“You’re naming the horse?” Sierra eyed me suspiciously, watching over me the next day as I prepared another bottle of goat's milk for the foal. “You?”

“Can I not? Do you usually leave your horses unnamed?” My brain was like clockwork all last night, and I was convinced I hadn’t gone to sleep till 2 AM at the least. There was a whole notebook filled with my ideas. I just needed to work up the courage to tell it to Sierra. I was with the filly for hours yesterday, and after her bottle was empty, the idea started forming. 

“I mean, I guess you could name it, but this seems like a trick, knowing you. Why would—“

“I’ll go to the barn dance with you.” I hurriedly mumbled; now I had no choice but to tell her the plan. Stupid Haven! Stupid!!

Her face lit up immediately. “No way!” But then her brow creased once again. “Why?”

“So,” I started, taking in a big breath. Immediately, my professional tone turned on, like I was pitching an idea to Ray. “Sunset’s filly has a cleft foot, as you know. Robert said the surgery and physical therapy will cost around five thousand dollars. Since the ranch doesn’t have that kind of capital in liquid assets, and she’s not a working horse, the most logical solution is a capital campaign.”

I saw Sierra's eyes glaze over a bit, but I kept going. "My degree's in Finance, and I’ve specialized in crowdfunding and fundraising logistics. We could build a campaign around Bug’s story. We'd set a public goal, track pledges, and use a platform with low overhead to maximize the net profit."

I gestured toward the barn door. "And there are people at the dance you want to take us to, which is a perfect demographic. It’s a concentrated target market of people who already love the ranch. The return on investment for an in-person, local event like that would be significant. I think we could meet our goal, and I've already sketched out some numbers. So I thought—”

Sierra squealed like we were 10-year-old girls having a sleepover together, or if I read her wrong, maybe it was a squeal of disgust.  “Haven!!” 

“What!” I stepped back, taking the defensive immediately as she said my name. “Never mind, it's stupid anyway, I—“

“What a perfect idea!!!” She looked like she was going to pull me in for a hug, but decided against it at the last second. “Would you really do that for her?” 

I blushed. “Clara said to make myself busy, and without my uncle, she’s probably struggling, so I guess.” Even as I was shy about my grand plan, the nice words about Clara I spat out of my mouth like poison. This wasn’t for her; it was for the horse. 

“What are you naming the horse anyway?” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together, like a plotting villainess. 

“So, you can’t make fun of it, because it fits and it explains her perfectly.” I looked to the ground, second-guessing myself. If it’s stupid, you can rename it.”

“I won’t know until you tell me!” Her grin was almost contagious, and I cracked a rare smile.  


“Her name’s Bug.”  I liked the sound of it. Short, simple, but somehow perfect. It wasn’t elegant like Sunset, or dramatic like a show horse’s name—I didn’t need perfection. It sounded small and scrappy, like me, like she’d survive despite everything. And maybe, just maybe, it reminded me a little of myself: overlooked, underestimated… but stubborn and determined.

The smile never left her face as she looked over my shoulder at Bug. “Oh my goodness. Oh. My. Goodness. That’s absolutely precious, Haven!”

For a moment, I was expecting Sierra to say “atrocious” like Clara had about my sandals on the first day, but as the response was positive, my shoulders immediately untensed, and I twisted the lid on the bottle with a newfound confidence. 

But it didn’t last. 

As Weston and Noah walked into the room, I could hear the smile in Sierra’s voice even as I was turned to Bug, holding the little filly’s head up as she sucked the nib.

“Perfect timing! Can you believe it! We’re going to the barn dance!”

“Sierra, I told you think morning, Noah and I aren’t, and neither is Haven from what I can tell.” Weston’s voice gruffed, and I almost turned around to correct him, but Sierra had it covered. 

“She’s going!” Sierra smiled as I stood up and walked over to her.

The boys turned to me. “Are you?” Weston asked. 

“Yeah.” 

Noah looked at me, wide-eyed. “Are you brainwashed? Bribed? What did Sierra do to you?” Weston’s face beside Noah seemed to be heavily considering the options, but I shook my head. 

“It was my idea.” I managed to say, but Sierra interrupted me again and started to explain my plan to the two. 

“And Haven’s too nervous to go alone, so we all have to go with. Come on, you can go and have a great time for the sake of Bug.”

“Nope.” Weston stood strong with his answer.

Before I could stop myself, I stood my ground and blurted, “If not for Sierra, do it for Bug.” And in reply, Sierra snapped her fingers in adoration.

“Can we compromise on something?” Sierra’s eyes seemed pleading this time, and I could tell Noah was breaking as he shuffled side to side nervously.

“I’ll go.” He mumbled, then paused, cheeks reddening. “...If we invite Bonnie.”

Sierra lit up. “Bonnie? Perfect! She’d love it.”

Weston squinted. “Bonnie?”

I caught the way Noah’s ears turned pink. “She’s my age,” he muttered.

Sierra nodded. “Don’t worry, I can find someone there. Weston, now you have to come.”

A pregnant pause filled the barn. “Alright. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Weston froze as Sierra threw her arms around him. His arms hovered awkwardly in the air before finally resting stiffly on her back. I stifled a laugh, and I could tell Noah had too. 

“Thanks, Weston!” Sierra looked at him, beaming.

When the hug separated, Weston nodded. “I’m doing it for Bug.”

For some reason, my cheeks heated when he used the name I chose for the foal. I still had no idea what I was walking into at the dance… but with these people there, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

I lay in bed that night, Bug’s tiny neighs echoing in my mind like a lullaby I didn’t realize I needed. I tried to organize my thoughts like a spreadsheet—budget, donations, contacts—but my brain kept drifting to the barn, to Sierra’s grin, to Weston’s awkward nod, and to Noah’s bright pink ears.

Why did a simple barn dance feel like a corporate merger? Why did I feel like a rookie making a pitch in front of seasoned investors? And yet… maybe it wasn’t about the numbers at all. Perhaps it was about the people, the connection, the little scrappy horse that somehow made all the chaos feel worth it.

I pictured the dance, the lanterns, the smell of hay and cider, the sound of boots on the wooden floor. My stomach twisted in nerves, but also… excitement? Could I admit that aloud? No. Not yet. Not until I survived it without tripping over my own two feet or embarrassing myself in front of Weston.

And then there was Noah, silently plotting his way to invite Bonnie. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t name—a mix of amusement and exasperation. Honestly, they were ridiculous. But maybe, in a weird way, I liked that about them.

I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow, I promised myself, would be all about Bug, about the fundraiser, about doing something that actually mattered. And if I survived the barn dance with my dignity in one piece… well, that would be a small victory too.

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short chapter! thank you so much for reading ❤️