The girl kept her eyes on the stallion.

She didn’t smile like she had won.

She looked like she was trying not to cry.

“My mama said he would remember our song,” she whispered.

The rancher’s face changed.

“What song?”

The girl reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a tiny silver horseshoe charm.

It was old, scratched, and tied to a piece of worn string.

The rancher stared at it.

His fingers loosened around the lead rope.

“Where did you get that?”

“My mama wore it,” the girl said. “She told me if I ever found this ranch, I should show it to the man who owned the black horse.”

The workers behind the fence stopped moving.

The rancher took one step closer, his voice suddenly careful.

“What was your mother’s name?”

The girl looked up.

“Rose.”

The name hit the corral harder than any fall.

Rose had been the only rider the stallion ever obeyed.

Rose had disappeared years ago, pregnant, after the rancher’s family told her she didn’t belong there.

The girl looked at the horse, then at the man.

“She waited for you,” she whispered. “Until she couldn’t.”

The rancher’s eyes filled.

The stallion pressed its head gently against the child’s chest.

The girl’s voice broke.

“My mama said my father would know the charm.”

The rancher dropped to his knees in the dirt.

“I do,” he whispered. “Because I gave it to her.”