Taylor Henry held Prince Albert’s lead line casually in one hand as she walked the quarter horse down Wildwood Lane. The tree-lined country path leading in and out of Wildwood Stables was now vibrant with the rustling red, yellow, and orange hues of early autumn. Taylor could have easily ridden the black gelding on the dirt lane, but right then she preferred to be eye level with her horse.

They needed to have a serious talk.

“So, I know you love me. I love you just as much—more, even! But it can’t just be you and me. I wish it could,” she told him.

Prince Albert neighed. Lately, Taylor had noticed that whenever she spoke directly to Prince Albert he always made some noise in response. She loved that about him. It made her feel they were really communicating.

Taylor gazed into his soulful dark eyes and felt she heard him as clearly as if he’d actually replied aloud in words. He wanted to know why not. Why couldn’t it just be Taylor and Prince Albert, without any other horses or riders?

“Because you have to be available for lessons and trail rides, that’s why. And I need to work with the other horses.” Taylor sighed in frustration. “It’s part of our deal with Wildwood. Don’t pretend you don’t know all this. We’ve been through it a zillion times already!” 

At this point Taylor was sure Prince Albert was simply being stubborn. It was mid-October, and he’d been living at the stable since the end of August. By now he had to understand that he couldn’t be a one-girl horse.

Taylor had helped rescue him and his best pal, a cream-colored Shetland pony named Pixie, when they’d been abandoned by their owners. Against all odds, she’d even found them a good home here at Wildwood Stables. But the ranch could only afford to keep Prince Albert if he was a working trail and school horse. And, so far, he had not been at all cooperative.

“Sure, I know you’ve let Dana ride you,” Taylor acknowledged. Dana was a seven-year-old girl with autism who had horse therapy sessions at the stable once a week.  She would only work with Prince Albert, and to everyone’s surprise, he allowed her on his back. They had even won a ribbon at a recent Rotary Club horse competition for kids with disabilities.

“And it’s really great that you let her on; it’s meant so much to her,” Taylor continued. “But you have to do more. Being a two-girl horse is still not enough. Okay?”

A black SUV swung in very quickly from Quail Ridge Road at the end of the lane. It zoomed toward Taylor and Prince Albert as though the driver was completely unaware that a slim thirteen-year-old girl with long brown hair and a large black horse were standing in the path.

Startled by the car’s speed, Taylor dropped the lead line and jumped back. Prince Albert reared in fright, neighing shrilly as his front two legs rose from the ground, kicking the air.

The glamorous blonde woman at the wheel of the SUV careened into a rapid curve to avoid the frightened horse in her path, but she made no effort to slow down. Beside the woman, a slim girl Taylor’s age, also a blonde, watched the scene with unmistakable annoyance etched on her face.

Staggering backward, Taylor recognized the girl and the car just as the heel of her brown riding boot hit a tree root. Taylor fell on her butt, sending rockets of pain up her spine. As she scrambled to her feet, she couldn’t stop to feel her injury, or even her fury at Plum Mason and her reckless mother.

Her entire attention was on Prince Albert, who was galloping in wild panic toward Quail Ridge Road.

Panting hard, heart thundering in her chest, Taylor raced down Wildwood Lane onto steep and curving Quail Ridge Road. Fast as she was running, it seemed to take forever to get there.

Taylor checked the field to her left. Some of Wildwood’s other horses had been turned out and grazed there—but no Prince Albert.

Pivoting to her right, Taylor froze.

“Oh, no!” she shouted.

Up the hill, Prince Albert stood in the middle of the road, wide-eyed and bewildered. He was standing directly in the middle of a blind curve in the road. If a car came around the bend now, the driver would never see him in time to stop.

“Prince Albert! Prince Albert!” Taylor shouted in her most commanding tone.

Prince Albert swung his head around to her. His ears were back and flattened, a sign of his anxiety.

Taylor clapped her hands sharply. “Walk on! Move, Prince Albert! Now! Move to the other side! Get off the road!”

Prince Albert usually obeyed commands well. Why wasn’t he moving?

His nostrils flared and his eyes were wide. He stood frozen in terrified confusion.

Clicking to the frightened horse, Taylor hurried up the hill toward him, deciding on another approach. “Come to me, boy. Come on.” She worked to disguise the urgent fear in her voice, hoping he would calm down enough to respond.

It was no use! He wasn’t budging.

“Move!” Taylor shouted full blast, clenching her fists as her cheeks reddened with the strain. Maybe she could at least startle him off the road.

At the sound of her agitated tone, Prince Albert whinnied and turned his body toward Taylor. As he moved, a large white car came into view, coming fast.

Prince Albert screamed as he reared high onto his back legs.

The car’s horn blared; and then came the sickening sound of crunching metal.

Taylor was only dimly aware of her own anguished voice shouting.

“No! No! No!”