As a young girl, I loved horses. I loved to read horse stories. I had posters of horses in my room. I must have watched the movie The Black Stallion a million times. I realize it’s not uncommon for girls to fall in love with horses — or at least the idea of having a horse. (My own daughter loves horses and has taken riding lessons). But when our family stumbled upon the opportunity to own a pony, even as a young girl, that one short-lived experience showed me how much work and effort (not to mention money) went into the care and keeping of a horse. And this wasn’t just any horse. It was a fat, stubborn little pony by the name of….. (prepare yourself) “Mighty Mouse”.
Years later, I remember fondly the memories I have of that stubborn pony. So I decided to write one of them down. (Names have been changed).
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The Riding Lesson
By Sara McCoy
“Beth! Where are you?” I could hear my sister’s voice from the bottom of the stairs. “I’m up here. What is it?” I hollered down.
“It’s the Rolling’s pony, Mighty Mouse. Daddy is going to buy him!”
The minute I heard the word “pony” I came flying down the stairs, my braids slapping noisily against my back. I raced after my sister out into the bright sunlight, down the gravel driveway, across the black-topped court and into our neighbor’s yard. There we came to a stop beside my Dad, who was talking to Mrs. Rolling. I could hardly wait until she and Dad shook hands and Dad led Mighty Mouse back to our yard. My sister and I followed along behind him like two little puppy dogs, both of us talking at once.
“What happened, Daddy? Is Mighty Mouse really ours now?” We pestered him with questions until he broke into a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Well, girls. Mrs. Rolling offered to sell Mighty Mouse to me for a very low price, and I couldn’t refuse. She and her boys are moving and don’t want to take him along. We get the bridle, saddle, corral and all!”
“Oh thank you, Daddy! Thank you!” We hugged him and began dancing around. “Well now,” Dad chuckled. “I can’t think of anything better to do, so why don’t we go for a ride?” I stared at Mighty Mouse, hardly able to believe he was ours, while my sister begged to be first. Dad turned to me instead and said, “Since you’re the eldest, I think you should be first.”
I could barely breathe as Dad helped me onto Mighty Mouse’s back and adjusted the stirrups to the right length. I had dreamed about having a horse of my own ever since the time Dad took us down to the horse stables at the bottom of our hill, where a lady let us have a ride on her big, red horse. Of course, this was a pony and I did have to share him with my sister, but none of that mattered now.
“Talk to him, that’s how you become friends with a horse,” my Dad was saying. I leaned down and whispered into Mighty Mouse’s ear. “I think you’re the most beautiful pony in all the world. I know we’re going to be great friends.”
I patted his neck and ran my hand over his long, course mane. Breathing deeply, I smelled the dusty, rich scent of leather and sweaty horse; it made my nose wrinkle up.
Suddenly I was jerked out of my thoughts by a quick jolt. Mighty Mouse was walking toward Dad, who stood a few feet away. I gulped and grabbed for the saddle horn. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so easy after all.
“This is the perfect day for riding!” I said with a nervous laugh. Just then we heard Mom’s voice calling from the house, “Steve? Could you come help me for a minute?”
“Stay here, girls. I’ll be back in a second,” Dad said as he took off for the house.
Gently I ran my hand over Mighty Mouse’s rough mane. I looked at the next door field, down at the pony, and finally at my sister. “I know what you’re thinking, and you’d better not try it. You’ll get in big trouble,” she said, her hands on her hips. For an eight-year-old, she’s pretty smart. She also knows me very well.
I defiantly flipped my braids over my shoulders, took a firm hold of the reins and said, “Giddy-up!” As Mighty Mouse quietly began walking, I glanced haughtily over at my sister. “See!” I said with satisfaction. “That was easy. I can do this, no problem!”
At first I was content to let Mighty Mouse walk, but very soon I got bored. “Come on! Can’t you go any faster?” I spoke softly to the pony. Then I gave him a sharp kick in the side, and off we went!
I had never been on a trotting horse before, so I was unprepared for the jerking movements that yanked me back and forth. I felt at any moment I might slide off and go tumbling to the ground. Suddenly, Mighty Mouse broke into a gallop; the wind whipped my braids straight out behind me and caused my eyes to water. Clutching at the saddle horn, I could hear my sister screaming for my dad.
