Free Storm Chaser by Chris Platt

top rail. Rusty walked forward and stuck his nose in her midsection, begging for a scratch. She played with his forelock, then scratched his neck and finger-combed his mane. From her perch atop the fence, Jess could plainly see the burn marks on Rusty’s back. She climbed down and rummaged through the brush bucket, looking for the salve she had placed there.
    Rusty stood patiently while she dabbed the medicine on his burned areas. Jessica knew some of them had to hurt badly, but the old horse stood patiently, letting her care for him. She glanced over his broad back, staring at Storm Chaser. “Do you see how this is done? See how nice and quiet Rusty stands here?” she chided. “You’re supposed to act like I’m your friend.”
    Storm Chaser flicked her ears, listening to the sound of Jessica’s voice. Jessica tried to keep her words soft and even, the way her father had taught her. A loud or excited tone of voice might cause a horse to think there was trouble. In the wild, a horse’s best defense was to run away from the danger. Jessica didn’t want the new filly to run away from her.
    A movement on the other side of the stable yard caught her eye. Jessica stood on the rail to get a better view as Duncan entered the new horses’ pen and singled out the blue roan. He expertly and quietly drove the gelding toward the opening to the next pen without causing the rest of the herd to move.
    Jessie sighed. Her brother was a great horseman. Horses responded to Duncan like he was one of their own. If she’d gone into that pen, the new horses would have bolted every which way. Some day she hoped to be as good at working with the beautiful animals as her father and brother. But even her dad recognized Duncan was special. He had always had a way with horses.
    â€œI’ll be back,” she said to Rusty and Chase as she climbed off the fence and tossed the ointment into the brush bucket. Duncan was starting work on the first of the new horses, the blue roan, and she wanted to watch. Maybe if she could learn how he did things, she’d be able to do a little work with Chase. If she could get the halter on the skittish filly, maybe her father would have more faith in her and let her try to train the paint.
    Jessica hung back under the shade of the big quaking aspen trees not far from the training pen. She hoped Duncan wouldn’t notice her. He didn’t like having an audience.
    At first, her brother didn’t do anything. He just let the horse move around the circle, looking over the fence and calling to the other horses. Jessica recognized Rusty’s and Chase’s cries of concern along with the wild ones in the pen. The blue roan continued to pace on the side closest to his buddies. Being a herd animal, he wanted to get back to his friends.
    Duncan let the colt pace for another minute, then coiled his lasso and gently urged the roan into trotting the entire circular pen. The colt tried to ignore him, but with each insolent toss of the horse’s head, Duncan lifted the rope higher into the air or slapped it against his thigh, causing the colt to move a little bit faster.
    Her brother preferred to work the young horses in the evening after dinner. It was cooler and he could push them harder. After a few minutes, the exercise began to wear on the colt. Jessica noticed that the blue roan looked inward to Duncan, recognizing that the boy was the one forcing him into running.
    Jessie heard the crunch of boots and turned to see Marybeth walking toward her. Today Marybeth had on baby blue chaps over her jeans, a brightly colored western shirt, and a too-big hat that had to belong to her father. Jess wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she just smiled a welcome.
    Marybeth started to speak, but Jessica put her finger to her lips, pointing to Duncan and the horse in the round pen. Marybeth tiptoed the rest of the way and stopped beside her. Jessica could tell that her friend was