Chapter 1

Katy buttoned up her western flannel black plaid shirt and reached down to grab her boots from the corner of her small, comfy room. Then she left. Tiptoeing out of her room and down the wooden stairs. She stopped to look at her favorite painting. She put her fingers on the corner, like she always did. That spot and only that spot had dirt fingerprints from years of admiring.

Her smile shone in the dark room before she quickly and quietly continued down the stairs. Across the living room and to the door she went. Only a few seconds were wasted, making sure the door wouldn't slam shut and alert her family to her early morning adventure. Memories of sneaking down in this exact pattern swirled in her mind. When she was little, when she had ridden out on Yankee, and when she had sneaked out every night to train Flicka.

This time was different. She would go see Flicka but she would be free. She was healed. Almost a month ago, Katy had ridden in a wild mustang race with Flicka. She had lost hope of her father letting her keep Flicka and had ridden away in hope of setting her free. A storm blew in and soaked them both, making Katy dangerously cold. Flicka had been attacked by a cougar after she threw Katy. When Katy refused to leave her, she wrapped her sweater around her horse's neck, trying to stop the bleeding. She only left when she was hypothermic, but she didn't leave on her own, her father had found her in the storm and took her home, leaving the injured Flicka behind. Katy had gotten a fever that was terrifyingly high. Over and over, she would mumble "Flicka!" as she tossed and turned. Her father was going to leave to kill the horse but one thing stuck clearly in Katy's mind.

She had somehow gotten past her mother unknowingly and walked to the top of the stairs where she looked down at her father, her brother, and his two ranch hands.

"It's okay daddy. You can shoot us." She had said.

At that time, her mother had found her and dragged her back to bed. A gun shot sounded and Katy thought her mustang, her other self, had left her forever. But it had been the cougar her dad had shot. He led Flicka back and had let Katy's mother help him get Flicka healed. Only when Katy was well enough to be out of bed, did he call her outside to see her horse. Flicka was alive.

Katy had goose-flesh on her arms as she remembered the horrifying night. The feeling of the cold, seeping into her bones, seeing her horse bleeding in front of her, her hands sore from throwing rocks at the cougar, feeling hopeless. She shook her head, her curly brown hair bouncing. That was over. Not Flicka was waiting in the barn for her, ready to run. It would still be a couple of hours before the sun made it's appearance above the mountains, turning the sky into a parade of colors.

A creak sounded as she tossed her weight into the barn doors and hoisted them open. She stepped inside as she had the first day she had seen Flicka. But this time she didn't have to ask who wanted to go running. She had Flicka. Katy ran to her stall and threw it open, throwing her arms around her beautiful mare. Flicka, pretty girl.

She grabbed a hackamore off a hook next to the door of the stall and slipped it over Flicka's velvety nose. Flicka let out a quiet squeal-like huff of air onto Katy's face. Her laugh erupted the silence of the barn that was only filled with the sounds of shifting horses. This was taking too long. Forget the saddle! She led Flicka out of her stall before vaulting onto her smooth, shiny back.

"Let's go runnin'" She leaned forward and smooched.

Flicka didn't need telling. She was off! Katy tried to slow her down only a little bit to a canter so she could at least not hurt herself from not warming up correctly. Flicka tossed her pretty head and blew a whistle into the fresh morning mountain air. Only a minute later, Katy was ready to go. She leaned forward against the wind and gave Flicka her rein. Then they ran.

Trees, rocks, and everything else whipped by as if she were flying a thousand miles an hour. Her hair blew back into the air, wind lashing at her face. She laughed and took a deep breath, taking her hands off the reins and spreading them out into the air, straightening her back and throwing her head back in pure joy. She screamed into the air of the morning, disrupting a bird from it's nest, sending it flying into the dawning sky.

Streaks of orange burst into streaks across the sky, the stars slowly disappearing, winking goodbye. Flicka slowed to a swinging lope, ears pricked forward. A thin layer of sweat had surfaced on her chest from her surging gallop across the mountain valley. Katy let out a yelling whoop before regretfully turning Flicka around to head home. Flicka didn't want to go either but she listened, breathing out a heavy sigh.

Part of Katy wished she could go back to the wild while the other half wanted her to stay with her forever. They glided across the valley, the sun growing uncomfortably high in the sky. She would be in trouble. If her father realized she had snuck out again, she would never be able to step foot out of the house again. She wasn't even supposed to be riding yet. At least her father thought not. The doctor had given the approval weeks ago but her father had taken it upon himself to deprive her from the right of riding free.

