Free Galloping Gold by Terri Farley Page A

ringing closed, they looked up to see Patrick making his way across the pinto pasture.
    â€œHe asked me where I kept the peppermint treats.”Ann suddenly realized the significance of Patrick’s earlier question.
    â€œAnd he left his crutches leaning against the fence,” Darby said incredulously. “What is he thinking?”
    Ann moaned. “I should have guessed! He was telling me about an article he’d read in some scientific journal about breed recognition among animals. You know, like golden retrievers will hang out with other goldens if they have a choice?”
    â€œAnn…” Her father sounded disapproving.
    â€œIt’s not my theory, Dad. All I did was listen, but he was thinking it might be transferable. Something along the lines of, if Mistwalker is a paint and she likes Patrick, then Sugarfoot will bond with him, too.”
    â€œI thought he was smarter than that,” Darby said.
    â€œGuess we’ll see.” Ed shifted from foot to foot. “I’d like to go out, pick him up by the scruff of his neck, and give him a good talkin’ to, but I don’t want to spook the horse.”
    Sugarfoot didn’t look the least bit spooked, Darby thought.
    Swishing his tail, flicking his ears, shivering his skin as if he were covered by flies, Sugarfoot watched Patrick come toward him.
    And then he charged.
    Fooled again, Darby thought. But Patrick was ready for the horse.
    Patrick stood up as straight as his spine would allow, holding his ground, and Sugarfoot did just whatthe Potters had predicted.
    The paint veered away, then stopped and looked back at the boy.
    Ann smooched loudly, then called to her horse, “Shug, you’re a good boy.”
    Patrick stuck out a thin arm and opened his hand. Sugarfoot walked a step closer, then stretched his gold-patched neck as far as it would go, to lip up the peppermint cookie. It was gone in an instant.
    Patrick wiped his palm on his jeans, squared away his white pith helmet, and started back to the fence.
    â€œI think he likes me,” Patrick yelled, but his celebratory strut was cut short by a stumble.
    That leg’s still not healed, Darby thought, but she said, “Sugarfoot didn’t do it,” and her words were rushed, just in case anyone thought otherwise.
    â€œWe all saw that,” Jonah told her, “but he’s going to investigate.”
    Dying sunlight burnished the gelding’s gold-and-white coat as he took a step toward Patrick. The action reminded Darby of the times she’d fallen off Hoku and the filly had waited for her. Unworried, the boy called, “I just need a little help getting up.”
    Darby tensed to go to him. Ann reached for the gate and Ed muttered, but Jonah held up a hand to keep the others back.
    â€œI’ll take care of it,” Jonah said, “and have a talk with your horse.”
    As soon as Jonah walked off, Darby chanced a lookat Ann. Her friend wasn’t angry, just determined.
    â€œYou saw.” Ann didn’t look at her father, but she had to be talking to him, unless she was convincing herself. “He’s my horse and I’m not giving up on him.”
    Jonah helped Patrick to his feet and aimed him toward the fence, then turned his attention to Sugarfoot.
    Darby wanted to take Patrick’s crutches to him. She wanted to help him get the rest of the way back over to them, but when she glanced at Ed for permission, the man shook his head.
    â€œLet him come on his own.”
    Ed opened the gate when Patrick, red-faced with exertion, finally made it back.
    â€œYou knew he might charge. That was dangerous, son,” he said, but Patrick was looking at Ann.
    â€œI stood my ground,” Patrick said proudly, “and it worked. I knocked myself down. It wasn’t him.”
    He continued chattering, so excited by his animal behavior experiment that even Ed couldn’t be mad. But they did gesture for him to keep quiet