“How can I make him stop?” I tried to think, but my mind was numb with fear. Then, through my tears, I saw the wire fence quickly approaching in front of us. Would Mighty Mouse try to jump over it? Would I fall off and be hurt? Suddenly, the pony came to a screeching halt, right in front of the fence. I nearly sailed over his head. Just then my dad ran up.
“Are you hurt?” He asked as he helped me off Mighty Mouse. I could barely shake my head. When I stepped onto the ground, Dad had to hold me up. Everything was spinning and I felt dizzy.
My sister came running up and gasped, “You’re white as a ghost! That was some ride you had. I wish it was me!” I laughed shakily and said, “Oh no you don’t!”
THE END
Peaches For Grandma
by Sara McCoy
”Mom, if you wanted to get a present for someone really special, what would you get?” Jamie sat at the kitchen table, his freckled face looking up expectantly.
”That’s a pretty vague question, Jamie. Who do you have in mind this time?” His mom asked, drying her hands on a dish towel by the sink.
Jamie signed and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, ”Oh, no one.”
His mom smiled down at him, “I’ve seen that look before. Now tell me who it is,” she said, her hands on her hips.
”Grandma.” Jamie peered up at his mom expectantly, his blue eyes pleading.
”But you just gave her a card yesterday, and the day before that you bought her a new keychain.”
”I know, but I want to give her something extra, extra special!” He moaned.
”Okay,” she nodded. “Like what?”
”Well, I was hoping you’d have some good ideas.”
”Lets see,” his mom said, leaning against the counter, starring into the yard. “You could make her a bouquet of flowers from our garden. Or you could draw her a picture of something she likes, or bake her cookies, or—“
”No, that’s not the kind of stuff I mean! I need something even better. That’s just the usual stuff. I want to give her something terrific!” Jamie dropped his head dejectedly onto the kitchen table.
Just then the doorbell rang. “I’ll get that,” Mom hurried to answer it. Meanwhile, Jamie slouched lower in the chair, listening to the hum of voices from the front hall. Finally his mom returned, looking worried.
”It seems the Connell’s puppy, Dixie, got out of their yard somehow. They’ve looked all over, but they can’t find her. That was Mrs. Connell. She wants us to call if we see her. It’s a shame; they just got Dixie and the children love her so much.”
”That’s not good,” Jamie said, feeling even worse. “I’m going out back,” he said slowly, pushing himself out of the chair.
”What about that gift you wanted to give Grandma?” His mom called after him.
”Oh yeah. I’ll think of something…” he answered, trudging off. Sitting on the swing, Jamie thought about all the wonderful times he and Grandma had together. She always read him a stories, and they ate ice cream sandwiches together on her front porch swing.
Suddenly, Jamie’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of — what was that sound? He jumped up and ran over to the side of the house. There, caught between the over-turned garbage can and a wooden pallet, was Dixie!
”How did you get under there?” Jamie asked the frightened puppy, while he hoisted the heavy can back into an up-right position. “No wonder you couldn’t get out. That thing weights a ton!” He gently picked the golden puppy up and tucked her protectively under his arm.
Back inside the house, his mom gasped when she saw the puppy. “Where did you find her?”
”The garbage can fell over and she got trapped between it and one of dad’s pallets.” Jamie said. “She was probably looking for food. Come on, we’ve got to get her back to the Connell’s.”
It took only a few minutes to walk to the Connell’s house, a block away from their own. A chubby little boy with food all over his mouth answered the door. The minute he saw Dixie his eyes got very large and he reached out to grab her. At the same time, Mrs. Connell came up behind him. When she saw Dixie, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, you found her!” She cried. “How can we ever thank you?”
”That’s okay,” Jamie said humbly. “I’m just glad I was able to —“
”I know!” Mrs. Connell interrupted. “Do you like kittens?” Before Jamie or his mom could respond, Mrs. Connell had pulled them inside, down the hall, and into the laundry room. There, on the floor in a box, lay four adorable kittens piled on top of each other.
”Pick one.” Mrs. Connell said with a big smile.
Jamie looked at his mom. She nodded her head and the corners of her mouth turned up. Suddenly he got it. Grandma loved cats! Her old one died several years ago and she often spoke about wanting another one. But which one should he pick? The one on top was coal black, the one next to it looked grey, and the third looked back too, but just to get sure he gently pushed the others aside. That’s when he saw the tiny, pale orange and white kitten curled up on the bottom of the pile.
