Ghetto Cowboy Read Online Free PDF Page B

calling scared?”
    He shakes his head. “Nobody, unless you
are
scared. Now, come here.”
    I take a few steps in, and the horse snorts and backs up to the wall.
    Harper hands me some hay. “Hold it out for him.”
    I look at Harper like he crazy.
    “He’s not gonna bite you. Just do it.”
    I hold it up, and the horse looks at it.
    “Say something to him. He’ll come.”
    My mind goes blank. “Like what?”
    He rolls his eyes. “What would you say to a dog?” he asks.
    That is one big dog. “Uh . . . come here, boy?”
    “You got it.” He nods.
    And with that, Harper walks out.
    “Hey.” I turn around, but he gone. Then I feel a tug on my arm. I turn slowly and see the biggest head I ever seen on anything right in front of my face.
    I can’t move.
    The horse’s big ol’ nose is sniffing me. I can feel it huffin’ and puffin’, its nostrils opening up like they gonna suck me right in. Then it raises its head and
CHOMP,
these giant teeth start pulling at the hay in my hand, chewin’ away, his big ol’ eyes staring at me. It bites closer to my hand, and I let go. He follows the hay to the ground and he keeps eating, like I ain’t even there.
    This thing is huge. I just stare at his giant yellow teeth as they crunch away. He do kinda act like a dog, so I slowly put my hand on his neck like Harper done. He don’t flinch. His hair is rough like doll hair, but the fur on his neck is soft and smooth.
    “Good boy . . .” I whisper.
    I think about how Harper talked to the horse earlier. I let my hand move up to his neck and keep saying, “Good boy, good boy.” He moves his hoof and almost steps on my foot. I can feel his weight when that hoof goes down. That makes me nervous, like maybe he don’t know how big he is. But when I look back up at his face, he looking right at me, and then I know he knows that I’m there. And suddenly I don’t feel so scared no more.

I finish up and wait for Harper. Outside the barn door, I can see the sun turning orange as it gets low in the sky. Sun feels different here than in Detroit, bigger maybe. I can see the downtown buildings way off in the distance, the freeway hustling nearby.
    I hear a bang go off in the distance. I think it’s a car backfiring, but then a few more go off and I know it’s gunshots. That much is the same as Detroit. Pretty soon, I hear a ’copter chopping overhead. I can feel it in my body as it whooshes by. It ain’t going far.
    Harper pops his head in. “Time to go.” I’m covered in dirt and who knows what. He nods, like he approves. “You’ll feel it in the morning.”
    Harp closes up the barn and puts some other stuff in the storage room while I spend about ten minutes cleaning the muck from my Nikes.
    When we walk out onto the street, I notice all the kids is gone. About ten of the guys is left, gathered around a fire in a trash can on the vacant lot across the way, sittin’ on a old couch and chair somebody left behind. Some of them is Harper’s age, but they dress different — wearing goatees and shades, black cowboy hats, Levi jackets, and boots. They look tall and serious, like a cowboy Malcolm X. They knocking back some brews, talking trash about some race coming up at a place called the Speedway.
    The Muslim guy, who ain’t drinking, waves to Harper. “Hey, you letting Lightning out tomorrow?”
    Harper smiles, all sly. “Who wants to know?”
    The Muslim dude laughs, points to another guy I ain’t seen before, a dude as big as Notorious B.I.G., wearing a red Phillies jacket.
    “Big Dee says he’s got a hundred riding on a Lightning-Rocket rematch.”
    Tex pipes in, egging Harper on. “That is if you ain’t too
scared.
 . . .”
    The other guys start chanting,
Race, race, race.
    I can tell Harper likes the attention.
    Big Dee holds up his big hand. “When you gonna grace us with your presence, Harp? It’s been three months, man!”
    Harper smiles. “You know, once you been king for so long, it gets kinda