The musty scent of old hay thickened the air. “Mm.” Alison inhaled deeply. “Barns smell so good, Dad.” Scooping up another armful of hay from the cracked concrete floor, she tossed it above her head and danced underneath. Hay and dust particles floated around her, more visible because of the sunlight showering through one of the barn roof’s holes. “Don’t you love the smell of hay?”

“You like this place, Al?”

“I’d like it better if there were animals.” Alison had already checked every enchanting cranny she could think of, but no furballs rewarded her search. “Not one horse or cow. Or even a kitten.”

Harvey removed a piece of hay from her streaked blonde hair.

Alison began picking out the fibers from her tangles. “I’ll have to clean up before I go back to the car and see Mom. But why aren’t there any animals on this farm? Doesn’t anyone live here?”

“Nobody has for a while.” Harvey stood and counted roof holes aloud. “Seven big ones. Who knows how many little holes? Cheap place, but it’s going to take a lot of work.” He rubbed his back and stuck his head out the open barn door before returning inside. “Think your mother could ever be happy here?”

Alison answered from a darkened corner she had missed earlier. “Mom doesn’t like farms much.” She ran back to her father. “But I love farms! If I had one, I’d get cows and kittens, and–”

“Horses?” Harvey asked.

“Dad! Of course horses! Are there any here? Behind the barn? Or in the other room? I haven’t checked there yet.”

“If there was a horse, would you listen to me tell you how to ride her?”

“I’d race!” Alison sang, scampering around the corner to the next room. “There is a horse here, isn’t there? Hey, horse, I’m coming!”

“Al.”

His commanding tone brought her back.” Yes, Dad?”

“If there was a horse, would you listen to what I said about how to ride her? Would you wait until I said you could race before you did it?”

“Is there a horse?”

“Would you, Al? Would you listen to everything I told you?”

Alison’s mouth twitched as she considered her father’s words. “But I could race, when you said I could? It would happen?”

“Yep. But not until I said. It might take a year or even longer.”

“All right.” She sucked in her breath. “I promise.”

His smile was slight but definite. “Okay, Al. There’s a horse. Your horse.”

“M-my horse?”

“Yours.”

“Where!”

“I’ll show you.” He caught her arm as she bolted. “But you can never forget your promise, Al. Promises are…hard to keep, sometimes.” Harvey glanced behind him in the direction of the station wagon. When he turned, his face was deadly serious.

Alison put her hand in his. “Dad, you don’t have to give me a horse if it’ll make Mom mad.” The words dragged from her, but she said them tearlessly, having done without that form of precipitation for most of her childhood.

“What?” Harvey touched her shoulder. “Don’t you want a horse? Don’t you want to be the best barrel racer in the world? Didn’t you tell Jenny you would be?”

“Yes, but if Mom doesn’t like–“

“No.”

Alison never forgot her father’s expression. He had decided, and he would see it through, no matter what the cost. His look was one that, in time, she came to have also.

“If you decide to be the best in the world, Alison, you can never go back. No matter how much pain or practice or time or sacrifice it takes. Even if it means leaving your friends, your home, your family to do it, you’ve got to do it…if that’s what you decide.”

“I did decide. I want to race, to be…the best.” A beautiful woman on a fast horse. Visions of dream riders raced through Alison’s mind. “The best in the world.”

Her father nodded and straightened. “Then let’s go show your horse her new home. And yours.” Harvey walked away without a backward glance. “I’m sure your mother will like the horse and farm just as much as we do…after she’s had some time to think about it.”