For three months, Jayla had practiced with her goat, Chester, every evening after school. The county livestock show was only one week away, and Chester still did not like to walk on a lead rope.

Chester was stubborn. When Jayla pulled the rope, he planted all four hooves in the dirt and refused to move. When she pulled harder, he sat down like a dog.

“Pulling won’t work,” said her uncle Dante, who had shown goats when he was her age. “A goat pushes against whatever pushes him. Walk beside him with a little cup of feed, and give him a bite each time he takes a few good steps.”

Jayla tried it. On the first night, Chester walked three steps. On the second night, he walked ten. By the end of the week, he trotted next to her all the way around the barn, with his ears up and his nose close to the cup.

On the day of the show, the arena was loud and crowded. Chester stopped once and stared at the people in the stands. Jayla did not pull. She waited quietly until he was ready, and then they walked on together.

Chester won a third-place ribbon. That night, Jayla pinned it to the barn door. “Next year,” she told him, scratching his chin, “we’re going for first.”