Ready, Rosie?

“HEY! DON’T TELL me you’re scared!” Sasha smirked at Rosie, then leaned into her horse’s cheek and circled his head with her arms, as if he were nothing but a big stuffed animal.

“I’m not.” The lie didn’t sound as definite as Rosie wished it did. She turned away from Sasha. How could her bunkmate be so comfortable around these huge animals?

Rosie shuddered, backing away from where she stood outside the ring as Nugget blew out a long snort from her post inside. After begging to come to two weeks of riding camp instead of trailing after her violinist dad and French horn-playing mom on the symphony’s summer tour, Rosie’s cowgirl riding dreams had dried up like the red-brown dirt at her feet.

All winter Rosie had pictured herself galloping on a palomino down the country roads and fields in the camp brochure. Since she was little, whenever she and her parents headed out of town to where Chicago turned into country,