All this time Seamus didn’t want ribbons or fame, he just wanted to go home Horses, horses, horses. There were so many horses! Valery wondered which one would be hers as she gazed over the crowd of them. She had waited so long for this day. Today was her tenth birthday, and her parents had finally given in to Valery’s pleas to let her adopt a horse. There was a local horse carnival in town, so Valery and her mom had gone. “Do you want to go see the Pony Parade? It’s starting in five minutes,” Lucia, Valery’s mom asked. “I want to keep on looking for a horse, Mom.” Valery shook her head. “Can I look for a horse alone while you watch the show?” Valery offered. “I suppose so,” Lucia replied. “But stay safe! And meet me here after the parade.” “Thanks, Mom!” Valery called as she walked towards a large bay horse. The sun was starting to go down into the trees, and darkness was falling. “How much is he?” Valery asked the horse’s owner as she patted the horse kindly. He was a bit old but looked friendly. “Four hundred dollars,” the woman answered. “OK, thanks,” Valery nodded. Her parents’ budget for a horse was two hundred and fifty dollars. Valery walked around for a while, going from horse to horse. She examined great horses and small horses. Full horses and thin horses. The moon was rising as she went closer and closer to the woods that marked the end of the carnival. Valery was starting to think there were not any more horses to see when a flash of white caught her eye and the shrill cry of a horse echoed throughout the woods. Glancing around, Valery noticed that there was no one else in sight. Since the Pony Parade was probably ending, or perhaps already finished, Valery decided just to take a look at this horse, then go. Moving towards the horse, she saw it was tethered to a tree not far into the woods, unlike most of the horses who were in shiny trailers. The horse reared again and whinnied louder this time. “It’s OK,” Valery said calmly, inching slowly towards the horse. The horse snorted and backed away from her, tossing his head. He was a handsome piebald stallion who did not look older than four years. His eyes were big and dark, reflecting a sense of sadness from within. His head swept back and forth as if he could see something she could not.Then, deciding that all was well, the horse walked towards her and sniffed her face. Valery laughed as she rummaged through her pockets for treats. “Sorry, I spent them all on other horses,” she said apologetically, noticing how thin and bony the horse was. A bale of hay and some oats would help take care of that, Valery thought to herself. “Hello?” she called into the darkness. Someone had to own this horse, Valery knew, but all she could spot was a table. The carnival lights did not reach this far, and Valery called again, louder this time. “Hello?” “What?” a raspy voice snapped, making Valery jump. Quickly, she brushed a strand of dark red hair that had fallen out of her braid away from her face. There was no one in sight! Who could be speaking? Valery wondered. She looked at the horse half accusingly. No, it wasn’t the horse. But as long as someone was speaking, she may as well ask.“How much is this horse?” Valery called cautiously. “Three hundred dollars,” said the voice. Valery looked around but could not distinguish who was speaking. “One hundred.” Valery frowned. She wasn’t very good at bargaining, but she knew to start low. “Two hundred and seventy-five,” the voice replied irritably. Valery knew the Pony Parade must have ended a long time ago, but something told her that this horse was the one. “Two hundred and fifty.” Valery bit her lip. Two hundred and fifty dollars was the maximum, and she knew she couldn’t lose this horse. If she had to pay more she had to pay more. Valery just hoped her mother would understand. “All right, sold. Put the money in the bowl on the table.” Valery gasped in surprise. The horse was hers! Valery turned towards the table. There was now a dark pink and gray bowl sitting on the table where there was nothing before. Fear began to creep up her neck as she placed the two hundred and fifty dollars on the table quickly. The trees cast long shadows over the ground like the silhouettes of ghosts, and she felt invisible spiders crawling up her back. Valery began to untie the lead rope, which was tied tightly to the tree. “What’s his name?” Valery asked, desperately trying to start up a conversation as she picked at the knot with her nails. Cold chills were creeping up her back. Was it raining? Or were those footsteps she heard? Turning around, she saw that the money and the bowl were gone. Valery prepared to run, but darkness seemed to swallow her from both sides. Running could either lead her out to safety or deeper into the woods. Her nails throbbed with pain as they scrabbled with the rope. “Seamus.” His name seemed to be carried by the wind, only appearing for a moment before vanishing. Valery nodded meekly as she finally succeeded in untying the knot. Now remembering which way she came from, Valery prepared to escape with her life and the horse. Cold fingers grasped her shoulders, and Valery ran out of the dark and shadowy woods with the horse following beside her. “Valery, where were you?” Lucia cried, hugging Valery. “It’s been nearly an hour since the Pony Parade ended! I was about to call the police!” “Sorry, Mom,” Valery apologized. “I got a horse, though. His name is Seamus.” She stepped aside to let the piebald horse through. The horse had a white
