The Mare

Ginger

Something happened at Spindletop. Not something bad — I would’ve known if it was actually bad — she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. No, it was something confusing. She was trying to understand it, that was the most obvious reason she would ask those questions in the car.

But it felt like something else was going on. It felt like she was being aggressive with me. Like she did with her mom that time they came up for the play, the subtle way she sided with the tall blond woman at the barn and shut her mother out. Velvet knew all about weakness and power, and it felt like she was pressing on my weak spot, just to see what would happen. She didn’t push it; she didn’t have to. She was just letting me know she saw it. And that she was curious about it.