Gabe walked with her to meet the lad. “Are ya ready to groom Apple?” he asked him.

Nodding, Freckles leaned against Gabe, who patted his slight shoulders.

“Anna here will give ya a hand.”

Freckles looked up at her. With his dark eyes and lashes and silky brown hair, he was certainly a beautiful child. He nodded. “Denki.”

“You’ve done this before, jah?” Anna placed her hand over his as he held the curry brush. “How’s this?” she asked.

Freckles gave her a big smile, and Anna glanced over at Gabe, who was greeting several Amishwomen carrying small children into the stable. One was a tiny blond girl who closely resembled the beautiful blue-eyed woman accompanying her.

“Emmie always rides Promise,” one of the volunteers called to the blond woman, pointing to the black pony at the end of the lineup.

Anna admired the woman and the petite girl—nearly like twins in looks, though years apart. Like Baby Jimmy and his Mamma, Anna thought, recalling how good it had felt to cradle a baby in her arms last evening.

Anna returned her attention to Freckles’ attempt at making small circles against Apple’s sleek coat. “Round and round with the brush, gently . . . gently,” she encouraged the boy, who kept looking at her for approval, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth in concentration.

After fifteen minutes or so, Freckles seemed tired, and another young boy was given the opportunity to groom Apple’s opposite flank and shoulder with help from one of the Amish teens.

Gabe came over and picked up Freckles, then went to meet a stout Amishman who looked to be the boy’s father. The men shook hands and talked briefly before Gabe waved good-bye.

Meanwhile, the assistants helped the riders place and secure their helmets on their little heads. When the tacking up was complete, as well, the riders were either helped up or settled directly onto the saddle. The organization of the volunteers impressed Anna; Gabe did not have to prompt a single one. Like worker bees. They know exactly what to do, she thought.

Any disability or hesitation the riders had shown seemed to vanish, and smiles appeared as the horses began to move, each accompanied by a leader and two side walkers, or in some cases, a parent and a side walker.

“Rider and horse build a special bond over time,” Gabe told Anna. “Eventually a horse will choose its rider. For some riders, that connection happens almost immediately.” He invited her to go along to the sixty-foot round pen, where the horses walked slowly while being led. “The children’s parents tell us that they count the days till their next therapy session—the children, I mean. That is, those who can speak.” He mentioned that two young riders were nonverbal, one due to autism.