Sixteen and Dying Read Online Free PDF

common. I could use a friend. My quarters are on the south side of the lodge, in cabins close by the kitchen. Maybe we could meet tomorrow afternoon. I have free time from two till four.”
    Anne gave Marti her cabin number and invited her to come by anytime. The crunch of boots on gravel made them both turn. Morgan ignored Anne and addressed Marti. “My aunt’s looking for you. They’ve cranked some ice cream, and she wants you to help serve it after the meeting.”
    “Back to the salt mines.” Marti sighed and shrugged. “See you around, okay? I’m glad we got to talk.”
    Anne watched her hurry off. Alone with Morgan, she felt unsure of herself. “I was headed to the stables, toward the
tame
horses,” she said, unable to resistgetting in a dig. “I heard Marti crying and investigated.”
    Morgan hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “Marti’s all right—sort of lost out here, but she’s getting used to it. My buddy, Skip, has taken a liking to her.”
    Anne wasn’t sure why it pleased her to know that Skip, not Morgan, was interested in Marti. “I guess I’ll get down to the stables before all the decent horses are snatched up.”
    “Would you like me to help you pick a mount?” Morgan’s offer surprised Anne. He continued quickly, “I know the animals—all their idiosyncrasies. I could help you choose the right one.”
    “Yes, I’d appreciate your help,” she said. His input could be valuable. She wanted a horse with some spirit.
    As they walked to the stable in silence, Morgan wondered why he’d volunteered. Yesterday, he’d decided to steer clear of this particular girl, and now he was headed to the stables with her. Deep down, he felt Anne of New York City was trouble. She obviously had money and probably was spoiled. He thought back two summers before, when he’d been sixteen and fallen like a load of bricks for Stacy Donner, a rich debutante from San Francisco. She’d toyed with him. He learned from the experience. Rich girls were fickle and not to be trusted.
    At the stable, Anne stopped in front of each stall and studied each horse. The horses were well cared for and content. “Most are quarter horses,” Morgan explained. “They’ve worked on the range and earned the right to some leisure time.”
    “Not like the ones in the other corral,” Anne said. “I liked them better.”
    “They’re wild. Most of them are jugheads.”
    “Jugheads?”
    “That’s what we call a horse with no sense. They usually end up as broncos in rodeos.”
    “The bay seemed different.”
    Her natural eye for horseflesh impressed Morgan. “I’m going to cut him out and work with him. I’d like a new horse, but first I’ve got to see if it’s worth the time and effort to train him.”
    “You mean you’re going to break him yourself?” The idea of taming and training a wild horse fascinated her.
    “It’s no picnic. It’s hard, time-consuming work,” Morgan replied. He pushed back the brim of his hat and gazed down at Anne. “Before I make a recommendation about a horse, why don’t you tell me which one you think is right for you.”
    Anne wandered back along the stalls. She stopped in front of a good-size palomino. “If I have a choice, I’ll pick this one. He’s got nice confirmation and bright eyes.”
    Morgan was pleased. Anne had chosen the horse he would have picked for her. “That’s Golden Star, a nine-year-old gelding. He’s yours while you’re here.”
    Anne smiled. “I’ve always wanted to have my own horse—and now I will, even if it is only temporary.”
Temporary
. Now, everything about her life was temporary. She wondered if JWC, her mysterious benefactor, had experienced this sense of impermanence.
    “Making plans too far into the future is stupid,”Morgan said. “You never know what’s going to come along and blow them away.”
    Anne was surprised that he seemed to understand a person’s life could be shot down, even when the person did