This week, Susan Mihalic releases her debut novelDark Horses.

Below, read an excerpt ofDark Horses.

“Hey, you.”

I rolled launch the stall door.

“We’re riding out.”

Jasper dipped his head to place it in the noseband of the halter, and I buckled the strap.

On two walls, saddles perched on saddle trees, protected from dust by canvas covers.

Rows of bridles lined the space above them.

On the fourth wall, shelves held grooming kits, each labeled with the name of a horse.

I took Jasper’s kit and swiped a handful of sweet grain from the feed room.

His lips skimmed it from my palm.

“Your daddy sees you hand-feeding that horse, he’ll have your hide,” Eddie said.

He had a leg wrap in one hand and a bottle of liniment in the other.

“I always hand-feed him.

Anyway, Daddy’s not here.”

“He’s in the foaling barn.

I always say you got more guts than brains.”

“It’s not a compliment,” Eddie said.

“How’s Sadie?”

“Drugged up on muscle relaxants.

She may lose the foal.

We’ll know more in the next few hours.”

Eddie continued on his way, turning toward the stud barn.

As I groomed Jasper, I spoke softly to him.

He was in good flesh despite the hard competition at Middleton.

I took his bridle and hunt saddle from the tack room.

“We’re going into the hills.

What do you say?

The pastures were dotted with horses.

Fences, dark brown rails dipped in creosote, raced across the fields at right angles.

Regardless of Mama’s attempts at manipulation and the trouble brewing between her and Daddy, I felt good.

“I can’t go,” I told Jasper.

One ear swiveled toward me, indicating he was listening.

What would a date with Will be like?

What would we talk about?

Would he kiss me, and would it be hard or soft, with tongue or without?

Given his remark about Sass, he might expect more than kissing.

My fantasy of pizza and a movie and a gentle good-night kiss okay, with tongue dissolved.

He was a total burnout, and he knew nothing about horses.Ride on, for God’s sake.

Jasper turned his head to look at me, and I became aware that I’d stopped riding.

I was simply sitting there, stock-still, halfway up the hill.

“You’re right,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter.

I’m not going on a date with anyone anytime soon.”

Sunday night supper, Gertrude’s casserole, and Daddy.

I did have a date.

And it was tonight.

Copyright 2021 by Susan Mihalic.