“Where is everybody, Hop Sing?” Joe asked, sticking his head into the kitchen. But only his head—Hop Sing’s kitchen was his castle, and he was the king. King Hop Sing, Joe thought, and clapped his hand to his mouth, not quite in time to stifle a giggle.“What funny, Ritta Joe?” the cook demanded.

“Nothing. Where is everybody?”

Hop Sing thunked the dough he’d been kneading onto a floured board and picked up a rolling pin to flatten it. “Mr. Cartlight go to town, take Adam with him. Hoss go with hands, fix fences.” He gave Joe a suspicious look. “It still morning. Why you home? You supposed to be with Widow Hawkins, whitewash her fence today.”

Joe shook his head. “If I’d run off from Mrs. Hawkins,” he said earnestly, “this’d be the last place I’d come.”

Hop Sing thought about that, then nodded. “So why you home?”

“Mrs. Hawkins told me to go away. She had a headache.”

“Hmph. You got something to do with headache?”

Joe gave him his best “Who, me?” look and asked, “Can I have a cookie?”

“You change subject. No, not say—I not want to know.” Hop Sing went to the ceramic jar and pulled out two oatmeal cookies. He gave them to Joe and said, “What you going to do all day?”

Joe took a bite and said with his mouth full, “I figured I’d go fishing.” He sprayed a few crumbs as he spoke. Hop Sing made a pfft! sound and handed him a cloth to wipe his face.

“Wait,” Hop Sing said, turning back to the counter, “I pack you lunch.”

“You packed me one earlier,” Joe reminded him, then added sheepishly, “but I guess I ate it on the way home.”

“I already know that.” Joe watched admiringly as the cook pulled out meat, bread, and cheese, and slapped a sandwich together faster than Pa could rope a steer. Hop Sing tied a large square of cheesecloth around the sandwich, along with an apple and three more cookies, and handed the neat bundle to Joe. “Now go fishing,” he commanded, his face crinkling into his one-of-a-kind Hop Sing smile. Joe grinned back and dashed away.

Outside, he sauntered toward the barn where the fishing poles were kept, in a back corner with some other odds and ends. He opened the door and stepped into the cool darkness. The clean smell of fresh hay mingled with the musty, horsey odor. Joe breathed deeply, loving it all.

A soft snort caught his attention. “Hey there, Nightshade,” he said softly, going to the black horse’s stall. He reached up to stroke his nose, and quickly found the spot Nightshade liked, right between his eyes. The horse blew a gust through his nostrils and bumped his forehead against Joe’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Nightshade looked at him with liquid brown eyes, apparently agreeing. He nosed the pouch in Joe’s hand.

“Oh, you want my apple? Sure, boy.” Joe unwrapped the cloth, removed the apple, and held it on his flattened palm. Nightshade bared his lips to take the treat between his teeth. As he crunched, Joe stroked his neck. “I knew you were a good boy,” he murmured. “To hear Adam tell it, you would’ve taken my arm off just now.”

Adam. Just thinking of him made Joe flush. If it hadn’t been for Adam, Joe wouldn’t have come so close to a licking yesterday. All he’d been doing was giving Nightshade a good brushing, and then Mr. College had to butt in. Adam had been away for the past five years, so he didn’t realize how good Joe had gotten with horses.

Wistfully, he eyed Nightshade, then the saddle that lay across a nearby rail. I could ride you, boy, he thought, and Nightshade snorted again. You’re reading my mind, aren’t you? You want me to ride you. 

It wasn’t easy, getting the saddle on by himself, but he managed it by standing on a stool. When he heaved the saddle onto the giant horse’s back, Nightshade whinnied and tried to sidestep. Joe eased his hand out and stroked the horse’s nose in the right place, and he calmed right down. Putting the bit in Nightshade’s mouth brought Pa’s threat to the front of Joe’s mind, but only for a few seconds. He managed to push the memory aside by doggedly focusing on getting the bit under Nightshade’s tongue and the bridle over his head.

“Come on, boy,” he said, leading Nightshade out of the stall. His heart was pounding so loudly he wondered if it would spook the horse. It was sure about to spook him. “Easy, boy,” he said, not quite sure if he was talking to Nightshade or to himself.

He was terrified that someone would come into the barn and catch him—so terrified that he almost forgot to tighten the cinch. Stupid, stupid, he thought, and sacrificed a few precious seconds to close his eyes and breathe deeply, trying to calm himself. He couldn’t afford to get careless at this point. When he felt his pulse slow down to something approaching normal, he tightened the cinch and climbed onto a stall railing. From there he hooked a foot into the stirrup and swung his other leg over Nightshade’s back. He’d done it—he was in the saddle.

