My mom pulled a plastic bag filled with baby carrots out of her pocket and handed them to me. “Put one in the palm of your hand and hold it out flat so he doesn’t nip you,” she said. “Like this.”

I put a carrot in my hand and held it out, and Rainbow slurped it up with his big velvety lips.

“I want to try!” Ivy yelled. Rainbow reared his head at the sound and stepped back, frightened.

“Don’t scare him, Ivy. You have to use a gentle voice,” my mom said.

“Hi, Rainbow,” Ivy whispered, letting him take a carrot from her hand.

We spent the rest of the day preparing a stall for him in the old barn behind the house, and Ivy and I took turns walking him on his lead while the other rode bareback. My mom said we needed to spend a lot of gentle, loving time with him in order to bond. But I think Rainbow would be friends with anyone with a carrot and a soft voice. My favorite thing to do with him was put Ivy on his back and tie him to a stake in the grass, just like in my mom’s photo. Then I’d sit in my mom’s old plastic lawn chair and read to Ivy while she braided the bits of mane she could reach.

For my eleventh birthday, I got a new bridle for Rainbow, since the one he came with was so worn, the leather reins kept splitting in two and my mom kept having to patch them together with duct tape. I don’t even know why I bothered to try to ride him, he was so fat and lazy. The girth on the old saddle he came with barely stretched over his round belly. No one knew how old he really was, but the guess was that he was in his twenties. There was something special about him, though, and whenever I came toward him with his bridle, he’d sniff my hand for a treat and sometimes lick it fondly, like he did the first time we met. I knew it was his way of accepting me, even though I was sure he preferred being read to in the grass than taking me for rides. I was allowed to ride him to the bottom of the field across the street, but it was agony getting him to go. The only time he picked up speed was when we turned around and he knew he was heading for home. Then he would trot slowly with his ears perked up and pointed straight for the barn, where he knew my mom was waiting with a sugar cube. Riding in the field felt like our special time, and sometimes I’d sing “Over the Rainbow” to him as we trudged along. I know it sounds silly, but I think it made him feel special.