Horses
The Pony
Kristiena was with her pony, Buttercup, a beautiful golden mare. She was riding her bareback through the meadows, holding onto her pretty black mane. She saw butterflies dancing, rabbits peeking out of their holes to watch the girl and her magnificent horse… “Kristiena! Earth to Kristiena! What is eighty-five divided by five?” Kristiena’s teacher, Mr. Howard, demanded. Kristiena blushed. “Um… nineteen?” she guessed. As the other kids laughed, she felt her face redden more. Mr. Howard ignored them. Looking straight at her, he said, “If you were paying attention, you would have known that Jackson correctly answered seventeen. Please stay after class.” Looking away, he asked the entire class, “Now, what is one hundred twenty-seven divided by eight? Don’t let the remainder trick you!” After school was dismissed, Kristiena slowly made her way up to Mr. Howard’s desk. He looked at her sternly. “Kristiena, you have been such a good student all year, and now, all of a sudden, I’ve caught you in la-la land five classes in a row. Is there anything going on?” Kristiena shook her head. “No, sir. I’m just… finding it harder to pay attention in class. It will stop soon, I promise.” “I hope it will. If I catch you again, I’m afraid I will have to call your parents, and nobody wants that.” “Yes, sir. You won’t have to, sir.” And with a nod of approval from Mr. Howard, Kristiena quickly walked out into the hallway to walk home. It was a gray day, and there was a bitter wind. Just for once, she wished that her parents didn’t have to work so late and could come pick her up from school, or at least pay bus fees. What was more beautiful than the clearing itself was what was in it Once she was home, Kristiena grabbed an orange and sat down to do her homework. Or at least, she thought she was going to do her homework. But her mind drifted back to the meadows and her dream ride with Buttercup. The truth was, ever since Kristiena had seen the pony in the barn and saw the sign that said, “For Sale: One Mare Named Buttercup,” she knew she had to have that dear pony. She had nagged her parents countless times about it, but each time their answer was the same: “We don’t have enough money to spare.” And Kristiena knew it was true. But she couldn’t stop hoping. So, naturally, with the mixture of hope and sadness, what else could she do but daydream? Kristiena had been daydreaming there for a while when her mom walked in. “Honey, I’m home! Is your homework done?” Kristiena jumped. “Huh? Oh. Um, not really…” Her mom’s face fell. “Oh, honey, I know you want that pony, but you’ve got to stop focusing so much on it. I heard from a kid in your class you had to stay after school because you were daydreaming— for the fifth time in a row!” Kristiena was embarrassed and, truth be told, rather upset. She loved her mom and wanted to keep her happy; for her mom to be upset because of her was one of the worst things that could happen to Kristiena. “Mom, I’m really trying harder… it will stop, and soon, it’s just that I really want her…” She trailed off, realizing she was only making her mom feel worse. “Kristiena, baby, I know you wish that you were in a rich family, and you could have that pony, but you were born to this family… and I’m trying so hard… I’m sorry…” And her voice broke. Then Kristiena saw her mom do something she had never known mothers to do. Kristiena’s mother was crying. “No, Mom, I didn’t mean it like that… I didn’t mean that I wanted to be rich… Mom, it’s different, I just wish that… Mom…” Kristiena tried in vain to make her mother feel better, but her attempts were unsuccessful. “Mom, I don’t want to be in a different family, you’re the best mom ever… you and Dad are the best family for sure,” Kristiena tried. “But you hardly ever see us,” said her mother, still crying and hugging herself. Feeling terrible as she watched her mother cry, Kristiena did the one thing that seemed right: She snuggled into her mother’s arms and cried with her. * * * The next morning, Kristiena woke up. She felt sore, stiff. The vague memories of the night replayed in her mind: Her mom had struggled over to the couch with her when she was almost cried out and Kristiena was almost asleep. Then, her dad came home and snuggled next to them. Kristiena was asleep and just barely woke up to see him come in, then fell asleep to the background murmur of her parents’ voices. After a while, Dad had carried Kristiena upstairs to bed and they kissed her goodnight. It was only after the replay that Kristiena looked at her clock. It was ten o’clock! She was late to school for sure. Rushing to get dressed, she suddenly came to a conclusion: Her parents must have let her sleep in! Just the same, Kristiena did her morning routine. When she was done, she went downstairs. Her parents were usually long gone by now, so when she smelled coffee brewing, Kristiena was surprised. “Mom? Dad?” she called out as she walked into the kitchen. Her mom stood by the coffee maker as she waited for it to brew, and she smiled at Kristiena when she walked into the kitchen. “Hey, baby girl,” her mom said, rather wearily. “Come take a walk in the backyard with me. I want to talk with you.” Kristiena followed her mom out the back door into their rather large backyard. She and her mother just walked for a few minutes before her mother spoke. “Kristiena,” she began, “I want you to know that, although we’re away a lot, and you don’t usually see us very
