rose in mythroat. I could feel how flushed my cheeks were and how cold UncleTerry's hand was against my scalp.

No, no, Uncle Terry I swear, I pleaded, the pain on my headgrowing stronger as he tightened his grip.

Liar! he hissed at me, clutching onto my hair even more.Its Mr. Browan! He wants me to compete in The Great Desert

Race!A light sparked in Terrys eyes and he curved his mouth in a

vicious, frightening way. The one your mother died in!he shouted soloudly that my ears rang. Youre saying that to make me upset!

I struggled for a breath as he began to almost lift me off the groundby my hair. His fingers clawed at my scalp and I tried to move away.No! Its the truth! I said through gasps.

You lying bitch!

Suddenly he threw me backwards and my feet went from underme. I landed hard on my back, my head hitting the ground and the windbeing knocked out of me in a whoosh. I couldnt breathe for a fewseconds and pain surged up my back to my neck.

I started coughing furiously as dust formed around me. I could feelthe thuds of Mojaves hooves pacing just behind my head and I prayedthat he wouldnt accidentally step on me. To my horror and throughthe dust, I saw Uncle Terry waving the leadrope, ready to strike me

with it.The next few seconds went by like a blur. Above me, Uncle Terry

yelled profanities and drew the leadrope over his shoulder, about tostrike me again. But then I heard Mojave whinny angrily and I watchedas he pinned his ears back, barred his teeth, and lunged at my deranged


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uncle. Taken by surprise, Uncle Terry stumbled backwards and

screamed. He tried to swing the leadrope at Mojave but my horsereared and avoided the blow. Uncle Terry tried to swing it at him againbut Mojave lunged forward. I lifted my head to see Mojave practicallyleap forward, smashing Uncle Terrys body with his shoulder. My uncleflew backwards from the impact and fell against the stall bars, a loudding echoing as he hit his head against one of the metal railings. Iwatched his body go limp and crumble to the ground awkwardly.

Mojave continued to rear above Uncle Terry, his ears still pinned

back as he barred his teeth wildly.I forced myself to get up, even though the pain in my backcontinued to surge up through my neck. The world dipped when I wasable to get on my feet and I had to hold the stall bars for support. Irubbed my head, relieved that none of my hair was pulled out.

Mojave, I whispered, supporting my back with my hand. Mojave,its okay.

At the sound of my voice, my horse stopped rearing and pricked his

ears towards me. He walked urgently to me, nudging my hand with hisnose.

You want treats for your noble deed? I asked with a slight smile.Still supporting my back, I limped to his side and leaned against hisshoulder. I rubbed his coat and buried my face into his neck as I haddone so many times before. Mojave stood quietly, his bottom lipdrooping and his eyelids halfway closed. He had calmed down so easilyand I had wished I couldve done the same.

Mojave picked up his head and perked his ears. I instantly spunaround, expecting to see Uncle Terry. But when I looked, the drunkenman was still on the ground.

Jacey?Jacey!Angelas panicked voice carried over to me.I limped to my horses other side to see Angela running through the

gate wither her apron still on. She had obviously seen Uncle Terry onthe ground.

What happened? she asked worriedly.I leaned against the rails and watched as she opened Mojaves stall

and instantly ran to Uncle Terry. Out of breath and exhausted, Isummed up what happened, calling Uncle Terry an "out of controlschizophrenic drunk ass bastard." Angela muttered that he wasn't


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schizophrenic but didn't deny anything else and immediately went to

our uncles side.What are you doing? I demanded. Just leavehim there!I cant do that, Jace, she responded, helping Uncle Terry sit

upright. He sat up and looked around with a confused look on his face.She then put his arm around her shoulders and helped him stand up.

Why not! I yelled in a shrill tone. Why do we have to helphim?Because, she said firmly, walking Uncle Terry out of the stall,

hes the only family we have left.

Layers and layers of rage piled ontop of my heart. He is not myfamily!I yelled after her, tears clouding my vision.

Uncle Terry looked back at me in puzzlement. He clearly had beenknocked out so much that he hadnt a clue what was going on or whathad just happened.

Lets just take him to the house, Angela called somberly over hershoulder, walking towards the orchard.

