Up at the paddock, Master Thomas has a mind to stay right on back from the fence. While he works up the nerve to get closer, the three horses in there don’t bother to even look up at us from their grazing. As we inch nearer, Master Thomas pulls at my skirts and tangles up in my legs.

“You want your cobbler, you better go on up there,” I tell him. His momma promised him peach cobbler if he strokes one. “They ain’t gonna hurt you,” I say. “Look how they’s minding their own business.”

I nudge him forward, but he scurries behind me, clutching at my thighs and peeking around my hips.

“Come on, let’s you and me go pet one,” I say.

“You first,” he says.

I don’t take but a couple steps before I feel him tugging at my skirt behind me.

“Let’s go back,” he says.

“Now, don’t be silly,” I say. “They’s just horses, as gentle as you like. Don’t you want to pet it?”

He shakes his head.

“If you pet one, you can tell your momma and your daddy what you did. Lord have mercy, will they be proud of you.”

He don’t move closer.

“And, on top of that, you’ll get your cobbler,” I say.

We both hear the brush of long grass at the same time and turn. The blacksmith is leading a large brown and black horse up the hill. It’s got its head near about on the man’s shoulder. He reaches up and scratches its muzzle.

“Afternoon,” he says to us.

I nod at him and Master Thomas takes a step back, keeping his distance. The blacksmith opens the gate and leads the horse in. He slips the rope over the animal’s head, strokes its neck, talking soft in its ear like he did to his own horses that day in the storm.

Thomas steps out from behind my skirt.

The blacksmith comes up to a gray horse, pats its back, circles around and pats its neck and slips the rope around its head.

“What are you doing?” Thomas calls out.

“Shoeing horses,” he says. “And what might the two of you be doing?”

Thomas looks around, not sure of his answer. “I’m fixing to pet one,” he finally says.

“Fixing to? If it’s petting a horse you’re wanting, then why not just go on and pet it?” He turns to look at me. “And what about you, miss? Do you fancy stroking a horse?”

I shake my head. “I’m just here for Master Thomas. He ain’t too sure about the horses since his fall a while back. He’s working up to it.”

The man nods. “I see.” He clicks his tongue and leads the horse a few steps toward us. “Well, this one’s pretty friendly. Why don’t you come say hello?”

Thomas takes my hand and creeps toward the blacksmith, tugging me along. When we’re standing right up beside the horse, the blacksmith reaches out and takes Thomas’s hand, and guides him in stroking the side of the horse. The grin on that boy’s mouth is near about wide enough to reach his ears.