Ty woke up before the sun touched the hills.
The ranch was still asleep. The only sounds were the soft drip of dew on the roof and the distant neighing of a horse. His heart was pounding. He'd dreamed of the arena all night — Spartacus galloping, applause, missing the turn, dropping the rope. Anxiety gnawed at his stomach like a small, persistent dog.
It was the day of their first competition.
It wasn't anything big — just a local event, half an hour from Hudson, in a dirt ring with wooden bleachers and makeshift stalls. But to Ty, it was everything. His first real chance to see if all the effort, pain, and training were worth something.
He put on the blue shirt Amy said brought luck, pulled on his boots — already splitting at the side — and grabbed his worn felt hat. In his hand, he held $45 in cash, just enough to cover the entry fee, lunch, and gas for the way back. If he won anything, great. If not, at least he'd walk away with experience. That's how he convinced himself to go.
At the stable, Spartacus was alert, like he could sense something different in the air.
Ty pressed his forehead to the horse's neck and took a deep breath.
— "Today's just another training run. But with an audience."
Spartacus snorted.
— "That's right," Ty said, half-smiling. "We're gonna show them."
It took over an hour to get there. The truck Jack had lent him rattled with every bump, and the trailer swayed more than Ty liked. When he finally stepped down, his legs were numb, and his heart was racing.
The place was simple, but well-organized. Flags tied to bamboo poles, cones marking warm-up areas, barrels spread across the course. Some kids rode ponies while adults checked stirrups and clicked stopwatches.
Ty felt out of place. His jeans were worn thin. His saddle was old. Spartacus, though striking, still limped slightly in the trot. But there was no going back.
He paid the entry fee — $30 dollars, most of what he had — and got his number: #14.
Amy had texted:
"Take it easy. He trusts you."
Lou had just sent a heart emoji.
Jack had written:
"Competing isn't about winning. It's about proving you deserve to be there."
Ty nodded to himself and headed toward the warm-up ring. He mounted Spartacus firmly but gently. The first few laps were tense. The horse was jumpy, eyes wide, on edge.
But after a few circles, something clicked. That quiet bond they had — it was still there.
In the bleachers, families shouted names. Other riders watched. A judge with a white shirt and clipboard called out over the mic:
— "Number fourteen, Ty Borden, riding Spartacus."
Ty approached the arena gate.
For a moment, he froze.
"I'm not a professional."
"I don't have a pedigree."
"My horse isn't even registered."
But then something stirred — that system inside him activated again. A flash of memory, like a whisper:
"Voice of Destiny: Active.
Timeline deviation successful.
This moment was never planned.
But now… it belongs to you."
He closed his eyes briefly.
And then, he entered.
The crowd quieted. The world became just Ty and Spartacus.
The course was simple: a figure-eight around barrels, timed. Nothing grand. But for someone just starting out, it was everything.
Ty took the first turn steady. He felt Spartacus pick up the rhythm. The second was faster. The third — a tight bend — Spartacus nearly skidded. Ty adjusted his weight, pulled lightly, and whispered:
— "Trust me."
The horse obeyed.
Final time: 28.67 seconds.
Not the best of the day. But enough to turn heads.
Some of the older riders nodded. A man with a wide-brimmed hat murmured:
— "That's a fine horse. Wild, but… he's got heart."
Ty dismounted and stroked Spartacus's sweaty neck. The horse snorted as if to ask, "Was that it?"
— "That's it," Ty smiled. "And you were amazing."
During awards, they called out the top five. Ty placed fifth.
Prize: $150 dollars.
An envelope. Real money. Not a fortune. But the first brick in the foundation of his dream.
He slipped the envelope into his pocket, looked up at the open sky, and whispered thanks.
Then, turning to Spartacus, he said:
— "This is just the beginning."