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and neck. “The mirror was all fogged up. Hey, guess what just came in?”
    â€œOh, what? A surprise?”
    â€œYes. . . .”
    â€œWhat? Tell me!” I clapped my hand together.
    â€œNo, guess.” He grinned down at me, clearly enjoying the game.
    I sighed in mock impatience. “A whole lot of Barbie dolls.”
    â€œI didn’t know you were into Barbie dolls,” he teased.
    I laughed. “I’m not! I’m just guessing. . . . Okay, um, fifty pounds of Tootsie Pops.”
    â€œNo . . .”
    â€œPuppies.”
    He shook his head, grinning.
    â€œKittens.”
    â€œTime’s up! Close your eyes and give me your hand.”
    You don’t need to ask twice. I squeezed my eyes shut and felt his warm, strong fingers wrap around mine. I wondered if I’d be able to make it to wherever he was taking me with my knees in their present state of jelly-ness.
    He led me over the stony path and through what I knew was the entrance to the barn, with its sweet, dusty smell of hay. We stopped. “Okay, open your eyes.”
    Three horses stood in the stalls opposite the door, hanging their heads over the half doors. One was a brown-and-white paint, one was black, and one was a buckskin, with tawny gray-brown fur and a black mane and tail. “Aw!” I breathed.
    â€œWe’ve got some newbies. Jack just bought them at auction.” Stephen collected three halters from the bin by the door and hung one on the hook by each stall.
    â€œHi, babies!” I held my hand out to the black, then patted his neck firmly. “What are we doing with these guys?”
    â€œJack wants me to work with these new guys to get them ready to take on the overnight pack trip. They’re all good camp horses, so it shouldn’t take much to get them ready.” He patted the black one on the shoulder. “And you’re supposed to help me,” Stephen went on. “So we get to work together.” He grinned at me.
    â€œOh. Okay.” My calm voice belied the handsprings going on inside me. I smiled at him and took a step closer. “It’ll be fun.”
    I’d heard about this pack trip. It was the highlight of the summer, for the staff and the guests—a day’s ride up into the mountains, across streams, on narrow trails, to camp under the stars. The whole section went, and the guests were already talking about it.
    â€œThat’s what I was thinking.” Stephen’s eyes met mine.
    â€œYou get those horses in?” A loud voice from the doorway interrupted. Stephen’s face tensed as Rick strode in.
    â€œI got them off the trailer, no problems. The black didn’t want to go in his stall, but I gave him some sweet feed and got him in that way.” His voice was slightly too loud, slightly too eager. I shifted uncomfortably. I knew Stephen worshipped his brother, but Rick was kind of scary. He always seemed to be teetering on the edge of some kind of anger precipice.
    Rick didn’t reply. He looked the horses over carefully, running his hands over their heads and flanks, down to their legs, first the black, then the paint. When he got to the buckskin, the horse backed away and raised his head, trying to avoid the trainer’s hands. “Come here,” Rick muttered. He raised his hand to grab the horse’s halter, and the buckskin trembled, his eyes rolling.
    â€œEasy, boy,” he murmured to the horse as he took hold of his head. Sweat streaked the animal’s fur, as Rick continued his inspection.
    â€œJack’s a damn fool,” the trainer grunted, straightening up.
    â€œHow come?” I gathered my courage enough to ask.
    Rick shot me a glance, as if he’d forgotten I was there. “Look there,” he said, nodding toward the buckskin’s head.
    I stepped closer and stifled a gasp. The horse’s forehead and cheeks and the sides of his neck and back were striped with scars—long, broad