“Well, who’s horse are you?” she asked, “Did someone leave you here?”

The horse turned his head in the darkness and sniffed at her with his huge nostrils. Jessica giggled happily.

“Hey, that tickles!”

The horse snorted in reply and turned his head away. Jessica stroked his flank, wondering what he would look like in the light. Was he brown, black, or white? Did he have a long, luxurious mane? What about his tail? He would probably need to be brushed… and fed! Jessica wondered how long it had been since he’d had anything to eat. Who would be so cruel as to leave a beautiful and gentle horse like this in a dark, old barn? Jessica was getting angry.

“Well, obviously they don’t want you, so you can be my horse now. I’ll adopt you. Oh, horse, I thought this would be the worst Halloween ever, but I was wrong. I wish I could show you to the guys from the Cotton Road Club, they’d be sooo jealous!”

The horse neighed in reply and snuffled at her hair again.

“Hmm. I should go tell mom and dad. Oh, I hope they’ll let me keep you, but they’ll have to, won’t they? You wait here and I’ll go get them, and a flashlight. Then we can feed you too, because you must be very hungry.”

Jessica patted the horse one last time, and then made her way carefully back through the stall and out into the open space of the barn. The beam of light had moved across the floor as the sun had moved in the sky, and Jessica wondered for a moment just how long she’d been in the barn.

As she ran across the gravel and the grass towards the house she noticed an old, blue pickup truck parked beside the moving van. Somewhere far away thunder rumbled, and for a moment Jessica thought that something bad was coming.

With a frown on her face she ran into the house and shouted for her parents. Through a doorway Jessica saw her mom leaning against a counter with a sink in what must have been the kitchen. She ran right to her mother and grabbed her by the arms.

“Mom, oh Mom, you have to come quick…”

“Jessica!” her mother interrupted her sternly, “We have company, please don’t be rude.”

Jessica remembered the blue pickup truck and turned to look around the kitchen. Her father was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee steaming in his hands. Beside him was an old gentleman in denim overalls and a red plaid shirt. A green hat with the words John Deere Tractors was perched on top of his oddly-shaped and wrinkled head, and tufts of grey, wispy hair stuck out from underneath. He too held a mug of coffee.

“Jessica, this is Mr. Cook,” her father said, “He lives on the farm down the road.”