Ty crept down the old barn stairs, his heart in his mouth, a grey t-shirt flung hastily on over his pyjama trousers. Every step seemed to be a fanfare of creaks and dust. At the corner he stopped, and listened; expecting that every moment a face would appear in the dim light of the passage below and he'd be discovered. Without his own movements he could hear it again: soft, shuffling footsteps and the metallic clicks of the stable door latches and hinges. The walk wasn't one he thought he recognised by sound; not Amy's light pace, or Jack's sure stride, not even Tim's forceful march. But the back of his mind itched with a memory. The fist of panic which had been rising in his stomach clenched; they were being robbed.
Ty edged the last two steps, his mind fighting tiredness, racing over what he should do. Again he stopped and listened, pressing himself out of sight behind the tack shelves. It sounded like a single person; there was no talking, and he could only ever hear one set of footfalls at a time. But why weren't the horses crying out? Just as he stood thinking there came a yielding whiney from Spartan's stall, and a larger rasp as the stable door was pushed open. Out of the furthest corner of his eye Ty risked a glace into the main barn. For the first time, in the dim, filtered moon light, Ty saw the outline of the thief. A man, it looked like a man, though he was turned away from him, doing something to the muzzle of the horse. And small; huddled under a huge wax farming coat, shoulders hunched and knees soft. His head and face were wrapped in shadow from a wide, jet black Stetson. But it was none of these features which made Ty retreat further into the harnesses; it was the thin, spectral silhouette of the cocked rifle he carried.
All drowsiness was gone now. Ty's eyes were wide open as he looked around for some sort of weapon, some way to gain the upper hand. He could reach the safety of Lou's office, but what then? If he used the phone to call the main house he'd surely be heard, and would only be putting whoever came to help in terrible danger. Amy would be the first to run to help the horses; he couldn't put her safety at risk, whatever the cost. Spades, rakes and forks stood glinting in a barrel across the passage, next to the food bins. They were probably his best bet. Glancing over his shoulder again Ty saw that, for the moment, he was alone. Both intruder and horse were gone. But not for long.
The barn door scraped slightly across the concrete floor in the shallow breeze; as the thief slipped himself back inside. "He's looking for a second horse", thought Ty; "he thinks he's managed to escape anyone's notice". He was right. The man walked slowly, noiselessly up, down the barn three or four times, the muzzle of the gun stretching out ahead of him like a hideous branding iron. Finally he paced and turned in front of Copper's stall, right opposite Ty's hiding place. He nudged the door open with the toe of his boot and slid inside. As Ty watched the poor boy back uneasily away from the shadowy figure his plan began to form. If the man had the same incredible ability as before, to sooth and master the frightened horse, then he, Ty, would have to move whilst both his hands were busy. He had to take the gun out of the equation. That came down to one moment, then, when he had to open the stall door and lead the horse out. Ty squeezed his eyes shut and breathed heavily through his nose, letting the shuddering breath flow out of his mouth, trying to brace himself. God, how had such a quiet day come to this? He suddenly realised how cold he was, dressed in only a t-shirt and long pyjama trousers. The hairs along the length of his bare, muscular arms were raised, and he didn't know if it was out of fear, adrenaline or chill. With another heavy breath he reached both hands up to his face, rubbing them quickly over the stubbled cheeks and through short russet hair. One thought came to mind; "For Amy."
The man had moved all the way up to Copper now and had wordlessly produced something Ty couldn't see from inside the coat. As he watched, the auburn pony came cautiously forwards of his own accord and nuzzled at the package. He saw, in amazement, the man easily slip a halter over the horse's relaxed ears with a single hand and, turning, pick up the lead rope. As he turned though he rested the rifle on the stable door for a second, pulling it open with his newly free hand. Ty stirred from his cover.