Sweat trickles down her neck and contributes to her discomfort.
“Jumping Jehoshaphat,” she mutters to herself after she adjusts her cowboy hat and sits tall in the saddle.
Spirit stomps his feet, paws the ground and appears out of sorts.
Kamala bends down and rubs the side of his neck. “I mustn’t forget the ears. They also deserve some undivided attention.”
Spirit neighs.
“And let me schedule the run for another day.”
He swings his tail freely.
Who says horses can’t communicate?