Allen returned from Alkali. At the last second, Gabe had agreed to stay outside the corral. Since then, he’d spent an hour balancing on his uncasted leg, gripping the top fence rail with one hand as he hung head down to punch the ball with his crutch from under the last fence board. Because the horse toy was egg-shaped, the ball rolled unpredictably and Gabe made his way from one side of the pen to the other and back again dozens of times. “It’s less like soccer and more like playing pool with a jumping bean,” Gabe said. His face was flushed, but in a good way, Sam thought, and the colt definitely enjoyed his contortions. Gabe didn’t seem to care that the colt rarely used his teeth to grab the ball’s handle and shake it, and that he’d only kicked it once and trotted after it three or four times. It seemed enough to the boy that Pirate was playing with him. Sam couldn’t have explained why the scene satisfied her so, but it did. The two seemed right together. Gabe didn’t demand more of the mustang than he gave freely, and even when he didn’t react to the rolling ball, Pirate filled his eyes with Gabe.
