Colt by Nancy Springer Read Free Book Online Page A

wished she would pay more attention to her book.
    He decided what he wanted to say to her, then waited until after the other riders had gone, until he had her alone, except for Mrs. Reynolds. Actually, he spoke to Janet Reynolds, although he wanted his mother to hear. “Mrs. Reynolds,” he said softly, “I want to learn how to trot. Maybe even canter. I want to go fast on a horse. And I want to go out on the trails.”
    Wanna, wanna, wanna. It could have sounded bratty, but it did not. Even Colt noticed it did not. Funny how he never got bratty when he was talking about horseback riding.
    Mrs. Reynolds looked back at him just as seriously.
    â€œCan he do those things?” Colt’s mother asked her. “I mean is it possible?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she replied to both of them. She knew Colt could raise himself from the saddle for short periods of time. Maybe he would be able to post to a trot. But whether his seat would ever be tight enough for safety at a canter … “I don’t know. We’ll just have to work, and see.”

Chapter Five
    Colt worked.
    He had just enough strength in his upper legs to kneel. Sometimes. Every day at home he practiced to strengthen his posting muscles by kneeling without support. Mrs. Reynolds had said that he needed strength in his abdominal muscles to post too, so he did sit-ups as well. Or rather, more sit-ups than usual. And, while he was at it, push-ups.
    Rosie had exercises to do too, for cross-country, warm-ups and stretches. He would sprawl on the bedroom floor and limber his legs. One day, feeling companionable, Colt joined him and started doing push-ups.
    Rosie stared a moment, then flipped over on his belly and started doing push-ups too.
    Cold did more push-ups.
    Rosie did more push-ups.
    Colt speeded the tempo a bit, doing push-ups faster.
    Rosie matched his roommate’s pace and started to pant.
    Colt began counting aloud. “Forty, forty-one … How many you want to do, Rosie?”
    â€œAs—many—as—you’re good for,” Rosie puffed.
    â€œOkay.” Cheerfully Colt pumped his way to fifty. Fifty push-ups was no big deal to him any longer.
    Past fifty, he noticed, Rosie slowed down a good bit. Colt slowed down to stay with him, and counted his way aloud through the sixties. He had just hit seventy and was aiming for seventy-five when Rosie collapsed on the floor with a groan.
    â€œGod! How can you do that?”
    â€œDo—what?” Colt was puffing now too, but still pumping. He figured since he was feeling good he’d try for a hundred push-ups.
    â€œAll those push-ups, turkey!”
    â€œDon’t worry—it’s not your fault.” Breathing hard, Colt still managed to insult Rosie between efforts. “Everybody knows—cross-country runners are no good—at push-ups.”
    â€œAw, jeez! You better watch out. I’m gonna sneak in here some night and take all the hair off your arms.”
    Colt grinned and quit at eighty-five.
    Someday he’d get to a hundred. He might need strong arms someday, to control a headstrong horse. But for now he mostly needed posting muscles. Once he could kneel steadily, he tried to lower himself backward a little as if to sit down, then come up again. He held imaginary reins in front of his chest so that he would not use his hands to help himself.
    I—can’t—do it .
    Tried again.
    I—gotta—do it !
    He couldn’t, at first. And then after a few days he could do it once, just barely, maybe an inch. And then after a couple of weeks of hard work he could do it a few times, maybe two inches deep. Lauri tried it with him sometimes, and she could sit on her feet and come back up again without using her hands. But Lauri was a gymnast. And Lauri did not have spina bifida.
    Altogether Colt was working his body harder than he ever had in his life, and Mrs. Berry, who saw him twice a week for physical therapy,