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accepted her as she was and didn't try to make her into something she wasn't.
    But there was one other place where she found approval, and her heart lightened as she ran to the stables.
    When the moving van drove up at eight-thirty, Roanna barely noticed it. She and Loyal were working with a frisky yearling colt, patiently getting him accustomed to human handling. He was fearless, but he wanted to play rather than learn anything new, and the gentle lesson required a lot of patience.
    "You're wearing me out," she panted and fondly stroked the animal's glossy neck. The colt responded by shoving her with his head, sending her staggering several paces backward.
    "There has to be an easier way," she said to Loyal, who was sitting on the fence, giving her directions, and grinning as the colt romped like an oversized dog.
    "Like what?" he asked. He was always willing to listen to Roanna's ideas.
    "Why don't we start handling them as soon as they're born? Then they'd be too little to shove me all over the corral," she grumbled.
    "And they'd grow up used to humans and the things we do to them."
    "Well, now." Loyal stroked his jaw as he thought about it. He was a lean, hard fifty and had already spent almost thirty of those years working at Davencourt, the long hours outside turning his brown face into a network of fine wrinkles. He ate, lived, and breathed horses and couldn't imagine any job more suited to him than the one he had. Just because it was customary to wait until the foals were yearlings before beginning their training didn't mean it had to be that way. Roanna might have something there. Horses had to get used to people fooling around with [heir mouths and feet, and it might be easier on both horses and humans if the process started when they were foaled rather than after a year of running wild. It should cut down on a lot of skittishness as well as making it easier on the farriers and the vets.
    "Tell you what," he said.
    "We won't have another foal until Lightness drops hers in March. We'll start with that one and see how it works."
    Roanna's face lit up, her brown eyes turning almost golden with delight, and for a moment Loyal was struck by how pretty she was. He was startled, because Roanna was really a plain little thing, her features too big and masculine for her thin face, but for a fleeting moment he'd gotten a glimpse of how she would look when maturity had worked its full magic on her. She'd never be the beauty Miss Jessie was, he thought realistically, but when she got older, she'd surprise a few people. The idea made him happy, because Roanna was his favorite. Miss Jessie was a competent rider, but she didn't love his babies the way   Roanna did and therefore wasn't as careful of her mount's welfare as she could have boen. In Loyal's eyes, that was an unforgivable sin.
    At eleven-thirty, Roanna reluctantly returned to the house for lunch. She would much rather have skipped the meal entirely, but Grandmother would send someone after her if she didn't show up, so she figured she might as well save everyone the trouble. But she had cut it too close, as usual, and didn't have time for more than a quick shower and change of clothes. She dragged a comb through her wet hair, then raced down the stairs, sliding to a halt just before she opened the door to the dining room and entered at a more decorous pace, Everyone else was already seated. Aunt Gloria looked up at Roanna's entrance, and her mouth drew into the familiar disapproving line. Grand mother took in   Roanna's wet hair-Shades of Twilight and sighed but didn't comment. tJnc!e Harlan gave her one of his insincere used-car-salesynan smiled. but at least he never scolded her, so Roanna forgave him for having all the depth of a pie pan. Jessie, however, went straight on the attack.
    "At least you could have taken the time to dry your hair," she drawled'. "Though I suppose we should all be grateful you showered and didn't come to the table smelling like a