Immediately, his heart began to race again, but this time it was due to the sheer thrill of sitting astride such an enormous animal. So this was what Adam felt like up here! Joe touched his heels to Nightshade’s sides and felt the horse’s powerful muscles ripple beneath him as he walked to the open barn door. Joe felt a grin stretching over his face. Being up here was so different from being on the ground looking up at Adam!

King Joseph arrives, he thought, on his mighty, noble steed. He walked Nightshade into the sunshine, tipping his hat graciously to imaginary commoners, who pointed and jostled each other as they gathered to catch a glimpse of their sovereign. Nightshade, glad to be out in the fresh air, tossed his head and twitched his ears.

“You don’t want to walk, do you, boy?” Joe asked, running his fingers through the glossy mane. “Me neither. We understand each other, don’t we?” And he kicked him into a trot, heading down the path that wound toward the lake.

***

Adam tossed a coil of rope, the last of the supplies, onto the wagon and climbed onto the seat beside his father, relieved to be finished with the town-chores. He wanted to get home and start drawing some plans for a road through the north pasture. Of course, Pa hadn’t said yes, at least not yet. Adam chewed his lip, mentally forming the words to convince him.

Pa flicked the reins and the horses moved off. “That didn’t take long,” he observed.

“Good thing,” Adam responded. At Pa’s questioning look, he admitted, “I want to get started on those plans.”

“Plans?”

“You know—the new road through the north pasture.”

Pa looked straight ahead. “I haven’t said yes to that, you know.”

“I know, Pa. But when you see what I’ve got in mind, you will.”

Pa smiled. It was a small smile, but it gave Adam hope. “Your enthusiasm is contagious, son,” he said. “Just don’t let your passion cloud your judgment.” Adam repressed a sigh. How about not letting caution impede progress? he wanted to say, but he knew better than to push Pa too hard. They rode in silence for a while, and then Pa said thoughtfully, “Speaking of judgment…I wonder if I did the right thing by Joe.”

It took Adam a minute to make the transition. Then he remembered: Joe and Nightshade. “Sure you did, Pa. Joe didn’t mean any harm.”

“He’s far too impetuous.”

“But there’s no malice in him. It’s just mischief.”

“Maybe. But that mischief, as you call it, could get him in serious trouble.”

“He’ll be all right, Pa.” Adam gazed at the horizon. “Maybe I’m too hard on him.”

“And maybe I’m too soft.”

“It’s a tough call, huh?”

“Yes. It is.”

We’re talking man-to-man, Adam realized suddenly, and sat a little straighter. Before I went away to school, I was still a boy in Pa’s eyes, despite the man-sized jobs I’d done. And I was so anxious to prove myself. Joe’s no different. 

Of course, it was a lot easier to think this way when the kid wasn’t around. Adam allowed himself a rueful grin.

When they pulled into the yard, Hoss was there, pumping fresh water into the horses’ trough, which meant he’d bailed out the stale water. Now there was a hard job, lugging all those buckets to the spring behind the kitchen. And nobody’d asked him to do it, either. Adam was about to commend his brother’s work, when he noticed his look of alarm.

“Where’s Nightshade?” Hoss asked.

Even with the sun on his shoulders, Adam felt a sudden chill. “What do you mean, where’s Nightshade?”

“I thought you must have ridden him to town.”

Adam was down and racing for the barn, even as Pa was shouting, “No, we both rode in the wagon!” By the time Pa and Hoss arrived inside the barn, Adam was standing and staring at the empty stall, as if by looking at it he could make Nightshade magically appear.

Pa uttered one bleak word. “Joe.”

“Hoss, take care of the wagon,” Adam said. Pa was already moving toward the saddle blankets. Adam opened Old Pete’s stall door and led him out. Pete wasn’t fast, but he was the most dependable on a rough trail. “I’ll go toward the lake, Pa, while you ride back to town.”

Pa handed him a blanket and turned toward Buck’s stall. “Joe couldn’t have ridden toward Virginia City. We would have seen him.”

“Not necessarily. He could have heard us coming and ducked into the woods.”

“I suppose so. All right, I’ll head that way.” He threw a blanket over Buck. Adam already had a saddle on Pete and was fastening the cinch.

“What about me?” Hoss asked.

“You’ll have to stay here,” Pa said.

“But Pa—”

“Someone needs to be here if he comes home.”

“Hop Sing can—”

Pa placed a hand on Hoss’s shoulder. “If Joe comes back, you’ll need to ride to tell Adam while Hop Sing comes for me.”

