Multigenerational
Oh, man. Someone must have seen Indi and me doing our thing. They recognized me and reported it to the cops. This envelope is from the cops. They write letters? Wouldn't they just come and hassle me?
I keep cool, reach inside, draw out a sheet of paper. It doesn't have any official emblems. It just looks like a letter, starting with "Dear Samuel." Weird. No one writes me letters. I shoot another glance at Mom but she hasn't budged. She's just standing there looking like she's going to burst.
Bolt burst into a trot. Sam's heart jumped down his throat. Up and down, up and down, he bounced in the saddle. His feet flew out of the stirrups. The fence and then barn and Grandpa flashed by. "Whoa!" yelled Sam. "Whoa!" Grandpa stepped in front of Bolt. He grabbed the reins and pulled Bolt to a stop. Sam took a huge breath. "I'm getting off!" he said. He slid off the horse. It was a long way to the ground. His legs wobbled. He thought Grandpa would be disgusted with him. But Grandpa looked pleased. "Not bad for your first time," he said.
