By Jeff Baker
The grass, trees and bushes were a blur as Jakeem clung tightly to the horse.
How much further, he wondered?
Beneath him, the horse Clyde was breathing hard.
Jakeem wasn’t sure what was in the envelope folded in his pocket but his Uncle had assured him it was important. He was eleven years old. No one had ever trusted him with anything important before.
He had ridden all his life. He had never been so unsure of himself. The green hills all looked the same, what if he got lost?
Clyde made a long, slow turn. Was he supposed to do that?
Jakeem remembered what his Dad had told him: Trust the horse. Trust Clyde.
But Clyde was definitely running somewhere unfamiliar to Jakeem. He clung to Clyde.
They raced between two tall, green hills.
There! The house, the barn, the familiar dirt road! His Grandfather’s shiny red pickup truck parked by the buildings.
Clyde had known a shortcut.
Clyde slowed to a trot as they approached the gate. A line from a song he’d heard was playing in his head:
The horse knows the way/To carry the sleigh…