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hadn’t gone that well—Brooke had been nervous and uncertain, and Foxy had picked up on that and refused to go anywhere near the scary metal monster parked in her pasture.
    When Brooke had complained to Adam about it, he’d seen it as an interesting challenge. After watching a few videos and reading some online articles, he’d convinced the pony to get into the trailer on his very first try. Brooke had been amazed, and envious. It didn’t seem fair that he could teach Foxy something she couldn’t.
    Still, the important thing was that he’d done it. And for a year or so after that, Brooke had practiced leading Foxy into and out of the trailer as often as she could, even if they weren’t going anywhere. Sometimes she’d even feed the pony her dinner in there just to make it seem like a good place to be.
    But then things had gotten busier at the car lot and Brooke’s stepfather had needed the trailer more often, andit had just seemed easier to keep it there instead of at home. That had been the end of Foxy’s trailer-loading practice.
    Her stepfather burst out onto the front step, startling Brooke out of her thoughts. “Ready? Grab the pony and let’s load up.”
    Brooke glanced up and down the street again. “Adam’s supposed to come help me get her on the trailer,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
    Her mother emerged in time to hear her. “We can’t wait much longer. Here, text him and see if he’s on his way.”
    She handed Brooke her smartphone. Brooke quickly sent Adam a text:
    Where r u? It’s time to load Foxy.
    She stood there, holding her mother’s phone. Her stepfather climbed into the truck and started the engine. He left it idling and hopped out again.
    â€œWell?” he called.
    At that moment the phone buzzed in Brooke’s hand. It was a return text from Adam:
    Sry, forgot. Went to town w/ the guys after practice.
    Brooke gritted her teeth as disappointment flooded through her. What had happened to Adam? A year ago, he never would have let her down like this!
    But she pushed those thoughts aside. What was the point in dwelling on them? “He’s not coming,” she told her parents. “I guess I’ll have to load her by myself.”
    That turned out to be easier said than done. Foxy followed her willingly out to the front yard. But as soon as Brooke turned her toward the open trailer door, the mare planted her feet and snorted as if the trailer was a horse-eating dragon.
    â€œWhat’s wrong with Foxy?” Emma called out from the front step, where both twins were sitting, watching the show.
    Brooke didn’t answer. “Come on, girl,” she said into Foxy’s ear. “You can do this.”
    She turned the mare in a circle and tried again. And again. Each time, the mare stopped and refused to go anyfarther, no matter how hard Brooke pulled on her halter.
    â€œWhat’s the problem, Brooke?” Her stepfather sounded impatient. “We can’t do this all afternoon.”
    â€œI know, sorry.” Brooke took a deep breath, trying not to cry. Why did Foxy have to be so stubborn right now? “I just can’t get her to go on.”
    â€œHere, let me try.” Her stepfather strode over and grabbed the lead rope out of her hand. Before Brooke could protest—he didn’t know what he was doing, he was going to scare Foxy—he’d given a cluck and a firm tug on the rope.
    Foxy tossed her head and backed up a step. Brooke’s stepfather reached back and smacked the mare on the rump with his free hand. That startled the mare forward, and before she—or Brooke—quite realized what was happening, Foxy was in the trailer.
    â€œSee?” Brooke’s stepfather sounded satisfied as he quickly tied the mare and hopped out to swing the door shut. “It doesn’t have to be such a drama.”
    â€œYeah.