Maggie

Follow Me! – Chapter 5, I WANT THE COWHORSE

Hazel stood facing the mare, feeling a dark cloud roiling onto the blue skies of her dream. The cloud was shaped like a horse – the big white lummox rooted to the ground in front of her. The uncooperative horse just stood there, doing nothing and defying her! This horse is gonna be a problem

She turned and walked slowly toward the gate. All Maggie Star had to do was simply run around. How hard could that be?

The little book, the journal, was where she had left it on the fencepost. She reached for it, then sank on crossed legs to sit on the ground. She tapped the book cover several times and flipped it open. It didn’t seem so nifty anymore. She had envisioned filling it with stories that showed how Maggie Star adored her. She had thought to write about her own special connection to horses and her gift for talking to them. This was to be her own special gift, because she couldn’t imagine that anyone else had ever wanted to talk to horses as badly as she… But what could she write now? When I talk to horses they don’t always listen…

Page after page of clean white paper caught the glare of the sun. She pressed her thumb onto the corner of one of the pages, leaving a brown smudge, which she eyed morosely. Then she snapped the book closed and looked over at Maggie Star.

She raised her voice so that it could be heard on the other side of the round pen and asked, “What good does this book do me?” The question still hung in the air when she bit out, “I have a horse that’s a dud!”

Disappointment sapped her energy. She leaned her head against the fencepost with closed eyes, letting the journal bounce against her knee, with a little tap, tap, tap, as she thought about her failed effort. She’d have to let Aunt Trudy know that she needed some other horse. Maybe the one she’d seen working cows.

As she thought of the cowhorse her mood began to lift. Yes! That one hadn’t looked like dud material. She latched onto thoughts of that other horse like a drowning man on a lifeline. She stood up and headed over to the tack room.

Aunt Trudy sat inside on a stool with a soft cloth in her hand. The cloth had probably originally been white, but now it looked dark with dirt and oil. It was folded around a long loop of leather rein, and Aunt Trudy slowly rubbed the cloth up and down along the narrow band of leather.

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