“What are we gonna do with her, Pa?”

“I don’t know, Kaytlin,” Dad said, sounding defeated. “She’s worthless.”

“She ain’t! I can train her!”

I knew immediately I’d said the wrong thing. My dad looked at me sharply, and when he spoke it was with an undeniable ring of finality. “This horse is worthless,” he repeated, “and she’s dangerous, too. Tomorrow I’m taking her back.”

No matter how much I cried and begged, his will was unshakeable. There was nothing I could do.

After dinner I told my dad I was going to do my homework outside, and crept to the stable instead. I walked slowly and noisily through the door, looking around for her stall. Sierra’s slender bay head with its star marking on her brow hung out over the door, her eyes aimed somewhere above my head. I came closer, whispering and making noise so as not to startle her again.

She was a beautiful creature, tall and delicate. Her coat was clean and smooth; it shone in the dusk.

And yet tomorrow she was bound for the slaughterhouse.