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Not Again

I stare at the back of the trailer, at the closed tailgate.

The pickup pulling the trailer fires up its engine. Exhaust puffs from the tailpipe.

Annika sticks her head out the window and hollers, “Ellie! I mean it! We’ll have Dream all summer. You can come and visit her whenever you want!”

“Thank you,” I mutter. But one good-bye is one too many. I couldn’t go through this again.

The pickup rolls forward. The trailer jerks behind it. I walk alongside the trailer, keeping pace as long as I can. “She loves apples!” I call after them. “And she hates being cooped up in a stall. Let her graze. And she loves treats! Go to Winnie the Horse Gentler’s website for recipes!”

Only it’s too late. They can’t hear me.

I watch as the trailer fades into a cloud of dust. That trailer is taking away one of the most important things in my life. Dream. My Dream.

Couldn’t You have stopped them? I ask God.

I can sense God watching with me, just looking on as my horse disappears. I think about Abednego, Ethan’s dead fish. About the real Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. God could have kept all of them far from danger. I know that. Ethan is okay in spite of his dead fish, I tell God. My brother knows You well enough to still be okay, even though You didn’t save his fish. But I’m not like Ethan, God. I don’t feel okay. I don’t get it. And I don’t know how I’m going to make it without Dream.

I’m not sure how much time passes while I’m standing by the side of the road. Pinto Cat finds me. As if she knows what’s going on, she stares down the road with me. We watch the spot where the trailer disappeared. I’m sort of aware when Ethan and Colt wander off to ball practice and Mom and Dad go inside.

Finally I turn and head back to the house. I’m almost to our front door when I hear something. On the road behind me I’m sure I hear pounding horse’s hooves. Trotting. Then cantering. If I didn’t know better, I’d think . . .

Then she nickers.

I spin around, knowing it’s Dream. “Dream!” I take off, running as fast as I can.

We meet in the middle of the road. Dream rears and tosses her mane. She’s sweating like she’s been galloping. I hug her. I cry. What’s happening? I don’t understand.

Clang! Bang! The empty trailer—that monster—wheels around the corner.

Dad comes out of the house. “Ellie, what’s going on? Where did—?”

“Well, I’ll be a monkey’s mama!” Mom says, running behind him.

The trailer pulls up. All three of them get out.

“I told you so, Grayson,” his dad says.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Grayson whines.

“Really?” his dad challenges.

“Really!” Grayson insists. “All I wanted to do was see why that rope came untied. How was I supposed to know the stupid horse would back out of the trailer when I wasn’t looking? And so what? We have her again. Big deal!”

Annika scooches in front of her uncle and gets nose to nose with her cousin. “It is a big deal, Grayson! If we hadn’t taken the back roads, Dream might have run into traffic. She could have been hurt! And now look what you’ve done. Ellie has to say good-bye to her horse all over again.”

My horse!” Grayson shouts. “And her name is Jinx, not Dream. If Ellie had done a better job training Jinx, none of this—”

My mom makes a noise that’s somewhere between a growl and a snort. She walks up to Grayson. Towering over him, she says, “Young fella, I have a word of advice for you from my own mama: ‘Never miss a good chance to keep your trap shut.’”

Grayson’s mouth snaps closed.

“Come on, Dream,” I whisper. She follows me into the trailer. I take my time tying one of the knots Ethan taught me. “There. Now you be good. Do what they say, hear?” I press my cheek next to hers. And I kiss her good-bye for what I’m sure will be the last time.