is it just me or is no one reading this anymore? if you are reading it, you should review. cause otherwise i think noones reading it...


"Mustang!" Mustang turned to see Dutchy running toward her. She slowed down and he fell into step next to her. "What've yeh been doing?" She cocked her head to one side. "The last couple a weeks yeh've been disappearing in da mornin." Mustang chewed on her lip for a moment. In truth, she'd been at the racetracks every morning training Firebird.

"You'll find out this afternoon. Just listen to what Racetrack tells yeh. I'll see yeh later." She kissed him on the cheek and headed to the racetrack.

"Listen ta what Racetrack tells me. Oh dear..."Dutchy muttered, following the stream of newsies to the distribution office. Racetrack told them to meet at the restraunt at noon today and everyone agreed.

Mustang met up with Rattler in the barn and they made their way down to Firebird's stall. The horse owners and jockeys that she had once found so intimidating were now just like the ribbons that hung on the walls. Decoration. Nothing to be feared. Nothing of any importance. Until she was in that start gate. She stomach fluttered at the thought. Today was her first race. They'd only had two weeks of training and she'd be lining up against jockeys who'd been racing for years. Her legs started to feel weak and she was afraid she would fall flat on her face until they reached Firebird's stall. She held a hand to the window and felt the horse's warm breath. Firebird still pinned her ears, but the sweet smelling air was all she needed to calm herself.

"Yeh ready fer today?" Mustang looked up and saw he was looking at Firebird, not her. However, she had gotten to know Rattler well enough to know he was still talking to her.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Dat's not good enough." Now he turned to face her. "Yeh've gotta be more ready than yeh've eva been. Yeh've gotta know ya can win, and yeh've gotta want it. Yeh've gotta think so hard about winnin dat race dat it makes dis crazy horse heah want it too. Yeh've gotta be thinkin about nothin else. Even now. Cause when da moment comes, ya need ta be ready. Ready enough dat if we were sittin out dere in da stands, we could look at Firebird, an we could look at you, an know who's gonna win." Mustang nodded. Everything he said was true, but in the back of her mind she knew it wasn't her race. She knew she wasn't racing for herself. She knew this was Firebird's race. This was Firebird's chance to prove to the crowd that she was better than what they'd seen before. This was Firebird's chance to take bum odds and turn them around. It was Firebird's race and it was Cowgirl's race. Mustang wasn't racing for herself, she was racing for Cowgirl.

It was one o' clock and the newsies filed in and fought for seats in the stands above the track, as Racetrack had directed. No one knew why they were there.

"Jus watch da race yeh losas. Got a hot tip on da second, keep an eye on dat one." Everyone quieted as the horses came out. For someone who'd never been to a race before, Racetrack could see how it could be entertaining. Different colored horses, all sporting different numbers and colors and jockeys wearing outfits that matched the saddle pads. Add some feathers and it'd be like a parade. Blink caught his attention.

"Hey Race." Racetrack sat down beside him. "Dat one in red, da second, ain't dat Firebird?" Racetrack nodded.A moment later, the newsies' section of the stands burst into sound. No one was sure who said it, but someone had.

"Dat's Mustang!" It took Jack standing up and helping before Racetrack could get everyone quiet again.

"Listen, yeh gotta keep yer voices down. Yellin an dat'll scare da horses. Yeah, it's Mustang. Dat's why we're heah. Shud up an watch da race." A number of them headed to the betting booth to place last minute bets on Mustang and the noise level went back up significantly. Ohters stood to get a better look. Dutchy moved to the front of the section, Kid Blink right behind him.

"Yeh ready?" Rattler asked as they got closer and closer to the gate. Mustang adjusted her goggles and wiggled her feet in the stirrups. She started to talk, but ended up just nodding. He smiled. "Can't talk?" She shook her head. The red helmet shifted only slightly. It was too big for her, but the hair piled on top of her head kept it in place. "Good. Yer ready." Firebird stopped dead a few feet in front of the start gate. "You handle her. I gotta go get my seat." Mustang stared after him, but did just as they had practiced. Took her feet out of the stirrups and gently nudged the horse's sides. Firebird lowered her head a little and stepped forward, much to the relief of the track workers. Inside the narrow gate, she raised her knees up and slid her feet back into the stirrups, her heart pounding in her throat. She shortened the reins a little and stroked Firebird's neck. Breathing deeply, she turned to the stands. There were the newsies. In the very front of them stood Dutchy and Kid Blink. She mentally blew a kiss and then turned back to face the track that stretched out in front of her. The other horses were all loaded now. She slid her hands further up the reins and transfered some of her weight from the saddle to the stirrups. Firebird snorted and fidgeted under her.

"That's it. Yah want it, don't yeh? We're gonna win dis, aren't we?" The man standing on the platform raised his pistol. All the jockeys stood, firmly gripping their reins and whips. The pistol fired and the gates opened. Mustang held Firebird's mane as she sprung forward out of the start box. She moved close to the rail and settled into a steady rythm. They were in front, but she had learned from experience that Firebird was a front runner. She'd hold the lead. Things were going just like they had always gone in practice. Just like they were everytime Rattler had talked through the race. She'd take the early lead, stay right against the rail. Hold her back until the cleared the final turn, then let her run. They came around the first turn, everything going just as they had planned. Then the other jockeys started to close in around them. She'd been ready for it. That's what they always did. But one horse was right next to her and pushing closer. The jockey in dark blue raised his whip and instead of hitting his own horse, brought it down on Firebird's rump. Her ears flattened and Mustang felt everything move in slow motion. Every sound was gone but the pounding of hooves. Then Firebird's shrill whinny. She felt the steady gallop under her interupted. The horse didn't buck, but she lifted her back end enough tobounce Mustang out of her stirrups. She tried to regain her balance, but it was too late. She heard the gasp from the crowd. The reins had slipped through her hands and her right stirrup had escaped her foor and swung freely. She fell to the left, over the rail, andtoward the grass on the other side. She felt the too-big helmet slipping as the ground got closer. All she could do was try to relax. That was the only way to help yourself, relax every muscle you could.

"Mustang!" Dutchy ran down the stairs, followed by Kid Blink, Racetrack, and Jack. They were stopped by track workers. A few feet away, Rattler stood, pulling off his hat. He didn't know where the name came from, but as the jockey he'd trained lost her balance and fell, puzzle pieces seemed to fit together.

"Andi!"