White Horses: New Novel Releasing May 2026

September 6, 1966

WHOA! A white horse gallops past me, his hoofbeats silent in the new snow. His mane and tail float on the air as he glides through the fluffy snowflakes drifting down like flower petals through the midnight blue sky. It’s one of those Alberta Rocky Mountain mornings when the world is rendered mute and at peace under a glittering white blanket of snow.

White horses never gallop past me when I’m walking to school down River Road. “What the-”

The horse turns right, drops his head and uses his powerful shoulders to climb the riverbank up onto the bridge. The clacking of his hooves on the pavement echoes off the mountains around us.

Something pushes me from behind. I stumble forward, my heart pounding. Was this horse running from something? A bear? I turn to face it.

Another white horse towers over me, a draft horse, maybe even a Boulonnais, judging by his elegant head. I’m short for my 11 years and my eyeline falls at the top of his chest. I look up, way up. He snorts out billows of steaming breath that blow my long wavy red hair aside and I imagine that hurricane force is blowing the freckles around on my face.

Panic makes my heart flop around in my chest like a landed fish, my legs shake, I feel sick. I’m scared but not for myself. We have horses. I love horses. I’m scared for these horses, running loose in town. It’s a small town but there is danger everywhere for a horse running scared. I feel tears come to my eyes, imagining crashes down onto hard pavement, collisions with cars.

The horse leans toward me, his eyes swirl with blue green layers, like the marble I sometimes look deep into so I can fall into daydream. That marble looks like it holds the Earth inside it. And so do this horse’s mysterious eyes.

He puts his warm velvet nose against my cheek. Dizziness staggers me and I see stars for a moment.

‘We’re okay.’ The voice in my head is low and soothing. It continues, ‘We’re going to-’

“Pearl’s.” I say aloud, hearing the word echo simultaneously in my mind. ‘Pearl’s’.

His nose squiggles against my cheek. ‘Knew it would be you, Ramona.’

He backs away, tosses his head and  gallops off, following the first horse over the bridge. As I hear the staccato click of his hooves on the bridge, I realize my mouth is hanging open.

And here I was so excited about today for a totally different reason. “What the-

‘Knew it would be you, Ramona.’

“RAMONA!”

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