I’ve had Rowdy since I was ten. We practically grew up together. When my parents divorced, I didn’t turn to people—I turned to him. He’s been there for every move, every birthday I didn’t want to celebrate, every heartbreak I never spoke out loud.
But sometimes, life forces your hand. With my mom juggling multiple jobs and my financial aid unexpectedly falling through, we had to make hard decisions. A buyer from Tulsa offered cash and planned to pick up Rowdy on Sunday.
I didn’t sleep that entire week.
That morning, I went to the barn early. I brushed Rowdy, trying to remind myself he was just a horse. That we needed the money. But when I led him toward the gate, he wouldn’t budge.
Then something happened that stopped me in my tracks—he reached out and wrapped a leg around my hip. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before. It felt like a hug. Like he somehow knew.
Right then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from an unknown number:
“Don’t sell him. Check your saddlebag.”
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