Free Horse Dreams by Dandi Daley Mackall

words echo in my head.
    â€œCome on. Let’s get you back to your stall.”
    I lead her into her corner stall. She doesn’t fuss at all.
    Once she’s inside, I put down fresh straw. Then I give her an extra scoop of Omolene. “You need to look your best, pinto.”
    I run my fingers through her pure-white mane. Mom got all the burs out, and now the pinto’s mane hangs down her neck in gentle waves.
    â€œYeah. Big day tomorrow. You’re going to see your new home.” I choke on the word home , as if there’s something caught in my throat.
    I get the brush and a clean rag and go to work on her coat. That same calico cat leaps onto the pinto’s back and curls up there.
    â€œYou’re a friend too, aren’t you? Well, we have to help our friend make a good impression tomorrow. Right, Calico Cat?” I shake my head. “Listen to me—Calico Cat and Pinto Horse. Some names, huh? Sorry about that.”
    The cat purrs, a sound that might be a nicker if she were a horse.
    I stroke the hairs on the pinto’s black saddle spot. “You know, I think you’ve put on weight.”
    I run the cloth over her chest and legs. “You’re a lot shinier than you were when I first imagined you at school.”
    While I finish rubbing her down, I tell her all about Larissa and Ashley at the horse show. Her ears prick up and rotate as I move around her. I pick out her hooves and fill her in on the promotion Colt’s mother wants and my dad may want too.
    â€œDon’t tell Dad this, pinto, but I prayed he wouldn’t get the promotion. I’d hate for him to be gone all the time. Do you think that’s selfish? I guess a lot of my prayers are selfish. But I don’t think God gets mad at me for it. Sometimes I imagine Jesus smiling at me while I pray, like He knows He’s about to get another selfish prayer from Ellie, but He’s glad I can be honest with Him. I’m glad too. Like how I ask God for a black stallion every night.”
    In my head, my own words are floating around again as if blown by the wind: It was right there all the time.
    Outside it’s dark as a black stallion at midnight. I’m not sure what time it is. But I know I’d better get home before Mom and Dad and Ethan get back and start worrying about me.
    I give the pinto one more handful of Omolene. Then I hug her around the neck. “You’ll be fine,” I tell her. Only I can’t hold back tears. It’s stupid, I know. She’s not my responsibility. She’s not my  horse.
    I let her go. Then I leave the stall and don’t look over my shoulder.
    I head home, walking fast and trying not to think. But pictures of the pinto flash through my mind. They’re so real that I think I can hear her steps, those clumsy hoofbeats. And her nicker.
    Her nicker?
    I did hear her nicker!
    I wheel around, and there she is. “You—you followed me?” Seeing her there, in the middle of the road, makes me laugh. I stroke her head with its white blaze. I scratch her behind the ears, under her halter.
    With a deep sigh that starts in my boots, I whisper, “I have to take you back.”
    She doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t fight me when I lead her by the halter. “Did I forget to latch your stall, girl? I must not have been thinking straight. Guess I’m going to miss you just a bit.”
    I hate doing it, but I have to put her into the stall again. She stays put. Standing still. All alone.
    I get her another handful of grain and then run out of the barn.
    Even though my legs are tired from all the walking, I keep running. I want to get as far as I can from that barn. From the pinto.
    I run until I’m out of breath and have to walk.
    I’m almost back to town when I hear hoofbeats again.
    It can’t be. No way. I locked that stall. I know I did.
    But when I turn around, there she is.
    This time I burst