I ducked beneath the rails and caught up with Angela and Uncle

Terry. I spun around infront of them, forcing them to stop in theirtracks. My uncles right eye was badly bruised and he favored his rightarm, holding it close to his chest.

If you ever touch my horse ever again, I said pointing a viciousfinger to his chest, I will killyou.

Death threats aren't my forte, but at the time, one seemednecessary.Uncle Terry just stared back at me blankly.

Do you hear me? Do you hear me!I screamed at him, my voiceechoing off the house.

Jacey, Angela said, readjusting Uncle Terrys arm.Hesintoxicated. He didnt know what he was

dont you dare defend him, Angela, I spat icily, feeling myselfchoke up. Dont you dare.

With that, I turned and sped ahead of them, my strides poundingthe ground beneath me furiously. Angry hot tears poured down my face

and I felt my heart catch fire with anger, defeat and sadness. I ranthrough the house and went straight into my room. I spun around andslammed the door closed, then opened it again and slammed it closed.The door handle painfully vibrated up my arm every time I shut it withforce but I didn't care. I continued doing this as hard as I could, letting


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the loud noise drain out my own screams. I then slammed the door

closed one last time and turned and threw some framed pictures againstthe wall. They crashed and fell to the floor, the glass scattering in alldirections.

Jumping on my bed, I buried my head into a pillow and just crieduntil I could cry no more.


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six

The next day passed quietly and neither I nor my sister made an

effort to talk to one another. Uncle Terry stayed in bed all day, hungover from the previous night. I had woken up to his screams as he tookin his appearance that morning.

Jacey! he called to me.Jacey! Do you see this?I was still in my jeans and dirty t-shirt, lying atop the sheet covers.

I turned my head slightly just in time to see Uncle Terry stumble in myroom, cupping his right hand over his right eye. He looked absolutelyfrantic and a little part of me enjoyed watching him be so uneasy, so

upset, and so beaten up.When he took his hand from his eye, I smiled slightly.Karma always finds a way, I thought to myself as I took in the black

and blue bruising lining Uncle Terrys eyebrow. The bruising was darkand extended from his eyebrow along the ridge of his right eye.

What happened to me? Do you know? he shrilly asked.I turned and looked up towards the ceiling, trying to think of

something rude to retort back at him. Before I could say anything,

Uncle Terry walked across my room to the full body mirror that hungfrom the wall. He pressed his face to it and ran his fingers along thedeep bruising.I look like I either got mauled by a bear or punched by Brad Pitt, hemumbled to himself.


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Worse, I said, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.

Uncle Terry spun his head around. "What?I pushed myself up on one elbow. Its too awful to talk about.Believe me, youdont want to know.

No, no, Uncle Terry said, kneeling besides mybed. Tell me.I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. Seeing Uncle Terry so incredibly

alarmed sadly made my heart flutter. Taking a dramatic deep breath, Itried to keep up with leading Uncle Terry on to this game of mine andat the same time, contain my laughter.

Well, I said, looking up to see Angela approaching my room,why dont you have Angela tell you?

Tell youwhat? My sister asked, holding a basket full of laudry.Tell me whatawfulthing happened to me last night, Uncle

Terry said, peering up at Angela.Angela cocked an eyebrow. You fell?I saw Uncle Terrys shoulders relax, but he cocked his head in

confusion. Thats it? But Jacey said. He frowned at me and I just

shrugged.Angela looked from me to Uncle Terry and cocked her head. She

then focused on me and I returned her stare with a small wink. Sheshook her head slowly and looked down on Uncle Terry.

Forget what Jacey said, Angela said as though she were talkingdown to a two year old as a smirk formed at her lips. Shes justmessing with you cause she hates you.

Ding! Ding! I sounded, falling back onto the bed. We have a

winner!I think Im going to be sick! Uncle Terry suddenly exclaimed as

he doubled over, holding his stomach.Out! I demanded, keeping my eyes on the ceiling and hanging my

hand off the bed to point towards the door.From the corner of my eye, I could see Angela balance the laundry

basket beneath her arm and help Uncle Terry up from the floor. Shegently pushed him out of the room in which case he headed straight for

the bathroom. Before Angela left my room, she tossed a few clothes atme on the bed. They landed on my head and I tossed them aside. Iknew that Angela was still standing in the doorway.

Jacey? she asked in a sad tone.


