Nobody chooses the family they are born into; they have to do the best they can with the one they are given. My family has a long history of stealing horses. On this island, your last name is assigned by your family business. My best friend comes from a family of tomato farmers, so his name is Tomberlin Farmer. The only kid I ever hated comes from a family of woodworkers, so his idiotic name is Jobias Carpenter. Mollyanna’s family makes hats, so she is Mollyanna Hatter. The list goes on and on.

  My last name, technically speaking, is Horsesnatcher. I shortened it to Hatcher after my father and grandfather went to prison, but, to be fair, I did hatch some chickens once. I think that qualifies.

  It took less than five minutes to get to the prison where my father and grandfather were being held. Their cell was in the basement, with bars just above ground level. I’d visited them a number of times.

  I picked up a stick and rattled the bars a bit. My dad sat up suddenly with his fists raised, ready to fight.

  “Sallivan!” he shouted.

  “Where?” yelled Pap. He is partially deaf, my grandfather, so he missed the rattling bars completely. At the sound of my name, however, he jumped up out of bed.

  “My son!” shouted Dad. “It’s so good to see you! What time is it?”

  “Early,” I said. “The suns will be up in half an hour.”

  “Ah,” said Pap. “The best time of day. You can see the horse, but the horse has trouble seeing you. And the owner really can’t see you, unless he has one of his sons on patrol all hours of the night like Revy Fowler, the scoundrel.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” I said. “I need to steal a horse.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Literal tears came into the eyes of my father and grandfather. They put their arms around each other. “I knew this day would come,” said my father, wiping a tear with the arm that was not around my grandfather.

  “Now, Sallivan, listen up,” said Pap. “I’ve had my eye on this beauty over at the Tanner place. Weeble Tanner rides him by here every day on his way to market. I can only see the lower half from here, but that is a gorgeous set of legs!”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” said my dad. “First, tell us why you need it. That way, we can figure out which horse to go for. And we need to hurry. It’s getting lighter out.”

  I told them the story of the death of the king. I swore up and down I had nothing to do with it. They believed me immediately. I have learned a few things about life. Here’s one. Even if the whole world thinks you killed somebody, your family will believe you are innocent.

  “People are always going to accuse you of things, son,” said my dad. “Remember when they accused me of stealing that chestnut bay?”

  “But you did steal that chestnut bay.”

  “Not that one. Old Man Skinner’s.”

  “You stole that one, too.”

  “Well, yeah, but that’s not what matters. What matters is this: once somebody decides you are a criminal, you are a criminal...whether you are guilty or not.” I have thought about that sentence a thousand times since he said it.

  “Here’s what I am trying to say, son. People think you killed the king. You are innocent, but you have to live like you are guilty. That is very important.

  “You are on the run. Do not show your face. Change your look the first chance you get. Die your hair. Grow a beard. Steal a horse. Do whatever you have to do, but DO NOT get caught. If you get caught, you will not get a fair trial ---- especially with a last name like Horsesnatcher.” I did not have the heart to tell him I’d changed my last name to Hatcher.

  “You know, there is one horse that might be best for what you need,” said Pap. “I tried to snatch her last year, but I wasn’t fast enough. You would be, though. And there is not as much risk of getting caught.

  “She belonged to ol’ Sigmund Forrester, but he’s dead now. His widow just can’t seem to give her up, despite some pretty big offers. The widow is half blind, though, and she sleeps late. This horse is a quick one, I tell you, and she is used to spending time in the woods. Butterfly. That’s what Sigi called her. She’s the one you need.”