Though the move went off without a hitch, it took a week before Kevin and Amy were properly settled in. When they weren’t inside mulling over what to unpack, or deciding which couch should go where, they were outside roaming the ranch, investigating unseen corners, prying into the outbuildings, fiddling with equipment, trying to familiarize themselves with how everything worked. Roger had left them a list: a city dweller’s survival guide—tips on keeping the rainwater tanks clean, what to do if the power was cut—but Kevin refrained from looking at it too much. He figured it did them no good to pick up a phone or refer to a cheat sheet every time they had a question. Besides, Amy seemed to be enjoying the pioneering thrill of inspecting everything for herself, particularly if it had anything to do with the horses. She’d made the barn her second home, camping out there for hours on end with books borrowed from the local library: basic care, grooming, feeding, behavior, handling, and safety. Anything to do with horse keeping, she read from cover to cover.

Even the ranch hand they hired, a friendly local man by the name of Zack, with twenty-five years’ horse-keeping experience, was impressed by how much Amy had learned in such a short space of time. None of this was news to Kevin, of course, for he’d already witnessed her ability firsthand. Seeing her work her magic with Little Dipper was a sight he’d never forget.

•••

A month after the move, on one sunny, cloudless morning, Kevin grabbed Helen’s old Polaroid camera, a pen, a sheet of paper, a tin box, and a shovel from the shed, and went to find Amy. She was in the barn with Zack, getting a lesson on first aid and monitoring the horses’ health.

“Mind if I interrupt?”

“Sure, Dad. What’s up?”

“I need a favor.” He held up the camera. “Zack, would you mind taking a photo of us?”

“Certainly, Mr. Tucker.”

Kevin headed outside and found a spot beneath the spindly branches of an old sycamore tree. Amy followed a few minutes later, emerging from the barn carrying an old-fashioned cowboy hat.

“Look what I found gathering dust in the tack room,” she said, sticking the hat on her head. “What do you think? How do I look?”

Kevin grabbed the brim of the hat and tipped it forward, laughing as he brought her in for a hug.

“You look perfect,” he said.

Standing in sun-dappled shade, with a view of the valley as their backdrop, Kevin and Amy put their arms around each other and faced the camera. Zack told them to smile, counted to three, then snapped the picture. There was a click and hum as the film fed through the camera and slid out the front. Zack handed the camera back to Kevin.

“Great stuff, Zack.”

“Happy to oblige, Mr. Tucker.”