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I didnt answer her but instead turned over on my side, facing the

opposite end of the room. Silence filled the room thicker than water.When you can, I need some groceries.I heard Angela set down the laundry basket and take a few steps

towards me. There was still resentment in my chest for my sister fromyesterday. Why did she have to protect Uncle Terry? Find excuses forhim? Rationalize his awful actions? Even after he had attack my horseandme? It didn't make sense to me and I vowed not to let it go thistime.

Angela walked towards me until she was standing over me like atree.Heres ten bucks. Just get anything for dinner. She reached over andshoved the money into my hand that I cradled beneath my chin. I heardher then take something off my nightstand.

What was she doing? Taking my empty glass cup? My chapstick?I continued to search through my mind everything that I had on my

tiny white nightstand. But a swinging shadow gave it away and I looked

up to see my sister dangling my racing stopwatch over my face.You got twenty minutes.I smiled slightly, crunching the money beneath my palm. I heard a

small click.Go!

Before Angela could even blink, I jolted from the bed and sprintedpast her. She just watched after me, smiling and shaking her headgently. She knew I could not bear to refuse a challenge.

I ran faster through the backyard and through the orchard, makingmy way to Mojave.

A mile there and a mile back, I thought to myself.The qualifying race was four miles. A light bulb flashed brightly in

the pit of my mind and I almost stopped in my tracks. Mojave and Iwould be doing half of the qualifying race in just twenty minutes.

Walking out to where Mojave was, I thought deeply to myself,watching my shoes as they crunched the fallen leaves from the orchard

around me. Did I have a shot at the qualifying race? Better yet, did Ieven have a single chance of finishing the grueling one hundred mile racethat would be taken place in just a few weeks?


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Mojave was a special horse and I knew with me on his back, I was

special rider. But doubts crowded my mind and I felt a sob begin tochoke me.Youre not special enough to win The Great Desert Race, I bitterly

thought to myself.Who was I to say that I could achieve something like that? Im a

teenage girl who lives in a house of abuse and poverty, control andabsolute neglect. I dont know who I am, where Im supposed to be,what my sole purpose of being in the middle of an Arizona desert is. I

live to ride against the sun and taste the freedom only Mojave and Icould reach.There was nothing about me that was special.

Maybe the name Jacey was special because Ive never met anyonewith that name before. But I couldnt even find that to be the least bitcomforting.

Mojave cantered steadily alongside the two-lane highway. Only afew cars buzzed by but for the most part the highway wasnt crowded. Ipushed up my right sleeves to reveal my small watch. It was countingdown from twenty minutes. I leaned forward in the saddle andextended my hands into Mojaves neck, urging him to canter at a fasterpace. Mojave and I only had about twelve minutes left and the storesbig sign reading Big Als Superstore was still far off in the distance.

The loud thump of a bass approached behind us and I smiled tomyself, recognizing the song blasting the speakers of a red pick-uptruck.

Beastie Boys, I mumbled to myself.The truck sped up next to us. I gave a side-glance as the passenger

in the car began to manually role down the window. A blonde ladywith bright ruby lipstick waved at me from the passengers seat.

Youre going pretty fast! she called out to me through the

whirlwind of her blonde hair.I almost smirked. He can go faster! I yelled, my words being

taken back by the wind.Lets see! she challenged, sitting back in her seat. She pointed

forward and a driver in a trucker hat nodded. The truck sped forward


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and I leaned low over Mojave's neck like a jockey. His black mane

whipped my face as I shot my hands forward infront of me.Lets fly! I yelled, focusing my eyes between his ears.Mojave gave a silent nicker, his nostrils vibrating as he took off into

a whole different gear. He stretched his neck down and I felt his backextend as he pushed off his hindquarters, giving him the rocket speed weneeded to catch up to the car. His hooves pounded the desert groundlike thunder and he shot up right along side the car in seconds.

The woman in the passengers seat began to hit the driver on the

shoulder to get his attention. He looked past her at me and instantly,his jaw dropped. The driver peered over his steering wheel and thenthe lady followed his gaze.

When she turned back to me, her eyes were wide. Youre goingthirty-eight!

I sat back into the saddle, shocked at her words. Thirty-eight milesper hour? Thats only two less than the speed of a professionally trainedThoroughbred racehorse. I pulled Mojave back, fighting for the reins.

