The Seventh Horse

At the far end of the stable, a white horse paws restlessly at the ground. She crouches by its hooves with a page from the register clutched in her hand, and turns around when she hears footsteps. “Visitors aren’t allowed over here. …Never mind, you’ve come at the right time. Count for me. How many white horses are in this row?” The register lists six names, and there are seven horses in the stable. She stands, unhooks the reins, folds the page and tucks it into her vest pocket. “The boss says it goes to auction in three days. I have to ride it out for a loop and see whether it still knows the way. Get on. Sit in front of me.” She holds your waist with one hand and lifts you onto the horse’s back. Then she swings up behind you, her arms reaching around both sides to take the reins. “Sit steady, and don’t grab the mane. Grab me.”