"Of all the rotten luck. It's just not fair." Karrie sat, head in hands, in the soft grass of the back pasture. In front of her stretched a wide valley and she could see the oak trees on the hill behind. She often came here to sit and think, just out of sight of the house, but close enough to hear if Mom called her. It was her most favorite spot, a place where she could be alone awhile.

She reached her hand down and picked a small pink flower. She looked it over, halfway paying attention to its color - almost purplish pink - and its five small petals.

"It's not fair!" she said, aloud this time. She was angry. Then, suddenly she felt ashamed, realizing she was just feeling sorry for herself. That wasn't the right thing to do. Okay, so Mom was going to have a baby. Why should that upset her so? The house was a certainly big enough. She wouldn't even have to share a bedroom.

So often in the eleven years of her life she had wished for a baby brother. Now when her dream was coming true at last, why was she so upset about it? It was almost like Mom was letting her down. At times now she wished it was still the same as before when she had Mom all to herself.

Her thoughts turned to her father. They hadn't been all that close as she and Mom were. Probably because she wasn't a boy. A boy would go out and help Dad. And play ball with him.

Like her brother would one day. There was the anger again.

The brother would be Dad's favorite. The baby was taking her place in her parents' love. Tears welled up inside.

Just then she was aware of someone coming up behind her. She quickly wiped her eyes just in case a tear had spilled over, put on a smile and turned around.

"Hi, Dad."

"Karrie. I've been looking for you. Would you like to go riding before supper?" Dad already was wearing his riding boots. "I want to check out the spring."

"Wow! Sure!" Karrie jumped up and started to run to the house. "Just let me change my shoes," she called over her shoulder. A few minutes later she came running back to the barn, her riding boots on and sweater in hand. Dad was inside a stall backing his horse out. She hurried across to the other side of
the barn and climbed up a side of a stall. The wide boards had spaces between just wide enough to get a toe-hold. She climbed up two boards and reached over to pat her horse on the neck.

Jolie already knew something was up and whinnied expectantly. She stepped over and nuzzled Karrie behind the ear. This made Karrie giggle. She felt so much better. Why hadn't she thought to come here earlier today? Usually the horses were out in the pasture. They had been inside today because Dad was giving them some extra grain and goodies while the horseshoer had worked on their hooves earlier. Now they needed some exercise.

She led Jolie out, fastened a lead rope to her halter and tied her outside her stall gate. She and Dad saddled up quickly and started south through their pasture, up the steep hill to a fence gate at the top. This wire and wooden gate was hard to open so she appreciated Dad being there to do it. Karrie preferred to climb over or crawl under any fence in her way, but once couldn't do that with a horse.

After closing the gate behind them they rode single file down the other side of the hill following a cow trail. Cows being the kind creature they are always take the easiest way up or down a hill, and after many such trips up and down, a path appears where the grass is too trodden down to grow.

Cow trails are always such fun. You really don't know where they are going. Maybe to water, maybe they will wander miles through the hills. Maybe one will just end in a "cow bedroom" - a sheltered grassy spot where the cows lie down for the night. This trail Karrie knew well and that it would stop at a windmill just at the bottom of the hill. Several trails came to the windmill with its adjoining water trough. They stopped there now letting the horses drink their fill. Dad looked up at the blue, blue sky.

"Hmm. Two-thirty already. We'd better move along."

Dad had a way of somehow knowing the time of day just by looking at where the sun was. It was a bit more than that though . . . something in the brightness, and the feel of the air that only comes from years spent outdoors. Dad was such an outdoor-type person he'd get restless on a rainy day and go out to find something to work on anyway. There was always something that needed fixing around the farm, and he could fix anything it seemed. Anything but her problem now.