are as black as the rest of him, intelligent, not missing a thing. I want to help Blackfire before I leave with Neil. But I have no idea how to go about it. I could ask Hank, but I’m afraid he might tell me I can’t hang out with the horse.
Then I remember the e-mail girl Hank writes when he has a question about horses. Winnie the Horse Gentler! Why not ask her? She wouldn’t even have to know who I am. All I’d have to do is write her at that Pet Helpline.
I stay with Blackfire all afternoon, until I hear Popeye drive up in the truck. Then I help him carry in groceries. At least half of the bags are filled with cat food and dog food.
Kat comes out to help, and I do a double take when I see her hair. She’s wearing long, blonde braids that look the most like the real Kat.
“I like your hair,” I say, plopping a bag of dog treats on the kitchen counter.
“Me too,” she says. “I like yours.”
Together, we put away groceries while Popeye goes looking for Wes.
“Kat,” I ask when I’m sure we’re alone, “will you show me how you e-mail Catman?”
“Sure,” she answers, climbing up on the counter to put the brown sugar on a top shelf. “But if it’s about cats, I might know the answer.”
“I’m sure you would. I want to write Winnie, though. I’ve got a couple of horse questions.”
“Why don’t you ask Hank? He knows everything about horses.” She hops down from the counter, and I think I see her wince.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” But she looks even paler than usual. She takes a seat at the table. I think she may have hurt herself when she jumped.
“Sit tight,” I command. “I’ve got the rest of the groceries.”
She doesn’t argue.
“Don’t say anything to Hank about me writing Winnie, okay?” I search cupboards until I find the spot for cereal boxes.
She tilts her head. “He wouldn’t care. You can trust Hank, Dakota. We’re family now.”
I stop taking cans out of the plastic bag and turn to her. “ You’re family, Kat.” I stop before I say something that might hurt her feelings. “I haven’t had family since I was nine.” And even then, it wasn’t what Kat’s thinking of when she talks about family.
“Want to know what my favorite verse in the Bible is?” she asks, picking up her kitten, who’s sneaked in from somewhere. Kat doesn’t wait for me to answer. “‘See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!’”
Something inside of me hurts. I can tell Kat feels that love, the love of a father. She has a peace about her you can almost feel yourself. I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt the love of a father.
I put on my game face and grin at her. “Not a bad deal for you, Kat. Must make life pretty easy having God as your dad.”
She smiles back at me. “It helps a lot.” She stands, and I see her steady herself with one hand on the table before she speaks. I can’t help thinking something’s wrong with her. “Want to e-mail Winnie now?”
“If you’re sure you’re okay.”
She flashes me that full-court smile and sits at the computer, and I think I must be imagining things. In minutes we’re logged on to Annie Coolidge’s e-mail account, and Kat has found the e-mail address in Annie’s contact list. “The only person I e-mail is Catman, so I didn’t bother opening another e-mail account. Mom lets me use hers.” She clicks in Winnie’s e-mail address and gets up. “All set.”
“Thanks, Kat.”
It feels funny writing someone I don’t even know.
Dear Winnie,
I admit I don’t have much experience with horses. I’ve never taken a riding lesson or horsemanship class. To be honest, yesterday was the first time I actually touched a horse. But I’m staying where there’s this abused horse that, for some crazy reason, seems to like me. He lets me pet him and scratch his jaw.
What I need to know is where to go from here. How can I
Then I remember the e-mail girl Hank writes when he has a question about horses. Winnie the Horse Gentler! Why not ask her? She wouldn’t even have to know who I am. All I’d have to do is write her at that Pet Helpline.
I stay with Blackfire all afternoon, until I hear Popeye drive up in the truck. Then I help him carry in groceries. At least half of the bags are filled with cat food and dog food.
Kat comes out to help, and I do a double take when I see her hair. She’s wearing long, blonde braids that look the most like the real Kat.
“I like your hair,” I say, plopping a bag of dog treats on the kitchen counter.
“Me too,” she says. “I like yours.”
Together, we put away groceries while Popeye goes looking for Wes.
“Kat,” I ask when I’m sure we’re alone, “will you show me how you e-mail Catman?”
“Sure,” she answers, climbing up on the counter to put the brown sugar on a top shelf. “But if it’s about cats, I might know the answer.”
“I’m sure you would. I want to write Winnie, though. I’ve got a couple of horse questions.”
“Why don’t you ask Hank? He knows everything about horses.” She hops down from the counter, and I think I see her wince.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” But she looks even paler than usual. She takes a seat at the table. I think she may have hurt herself when she jumped.
“Sit tight,” I command. “I’ve got the rest of the groceries.”
She doesn’t argue.
“Don’t say anything to Hank about me writing Winnie, okay?” I search cupboards until I find the spot for cereal boxes.
She tilts her head. “He wouldn’t care. You can trust Hank, Dakota. We’re family now.”
I stop taking cans out of the plastic bag and turn to her. “ You’re family, Kat.” I stop before I say something that might hurt her feelings. “I haven’t had family since I was nine.” And even then, it wasn’t what Kat’s thinking of when she talks about family.
“Want to know what my favorite verse in the Bible is?” she asks, picking up her kitten, who’s sneaked in from somewhere. Kat doesn’t wait for me to answer. “‘See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!’”
Something inside of me hurts. I can tell Kat feels that love, the love of a father. She has a peace about her you can almost feel yourself. I can’t even imagine what that would be like. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt the love of a father.
I put on my game face and grin at her. “Not a bad deal for you, Kat. Must make life pretty easy having God as your dad.”
She smiles back at me. “It helps a lot.” She stands, and I see her steady herself with one hand on the table before she speaks. I can’t help thinking something’s wrong with her. “Want to e-mail Winnie now?”
“If you’re sure you’re okay.”
She flashes me that full-court smile and sits at the computer, and I think I must be imagining things. In minutes we’re logged on to Annie Coolidge’s e-mail account, and Kat has found the e-mail address in Annie’s contact list. “The only person I e-mail is Catman, so I didn’t bother opening another e-mail account. Mom lets me use hers.” She clicks in Winnie’s e-mail address and gets up. “All set.”
“Thanks, Kat.”
It feels funny writing someone I don’t even know.
Dear Winnie,
I admit I don’t have much experience with horses. I’ve never taken a riding lesson or horsemanship class. To be honest, yesterday was the first time I actually touched a horse. But I’m staying where there’s this abused horse that, for some crazy reason, seems to like me. He lets me pet him and scratch his jaw.
What I need to know is where to go from here. How can I
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