The crowd thought the boy in the wheelchair was helpless-until the wild mustang lowered his head to his boots

trailer at the far edge of the fairgrounds. The crowd noise had faded into the general racket of the event: gates clanging, hooves striking panels, diesel engines coughing awake,  men calling to one another across the lot. Dust coated his wheels so thickly the black rubber looked tan.

His arms ached. His hands would not stop shaking.

A shadow fell across continue reading …