No, that couldnt be right, I told myself. Could it?I fought the small golden horse, trying to slow him as the red pick-

up truck took off beyond us. I heard a loud yell and the passenger stuckher hand out of the window.

Woah, Mojave, I said, shaking my head and finally slowing him.That was dumb. Dont wanna breakyou down, buddy.

He finally resigned and fell into a quick trot.The speed of a racehorse, I repeated in my head. Why couldnt I wrap

my head around the fact that Mojave could be that fast? Suddenly a newfound confidence made my heart flutter. If we were to compete in arace, Im sure we would make a great effort for first place.

Theres still a chance for The Great Desert Race. The thought broughtme hope. My horse was fast and together we were even fasterbut didwe have what it took to enter a race of this caliber?

I trotted Mojave into the rugged parking lot of Big Als Superstore,feeling the bitter taste of temptation on the tip of my tongue.I have the horse, I am the rider, but I dont have the confidence.

Too bad everyone always told me that confidence is the key tounlock anything.


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seven

I rode up to the edge of Big Als. Immediately, a boy with brightblue eyes popped up from his lawnchair to greet me. He was wearing abrown cowboy hat.

Whats with the new Cowboy fashion trend? I thought with a grimacingface as I skimmed over the approachers outfit. He had on browncowboy boots, ruddy jeans and a red button up flannel. When hesmiled at me as he got closer, I expected for him to have missing teethor something. But when he greeted me through a widespread grin, his

teeth were in perfect conditionand were a shining perfect white.Even hillbillies use Crest white strips, I thought, enticing a laugh in my

belly. I tried to cover it up with a cough. My giggles subsided when thecowboy drew closer. His eyes were a sparkling aquablue and I couldnthelp but stare into them. They were mesmerizing.

WowI mean, hey, I said snapping out ofmy trance and shakingmy head. Do I leave my horse with you?

The cowboy smiled. Yesm. Usually Im inside all day bagging

groceries, but the dude who watches the horses isnt here today. I nodded and swung off Mojaves back. I navigated the reins over

my horses head and handed them to the cowboy. Dont do anything tospook him. And dont try and touch his ears, he hates that. Also dontyell at him


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Why would I yell at him? he asked with a half smile.

I dont know, I snapped. Just dont do it.No worries, he smiled again. Your horse is in good hands for theten minutes you spend in there."

I dont have ten minutes to spare, I said, walking backwards inthe direction of the store.

Oh, he giggled. You eager to get home to watch some realityTV?

I raised my eyebrows at him. Nope. I was given a challenge and

Im being timed.The cowboy nodded his head. Protective and competitive, hestated, blankly patting Mojaves neck. He seemed to be lost in his ownthoughts.I frowned at his words, wondering to myself what he was getting at.

Just like your mom, he added in a bewildered voice.I stopped short from walking backwards, the momentum almost

pushing me over. What was that?

The cowboy looked to me, the smile faded from his lips and hisblue eyes dimmer in their color. From here, they looked grey.

Paige Davis used to ride over here for groceries all the time, heexplained. Said one day Id see her daughter come riding up thisparking lot to do the same. He bit the inside of his cheek. She also saidyoud follow her footsteps in racing.

I cast my eyes to the pavement. Im not.Thats a shame, he sighed. She left such a legacy. He then

grabbed underneath Mojaves chin and held his muzzle up to his face.And your name would have to be Mo-haw-vee if I can recall. Paige usedto ride you in races when the Davis family was in their prime. She saidthat she got you from a kill pen for a hundred and fifty bucks. Heturned to me. Is that true?

I nodded idly, feeling too ashamed to look up from the ground.Some invisible hand clamped my throat and I began to choke up.Without a word, I turned to walk up to the automatic doors of Big Als.

My names Xach by the wayXach with an X!the cowboy calledafter me.

I kept walking, too lost in my own thoughts to turn back.Follow her footsteps. Left such a legacy. His words echoed my mind.


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I had always felt as though I was shadowed by my moms great

racing success and noble horsemanship. The pressure anchored myshoulders and it seemed like everywhere I went, even the grocery store,I was expected to follow after the great Paige Davis and continue thespellbounding legacy.

Those were their expectations. However, the only expectations Ihad of myself were to just get through the day. If I could make itthrough the day in one piece, then I was fine.

