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“Hi, Monica!”
    The figure in the car made no response. Lisaand Carole exchanged glances. Lisa felt awkward. Mr. Hopkins pulled a pair of metal crutches, like Emily’s, out of the trunk of the car. He handed them to his wife. “Here, darling,” Mrs. Hopkins said, handing them to the girl in the car. “No, not—oh dear. Try it this way—”
    “Mother, that hurts! Stop it!” The girl’s voice was strident.
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Look who’s here, darling, it’s Kate. And some other visitors.”
    “Great,” said Monica. “Spectators. Just what I need.” She didn’t say it loudly, but the wind carried her words back to Lisa, who flinched. They should have given Monica a chance to meet them on her own terms. But then, Kate would have ridden up to greet them if Monica hadn’t been hurt, so she should do the same thing now—shouldn’t she?
    Monica stood up, supporting herself on the crutches. She had long red hair and an angry expression. Just like them, she was wearing a cowboy hat, T-shirt, and jeans, but the right leg of her jeans had been neatly folded and pinned under so that it wouldn’t dangle where her leg should have been.
    “Hi, Monica,” Kate said, in a slightly strained tone.
    Monica glanced briefly at Kate, then looked away. “Hi.”
    Kate introduced her friends to Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins and to Monica. “They’ll be staying here almost as long as you will be,” she said. Monica didn’t respond.
    Emily spoke up. “You know,” she said to Monica, “you ought to do what we did when we got here—let the grown-ups take the luggage, and get on a horse as quick as you can! We’ll get a snack and wait for you, and we can all ride together.”
    Monica scowled at Emily. “I can’t do that,” she said rudely.
    Emily flushed but remained polite. “Why not? We don’t mind waiting.”
    Monica’s face turned red. She looked as if she didn’t know whether to cry or to spit at Emily. “I should think it would be obvious why not,” she said. “People with one leg don’t ride horses.” She turned her back on Emily and hopped toward the car.
    “Sure they do,” said Emily.
    Monica turned back, scowling, to say somethingover her shoulder. Lisa was sure it would have been something rude, but they never got to hear it. Monica tripped over the curb and fell in a tangle of crutches. Her parents rushed forward.
    “Oh dear! Are you hurt?” her mother asked.
    “No!” Monica threw a crutch sideways. She pounded her fist in the dirt. Tears streamed down her face. “This is stupid!” she yelled. “You were right—we should never have come here! I can’t do this! I can’t do anything anymore!”

M R. AND M RS . Hopkins huddled over their daughter. After her angry outburst, Monica fell silent; she seemed to be trying to contain her tears. Mrs. Hopkins put her arms around her daughter’s shoulders while Mr. Hopkins retrieved the crutch that she’d thrown out of reach.
    “I’m sorry I yelled,” she muttered, as they helped her stand. “Yelling doesn’t change things. I know that.” Her face was red and tear-streaked.
    “I know, dear,” said her mother. “It’s all right. I’m sorry, too—I never thought it was a good idea to come here.”
    “We can go straight home,” said her father.
    Monica looked at the ground. She still hadn’t looked at The Saddle Club or Kate or Emily, and she seemed very embarrassed and upset. “No. I want to stay. We always come to the Bar None.” She began to slowly hitch herself toward the ranch house. She didn’t look back, not even at Kate, her friend. Her parents followed, hovering around her like a pair of butterflies.
    “Well,” Kate said, with a soft sigh, when the Hopkinses had gone inside, “that was awful!”
    “I feel terrible,” Lisa agreed. “Did we say something we shouldn’t have?”
    Emily turned Spot back toward the stable. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have asked her to ride. I thought it might be easier on her to try it right