Horse Dreams by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

last place only had the horse for three days before sending her to us. They don’t want her back.”
    They won’t send her to animal control, will they? Ethan asks.
    The idea makes my stomach and heart flip over and trade places.
    â€œNo. Of course not,” Mom answers.
    But Mom doesn’t run the cat farm.
    We brush and comb in silence until Dad gets back with the feed. Right away the pinto noses the Omolene.
    â€œWell, look at you!” Dad exclaims when she actually nibbles the grain. He looks as proud as if he has baked it himself.
    We walk to the car in moonlight. It’s quiet except for a howl that could be a coyote. We have a few out in the country around here.
    I glance back at the pinto. Her face is lit by the single light bulb we’ve kept on in the barn for her. She’s watching us leave, her head leaning out over the stall door. But she doesn’t nicker. I can’t help wondering if she knows she won’t be staying here long. Maybe she figures we’re not ever coming back.
    I’m bone tired when I climb into bed. But it takes me a long time to fall asleep. I ask God to find a good home for the pinto.
    Before long, my thoughts turn to the Hamilton Royal Horse Show. All year I wait for it. Now it’s only a week away. And each year I pray that next time I’ll have a horse of my own to ride in the show.
    But here we are again, and still no horse.
    Dear God, I pray as I drift off to sleep, there’s a lot about praying that I don’t understand. I know You can do anything. So how come You haven’t done this? Please, by this time next year, will You let me have my own horse to ride in the show? And thanks for not getting tired of me asking. I’ve given up crying and begging my parents. So You’re all I’ve got. I know You’re all I need. It’s just that it’s getting harder to keep praying for a horse that never comes.
    Right before I fall asleep, I gaze out the window and imagine my prizewinning black stallion galloping in the moonlight.
    Only this time, he’s galloping away from me.

12

    Horse Show
    The week of the horse show it seems like our whole town is getting ready for it. Colt and I help Mr. Harper scrub the boards and bars of the jumps they’ll set around the fairground arena. Other kids in 4-H string up little white flags all the way around the horse show ring.
    Every day after school Ethan and I do our homework. I write up two-thirds of my horse report—the failure of crying and begging. Then we bike to the cat farm to check on the pinto.
    On Thursday, on our way to the barn, we’re passed by half a dozen small white trucks with fair foods written on the sides: lemonade, onion rings, elephant ears, Italian sandwiches, hot dogs. Only two more days until the horse show.
    Mom’s car is parked next to the barn when we get there. My first thought is that something has happened to the pinto. I jump off my bike before it comes to a stop. “Mom!”
    Ethan drops his bike next to mine. He signs something, but I can’t take the time to stop and see what he’s saying.
    â€œMom, what’s the—?” I ram into her just inside the barn.
    â€œWhoa!” She puts her hand on my head. “What is it, Ellie?”
    I stick my head around her until I can see the corner stall. The pinto is there, munching on grain. “I thought something was wrong. Why are you here, Mom?”
    Mom steps aside. “I work here on Thursdays, remember?”
    â€œRight. Thursday is cat farm day. Guess I forgot. I thought something bad had happened to the pinto.” Still, I walk back to the corner stall to see for myself.
    Ethan catches up to me. That’s what I was trying to tell you.
    I give the pinto a generous meal of Omolene. I like watching her go after it. But I can still count her ribs.
    I pull out the hoof pick I bought at the supply store. I paid for it with my own money.