”She’s perfect!” He breathed softly as he carefully picked her up and held her close. She immediately began to purr.
Minutes later, Jamie and his mom walked out of the house and down the street with the cuddly kitten in his arms. She had stopped purring and fallen asleep. Jamie smiled down at her. “Do you think Grandma would mind if I named her?” He asked.
”No, I don’t think she’d mind at all,” his mom smiled.
Jamie’s blue eyes beamed up at his mom. “Then I’m going to call her Peaches. Peaches for Grandma”.
THE END
This short story was birthed during one of my writing assignments. I loved the idea, and could easily picture the little princess wandering in the forest. Have you seen a redwood tree up close? They are majestic and beautiful! It is amazing how tall they grow. In this story, the redwood tree represents a kind of shelter and protection for the princess. In the same way, her father is a source of shelter and protection. I hope you enjoy this story.
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Princess in The Woods
by Sara M.
She was born in the middle of a winter storm that came rushing down the mountain, to stalk about in the great sleeping forest. And then as suddenly as it came, it was gone. Leaving only its white snowy remains, and a baby princess with blue eyes.
Her mother was a beautiful queen, and her father was the King of All Lands surrounding the mountain and the great forest. He was good and kind to his daughter, and taught her everything she would need to know in order to rule the kingdom when he was gone.
One day…
the young princess went walking alone into the deepest part of the great forest to hunt for some wild mushrooms. They were one of her mother’s favorite delicacies. She had often walked alone on the path that wound its way through the forest, and she was familiar with all the plants and animals that lived there. It was not unusual for her father to find her picking flowers that grew along the side of the path, in order weave them into lovely necklaces and crowns for her mother.
As the day wore on, she began to wander further from the path. When at last she found the spot where she’d seen the mushrooms growing and picked as many as her skirts could hold, the sun was sinking low and it was growing late. She walked back to the spot where she thought she’d left the familiar path. But it wasn’t there. The princess began to feel anxious and confused. Carefully she searched the woods, but she could find no trace of the path.
Darkness began to fall around her. She called out for her mother and father, but her cries were swallowed up by the woods and her heart became heavy with worry. Would she ever find her way out? Oh, how she wished she hadn’t gone so far from the path!
Finally she came upon a large fir tree standing tall in the middle of a clearing. At its base was a hollowed out place where the princess took shelter that night. As the moon rose high above the forest, the princess slept and dreamt that she was safe at home again in her mother’s arms.
In the morning…
she awoke to the sound of rustling leaves and noisy birds in the trees, singing their cheerful morning songs. Slowly the princess arose and looked around the small clearing. She did not recognize anything. She knew then that she was truly lost. Was her father out searching for her? Would he know where to look?
Suddenly she heard movement in the trees and a loud snorting from the bushes. She backed into the hollow of the tree and watched as a horse and rider stepped out into the clearing — It was the King! Her father had come for her!
The king jumped off his horse when he saw her and she threw herself into his arms. “Oh father! I’m sorry I got lost in the woods. Please don’t be angry with me!” she begged.
He kissed her and set her down gently. Looking into her teary eyes he smiled. “I’m not angry, daughter. My heart was heavy with concern for you. When I realized how long you had been gone, I knew you must be lost and I came at first light to find you.”
Then her father swung up onto his horse and pulled her up to sit behind him. Together they rode though the woods and arrived home to find her mother waiting for them with tears and open arms.
The next morning, after the princess had finished her breakfast and daily lessons, the king took his daughter into the stables where he presented her with a gift: A little white dove with a red ribbon tied around its neck. “She is yours,” the King said. The princess held the dove gently in the palm of her hand and brushed her fingers across its wings.
“She is a companion bird. She will go everywhere with you, and if you ever get lost or need help, you simply give her this command: Fly home! And she will fly to me,” said the King.
“You will always come if I need you?” the princess asked in wonder. “Yes,” the King smiled. “I will always come.”
From that day on the little companion bird went everywhere with the princess, and they became the best of friends.
