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She could hear the nun on the cross praying out loud; she could see the nuns around the horse back away in fear from an animal who had lost all control. Yet she went toward him, lessening the space between them in a purposeful stride, and raised a hand in the air while he continued to stare at her.
    “Easy now,” she said to him, and he instantly calmed. His flaring nostrils were the only indication of his excitement as she grabbed hold of his harness. He responded readily to her commands and then strained under the weight of the wood again as he found purchase on the ground and dug in to raise the cross back above the roof.
    “Pull it over, Ruth! Pull it over!” Mother Helena called out.
    Seemingly jarred out of her shocked reverie, Sister Ruth reached out a hand for the sister clinging to the cross as it inched past the apex of the roof. Between them, they guided the heavy wood behind the parapet of the wall made for the sole purpose of housing the cross. Making quick work of the heavy rope, the sisters loosened it from the wood and threw it to the ground.
    The horse’s sides heaved with exhaustion, but he stood stock-still while the girl stroked his nose and whispered in his ear. It took a moment for her to remember that they weren’t alone, and she looked up to see all the women in black staring at her in reverent silence.
    “Glory be to God the Father,” Mother Helena said.
    “And to a young woman who seems to have a way with horses,” Doc said with a definite smile in his voice. He turned to the older nun. “Can you imagine how she might fit in now , Mother?”

C HAPTER F OUR
    Doc Abe is gone, and I am here in a place with thirteen women. It is embarrassing to cry in front of strangers, but I couldn’t help myself as I watched him leave. I was mad and scared and wanted to run right after the wagon and go back to the clinic with him.
    The sisters left me alone on the porch with my tears for a good while, and then when my head felt as if it would split wide open from misery, Mother Helena, the sister in charge, came to sit by me. She told me that sometimes God takes away all of the options but the one staring us in the face. I think that sounds like a dirty trick, but she knows God a lot better than I do. I followed her inside, hoping that her God knows what He’s doing with me.
    Mother Helena is small but quick, and I had to hurry to keep up with her as she led me through the house. She said the other sisters were having their afternoon prayers and then would have supper. I didn’t want to do either, so she brought me to the room I am going to share with two sisters that she said are close to my age. Someone had already brought some nightclothes into the room and put them on one of the two beds. Mother Helena told me that tomorrow is a new day and we would “sort things out.” I don’t know what that means, but I am grateful to be alone now, doing what Doc Abe said to do—writing things down so I won’t forget.
    I feel lonely in the pit of my stomach and homesick for a place I can’t describe.
    A day can start out one way and end up in a way you can’t even imagine.
    I found a horse who can speak to me without words—and who seems to understand me better than people.
    I like the end of the day the best—and the dark that covers me up so I can sink into sleep and not have to think about the puzzle my life has become.
    The girl was already awake, dressed and sitting on the edge of the narrow cot, when Mother Helena knocked briskly on the door and then entered.
    “Good morning,” Mother Helena said. “Did you sleep well?”
    “I slept fine,” the girl lied.
    Mother Helena studied her. “Good. Then let’s have a wee look around the place before we’ll be having breakfast.”
    She followed Mother Helena down the hallway from the bedrooms into an austere common room.
    “We’re an order of nuns from Ireland,” Mother Helena said. “Women devoted to serving God. Our community is called the