Page 94 of Famous for a Living

None, though, so loud as Mina. “Go! C’mon, team! Go! Go! Go!”

It’s a loud cry, impressive given the distance—until I see she’s no longer on the haystack but running alongside the track, cheering us on with raised arms.

“Go, Cat!” she cries, running. “Go, Zaiah! You. Can. Do. It. C’moooon!” She’s shaking the gate. Actually shaking it.

I swipe spraying snow from my goggles with my forearm and grin. The snow-covered ground is packed tight, despite the dozen or so sets of hooves that have trod upon it today.

My legs burn in that familiar way that they only do when on a pair of skis, and I settle into position as the first jump comes into view.

Here we go.

Zaiah whips his head back, making sure he’s guided me in line with the ramp.

I take it and then follow the incline.

His eyes are still on me, he in his cowboy hat craning his neck around as he watches my first jump.

My first reach for the ring.

I let go of one hand on the rope in the air.

Loop my hand through.

Feel the ring slide up my arm.

One down.

Cheers erupt as I land. A massive smile overtakes my face.

Kevin’s standing beside Mina now as close to the track as possible, Mina clutching her hands. “Gooooooo!” she screams, then makes massive, elaborate sweeping motions with her arms.

Two more jumps, and I see what she means.

I hear the cadence of Zaiah’s horse. The clop, snap, clop, snap, clop of his run.

My eyes tick to the giant clock beside the stands.

It’s fast. Yes.

On par with several of the teams who’ve gone before.

But not fast enough.

“Speed up!” I yell, and Zaiah looks back.

I yell it again, and see in his eyes the hesitation. Feel it, even, from his legs pressed against the horse through the rope, to my hands, to my own burning thighs.

The doubt.

The decision of whether to trust the words of the petite girl in the white leisure coat or his own instincts.

I raise my eyebrows.

He shakes his head at me but turns forward.

Snaps the reins.

The extra energy is immediate.