“Lizzy cried. “Lizzy,” I whispered, “that’s Wild Thing!” I could hardly remember bidding. It was as if someone else, someone inside me, had shouted out $750. Seven hundred and fifty dollars—our limit. Dad looked like somebody had punched him in the stomach. When he finally spoke, he sounded as if the punch had knocked the wind out of him. “Are . . . you . . . out . . . of your mind?” “Dad, I had to—” “That was all of our investment money!” His skin tightened around his cheeks and neck. “That... was all I had. And you blew the whole thing on that?” He glared at Wild Thing and pointed his finger as if it were a sword. “I can gentle her, Dad!” I insisted. “You’ll see!” “I saw!” he shouted. “We all saw! It took an army of men to get that wild creature into the arena!” People turned to stare at us. Dad got louder. “They should pay us $750 to take that horse off their hands!” “Dad,” I pleaded, “I didn’t mean to bid the whole—”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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