And I resolved in my mind that no racebig or smallcould ever

grant me that kind of satisfaction.

When I returned after a few minutes carrying a single grocery bag, Idecided to just leave Big Als as quickly as I could, not just because I wasbeing timed, but because I didnt want to hear one more word about mymoms legacy.

Because in all truth, my mom didnt have a legacy anymore.No, she was deadbecause of what she loved. And I felt offended

that the pressure to fill her shoes was unfairly branded on my forehead.Plus, deep down in my heart, I knew I could never be as good as aninternational distance racing champion.

I was just Jacey Davis. Nothing more.Hey, Xach said when I reached him and Mojave. Im sorry I

brought up your mom. I know you and your sister are still recovering.

He exchanged Mojaves reins for the grocery bag in my hands.Let me guessthe horse told you that? I retorted sarcastically.No, but the town talks and their concerned for you. I mean, do

you even go to school, Jacey? Because you surely dont go to the local

Would youpleasebutt out of my life? I barked, slipping a footin the stirrup.

All Im saying is that Snowflake misses the Davis family. Everyone

talks about you all.Family, I repeated under my breath before swinging into the

saddle and collecting the reins. You mean everyone talks about mymom. I dodged a quick look down at my watch. Twelve minutes left.


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Xach came up next to me and placed a soft hand on my boot. I

tried not to recoil from his touch, but I didgive him an uneasy look.No, the people here are concerned. I mean, one day youre sisteris volunteering in town, being the do-gooder of Snowflake, and the nextminute shesgonefor ayear.

I rolled my eyes. God, you dont even knowus. Why should youcare?

I care because your mom talked a lot about you and your sister toeveryone, he handed me the grocery bag which I tied around the saddle

horn. After a long pause of silence, he added in a whisper, I feel like Iknew you before I even met you today. She was so proud of both ofyou.

I stared at him for a few moments and tears began to blur myvision. I looked straight ahead, feeling my bottom lip quiver as Ithreatened to break down in sobs.

Take care, Xach, I said, not looking at him. I didnt wait for hisresponse, wanting to get out of there as soon as I could. Instantly, I

kicked Mojave forward into a canter, feeling like a train had just hit mein the stomach and vacuumed me beneath it. I had never talked aboutMoms death with anyone else but Angela before, not even with UncleTerry. It was hard bringing up such a sensitive subjectespecially witha complete stranger.

Bye, Jacey, Xach muttered under his breath as he watched Mojaveand I disappear down the highway.


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eight

When I came home, the sun was already close to done setting. Ihad exactly two minutes left to spare. I untacked Mojave and put him in

his stall and quickly brushed him down. I then gave him a quick pat andkiss on the muzzle before turning to sprint through the orchard and upto the house.

I busted through the door to find Angela sitting at the table, readinga magazine.

I need to talk to you, she announced without looking up at me. Iheard a click and she brought a stopwatch from her lap and gave it aquick glance. A minute to spare, she said, looking up from her

magazine.I nodded my head, feeling accomplished with myself but longing forAngela to feel the same way too. I dropped the grocery bag beside her.

Got some Lean Cuisines. When she nodded approvingly, Icouldnt resist my curiosity anymore. What do youneed to talk about?

Angela indicated to a chair across from her. Sit down, Jace.I did as she said and pulled a chair out and sat down, feeling uneasy

by the tense atmosphere. I felt like I was back in elementary school,

sitting in a principals office and waiting on the edge of my seat to knowwhy I was called in.

Angela turned back to her magazine but I felt like she wasntreading at all. Her eyes seemed unfocused on the celebrity gossip


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before her. After a minute of silence, I played with my hands nervously

and then asked her again what she needed to talk about.Mr. Browan called, she replied, still staring down at the magazinepages. I let my shoulders relax but I blinked a few times.

Howhow did he get our number?Angela sighed. The townspeople.I shook my head. So if a serial killer was to ask around for our

address and our phone number, the town would just give it out like itwere loose change. Thats comforting.

Well good thing Mr. Browan isnt a serial killer, my sister said ina dull, bored voice. Her eyes didnt leave the pages.

As far as we know, I corrected, eyeing her. Something wasdefinitely on her mind,but I couldnt

flyaway: inspired by true events

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