My Wild Horse King (THE RUSSIAN WITCH’S CURSE #4) by Bridget E. Baker EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Bridget E. Baker
- Language: English
- Genre: Paranormal / Sci-Fi
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
G U S TAV
When I was in grade school, Latvia experienced the worst recession
it had ever known. In fact, the country lost a quarter of its gross
domestic product in under two years.
Things were pretty dire for most everyone.
People don’t handle stuff like losing their job with no hope of a new one
very well, and many, many of my friends had already lousy fathers who
only got worse thanks to the turn in the economy. Alcoholics. Abusive jerks.
Depressed souls who stopped even trying to support their families. I think
that’s why it took me so long to notice. In fact, it wasn’t until I walked in on
my little sister Kristiana watching The Lion King that it hit me.
That father died for his child. My dad was nothing like that.
My dad sucks.
Dads are supposed to protect you—it’s the central part of the gig.
They’re supposed to teach you and shelter you while you grow.
Mine never did that.
He was too busy gambling, and while he may have won sometimes too,
I never really saw a difference when he did. Whereas, I do vividly recall
nearly every time he lost.
But even more than me, it always wrecked my mom’s life.
My very earliest memory is of my mother, the phone pressed against her
ear as tears rolled down her face, begging her parents to send her money so
that we wouldn’t lose Liepašeta, Dad’s family farm.
That wasn’t the only time she begged, though. In fact, I remember
countless instances where my mom was forced to bail Dad out. But the last
time. . . It was long after Grandfather and Grandmother had refused to send
another dime, long after Mom had been turned down for any additional
loans by every bank in Latvia, and long after Mom had exhausted the
contents of her own trust fund and personal savings. That last time, Mom
set out to repair the damage done by Dad’s gambling debts herself, by
riding in the Grand National and betting on her own horse to win.
I still
recall her telling me, her eyes shining, that she meant to be the first woman
to win the Grand National, and that when she did, she was going to insist
that Dad put the farm in her name—so he couldn’t ever put it at risk again.
She did make the history books.
Just, not in the way she hoped. She became the first woman to die as a
result of that wretched race. That was the day I started to hate horses,
gambling, and my father—in that order—but it took me three more years to
get away from it all.
Leaving Latvia was a bonus.
In the end, when I finally escaped, I had even less money than Dad
before that last fateful race. I barely scraped together enough for a plane
ticket, which is how I found myself on the front porch of my estranged
American grandfather’s mansion, knowing they barely knew me and
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