No. Obviously. Horses, like rivers, are naturally occurring phenomenona. But there is something poetic about seeing a horse staring at you with its big brown eyes.. . .

Until you see the saddle hanging off its side like an awkward fanny pack for a horse if horses wore fanny packs.

I held out a tentative hand.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, not knowing to whom I was speaking.

The horse bowed its head, stepping through the water and ­gently pressing its nose into my palm. Which had never happened to me before.

Now I had my miracle.

I just needed to find the rider.

And I was pretty sure I knew who that was.

SIXTEEN

Horses are not like dogs in ways that are both obvious and kind of annoying.

Like if it was a dog, I feel pretty sure you could ask it, “Hey, where’s your mom/dad/owner? Please take me to them.” Although I don’t know if Monty would take you to me, if you found her somewhere wandering on her own. I think Monty would just wag her tail and look at you expectantly and then walk in a circle and lie down.

As soon as I reached up to take hold of the reins, the horse jerked its head like I’d insulted its favorite band and let out an angry whinny.

“Okay, okay. Uh, easy. I’m not going to hurt you.”

As I took another step forward, the horse stumbled backward again like I was waving a firecracker in its face. At which point I realized I was kind of dressed like a glittery flag.

“I get it,” I said, my voice calm and quiet. “I’m dressed up. It’s fringe. Not everyone likes fringe.”

I lowered my arms and stood quiet and still for what felt like hours, until finally, I think looking for an apple, the horse stretched its head out toward me. Slowly I reached out my hand and closed my fingers around the reins.

I was a girl with a pair of roller skates and a horse and nowhere to go.

At which point I realized, because I’d been calling out for good signs, that while this horse felt a little fortuitous for me, it was also, very possibly, a bad sign for whoever was riding him before I found him in the river.

Wait. Him?

I looked.

Yep. Him.

“Hey, friend.” I put my palm on his neck, which was sweaty. “Are you Gilly’s horse? You look like Gilly’s horse. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, would you?”