“But the hired hands—”

“Aren’t here. Am I right?” Looking miserable, Hoss nodded. “I’m sorry, son,” Pa said, and Adam could see that he meant it.

As Adam led Pete out, he froze. Nightshade, saddled but riderless, was drinking at the freshly-filled trough. A huge patch of dirt marred the sleekness of his right flank, and his mane and tail were matted with sticks and leaves.

“You’re wasting time, Adam,” Pa snapped from behind him. Adam looked away from Nightshade to Pa, then nodded curtly and swung into the saddle. He wheeled and galloped off, not seeing Pa tend to his cinch, hands trembling.

***

Several hours before, Joe had reluctantly pulled back on the reins to slow Nightshade as the path toward the lake grew rougher. Trotting had been sheer bliss; Nightshade’s gait was easy, his rhythm like the steady strum of Adam’s guitar. Neither horse nor rider wanted to return to a walk, but Nightshade didn’t resist much when Joe reined him in. Ha! Joe thought triumphantly. I told Adam I could handle him.

The thought had barely crossed his mind when they rounded a corner and a briar snapped at Nightshade’s leg. With a snort, the horse jerked to one side. “Easy, boy,” Joe said, dismayed to hear his voice tremble. He pulled back a little harder. Nightshade halted, but he stomped impatiently, and once again Joe felt the power in the steed’s taught muscles. For a second, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should go back right now. Immediately, he scolded himself. You’re fine. And if you go running home, you’ll prove Adam was right: that you’re just a kid. Setting his jaw firmly, he kicked his heels, and Nightshade stepped out again.

By the time they reached the lake, Joe felt sure of himself again. He sat atop his live throne and surveyed his kingdom. The Tahoe Lake gleamed azure just past the dark green pines, and Nightshade’s hooves barely sounded on the carpet of needles beneath them. Glancing toward the his mother’s grave, Joe said a silent prayer for her, but a quicker one than usual. He thought, I’ll come back and visit you later, Ma. Much as Pa said she’d loved horses, he figured she’d understand. She’d even be proud of him, riding this gigantic beauty.

Joe hadn’t been much farther down this particular trail, and he felt a sudden urge to explore it. A surprisingly prudent thought flashed through his mind: I’ve proved my point, at least to myself. Guess I oughta head back. But another thought raced close on its heels: Pa and Adam won’t be home till supper. If Hoss gets back before me, he’ll be mad, but he won’t tell on me. At least, I don’t think he will. 

Deciding to take the chance, he headed down the path. The underbrush crowded closer as the trail grew steeper, but it was some time before Joe realized the path had become so narrow and rocky that it would be difficult to turn around. He was pretty sure he could get Nightshade to back up, but then again…well, it would be a lot easier if there was a clearing.

He wondered what time it was. Come to think of it, he was getting hungry. Maybe he should try backing Nightshade. But a clearing was bound to open eventually, wasn’t it? Indecision banged around in his head like a trapped squirrel, and Nightshade continued to carefully pick his way down the hill.

The snake came out of nowhere. Later, Joe would guess that Nightshade had almost stepped on it. He’d probably reared up just in time to dodge its strike, and then had slipped on a rock. Joe managed to keep his seat, which turned out to be the worst thing he could have done. He found himself on the ground, right leg pinned beneath the flailing horse. He both felt and heard the snap of his own leg bone. Then Nightshade scrambled up and galloped down the hill, and Joe wasn’t sure if the shrill sound in his ears was the horse’s whinny or his own scream.

As the searing pain in his leg subsided into an agonizing throb, Joe struggled up onto his elbows, thinking of Nightshade galloping downhill. Rocks, Joe thought, panic-stricken. Narrow path. Steep grade. The words darted through his mind with lightning speed. He’ll fall again. He’ll break a leg. We’ll have to shoot him. Oh, geez. Oh, Adam. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

He stared down at his leg. The bone hadn’t quite broken the skin, but he could see the sharp ridge where it was trying to poke through. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he fell back. Was it the sight of his leg or the pain that made him pass out? He would never know.

He woke in someone’s arms. A chilly breeze rippled across his face, and he realized it was dark. Strong biceps cradled his shoulders and his legs, and he lay against someone’s bare chest. It wasn’t Pa. It wasn’t Adam or Hoss.

Whoever it was, he was moving forward, carrying Joe somewhere, treading slowly, deliberately, and evenly through the woods. Joe tried to raise his head to see whose face it was, but a burst of fire shot through his leg, and he collapsed into the stranger’s embrace.