Katie and the Mustang, Book 4 Read Free

we broke camp.
    I looked at him. “He’s not all that tame. He just trusts me, I guess.”
    Mr. Taylor shrugged. “You ought to let one of the men break him so you could ride. He wouldn’t be much burdened, a little thing like you.”
    â€œI don’t mind walking,” I said, and I meant it. I was so used to walking that when I did have to ride in the wagon for a stretch, the jouncing made my stomach sick. I told him that.
    â€œYou’d like riding a horse better than being in the wagons,” he said, laughing.
    I smiled at him so that he wouldn’t think I was rude, but I wanted to walk away because I had just noticed Grover on the far side of the wagon, walking with his head down. Was he listening? I watched him for a few seconds; he wasn’t looking in my direction as he went back to his chores.
    â€œWould you look at that,” Mr. Taylor said, smiling, and he waved one hand at Miss Liddy’s wagons, then walked off to help his wife finish reloading their wagon.
    I followed the direction of his gesture and saw Miss Liddy McKenna, mounted on the huge mare, riding astride in her trousers, without bit, bridle, or saddle. I stared. I had seen her ride the big mare this way many times now—everyone had. It never lost its charm for me, to see the horse cooperating out of respect and love like that, not fear of leather whips or metal bits. I sighed. Riding a horse like that, with trust and respect…
    I touched the Mustang’s cheek, and he turned toward me as he usually did, to nuzzle my shoulder. “Would you let me ride you?” I asked him, then blushed when I heard Grover laugh out loud.
    â€œNooo, I doooon’t want you to ride meeee,” he answered, making his voice into a quavering whinny sound. His face was twisted into a taunting grimace.
    I led the Mustang away without a word to him. I was furious with myself. The truth was that I did talk to the Mustang like he was a person. I was so much in the habit of it that I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
    â€œI have to be more careful,” I said to the Mustang, then I blushed and glanced around.
    Polly and Julia were together as usual, standing near Polly’s parents’ wagon, sorting through a basket of berries they had picked along the river the day before. Polly’s tiny mother was sitting on a log, mending, her needle flashing in the early sun.
    No one was looking toward me. They rarely did. Nothing had changed. They weren’t ever mean to me. It was more like I was invisible to the Kyler girls. I slid my hand beneath the Mustang’s mane and felt the warmth of his coat against the palm of my hand.
    I had thought about it a lot. I knew part of the reason none of them had bothered to become my friend was that they had one another. They had all known one another all their lives, and they were as close as peas in a pod.
    Another reason was that I was rarely without the Mustang at my side. I had to take care of him—not play silly games. From the time I’d met them, I’d had to spend most of every day finding grass for the Mustang. I couldn’t race between the wagons or have contests to see who could find the most firewood or buffalo chips. I couldn’t play hide-and-seek on our dinner stops, either. I was busy helping their grandmother make supper, then clean up. Their mothers let them go play together before bedtime. That was when I was helping Mrs. Kyler ready the wagon for morning, repacking the jockey box and getting the stallion settled with the mares and Andrew’s horses for the night.
    The Kyler girls were playing and giggling less than they had at the beginning of the journey, though. They were tired in the evenings, wrung out by the heat of the day. We all were. The searing hot sun was affecting everyone’s spirits.
    As the days dragged past and the weather got hotter and hotter, sometimes you couldn’t hear anyone talking at all in our