Part 3
By late July, Rook could be led through the gate when the chain was secured out of his way. Some mornings he walked the length of the pen beside Mae; on others, he stopped halfway and they ended there. The patch beneath his halter had healed. Mae used one that fitted him better and checked it each time she brought him out.
Sam watched from outside the fence. He learned the difference between Rook standing still to look at something and standing still because he was running out of places to go. He also learned how often he guessed wrong.
Once, he told Mae the horse seemed ready for a person to stand at his shoulder. She moved closer, saw Rook tighten, and stepped back.
“You saw his feet settle,” she told Sam afterward. “I saw where his attention went.”
“To the gate.”
“Right.”
Sam crossed that line out of his notes. Mae asked him to leave the first observation legible, so they could remember why it had seemed convincing.
Lou kept a table of donated tack by the barn office. Beside it, a poster announced another open house in August. High Basin, a facility farther north with more space for mustangs, had offered Rook a place when Lou’s foster period ended; a new contribution could let Lou keep working with him here for several more months. The prospective sponsor wanted the horse featured in a short presentation. Lou wanted Mae to lead Rook in the pen while Sam moved along the paved path outside it.
Sam studied the sketch Lou had made. The path and pen ran alongside each other for about thirty feet, separated by a pipe fence. At the end, Mae could turn Rook toward the barn while Sam continued to the gate. Lou proposed a rehearsal with no spectators before deciding whether they would take part.
Mae listened without interrupting. “No crowd pressed against the rail,” she said.
“Agreed.”
“And if he won’t take the first turn, we end it.”
“Agreed,” Lou said again.
Sam pointed to a square on the sketch. “What’s that?”
“The sponsor’s banner. They want it behind you.”
It would hang at the far end of the fence, close to the turn. In the photograph Lou showed him, the white letters stood out against deep blue fabric. Sam could already imagine the picture: Rook walking inside the rail, the chair outside it, each moving forward at an easy pace.
“Can they put it somewhere else?” Mae asked.
Lou said he would check. Sam found himself hoping the answer would be no.
At supper, his mother read the plan Lou had sent. He had written that Sam would remain outside the pen and that Mae could stop at any point. Sam’s phone was beside his plate, paused at the frame where Rook’s muzzle touched his fingers. She read the plan once more before putting down her phone.
“I’d like to watch the rehearsal,” she said.
“You’re already driving me.”
“I mean I’d like to be there where I can see it.”
Sam pushed a pea across his plate. “You saw the plan.”
“I did. I also know you.”
He looked up. She was thinking of the ATV. He knew because he was too: the dirt road, the turn he had taken too fast to stay ahead of his friends. His injury was not a horse’s fault. That had never stopped the sight of him near an arena from frightening her.
“I know what I’m doing with horses,” he said.
“You know a great deal. You’ve also wanted that video to mean more than it can.”
Sam put down his fork. Since returning to the barn, he had been able to give her details when she asked how the day went. Now he wanted her to see that he had made himself useful there. The thought made her criticism sting.
“I’ll follow Mae,” he said.
“All right.” His mother reached for her phone. “And I’ll be there.”
Two days before the rehearsal, Sam arrived while Mae was walking Rook past the empty section of fence. A breeze lifted the edge of a towel someone had left hanging over the rail. Rook stopped. Mae gave him time to look, then took him back the way they had come.
“You can see why I asked about the banner,” she said.
“We could fasten it tight.”
“Maybe. I’d rather have it away from the turn.”
Lou came out with a message from the sponsor. They wanted the banner in the frame and could have it fixed to the outer rail. He said they would check it before bringing Rook out. Mae looked at the towel, then at the stretch of path where Sam would be waiting.
“I want to try without it first,” she said.
Lou agreed to begin that way. If Rook seemed settled, they would decide whether to add the banner. Sam asked how they could judge the plan for August without rehearsing the actual setup. Lou thought for a moment and said they would bring Rook back to his stall while the banner went up. Afterward, Mae could decide whether to bring him out again.
On Thursday, Rook walked the fence line without the banner. Mae turned him before the far gate and came back at an unhurried pace. From his side of the rail, Sam could hear Rook’s feet in the sand alongside the softer sound of his own wheels on pavement. At the end, Rook lowered his head toward a patch of shade and waited while Mae scratched his neck.
Sam’s mother smiled at him from the viewing area. Mae led Rook back to his stall.
The sponsor’s crew arrived with poles and ties for the banner. As they pulled the fabric across the rail, Mae asked whether they could put it on the barn wall instead. The crew member looked to Lou. Lou looked to Sam.
Sam saw the wall: too far behind them, making the picture smaller. He also saw Mae waiting for his answer. He could have said he liked the walk they had just done. Instead, he told Lou, “Let’s see if it stays still…”
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