Free Dreams of a Dancing Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall

replies, “which I made myself, if you’ll recall. Besides, there’s no music for me to sing to.”
    â€œWhat’s the matter, Molly, my girl? No artistic imagination?” Jonathan teases. He glances over at me. “Molly will be a famous singer once we’re living in New York City.”
    Molly gets to her feet and stands before Jonathan and me. Then she opens her mouth and sings a beautiful song, something about stars and lovers. Her voice is as clear as the night air, as powerful as the winged horse.
    As always, I can’t stand still. My tail swishes. Before she reaches the second verse, my body sways and my hooves prance. Then I lose all control and dance, dance, dance. I close my eyes and imagine I’m dancing with Lena at a hoedown or in our favorite church service. I rear up and feel as if I’m flying, like Pegasus, through the starry sky.
    Molly finishes, and the night turns silent.
    I open my eyes and find Molly and Jonathan staring at me.
    â€œFella,” Jonathan says, “that may have been the single most amazing thing I’ve seen in my whole life.”
    â€œYou’re good!” Molly exclaims. “Really good, Fella.”
    She launches into another song. This one is fast and fun. Jonathan springs to his feet and dances with his sweetheart.
    â€œNow, wouldn’t we be a sight at the market!” Molly says, laughing.
    Jonathan sounds out of breath. “Talk about drawing a crowd!”
    We dance another song. And another. And another, until at last, Jonathan walks Molly home.
    When he returns, he chooses to sleep outside under the stars. Only I can’t sleep. Jonathan’s words echo in my pointed ears: Talk about drawing a crowd!
    And at last I have an idea.

 
    16
    The Big Mambo
    In the morning, Jonathan gathers all his canvases. “I’m off to the market, Fella. Help yourself to the grass out back. And apples from Molly. I filled a couple of buckets for you from the well. I shouldn’t be too late.”
    I reach down, pick up his little suitcase, and toss it to my back to help him carry his load.
    â€œWhoa, there, Fella.” He takes the case down. “That’s a very nice offer. But after what happened in the market yesterday, I think you should stay as far away as possible, don’t you?”
    I shake my head no. But he insists, so I stop arguing.
    â€œHave a good day, Fella!” Jonathan calls as he strides off, his long legs covering the ground fast, his packages clattering.
    When he’s out of sight, I make my move. I have a solid sense of direction, if I do say so myself. I’m fully aware of how to get to the market without following Jonathan.
    With equal parts eagerness and anxiety, I start out after him. I do realize I’m running a risk by showing myself in the market again. The vendors were not the most understanding humans I’ve ever met. But I have to chance it.
    I take the back streets once I hit town. When I reach my alley, I duck in. I walk through to the end of the alley and poke my head out the market side.
    â€œOh no!” Jonathan drops his paintbrush and stares at me. “Fella, I thought you understood you had to stay home.” He rubs the back of his neck. “What was I thinking, giving orders to a horse? Did I honestly believe you knew what I was saying?”
    I nicker to calm him down.
    His breathing improves. “I know. It’s not your fault you didn’t understand.”
    From my alleyway, I nicker once again. Sometimes it’s to my advantage that humans don’t realize I can understand their words.
    â€œWell,” Jonathan says, “I know you’re not going to want to stay in that alley all day again. Here.” He pulls an apple from his bag and tosses it to me.
    I catch it.
    â€œNice catch, Fella. Now, stay there.” Obviously not trusting his words, he waves his hand. “Stay. Stay. Stay.”
    Jonathan wanders off. A few minutes