Amy stood her ground. If they expected her to back down, they had another thing coming. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and faced the erratic animal head on. Then, with just a few feet of dirt between them, without having a clue what she was doing, fully aware that at any moment she could be trampled to the ground, she stepped even closer, close enough to see the whites of the horse’s eyes, close enough to feel the air snorting from her nostrils . . . and reached out to touch its neck.

“Amy!” Kevin cried out in the distance. “What are you doing ? Get back! ”

Amy ignored her dad’s pleas. She switched off from the commotion unfolding around her. The horse was panting heavy and fast, its sweaty skin pulsing beneath her palm, but she let nothing distract her. Determined not to show any fear, she rested one hand on the horse’s nose while running her other hand along the side of its neck, making long, gentle strokes, back and forth, back and forth.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Everything’s okay . . .”

Amy repeated the same motion, the same words, never letting her voice waver, never letting her hand deviate. The horse resisted at first and continued to buck its legs and grunt and swing its head, but then something extraordinary happened—it began to calm. As though cast under a spell, the horse pricked its ears forward, gently padded the dirt, then bent down and nuzzled its nose into Amy’s shoulder. Amy couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. She raised her other hand and stroked the other side of the horse’s head, and an affectionate nicker rose from the horse’s throat. For a moment, Amy wondered if she might cry.

After kissing the horse on the nose, she gripped its straps and turned around. Four wide-eyed faces were staring back at her. No one knew what to say. Not her dad, not the owner of the ranch, not even those two louts from McGuire Bros. Horse Transport. 48

Roger, who couldn’t stop staring at Amy, his gaze a mix of both curiosity and wonder, mumbled, “Who are you?”

“This is my daughter,” Kevin said, stepping in, “who was supposed to be waiting in the car.”

“Sorry, Dad, but these two were being cruel to this horse and I had to do something.”

“Whoa, now hang on just a minute,” one of the McGuire brothers huffed. “Cruel? Hardly.”

Roger jerked his head and gave the two men a scowling glare. “Is that a whip?” he cried out in disgust. He was so angry that he had to lean down hard on his cane to keep his balance. “I don’t appreciate you coming here and threatening my horses, so I’d like you to get off my property—right now.”