After I finish gathering the empty feed buckets and cleaning them out for the next feeding, I go back home. But instead of going inside, I walk out back to find Rainbow, who is happily grazing on the lawn. My mom says he’s the best lawn mower around because he mows the lawn and fertilizes it. But my dad says it’s gross and backyards are no place for horse poop. Micah and I call the droppings meadow muffins. Once we nearly convinced Ivy to eat one, but our consciences got the better of us and we finally told her what they were. She cried and told my mom, who made me and Micah clean up all the muffins.

Rainbow lifts his head when he sees me, and I rub his ears. He licks my hand, looking for a treat, then seems to smell all the other animals on me and sniffs harder.

“There’s a whole menagerie across the road,” I tell him. “You could make all kinds of friends. But I don’t think the Townsends would like me taking you over there.” I describe the chickens and Lucy and sweet little Ferdinand while Rainbow pulls at the grass and grinds it with his teeth. I pet his dusty coat and braid his mane, even though I don’t have anything to tie it with.

“You look very pretty,” I say.

He snuffles and keeps eating, swishing his tail at the flies.

The back screen door creaks open, and my mom calls out, “How’d it go, Rach?”

“Fine!” I call back.

She comes out to join us and stands on the other side of Rainbow, petting him gently.

“I don’t like the chickens,” I tell her. I show her my ankle, and she makes a face.

“We should get some peroxide on that. Does it hurt?”

I shrug. “It’s really not the best job in the world. But I like Ferdinand.”

“Sounds cute. Though you’ve got to admit the idea of walking a cow on a leash to make him tame is a bit ridiculous.”

“I think it’s sweet,” I say. “The Townsends mean well.”

“I suppose. Must be nice to be able to have those kinds of hobbies, huh?”

“Yeah.”

My mom looks up at our house, which needs painting, and over at the lawn that needs mowing, despite Rainbow’s efforts. It seems like all she does is worry about what needs to get done around here and what bills need to be paid.

“Do you need me to do anything today?” I ask. “I don’t have to go back to do evening chores until five or so.”