She reached the ranch only a little later after the sun had made it's glorious arrival. No doubt her father was up but maybe, just maybe, he hadn't notice Flicka and Katy were gone. She slid off Flicka's back and grabbed the reins, walking towards the barn. She wished desperately her father hadn't noticed her absence.

Too late.

He stood with his arms crossed, leaning of Flicka's stall, awaiting her arrival. His cowboy hat was pulled low over his face, hiding his expression. She could imagine it wasn't good. She only was able to hide half her cringe.

"You left." He lifted his head to her.

"Daddy, I haven't ridden in forever and I couldn't wait for your okay." She shifted nervously on her feet, Flicka nuzzling her back.

"You disobeyed my rules."

He was terrifying. Only speaking in small sentences. It was enough to make anyone want to tear away. It only made her annoyed. Why wouldn't he talk. Though she knew better, sometimes cowboys just didn't talk.

"I had to. I could stay in that house any longer without going into insanity!" She placed her hand protectively on Flicka's neck. Flicka sighed and leaned into her touch.

Her father, Rob, stayed still for over a minute. Heart pounding, Katy stared back stubbornly at her father. They were alike in that way. Stubborn and hard to control, if controllable at all. Finally, her father nodded. Katy did a double take. Was her father broken? Did he just nod and except it!

"Go get cleaned up, momma's makin' breakfast," He paused on his walk out of the barn, "Try to come without another cougar story this time."

She stood, mouth agape as she watched her father walk out of the barn. What. Just. Happened.

Since when did her father listen to her? Since when did she not get punished after a stunt like that! Maybe her father thought she could take care of herself now. She stood proudly as she settle on that thought and let Flicka wander into her stall, waiting for what work the day had in store for her.

Katy was sitting down at the table, leaning back in her chair to wait for everyone to come in. Her mother hummed in the kitchen and piled food onto plates. Finally her father came in the front door. He removed his hat and placed it on the table considering Katy. She pretended not to notice and acted like she was completely interested in a bird that landed outside the window. Her father heaved a sigh as he settled down into his chair, leaning into the back as if he had just done a days worth of chores.

Gus, her father's friend and ranch hand, stomped into the room with his cowboy boots and sat down in his chair across from her. He didn't look half as tired as her father. Then the next person came into the kitchen looking like he hadn't slept in days. At least, that's what he acted like. Jack, the wannabe mature 20 year old ranch hand, stumbled in and threw himself at him chair next to Gus. Previously his brother's friend, before he moved to go to college, Jack put his hat over his face as if he was going to take a nap right in his char. Gus punched the hat off his face.

"This guy needs to grow up and fight morning like a man." Gus said to no body, hoping to alert Jack to wake him up.

Jack grunted and picked his hat up off the ground. Katy looked down at the table, avoiding the gaze of her father, who was still standing one spot away from her. As if on cue, her mother bustled into the kitchen with plates of food. Jack sat up straight in his seat and grumbled hungrily before Gus elbowed him in his side. Hard.

"And here from your very own Goose Creek Ranch, hotcakes and sausage. Enjoy"

She pushed Rob into his seat before settling into her own, acting as a barrier between her and her father. Jack piled his plate full of food and began stuffing it in his face like there was no tomorrow. Gus looked in disgust at him before taking only a little food. It was weird hoe different yet alike they were. Gus acted mature. Jack didn't, though he tried. Gus tried to be careful and limit his needs before everyone else. Jack just took what he wanted and asked questions later. Yet they were alike in so many ways. They were both skilled horsemen, respected by her father, hard workers, and kind. Well, most of the time anyway.

"Ugh! Jack, chew your food!" Katy looked at him, disgusted.

He looked up from his plate, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. He stared at her, chewing. He glared at her at if daring her to criticize him again. Only having one pancake, she stood up and went into the kitchen, pretending to get herself some water. What she was really doing was getting away from Jack before he completely ruined her appetite. She took as long as she could before walking back to the table and settling herself into her seat. The empty chair next to hers just reminded her that Howard, her brother, was gone. There was a tingling in her nose and a stinging sensation in her eyes and she stood up and launched herself up the stairs, skipping steps and ignoring her father's calls. She sat down on her bed and held her head in her hands, taking deep breaths. She knew she could stop herself from crying but she didn't want to be around anyone else so they could see her struggle not to.

A second later, her mother, Nell, came up the stairs and leaned on her door frame. She knew all too well what had happened. Katy could hear the questioning sounds from the table, the stairs being right outside her room, which were almost directly next to the table. Her mother sat next to her on her bed and sighed, thinking the same thing. Howard was gone.