“We’re going to go see what he’s doing, right, Sierra?” I wiggled my brows. “I told Sierra that we’ve been desensitizing Peanut Butter to different things, and it’s really funny.”
“Okay, well, just make sure you’re not in the way.”
“We will!” I grabbed Sierra’s hand with one of mine and a couple more cookies with the other, then pulled her toward the front door.
Dad was in one of the round pens when we got outside. He had a lead rope around Peanut Butter and was holding it in the hand that didn’t have the umbrella.
“What’s he doing with that?” Sierra asked, gesturing to the umbrella. “I’ve never seen anyone do anything like this with a horse. Not even at my grandparents’ place.”
“He’s desensitizing her to ‘scary’ objects.” I put quotes aroundscary. “Yesterday he was out here with a plastic bag.”
“That’s scary?” She laughed like she didn’t quite believe me.
“Yeah, didn’t you know? Horses are scared of everything that moves but are also scared of everything that doesn’t move.” I grinned, heading toward the fence.
“Buttercup’s never been scared of anything,” she commented.
“Yeah, that’s because she’s been desensitized to just about anything. She still gets scared, but her reactions are much more contained,” I explained. “Watch when my dad opens the umbrella.”
Dad stood a few feet away from Peanut, and he slowly opened the umbrella. She spooked a little, jerking her head away, but then calmed. He closed the umbrella and gave her afew encouraging pats. Eventually, as he repeated the motion, she reacted less and less, becoming bored with the object.
“See, he’s introducing foreign objects to her and building her confidence. It’ll prevent her from spooking or bolting later when she has a rider. The last thing we want is someone getting bucked off because she got scared by her own shadow.”
Sierra snorted but leaned forward on the fence, resting her arms on the top panel.
“Hey, you two.” Dad must have noticed us watching, and he approached the fence. “What are you doing out here?”
“I wanted to show Sierra what you were doing. The umbrella thing is kinda funny.”
Dad chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a little silly, but important. How was Ranger’s?”
“It was good!” I replied.
Sierra had been quiet since my dad walked over.
If Dad noticed, he didn’t say anything, but his eyes flicked down to her face, and his mouth flattened into a subtle frown. It was gone in an instant, though, as his gaze caught on our bare arms. Neither of us put on a coat when we came outside, even though it was starting to get chilly.
“You better get back inside before you catch a cold.” He clicked his tongue.
I waved him off. “We’re fine, Dad. I never wear a coat in the winter.”
Giving me a more stern look, he pointed to the house. “Go.”
“I should really be getting home anyway,” Sierra mumbled, her boot scraping circles on the hard ground.
“All right,” I grumbled, leading her back inside.
I didn’t want Sierra to go back to that house. Not tonight, not ever. I wished she could live here with me, with a family who cared about her like mine did.
When we were back in the living room, she grabbed her coat, and I grabbed my keys to drive her back into town.
“Sierra, dear?” Mom stopped her on the way out.
“What’s up, Mae?” She looked over her shoulder, a soft smile on her face.
“We’re going to have a big Thanksgiving feast. You’re more than welcome to join us if you’d like.”
Shadows fell over Sierra’s face, and sadness crept into her eyes, though it looked like she was trying to mask it. “I’ll ask my mom. Thank you for the invite.”
