Agustin reached up and clicked the girth strap tight. The bay mare stood calm while his fingers worked the buckle. Her dark coat gleamed like wet mahogany under the warm stable lights.
He lifted the saddle and settled it onto her back. His fingers found the buckle and clicked it home. She shifted her weight but stood still as he drew the girth snug.
He led her out into the arena. Arena lights buzzed above. On the rail, his mother clapped once. His father raised the camera and framed the shot.
He squeezed his legs and the bay mare moved forward. The first jump flashed bright orange ahead. She hesitated — then launched upward. Hooves kicked the air as they soared past.
His father whooped. The small crowd murmured. They landed soft and kept going, cantering along the rail past the next jump.
They circled the arena. Each jump came and went. One clean round after another, until only one remained.
At last, the final fence rose against the sunset. White poles. Tall. He patted the mare's neck. She snorted and blew warm air. He whispered, We've got this.
The bell rang. He nudged forward. The mare gathered herself and rode the leap with perfect form. They cleared it.
Dust swirled as they landed. He threw both arms in the air. Across the rail, his parents were already moving. The mare stamped her hoof.
They vaulted over the rail and ran to him. His mother knelt and pulled him down into her arms. His father pressed a hand to his shoulder.
The mare stamped again, proud and restless. The arena rang with cheering. Agustin buried his face in her neck and laughed.
The crowd surged forward. The mother and father laughed together, eyes bright. Inside, Agustin felt something enormous and bright — the kind of feeling that lasts all year.