Free A Summer Without Horses by Bonnie Bryant

that the only thing she could do was to run from Merlin and the faster she ran, the harder the old woman laughed.
    “Now, nobody’s sure just exactly what happened next, but it appears that Merlin was very smart and understood what had happened and he wasn’t happy about it because he loved the little girl. Since he didn’t have any tack or even a lead rope, he took off—after the little girl. That made her sneeze all the harder and run all the faster. But she was in the dark woods, at night. The inevitable happened. She tripped on something and fell down and Merlin caught up with her.”
    “Didn’t she get sicker?”
    “At first, she did. You’re right, but remember, Merlin is a magical horse so then the magic began. The little girl always said she never actually heard anything, but she swore that horse talked, uttering a chant, an incantation, and when he was done, she didn’t sneeze anymore.”
    “Magic?” Natalie asked.
    “That’s what they say. Then Merlin sort of waited for her and the little girl just knew she could trust the horse. She climbed onto his back. Some people say the horse cantered back to town. Others say he flew. Nobody but the little girl knows for sure and she’s not telling. What the world does know is that the little girl turned out just fine and never sneezed at another horse again. Nobody ever saw the old woman on Garrett Road again.”
    “What about the horse?”
    “They say he lives in the deep piney woods and whenever somebody there loves horses, Merlin knows. And if they need his help, he’ll be there for them. On the darknights when the wind blows and the shadows dance on the forest floor, some people say the shadows are branches. Others say they’re horse tails. Me? I don’t know.”
    “Wow!” said Leslie.
    She loved that story. So did the other kids. They hadn’t thought about Red O’Malley from the moment I’d started talking.

T HE NEXT MORNING started off okay. In spite of my sore you-know-what, I’d had a pretty good night’s sleep so at least until I got downstairs for breakfast, things were looking up.
    Then came the day’s first piece of bad news. It was my mom’s annual You-can’t-have-a-good-day-unless-you-start-with-a-good-breakfast attempt to improve the world. That means oatmeal in case you can’t figure it out. Then, as I was staring at the globulous mess, Mom handed me two pieces of mail and for once neither of them was addressed to “Or Current Resident.” They were both for me and they were postcards from Lisa and Carole, arriving from opposite coasts on the very same day.
    Much as I wanted to hear everything my friends had to tell me, I didn’t want to get all the good news with thebad news of the oatmeal, so I stuck them in my pocket, explained to Mom that I was too full from dinner to eat the oatmeal, and dashed out of the house to get to Pine Hollow before she could corner me with another lecture on the benefits of iron and fiber.
    When I arrived, Max was just giving final instructions to the older riders about the trail ride they were going to take in the woods. Red and I were to be in charge of the littler kids again. That was basically okay except for the fact that I love trail rides more than anything. Max knows it, too. I actually think he was trying to get the riders out of there before I arrived so I wouldn’t feel so bad about having to miss it, but it didn’t work. I saw everything and I was really envious of what they were about to do. That, combined with the oatmeal, made me feel sort of overwhelmed. I was watching the older riders leave for their trail ride when Red came up to me.
    “Uh, Stevie, can I make you a deal?”
    “Like what?”
    “Like this morning, I’m going over tacking and untacking with the beginners. After I’m done with that, I’ve got a dentist appointment at lunchtime. So, my deal is that I’ll do the tacking demonstration if you’ll look after the kids at lunch. I shouldn’t be more than an hour