She went ahead and laughed. “But I’m my grandfather’s granddaughter,” she pointed out. “I’ll save you some work if I can, and if she won’t behave, I promise at least that I won’t spook her and send her into the next county.”

Still looking amused and dubious, Tom Ware showed her where he kept the saddle, blanket, and bridle, then went on with his planned work. Jennifer took only the bridle with her when she went out into the field where the mule stood, ears up, under a tree, watching her from the middle of a cluster of very pregnant nanny goats.

Jennifer looked fixedly at the mule’s tail—it being bad manners to stare any animal directly in the eyes—and relaxed, putting her mind in that peculiar state where she saw not only the mule, but Mule.

Sister, she thought, when Mule flicked her ears in acknowledgement of Kestrel’s presence. Sister, will you help me? I need this younger sister’s strong back and thick skin to get to the Sacred Ground.

Mule considered this for a moment. Will there be an apple? she asked, finally, on behalf of Tom’s real-world mule; practical, like all mules.

Two apples, Jennifer promised, upping the ante. Mule’s jaw worked at the thought.

Yes, Mule replied, after time to think about the effort involved in terms of reward. That was, after all, how mules operated, and why they had such a reputation for stubbornness.

As Mule walked forward out of the herd of goats, she dwindled, and became Tom Ware’s old riding mule, responding to Jennifer’s whistling and coaxing. She bent her head to take the bridle, and even accepted the bit with good graces. As Jennifer led her to the shed that held the rest of the tack, Tom Ware came out of the chicken coop, and his eyes widened.

“Well, I’ll be!” he said, with admiration. “You are the Old Man’s granddaughter! Never could see a critter that could resist him!”

“I just promised her apples,” Jennifer replied, laughing. “Good thing I brought some with me!”

The mule remained well mannered, mindful of the promised apples, and didn’t even blow herself up to keep the girth loose—an all-too-common trick mules and horses alike liked to play on inexperienced riders. Within ten minutes, Jennifer was in the saddle, guiding the mule in the general direction of the ridge but letting her pick her own way. Mules were better at avoiding tangles than any human, and had more experience threading their way through dense undergrowth.

Ask anyone who’s tried to catch one that didn’t want to be caught. It was just a good thing that since time immemorial, Mule never could resist a bribe.