Family
My view from the top of Gnarly included the road at the end of the long lane, congested with cars even though it was early afternoon. Nowhere close to rush hour. The road was on the map, of course. It had probably been a horse track back when the land was being used as a cemetery. Soon to be replaced by a superhighway, unless I could do something to stop it.
They had him. He fell to the floor. The big man kicked him in the ribs.
"He saw me!" said the big man. "He saw me. I know he did."
The boy scrambled backward, petrified, his back against the wall.
The big man pointed his gun, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Bolt burst into a trot. Sam's heart jumped down his throat. Up and down, up and down, he bounced in the saddle. His feet flew out of the stirrups. The fence and then barn and Grandpa flashed by. "Whoa!" yelled Sam. "Whoa!" Grandpa stepped in front of Bolt. He grabbed the reins and pulled Bolt to a stop. Sam took a huge breath. "I'm getting off!" he said. He slid off the horse. It was a long way to the ground. His legs wobbled. He thought Grandpa would be disgusted with him. But Grandpa looked pleased. "Not bad for your first time," he said.
