by Autumn, age 14

As a black, sure-footed Quarter Horse prances around the paddock, I am amazed. She is not the prettiest horse, but she is the best one for me. She runs around crazily, whipping her glossy head around, then pauses and trots to me.

* * * * *

It was summer, and my friends and I were taking turns jumping into the river. Then, as it came my turn, a loud whinny pierced my ear. I looked across the stream, and saw a rugged looking horse staring me in the face. Before I could think, my hands slipped off the rope and I plunged into the river. After surfacing, I looked to were the horse had stood. It was gone!

After that, I came to the river nearly every day, searching for the black horse. My friends thought I was nuts, looking for a horse that didn’t exist. One day, I brought apples and carrots with me. I was swimming in the pool of shallow water when I heard splashing behind me. It was the horse!

I swam closer to her, noticing it was a girl, and stood. I came to about her shoulder. She allowed me to touch her. I noticed how skinny she was, and she looked forlorn. I gave her an apple slice. She crunched it up, and made the air smell of the crisp fragrance of apples.

I noticed she had a brand, like the one for Rolling Hills Ranch. I was disappointed, I wanted her to be mine! I slipped out my rope halter. She took one look at it and bolted up the bank, knocking me into the water. She shook her head, then reared and ran for the hills.

The next day, as I was preparing my lunch, I realized she must be feral. If she was wild, she wouldn’t have let me touch her. I packed extra carrots and apples, just in case I was able to get the halter on her. I started on my way over to the river. By lunchtime the sun had risen high up into the sky.

I floundered around in the water for a while, but then, getting bored, I unpacked my lunch. As I was preparing to take the first bite out of an apple, something else did. The horse had chomped a big bite out of my apple! Yeah, she had crept up behind me, and I didn’t even hear her!

This time, when I took the halter out of my bag, I made sure not to spook her. As I gently slipped it onto her nose. Then, she knelt to the ground, she allowed me to get onto her back. We trotted into the river, and she splashed and romped through the water.

A few years later, after winning the legal battle we had in getting ownership of her, we brought her home to our small, sturdy barn where some of my friends horses’ are stabled as well. She bedded down into her stall, tired, and droopy. She opened her eyes as I filled her trough with water and hay, while she drifted off into a dreamland of sleep.

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