bark and no bite or try to make it back to the house.
But before I can decide, they’re on me. The gray, long-haired mutt growls and grabs my shoelace. I shake my foot to get him to let go, but he won’t. “Let go of me!”
The other dog, a Chihuahua, yaps even louder and shows its teeth.
Wes comes running up with Rex behind him. “Stop yelling!”
“Tell the dogs to stop yelling!” I snap. “Get them off of me, Wes!”
Wes glances over his shoulder, and now I see there’s a big white car that’s pulled up. An older woman in a straw hat is standing by the car.
“You’re ruining everything!” Wes snarls at me. “Go back inside.”
“That’s what I was trying to do when your attack dogs attacked.” I step around Wes, but I can’t get away from the shoelace-chewing mutt.
Wes reaches down and grabs both dogs, tucking one under each arm. “Why did you have to come here?” He shoots me a look that would wilt roses, then carries the dogs toward the white car.
All I can think is that maybe this woman is trying to dump these two dogs. My vote on that one is no . So I follow Wes.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” Wes says, as if he’s this perfect gentleman. He walks up to the woman, who has one hand on the car door handle. “Do you want to hold one of them? See how soft he is?”
“I don’t think so,” the woman says. A smile flickers on her lips, then fades.
“But you were saying you thought Taco might be perfect for you. He won’t shed. He could go on vacations with you.” Wes holds out the Chihuahua, but the woman backs away.
“No,” she says. “I don’t think either dog suits.”
Then I get it. Wes has been trying to place one of the dogs with this woman. Not the other way around.
“But . . .” Wes moves closer.
The woman opens the driver’s door and gets in. Her hat scrapes the car roof and almost falls off. “I can’t have a barking dog in the condo. Or one that might attack my neighbors.”
“They don’t attack people!” Wes insists. “And they almost never bark.” He glares over his shoulder at me.
“Thank you anyway, young man.” She closes the door and gives a little wave from behind her closed window. Then she starts the car and drives off.
Wes turns to me. “Thanks a lot!” His glare is filled with hate. If he didn’t have a dog in each arm, I’m not sure what he’d do. “You just wrecked two weeks of work. She would have taken this dog if it hadn’t been for you.”
“And she probably would have brought it back when it attacked one of her neighbors!” I shout back, taking the offensive, even though I feel pretty lousy about denying the dog a good home. What if it never gets a home? What then? I shove that thought out of my head and glare at Wes.
“Why did you have to come here?” Wes mutters. He shakes his head and walks past me to the house.
I want to shout after him: I didn’t choose to be here! And I’m leaving as soon as I can! But I don’t.
I wait until I hear Wes talking to Kat on the stairs. Then I run to the barn. I want to see Blackfire. It’s stupid. I know that. But I need to see him.
The minute I open Blackfire’s stall door, he makes a low, soft horse sound. I think it’s called a nicker, and it’s instantly my favorite sound in the whole world. I want to bottle his nicker and carry it with me to California.
“Hey, boy.” I remember exactly where he liked being scratched, so I do it again. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? I’m sorry somebody was mean to you and gave you that awful name.”
He nuzzles my neck while I keep scratching. “You’re Blackfire now.” I think looking at, and feeling, this horse is the biggest proof I’ve ever had that there’s a God. Blackfire couldn’t have been an accident. He had to be created by Somebody .
Outside, the wind kicks up. A branch scratches at the loft window above the stall. Blackfire jerks away.
“It’s okay.” I walk to him and stroke his beautiful head. His eyes
But before I can decide, they’re on me. The gray, long-haired mutt growls and grabs my shoelace. I shake my foot to get him to let go, but he won’t. “Let go of me!”
The other dog, a Chihuahua, yaps even louder and shows its teeth.
Wes comes running up with Rex behind him. “Stop yelling!”
“Tell the dogs to stop yelling!” I snap. “Get them off of me, Wes!”
Wes glances over his shoulder, and now I see there’s a big white car that’s pulled up. An older woman in a straw hat is standing by the car.
“You’re ruining everything!” Wes snarls at me. “Go back inside.”
“That’s what I was trying to do when your attack dogs attacked.” I step around Wes, but I can’t get away from the shoelace-chewing mutt.
Wes reaches down and grabs both dogs, tucking one under each arm. “Why did you have to come here?” He shoots me a look that would wilt roses, then carries the dogs toward the white car.
All I can think is that maybe this woman is trying to dump these two dogs. My vote on that one is no . So I follow Wes.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” Wes says, as if he’s this perfect gentleman. He walks up to the woman, who has one hand on the car door handle. “Do you want to hold one of them? See how soft he is?”
“I don’t think so,” the woman says. A smile flickers on her lips, then fades.
“But you were saying you thought Taco might be perfect for you. He won’t shed. He could go on vacations with you.” Wes holds out the Chihuahua, but the woman backs away.
“No,” she says. “I don’t think either dog suits.”
Then I get it. Wes has been trying to place one of the dogs with this woman. Not the other way around.
“But . . .” Wes moves closer.
The woman opens the driver’s door and gets in. Her hat scrapes the car roof and almost falls off. “I can’t have a barking dog in the condo. Or one that might attack my neighbors.”
“They don’t attack people!” Wes insists. “And they almost never bark.” He glares over his shoulder at me.
“Thank you anyway, young man.” She closes the door and gives a little wave from behind her closed window. Then she starts the car and drives off.
Wes turns to me. “Thanks a lot!” His glare is filled with hate. If he didn’t have a dog in each arm, I’m not sure what he’d do. “You just wrecked two weeks of work. She would have taken this dog if it hadn’t been for you.”
“And she probably would have brought it back when it attacked one of her neighbors!” I shout back, taking the offensive, even though I feel pretty lousy about denying the dog a good home. What if it never gets a home? What then? I shove that thought out of my head and glare at Wes.
“Why did you have to come here?” Wes mutters. He shakes his head and walks past me to the house.
I want to shout after him: I didn’t choose to be here! And I’m leaving as soon as I can! But I don’t.
I wait until I hear Wes talking to Kat on the stairs. Then I run to the barn. I want to see Blackfire. It’s stupid. I know that. But I need to see him.
The minute I open Blackfire’s stall door, he makes a low, soft horse sound. I think it’s called a nicker, and it’s instantly my favorite sound in the whole world. I want to bottle his nicker and carry it with me to California.
“Hey, boy.” I remember exactly where he liked being scratched, so I do it again. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? I’m sorry somebody was mean to you and gave you that awful name.”
He nuzzles my neck while I keep scratching. “You’re Blackfire now.” I think looking at, and feeling, this horse is the biggest proof I’ve ever had that there’s a God. Blackfire couldn’t have been an accident. He had to be created by Somebody .
Outside, the wind kicks up. A branch scratches at the loft window above the stall. Blackfire jerks away.
“It’s okay.” I walk to him and stroke his beautiful head. His eyes
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