Free Firefly by Terri Farley Page A

already opened her mouth to ask Mrs. Allen for help, when she heard the vet’s truck.
    â€œHere they come,” Sam said. For a second, she wondered why her neck felt wobbly. Could it be from relief? Had she really been that tensed up?
    Yes! Given the choice between facing a terrified, half-ton horse and a mixed-up guy, Sam knew she’d pick the horse, every time.
    She could get inside the mind of a loco colt more easily than she could a guy who struck out at others just to prove he wasn’t weak.
    Mrs. Allen glanced at her watch. “Gabe, would you like to go inside? Maybe lie down on the couch for a little while?”
    Gabe gave a curt shake of his head. “I want to check out this wild horse.”
    It took Sam only a second to see that Dr. Scott was following through on their plan to put Pirate in with the three saddle horses.
    She gave Mrs. Allen a quick explanation, then bolted to open the pasture gate.
    Dr. Scott backed up to the gate and turned the truck off.
    â€œI should have bandaged his legs,” Dr. Scott said before he uttered another word. “Or given him a higher dose of sedative.”
    The vet’s eyes were pained, as if the banging around the colt had done in the trailer had bruised his flesh, too.
    But Pirate was out of the trailer and into the corral in minutes.
    â€œHe knows what a pen’s about,” Mrs. Allen said, coming to stand beside the young vet.
    â€œHe should,” Dr. Scott said, then squeezed Mrs. Allen’s forearm. “Thanks so much, Trudy.”
    â€œFor nothing,” she said, shrugging.
    Shimmering red gold in the morning sun, the colt pranced halfway around the corral, swerved away from the three saddle horses, then doubled back the way he’d come. Although Dr. Scott had said the colt hadn’t lost vision in the eye with the starfish-shaped patch, Sam noticed that Pirate tilted his head, trying to keep his unmarred side to the other horses.
    Now, as Calico advanced toward the colt, Sam recalled the mare’s strength. Calico might be old, but Sam had spent an uncomfortable half hour once dangling from the pinto’s halter rope as a farrier tried to shoe her.
    But Calico only jostled against the colt’s shoulder. The other paint mare, Ginger, clopped up to sniff him loudly, and no matter how the colt shied and tried to sidestep out of reach, she snuffled and rubbed him with her nose.
    To establish his dominance, Judge slung his head over Pirate’s neck. He didn’t press downward, though, at least not enough that Sam could see it.
    â€œThey’re all talking the same language,” Dr. Scott said, and Sam could tell he was heartened by the horses’ acceptance of the colt.
    They were sweet and welcoming, just as they’d been with Ace when he’d spent his first minutes with them. Sam couldn’t understand it. Turned into River Bend’s saddle horse pasture, poor Pirate would have been reminded of his newcomer status with bites and kicks, not placid pressure and gentle nibbling.
    Behind her, Sam heard Mrs. Allen talking quietly to Gabe.
    â€œYou’re sure you’re up to this? You’ve been awake for hours. You’re not even in the same time zone.”
    â€œOne hour difference is all,” Gabe said, and when Sam glanced his way, he met her eyes.
    She gave him a small smile for hanging in there, but Sam noticed his lips were pressed together hard and she thought a faint tremor showed in his arms as he arranged himself against the corral fence.
    â€œI’ll tell you a few things while he settles in,” Dr. Scott said, coming to stand beside Sam. “We’ll do show-and-tell afterward.”
    â€œOkay,” Sam said, though she was thinking it would be polite if someone introduced Dr. Scott to Gabe.
    It would be up to her, Sam thought, because Mrs. Allen was fussing over Gabe as if he were a little kid. And it was backfiring big time.
    â€œPunishing fear is the