Work in Progress Wednesday- October 6th, 2021

Hey everyone! It's starting to feel like fall out there. All I want is to get cozy and spend all day writing stories, but the truth is, we've had a pretty mild fall so far, and my garden is still producing like crazy- which means I have to spend my time trying to get everything preserved. That said, I'm still trying to squeeze in some writing every day- I'd like to have the rough draft of this work-in-progress finished by mid-November.

This current story is a young adult novel about a teenage girl who is worried her father might be getting back into his old horse rustling ways- and when he is nearly killed in an accident and stolen racehorses are found in the trailer he was hauling, she's devastated to find out she's right. She can't lose her dad, the only parent she has left. As she tries to look after her family's ranch while her father recovers, she discovers more and more secrets about her family...and about the kind of business they've been involved in. And the more she finds out, the more danger she's in.

Anyways, here's the first few pages of the opening chapter. This is the very first draft- what I like to call my "Shitty First Draft" (thanks, Anne Lamott for the term!)- so yeah, it needs a LOT of work. But have a look, and feel free to tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!

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Chapter One

The big chestnut colt tossed his head impatiently- then dropped it and tried to buck. I tightened the reins a notch and squeezed hard with my legs to encourage him to keep moving forward. He snorted, but obeyed.

"Hey! Isn't that Jim's daughter? What's she doing on that horse?" I heard someone yell.

I glanced over to the training track's rail to see Dale Crawford Junior- part owner of this colt- scowling at me. Mack Brinley, the colt's trainer, stood beside him. He was absolutely purple with anger. My dad, Jim McGregor, and Dale Senior, stood away from the crowd, looking amused. Dad grinned and Senior waved. Dale Senior owned the other half of the colt. Probably the front half, seeing as Dale Junior was a horse's back half, to put it nicely.

I breathed a small sigh of relief and focused on the colt, Bucky, since he was a handful and I figured he'd be quick to take advantage of any inattention. If Senior was amused, I figured I wouldn't be in so much trouble when this ride was over. Well, I hoped not, anyway.

"Hey, you!" Mack yelled. "Bring that colt back here!"

Bucky jigged under me, eager to run. I ignored Mack and loosened the reins again. Bucky shot forward and almost unseated me. Not to brag or anything, but that doesn't happen very often. I grabbed for his mane to catch my balance again, then crouched over the colt's withers jockey-style. In case you're wondering, I'm not a jockey. Or even an exercise-rider. I do ride and train barrel racers at my Dad's ranch, and I have worked with racehorses in the past, but I'm just a high school kid with a knack for staying on bratty horses. From the sounds of things, this horse was pretty bratty, although so far, I've only noticed that he's a handful because he likes to play and run.

I ended up riding him because Mack had no idea who's who around here. I came with Dad on an errand. I'd mostly wanted to come to see my old horse, who Dad had sold to Junior's daughter a couple years ago, as well as see his daughter's new barrel horse she'd been bragging about all week. Then I saw they were still working racehorses, so I wandered over to watch while Dad talked with Dale Junior about hauling some horses. Mack spotted me and seemed to think I worked there and was supposed to be the new rider for the snorting, rearing colt the groom was leading over. The colt looked like fun, so I didn't bother telling Mack otherwise- not that he'd listen anyway. So after getting scolded for not having a helmet, and the groom finding me a spare one, I hopped on Bucky and rode out onto the track. And here we are- me having the time of my life on the fastest horse I've ever sat on, and Mack infuriated to the verge of having a stroke (not that I want him to have one- it's just funny how angry he is about me doing what he asked me to do).

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Photo- Phillipe Oursel, Unsplash