Free Dark Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

tough-skinned barb.
    My eyes adjust to the semidarkness as I move to the back of the trailer. “Easy, Nickers,” I say, working the trailer latch. “I’ll get you out of there in no time.” She shuffles her hooves when I swing the doors open.
    It’s a two-horse trailer, and my plan is to climb the ramp, walk through the empty half, and get my horse. I tug on the tailgate ramp, but the thing won’t budge. I pull at it again. It’s been stuck before, but it just can’t be stuck now. I want my horse.
    “Need some help?”
    I turn to see a dark-haired girl who’s almost as beautiful as Lizzy. Her hair is wild and curly. She’s slim and a couple of inches taller than I am. If she were a horse, she might be an Andalusian, an elegant Spanish horse with big eyes and inner strength. I recognize her from the news clip. “Dakota?”
    “That’s me.”
    I don’t know if I should hug her or shake her hand or what. We’ve been friends in cyberspace, exchanging dozens of e-mails, spending time on the Pet Helpline. But this is different. “I’m Winnie,” I announce stupidly.
    “You’re kidding,” she says.
    “No, I’m—” I stop, finally getting the sarcasm. She had it in cyberspace too.
    “You look pretty much like your e-mails,” Dakota says, grinning. “Maybe a little shorter.”
    I laugh. I like her already.
    “So, need any help?” Dakota asks.
    “I could use some help,” I admit, grateful to have something to do besides try to talk. “I can’t get the ramp to come down.” I step aside and let Dakota try. Then we both pull, and it moves a little on one side, but it still won’t come down.
    Dakota shouts toward the house, “Wes! Come here!”
    Wes appears so fast that I think he must have been watching us from behind the tree. With him comes a big dog who looks friendly enough. But Nickers isn’t used to dogs, and she’s never been that crazy about them. I think she’ll be okay as long as the dog doesn’t start barking.
    “What’s up?” Wes nods a greeting at me, then walks up to the stuck ramp.
    “Thanks.” I feel like I should say something else to him, but I have no idea what. I wish Lizzy were here.
    The three of us tug at the same time, and the ramp pulls free, making us stumble backwards.
    “Thanks,” I tell them. There’s an awkward silence, and again I know I should say more, but I don’t know what to say. Where’s my sister when I really need her? Lizzy can talk the spots off a Pinto.
    Loud voices are coming from the Coolidge gathering a few yards off. I can’t tell if they’re happy or angry. I start up the trailer ramp, then turn back to Wes and Dakota. “Um . . . you guys didn’t know we were coming, right? You think it’s okay we’re here?”
    “Okay by me,” Dakota says.
    “Me too,” Wes agrees. He does some kind of finger motion, and his dog runs to him and sits at his feet.
    Dakota smiles. “You should have seen Kat’s face when Catman ran up.”
    “He was looking forward to meeting Kat too,” I tell them. “And her cats. And you guys. And seeing Hank. I guess they haven’t been together for a couple of years. What did Hank say?”
    I catch the look exchanged between Wes and Dakota. Then she shrugs. “I don’t know. Hank didn’t come out for the moon check.”
    Nickers paws the floor, shaking the whole trailer. She whinnies. Somewhere in the distance, a horse answers her.
    “I better get her out.” I make my way to my horse. “Easy, girl. I’m right here.” I snap on the lead rope and back her down the ramp with no problem.
    Now that she’s out, with solid ground under her hooves, she can’t stand still. I feel the tension coursing through her like electricity as she picks up strange scents, sights, and sounds.
    “She’s gorgeous,” Dakota says. “Arabian, right? Is she high-strung?”
    “No,” I snap. I don’t mean to be so defensive, but too many people have misjudged my horse. Lizzy says I’m way too sensitive when it comes to