A Strike for the Wind
What fun! I galloped down the slope, near the river. My best friend, Amarganth, the red colt, was already splashing in the cool water. I’ve known Amarganth since I was a newborn foal. Mother, Father, Amarganth, my sisters Mom and Embrea, and my cousin Exanthion all belong to the same herd of wild horses. The prairie sun was hot, so I joined Amarganth in the cool river. “Ginger,” whinnied Amarganth, “I wonder what the world is really like.” “Why, Amarganth! Can’t you see the prairie and the river? Surely that is the world!” I neighed. “Mother has told me stories of faraway lands,” said Amarganth. Two of the herd’s leader stallions came to drive us back to our mothers. It had been a nice day. Tomorrow I planned to race Exanthion. I sighed and went to sleep, next to my mother’s side. Next day Mother woke me up with a sharp nudge. She shoved me up, and I was surprised to see the rest of the herd galloping away, like the wind. Thinking this was a game, I galloped too. But from the warning neighs of the leader stallions, I knew that danger was coming. A swift lion bounded after us. I was getting tired. The lion’s sharp eyes looked around the herd, and spotted me. I was the last horse, plus I was only half-grown. My mother tried to hurry me, when I slowed to a canter. The lion focused on me, and came sprinting toward me. I gave a whinny of shock when I felt the lion’s claw scrape across my back. Luckily I was able to run fast enough to catch up with the herd. But that lion stayed in my dreams for weeks. The prairie sun was hot, so I joined Amarganth in the cool river Some time later I was a full-grown chestnut mare. I was quiet and sedate enough, but I still had a way of turning up my tail, rearing, and galloping away at full speed. I was a little distance away from the herd when it happened. I saw something I had never seen before. It looked like a big green box on wheels. Later I learned it was a truck. It came closer and closer to me. I tried to run, but it came too fast. Something hit me, and that was all I remember until I woke up. I was on board a ship, going to Maine, far away from my African homelands. To get me on board, strong straps were tied onto me, and I was lifted up off my feet. It was very unpleasant. Then I was kept in a cramped, tight stall with other wild horses. I often whinnied to them, but they were scared stiff, as though paralyzed with fear. The ship finally came to land, and I was lifted off the ship. But then a man shoved me into the back of a large truck, which I learned was a horse trailer. I had to ride around in it for some time, but then the doors opened onto a fenced place, with three other horses inside it, all old palominos. I was shoved out into that place. All I could do was gallop a few yards up, and a few yards back. I kicked at the fence, and tried to jump over it. It was too high. Suddenly, I felt hungry. So I grazed along with the other horses on the lush, crisp grass. Three men came, with a strange-looking kind of rope thing. They came running after me. I was frightened, so I neighed, held up my tail, and galloped away at full speed. But the little grassy yard was too small. I was cornered. One of the men held my neck, the second held my head, and the third fitted the rope thing around my head. It felt terrible to have a cold piece of hard metal pushed over my tongue. For many days I lived in fear that I would swallow it when I ate or drank. But I soon found out that the leather straps around my head held it in place, so there was no possible way to get the metal (which is properly called a bit) out of my mouth. I learned the leather straps were a bridle. I had to grow used to lots of things: a saddle, a halter, a harness, and a cart being dragged behind me. I was soon tamed by coaxing, and wheedling, and good food, and an airy stable. What more could I want? Freedom! Of course my groom sometimes let me out in the cow pasture or the fenced meadow. But an African wild horse still has her spirit, even if she is tamed. I knew I should be grateful for the good food and stable, but no. I got into a habit of bucking and rearing and kicking. My master tried to tame me more. “Be good, Joy,” he kept saying. I wanted to tell him my name was Ginger, but he didn’t understand. I gave him a good kick, and that was the last straw. I was sold. I was sold to a riding school. And I was made to carry child after child after child on my back. Some were shy, some were gentle, but most felt as if a horse is a truck, and can go on as fast and as long as the rider likes. The instructors called me different things. Brownie, Babe, Minto, Beauty, Patty, Cookie, Misty, Susan, Skippy, Willow, Penelope, Rosemary, and Sally were just a few. Some riders didn’t even know I was a mare! They called me Hector, and Eric, and other such things. I got irritated and aggravated, and started rearing and bucking. So I was shut up in a hot stall, day after day, making me angry and upset. I stamped and fretted. But one day a man came to look over all the horses and ride them in turn.
