Pony Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page A

had told both
of them they could never use that expression after they heard it
from one of our neighbors.
    Ma's eyes widened, and she stared out the
window as Paul swung out of the upper barn opening. Her lips
twisted into a grimace, and she grunted.
    “Take care of supper.” She handed me the
fork.
    With a flash of snow-white petticoats, she
sped across the open expanse between the house and barn. A few
minutes later, the twins' howls echoed as her hand connected with
their bottoms. Smiling, I returned to the stove and saved the pies
in the nick of time.
    Ma returned with an apologetic Peter and
Paul. I had flipped the chicken when it turned the perfect hue of
golden brown, stirred the potatoes and tested them, and settled the
peas on the back of the stove so they would simmer without
overcooking.
    “Good job, but you need to set the table. You
guessed right.” She gave me one of her rare smiles that were worth
more than the fabled gold any number of men were seeking further
west. “I saw dust on the horizon. Your pa and older brothers will
be here soon.”
    Peter and Paul rushed around the room, almost
tripping me as I laid out tin plates and flatware. Nine place
settings soon graced the long trestle table. I stopped and stared
as a memory returned. We used to put ten place settings down, and I
wondered why that had changed.
    A boy sat at the table in my memories, a
seventh boy in a family I already thought was too big.
    “Don't slow down,” Ma said.
    The image of another boy at the table faded.
I scurried back and forth while settling platters and bowls of
food, and then covering everything with cloth napkins to keep the
flies off.
    Right as Peter placed two pitchers of milk on
either end, and Paul poured the rest of the creamy liquid into a
butter churn, two shots startled us. Two shots meant trouble on the
frontier.
    “Find out what's going on,” Ma ordered. “You
too, Abigail. It must be bad or your pa would have waited until he
was in the corral before setting off the warning.”
    I scampered out the door before Peter and
Paul.
    “Wait for us,” Peter yelled.
    “Don't rush for the corral,” Paul shouted.
“It's too dangerous.”
    They wouldn't stop me from getting to the
gate first. I leapt upon the wooden crossbeams and poised my hand
over the leather strap holding the gate closed.
    Pa thundered ahead of a herd of ponies. His
horse ran as if Satan himself had pursued them the entire trip.
    “Abby, open the gate. Peter, Paul, mount up
and help,” he hollered.
    My four oldest brothers kept the stampeding
horses together with little success. Peter and Paul darted into the
barn and then burst out atop their mustangs. Neither had bothered
with a saddle. I released the leather loop and kicked against the
fence to swing the gate wide as Pa pulled up beside me.
    “Wait for Adam and do as he tells you,” he
said in a no nonsense voice.
    He took off before I could answer, and I was
faced with all those horses racing in my direction.
    My brothers herded the horses into the
corral. After the longest and most blissful interval, Adam rode up
and grabbed me around the waist.
    “Come on, short stuff,” he said. “I'll take
you back to the house.”
    He swung me onto the saddle behind him and
turned the animal. Just as he spurred his horse, Pa looked over at
us.
    “Adam, load all the rifles. Make sure your ma
and Abby stay safe,” he said. “Don't come back out here, no matter
what you hear.”
    My blood turned to ice in spite of the warmth
still seeping from the ground. Something bad must have happened.
Not only did Pa still have our latest shipment, he had brought
almost as many other horses with him. Paiute must have taken him
unaware, or bandits may have tried to steal the mustangs.
    “What happened?” I asked.
    “I'll explain inside,” Adam said. “I suppose
Ma made a huge spread.”
    “Fried chicken with all the works. I made
pies.”
    “What kind?” His question almost disappeared
into a snort