But the field beyond the fence still beckoned Bucky. Nate could see his sister trying to control the pony by shortening the reins in one hand and turning him, but Bucky was past controlling. He was disoriented, cockeyed, crazy, and where the wooden fencing had momentarily stopped him, Nate realized suddenly that the barbed-wire fence along the far end of the property would not. And that’s exactly where Bucky was heading. A horse doesn’t register barbed wire, their father had told them. Nate knew that, and Junie did too. He imagined Bucky crashing into it, the wire tearing into his skin, his legs buckling. And Junie, falling—on her head, or even crushed beneath her pony’s weight.

Only one thing left to do. Nate positioned himself squarely in front of the barbed wire as Bucky came at him. Like a bullfighter, he cut off Bucky’s movements—first alongside one stretch of wire, then alongside another. If he could just get Bucky to move in the direction of the barn, he knew what would happen. The pony would want to go home again. He’d want the safe, familiar territory where food and water and his own warm stall were waiting.

At first Bucky only seemed confused and frantic. Then, just as Nate had been hoping, the pony began to lose steam. He shook his head, and Nate could see the look change in his eyes. He took one final unsteady step toward the fence, stopped, and then turned 180 degrees in the other direction. Back where he came from. Back to the barn.

Nate jumped in the car and pulled the door shut. He drove as fast as he could toward the barn without the risk of setting Bucky off again. Reaching the paddock just as Junie and Bucky did, he leaped out and ran up in front of the exhausted pony. Sweat dripped from the pony’s glistening haunches and midsection.

“Bring him up, J,” he called to Junie. “Rein him in now.”

He saw her pulling with the full force of her small body, so hard she was leaning back as far as she’d been leaning forward before. The pony let out one last whinny and skidded to a sideways stop. Nate ran to catch up with them.

“Junie,” he cried. “Are you all right?”

She was gasping for breath, unable to speak. Bucky was panting too, his coat as wet as if he’d traveled through a rainstorm. Junie still clung, trembling, to his back, her head against Bucky’s sweat-drenched mane. His big, wide chest was heaving, and his nostrils were flared. One hoof pawed the ground. His head shook. Like his rider, he trembled.

“Let’s get you down,” Nate said quietly to his sister. He held his arms out and let her slide into them. He could feel her heart pounding in her small, narrow chest as she fell against him, sobbing.