The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Miss Smith picked up a piece of carrot with her fork. She put it into her
mouth and chewed slowly. “It hardly sounds like Butter,” she said. “When I
rode him he was quite keen, and he’s not gotten that much older.” She picked
up another piece of carrot. “All right,” she said, after she’d chewed it and
swallowed. “You may go. Do you remember how to get there?”
I nodded. It was easy, just the two turns, plus there was a fancy fence and
iron gates at the start of the drive. Couldn’t miss those.
Miss Smith said, “If you’re going to be riding out on the road, it might be
better if you put a saddle on him. You could take the right stirrup off, so it
wouldn’t bang against his side.” She knew I wouldn’t be able to use the right
stirrup. It would hurt too much.
“Is his the little one?” I asked. There were three saddles in the storage
room, hung on racks and covered with cloth. Two were the same size and one
was smaller.
“Yes,” Miss Smith said. “I’ll show you.”
“’S all right,” I said. “I don’t need you.”
She looked at me for a long time. “I never know what to do for the two of
you,” she said at last. “I should have gone to Jamie’s school earlier. I probably
should supervise you more. But you’d hate it, wouldn’t you?”
I didn’t think this was the sort of question that needed an answer. I got up
and scraped my plate into the trash, then filled the sink with soapy water to do
the dishes.
“Will you at least tell me if you’re having trouble? Ask, if you need help?”
I didn’t look at her. “I won’t need help,” I said.
Behind me Miss Smith sighed. “Have it your way,” she said at last.
The saddle was awkward but I got it on him. I started to climb on, and the
whole saddle shifted to one side. I got off, put it right, and tightened the girth
again—it had gone loose, I didn’t know why. The second time I climbed
aboard it stayed steady. We went through the gate and ambled down the road.
The airfield no longer showed any traces of the explosion or the burned
plane. Jamie’d said three people died, but he didn’t know them. In the last
week more huts had gone up at the airfield, and one big tower that no one
knew what was for. Planes sat parked in rows at the far side of the runway,
and one plane kept coming toward the runway, touching down for a moment,
and then rising into the air again. Round and round in loops. Butter barely