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thinking, Robert.”
    â€œWell, it was Paul who done it, got us that horse!” Robert exclaimed. “Besides, it serves them right for putting us on that Appaloosa in the first place.” He rubbed his arm. “My arm got hurt.”
    â€œIs it really hurt?” I asked.
    â€œJust sprained, I think.”
    It was then Christian Waverly came over to us and he said, “That white nigger of y’alls got y’all a hell of a horse.”
    George turned quickly. “You talking about Paul?”
    â€œSure. Who else?”
    In one liquid movement George slammed Christian hard against the barn wall, then thrust up his arm and locked it under Christian’s jaw. “You talk about Paul,” George said, his voice calm, “you best remember one thing: You’re talking about us.”
    The other Waverlys stood startled and silent, watching from a distance. Robert and I stood silent too, not knowing what George might do. Hammond, as always, took charge. “That’s enough, George. Let him go.”
    George glanced over his shoulder at Hammond, then turned back to Christian and smiled before loosening his hold and backing away. Hammond then stepped up to Christian and said quite crisply, “You have to understand something, Christian. Paul’s our blood, and we make no bones about it. You have something to say to that?”
    Christian Waverly glanced at George and shook his head. “All right,” said Hammond pleasantly, then turned to Robert and me. “Paul, you and Robert take care of that Appaloosa now and let’s see about getting him home.”
    Late that afternoon we left the Waverly farm, and we took both the Appaloosa and Ghost Wind with us. My daddy rode the stallion, and Robert and I, with the Appaloosa between us, took turns holding his reins. We rode that way all the way back to my daddy’s house.
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    After we were home, my daddy summoned Mitchell’s daddy to the stables. Now, Willie Thomas was mighty good with horses, and my daddy entrusted the most prized of his horses to his care. Willie Thomas knew their ailments and how to fix most of them. He saw to their feeding, their hooving, all their care, but he didn’t train or ride them. My daddy did that himself. By the time Willie Thomas arrived along with Mitchell, only I was with my daddy. Hammond and George were getting ready to go courting, and Robert had gone off to nurse his sore arm. “So, this here’s Ghost Wind!” Willie Thomas exclaimed when he saw the stallion. “He ride good’s he look, Mister Edward?”
    â€œHe’s a fine riding horse, all right,” said my daddy, “but he needs training. I figure he gets that training, he could be the best around.”
    â€œYes, suh,” said Willie Thomas, stroking the stallion’s forehead. “He sure got a good look to him, I know that!”
    â€œNow, Willie,” said my daddy, “I expect you to take mighty good care of this horse. I’m depending on Ghost Wind to win me more than a few races by the coming year, and I want him in the best condition possible. I’ll do the training myself, and I don’t want anybody sitting him besides myself and Paul here. Paul’s got a definite hand with horses, and I figure him to ride for me someday with his light weight.”
    This was the first time I’d heard this. I was actually going to ride Ghost Wind! I couldn’t help but grin, and I glanced over at Mitchell in my pride. But Mitchell cut me a sour look, then looked back at the stallion.
    Willie Thomas nodded. “Don’t ya worry none, Mister Edward. I take good care of this horse for ya.”
    â€œI know you will,” said my daddy.
    Beginning the next day, I worked with my daddy in training Ghost Wind. Sometimes George and Hammond helped with the training, but once they went away to school, it was just my daddy and me, and I learned a lot from him. At first my