Katie and the Mustang, Book 4 by Kathleen Duey

lip. “He isn’t here. He got into some kind of trouble and went off to California two years ago.”
    â€œAh, child,” Mrs. Kyler said. “Oh, Katie, I am so sorry.” Before she could say or do anything else, I ran off, picking up my dress hem so I could go faster. I heard Grover call me, but I didn’t answer. I just kept running until I had the Mustang on his lead, then I ran again, with him trotting beside me.
    I didn’t stop until the Mustang and I were a mile above the camp. The wagons looked like toys in the distance, and I was breathing hard.
    I told the Mustang everything. He grazed quietly, lifting his head now and then to nuzzle at my face and neck. There was a breeze rising, and it fluttered my skirt as I started off again.
    The Mustang moved with me, as he always did. I kept on, walking stiff-kneed, my hands clenched. I was so angry with myself. I felt so stupid and so helpless. What could I do now? The Kylers were wonderful people, kind and good. But they were getting old, and they had a big family of their own, all grown up and married, and they had grand-children born—and unborn—to think about. The last thing they needed was an orphan girl begging for a place. And poor Grover. I had all but promised him. Maybe the Kylers would take him in. I hoped so.
    They had never once talked about my staying with them and why would they? Farming the first few years would be rough. There would barely be enough to eat for the people or the stock.
    Andrew had offered to buy the stallion; he had never offered me a place in his family. He had one baby, and his wife was pregnant. Taking someone in meant sharing scarce food. The Mustang blew a long, warm breath along the nape of my neck, and I looked at him.
    â€œIf Miss Liddy will have me, maybe we can...” I trailed off. It would be a long time before I could ride well enough to add anything to their show. And maybe I would never get good enough. Miss Liddy was no one’s fool. She hadn’t offered me a place in her company, and there was no reason on the green earth why she would.
    My thoughts were such an unhappy tangle as I kept walking uphill that I was wading through good, tall grass without even noticing it until the Mustang tugged at the rope. I stopped and he fell to grazing.
    I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I was beyond crying, and I leaned against the Mustang’s shoulder, moving when he did, letting my thoughts spin because I could not stop them. I could hear birds overhead and the sighing of the breeze and the sound of the Mustang tearing grass off in eager mouthfuls. It was as though everything else in the world had disappeared.
    Then the Mustang lifted his head so sharply that I turned, expecting to see someone or something coming toward us. Grover? But no one was there.
    The Mustang lowered his head again. He was half starved from the hard miles in the sagebrush country and the mountain pass we had come over. He hadn’t seen grass like this in months. “Good,” I told him. I took a deep breath. “Tomorrow morning, we can bring the mares up here and—”
    The Mustang struck at the ground with one hind hoof and tossed his head, arching his neck. I fell silent. He turned away from me and faced the wind. I moved closer to him. “What?” He blew out a long breath and lifted his head to scent the air.
    I tugged gently at the lead rope, but he didn’t react. “If it’s a wolf or something, we should start back now.” I looked over my shoulder toward the wagons, expecting to see the tiny white dots of the canvas covers in the distance. But the swale had curved, and I couldn’t see them.
    The Mustang pawed at the earth. I couldn’t spot whatever it was he had scented. But it didn’t matter; it was smarter to go back. I turned, expecting the Mustang to turn with me, but he didn’t. I was so surprised that I stumbled, jerking on the lead rope without