Dark Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall

pasture already. We don’t have a barn, in case you haven’t noticed.”
    I feel awful. This is exactly what I was afraid of. “Nickers is fine without a barn,” I tell him.
    Hank says something, but I can’t hear him because the limping dog starts yapping again. Wes’s big dog trots up to Hank and barks.
    Nickers is startled. She jerks back. I’m not ready for it. The rope slips through my fingers. She rears.
    “Easy, Nickers,” I say. “Stand down.”
    She does. She stops rearing, but her whole body is quivering.
    Hank charges toward us, bringing the barking dogs with him.
    Nickers bolts, but I grab the rope in time. She rears again.
    “Stay back, will you?” I yell at Hank. My heart is pounding. I can feel Nickers’s fear. I hate seeing my horse like this. She rode all the way here, and now this?
    “Down, Nickers,” I urge.
    She comes down from her rear. The rope slacks. She touches ground, then lunges back. I can’t hold on to the rope. Nickers pivots, then gallops off, disappearing into the darkness.
    “Great.” Hank spits out the word. “That’s all we need around here. Another wild horse.” He turns his back to me and says to Catman, “I can’t believe you’d bring that wild thing with you.”
    Wild Thing? That’s what people used to call my horse before she and I became best friends. It’s what Summer Spidell still calls her.
    And I will not stand for it. I grab Hank’s arm and spin him around. He’s so tall I have to crane my neck to look at him. “My horse is not a ‘wild thing.’ Her name is Nickers.”
    Then I push past him and run as fast as I can after my horse.
    Note to self: Next time, stay home and shovel manure.

Fourteen
    I sleep in late the next morning. It didn’t take me long to catch up with Nickers last night. Dakota helped. We brought her back close to the house and settled her in the paddock. Dakota waited with me until I was sure Nickers would be okay on her own there.
    After that, Dakota, Kat, and I stayed up talking most of the night in Kat’s room. It was pretty cool. I’ve never done that with anybody except Lizzy and Hawk. I slept in Kat’s spare bed, and Dakota camped out in a sleeping bag on Kat’s floor. When I woke up, I had a three-legged dog on my pillow. Kat had four cats on her bed. And Dakota was gone.
    Catman is standing over the stove when I come downstairs. His dad and uncle are sitting across from each other at the dining room table. They’re holding their newspapers in the exact same way, folded over three times. It freaks me out a little to see two Mr. Coolidges.
    “Morning, everybody,” I call, joining Catman in the kitchen.
    “Good morning to you, Winnie!” Mr. Chester Coolidge and Mr. Bart Coolidge declare in unison, as if they’ve rehearsed it.
    “Toasted peanut butter and cheese sandwich?” Catman offers. “With fresh tomatoes?”
    I’m used to his weird food creations. “No thanks.” I watch him flip the sandwiches like they’re pancakes. “Where is everybody?”
    “Dakota said to tell you she’s in the south pasture,” Catman says. “Everybody else split before I got down here.”
    “My Annie is at the hospital saving lives,” Catman’s uncle reports.
    For a second I think he says Miami . Then I realize he’s talking about his wife.
    “Wes is at Nice Manor, the assisted-living home,” he continues. “He’s planning some kind of dog show or dog training event with them to raise money for the barn. Awfully proud of that young man.”
    “Kat was telling me about the fund-raising plans last night,” I say. “Her Fur Ball sounds great too. Sorry we’re going to miss that one.”
    That accounts for everybody with the exception of Hank. I’m not looking forward to my next encounter with him. He’s so different than he sounded in his e-mails. And he’s changed a lot since he was in Ashland. Or maybe I never really got to know him. “So, where’s Hank, Mr. Coolidge?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
    “Better