“This horse…” I whispered. “She’s blind.”

Dad ran his fingers through his graying hair, looking furious. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he yelled. “I was tricked!”

I bit my lip as I looked at the filly. No matter how hard I tried, she would not calm. Her ears never came forward, even a little, and her breath came hard and fast through wide nostrils.

“I was told I was buying a racehorse,” Dad continued, gritting his teeth. “Instead they give me a disabled piece of trash.”

“She’s not trash!” I shouted immediately. “All she needs is training.”

“That horse,” he growled, jabbing a finger in her direction, “will never be broken! Her own blind fear has made her wilder than any mustang. Sierra Nevada, the up-and-coming star! How could I be so gullible?”

“Sierra,” I murmured. It was a good name.

As for how we’d gotten her, I was mystified. My dad had always been a cautious man.

“He offered her for dirt cheap,” Dad explained. “I never even got a good look at her. Idiot!“