and took out the carrot that he knew was there but was too polite to demand. Banjo took the carrot delicately from her hand and crunched it, tossing his head to show his approval.
“Mom got a letter from a law firm,” she told the horse. “It’ll be bad.”
Banjo watched her, his ears pricked forward, listening.
“Eviction notices, divorce papers, bankruptcies—that stuff means letters from law firms. Trust me, Banjo, you don’t want to get a letter from a law firm.”
Banjo shook his head, shooing a fly that had bothered him.
“Now, if I were a horse, somebody would give me a carrot,” Hope continued. Banjo stepped forward again, and Hope wondered if he knew what the word “carrot” meant. Banjo was a very smart horse. She stroked his face, running her hand up between his ears, and patted him on the neck.
“Somebody would give me a carrot and pet me, and everything would be good.”
Banjo turned his head into her hand.
“If I were a horse, I’d marry you,” Hope said, feeling the heaviness of the letter weigh on her. “You’ve got everything going for you. You’re good looking but not flashy, and you’re loyal to the bone. And you don’t seem to be crazy about sports. Well, maybe the Kentucky Derby. But that’s only once a year, so I could deal with that.”
Banjo shifted his weight, swishing his tail.
“But as it is, our love is doomed.”
I must be nuts, talking to a horse. Hope stroked Banjo, feeling the sun heat her back. But at least it’s cheap therapy.
The other two horses, sensing treats, started over to the fence. Hope dug out the other two carrots and gave one each to Blondie, the shy, elderly Palomino mare they’d had since Hope was thirteen, and Ralph, their goofy gelding. Faith had rescued him one day from a slaughterhouse, and although he had been despondent when he arrived, time, good food, and good treatment had cheered him up considerably. Now he was giddy with pleasure all the time.
Blondie took her carrot and turned away to eat it in privacy, and Ralph took his with a little two-step sideways dance. Hope felt a rush of affection for the animals. When she’d left the office today, she’d wanted to ride before supper—take Banjo out through the canyon, up into the hills. She wanted to hear the creak of the saddle and smell the mesquite and horse, breathe the warm, dry air. See the distance.
Now that the letter had come, though, she knew she needed to stick around to do damage control. If controlling the damage was possible.
She jumped off the fence and opened the gate.
“Time for supper, guys,” she said. All the horses knew what “supper” meant. Banjo walked through the gate, and she put her hand on his back, walking alongside. “If the letter’s really bad, I’ll give you a little extra grain tonight,” she promised him. “We’ll all have to keep our strength up.”
Ralph, doing his crazy little hopping number and then Blondie, moving slowly, followed them back into the barn and turned into their stalls. The horses slurped their water and munched their hay, settling down. Hope gave each of them a small measure of grain, then closed the stall doors and latched them.
Then she looked at her mother.
Suzanne sat on a hay bale, leaning back against an empty stall. Her face was ashen. The letter had slipped through her fingers and lay on the floor.
Hope went over and sat next to her. Picked up the letter. Read it. And felt her world collapse beneath her feet.
Back from the barn, Suzanne went upstairs to shower and Hope called the lawyer. The letter was signed by Joseph Sharp, and when he answered the phone, his voice was reedy and thin. Not a good sign, Hope thought, not sure what a good sign would be.
“We got your letter today, Mr. Sharp,” she said, “and we don’t understand it.”
“I have the documents right here, Ms. McNaughton.” Hope heard papers rustling on the other end of the phone. “The parties thought there might be confusion. Indeed, Mr. McNaughton told me that he thought you would call.”
“Yes, well, people who are cheated and lied to tend to get curious,” Hope said, feeling anger spike against her father. He couldn’t talk to her, but he could talk about her to the lawyer? What was that about? “People who are forced off their land might complain. No wonder he thought I’d call.”
“Yessss. Well. I assure you everything is in order.”