thinking about it forever, but she still hadn't quite decided how she felt.
Mostly, she thought it was going to be great, since after their mother married Russell, Kevin would be almost like her real brother, and a big brother was what Molly had always wished for most even more than a horse.
Now she would have both-the colt, whom she'd named Flicka, after the one in her favorite book, and a brother, too!
And she really liked Russell, although she still didn't know what she was supposed to call him. She couldn't call him Dad, since he wasn't really her father, and "Uncle Russell" seemed kind of stupid. Why would her mother be married to her uncle, anyway? So far, she hadn't been calling him anything. Pretty soon she'd have to make up her mind. The only thing that made everything less than perfect was Kevin's grandfather. Whenever he looked at Mollie her sister and mother-he always appeared angry.
And he hardly ever even spoke to them, unless he absolutely had to.
Yesterday she'd asked Kevin why his grandpa was mad all the time, but Kevin had just told her not to worry, that after a while he'd get used to having them all around and then it would be okay.
But what if he didn't get used to them?
And what was it he had to get used to, anyway? There wasn't anything wrong with them!
A vision of Otto Owen's angry face, his eyes smoldering deep in the wrinkled folds of his leathery skin, suddenly rose in Molly's mind. In her imagination he was staring at her, his gaze boring into her, making her heart pound with fear. Then, as she struggled to banish the terrifying face from her imagination, the old man himself appeared in the yard outside.
Molly felt a chill as he glanced toward her, and she quickly backed away from the window. She began getting dressed, fishing yesterday's jeans out from the jumble of clothes on the chair in the corner, and scrabbling through her open suitcase for a clean T-shirt. Stopping in the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice from the pitcher in the refrigerator, she peered warily out the window, searching for Otto Owen. If he was in the barn, she didn't want to go down there at all.
But what about Flicka?
Her eyes moving away from the barn, she searched the pasture next to it, but neither Flicka nor any of the other horses were out yet, which meant that Kevin must still be asleep.
Should she go down to the barn by herself? Kevin had shown her what to do the day after they'd come to the farm, and yesterday she'd gotten all the chores done without forgetting anything. Maybe by the time Kevin came down, Molly thought, she could have the chores finished.
But what if Kevin's grandfather was there?
She thought it over, then made up her mind. The horses needed to be fed, watered, and turned out into the pasture, and even if Kevin's grandfather was in the barn, he wasn't going to hurt her. He was just a cranky old man, and she wouldn't pay any attention to him.
She picked up some sugar lumps from the bowl on the kitchen table, pulled on her windbreaker Against the morning chill, then resolutely marched out the back door and crossed the yard to the barn.
But when she got there, the courage she'd carefully constructed in the security of the kitchen failed her.
What if he was inside?
What if he yelled at her?
She listened at the door, but all she could hear from inside was the sound of the horses nickering quietly in their stalls. Finally, working her nerve up once again, she pulled the big barn door wide open, then stood at the center of the opening, staring into the gloom within.
"M-Mr. Owen?" she called out, her voice cracking slightly. "Are you in there?"
There was no reply, and her voice echoed hollowly back at her.
As she took a tentative step into the shadowy interior of the barn, the courage she'd felt in the bright sunlight deserted her. She'd been in the barn yesterday morning, and the morning before that, and it hadn't been scary at all, she told herself But Kevin had been with her
Mostly, she thought it was going to be great, since after their mother married Russell, Kevin would be almost like her real brother, and a big brother was what Molly had always wished for most even more than a horse.
Now she would have both-the colt, whom she'd named Flicka, after the one in her favorite book, and a brother, too!
And she really liked Russell, although she still didn't know what she was supposed to call him. She couldn't call him Dad, since he wasn't really her father, and "Uncle Russell" seemed kind of stupid. Why would her mother be married to her uncle, anyway? So far, she hadn't been calling him anything. Pretty soon she'd have to make up her mind. The only thing that made everything less than perfect was Kevin's grandfather. Whenever he looked at Mollie her sister and mother-he always appeared angry.
And he hardly ever even spoke to them, unless he absolutely had to.
Yesterday she'd asked Kevin why his grandpa was mad all the time, but Kevin had just told her not to worry, that after a while he'd get used to having them all around and then it would be okay.
But what if he didn't get used to them?
And what was it he had to get used to, anyway? There wasn't anything wrong with them!
A vision of Otto Owen's angry face, his eyes smoldering deep in the wrinkled folds of his leathery skin, suddenly rose in Molly's mind. In her imagination he was staring at her, his gaze boring into her, making her heart pound with fear. Then, as she struggled to banish the terrifying face from her imagination, the old man himself appeared in the yard outside.
Molly felt a chill as he glanced toward her, and she quickly backed away from the window. She began getting dressed, fishing yesterday's jeans out from the jumble of clothes on the chair in the corner, and scrabbling through her open suitcase for a clean T-shirt. Stopping in the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice from the pitcher in the refrigerator, she peered warily out the window, searching for Otto Owen. If he was in the barn, she didn't want to go down there at all.
But what about Flicka?
Her eyes moving away from the barn, she searched the pasture next to it, but neither Flicka nor any of the other horses were out yet, which meant that Kevin must still be asleep.
Should she go down to the barn by herself? Kevin had shown her what to do the day after they'd come to the farm, and yesterday she'd gotten all the chores done without forgetting anything. Maybe by the time Kevin came down, Molly thought, she could have the chores finished.
But what if Kevin's grandfather was there?
She thought it over, then made up her mind. The horses needed to be fed, watered, and turned out into the pasture, and even if Kevin's grandfather was in the barn, he wasn't going to hurt her. He was just a cranky old man, and she wouldn't pay any attention to him.
She picked up some sugar lumps from the bowl on the kitchen table, pulled on her windbreaker Against the morning chill, then resolutely marched out the back door and crossed the yard to the barn.
But when she got there, the courage she'd carefully constructed in the security of the kitchen failed her.
What if he was inside?
What if he yelled at her?
She listened at the door, but all she could hear from inside was the sound of the horses nickering quietly in their stalls. Finally, working her nerve up once again, she pulled the big barn door wide open, then stood at the center of the opening, staring into the gloom within.
"M-Mr. Owen?" she called out, her voice cracking slightly. "Are you in there?"
There was no reply, and her voice echoed hollowly back at her.
As she took a tentative step into the shadowy interior of the barn, the courage she'd felt in the bright sunlight deserted her. She'd been in the barn yesterday morning, and the morning before that, and it hadn't been scary at all, she told herself But Kevin had been with her
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