Many years later…
when the princess was in a time of need, she gave her bird the command: Fly home! And on swift wings, the little bird flew to the King who quickly saddled up and rode hard through a fierce winter storm. He arrived just in time to be by his daughter’s side as she gave birth to her firstborn child. While the winter storm blew around them, stalking about in the great sleeping forest leaving only a snowy trail behind… A baby princess with blue eyes was born.
THE END
As a young girl I loved to read horse stories, especially the Walter Farley “Black Stallion” books. So while I was in high school, I decided to write my own little horse story. The story below is still one of my favorites.
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A Horse For Joe
By Sara McCoy
Joe climbed up onto the fence and held out a carrot to the beautiful, white filly. The animal pawed the ground at first, then hesitantly stepped over to the boy. Joe held still and carefully, White Star nibbled it out of his hand. “That’s my girl,” he smiled.
”Joe! Get away from there! You know what Pa said about stayin’ away from those horses.” Mike came running up and pulled Joe down off the fence, dragging him along to the barn.
”Let go of me, Mike! I didn’t mean any harm. Besides, Star likes me.” Joe struggled to get free.
”Yea, right. Pa’ll never let you have White Star if you keep hangin’ around her all the time and not doin’ your chores. Anyway,” he said as he let go of Joe and went to saddle his own horse, Blue. “You’ve got to show Pa that you’re ready to have a horse of your own.”
”And how do I do that?” Joe muttered, kicking at the dirt with his boot.
”I got old Blue here by proving myself to be useful and by doin’ good work. You’ve got to start tryin’ harder,” Mike said as he led Blue out of the barn. “Oh by the way, Pa wants you to pack your stuff and get ready for the cattle drive. He’s gonna let you come along this year, “ Mike grinned at him as he swung up onto Blue’s back.
Joe raced toward the house to get his gear together. “I’ll show them,” he mumbled. “White Star is gonna be mine for sure.”
The next morning the annual cattle drive began. Joe’s Pa rode near the front of the herd as point man to keep them going in the right direction and set the pace. Mike and the other cowhands rode as swing and flank riders, sticking closely on each side of the herd in order to keep them together.
Joe rode at the back as the drag rider, staying behind the herd to keep it moving, pushing the slower animals forward. He swung his lasso and hollared till his throat was scratchy and dry. It was dusty, exhausting work.
At night, he took his turn watching the cattle and singing along with the cowboy songs to keep the animals calm. He also helped Sharky, the chuck wagon cook, gather firewood and do other odd jobs.
One evening just as they finished making camp and the sun was beginning to set, a man came galloping up in a cloud of dust.
”There’s a prairie fire heading toward my claim and several other’s just south of here,” he gasped. “I saw yer campfire and came to ask if you boys would help us out. We sure could use it.” His horse was flecked with sweat and its eyes were wide and anxious as it pawed the ground.
Pa immediately agreed to help, and told everybody to saddle up. Then he came over to Joe and said, “Son, you’re gonna stay here and help Sharky and Billy keep an eye on the cattle.”
”But Pa!” Joe cried. “I can help, too. Please let me go!”
”Not this time, son.” He swung up onto his horse and rode hard after the others. Over his shoulder he called, “Take care of the herd for me. We’ll be back as soon as this is over.”
Joe kicked at a dead stump and turned back to the fire. An uneasy feeling settled over the camp. He wished his Pa had let him ride along and help. Over the next couple of hours, the three cowhands took turns guarding the herd while the others tried to get some sleep.
Near the end of Joe’s shift, there was a sudden rustling near a smaller group of calves and their mothers standing separate from the main herd. Then the horses began to stomp and whinny. As Joe scanned the herd to see what was causing them to act up, he spotted something moving near the back. Then he saw it. A skinny, grey wolf was only a few feet away from the calves. Its yellow eyes were fixed on its prey and it didn’t seem to notice Joe.
”What should I do?!” Joe’s mind screamed. He felt frozen and unable to move. Suddenly Joe remembered that Pa had once told him wolves are afraid of fire. He quickly grabbed a large stick poking up from the campfire and ran toward the wolf, holding it up like a torch and yelling at the top of his lungs.
At the same time, the wolf was crouching low and moving quickly toward a helpless calf who bawled in fear and pushed against its mother. At the last moment, the wolf caught sight of Joe and the flaming stick, and turned to face the new threat.
Joe came to a stop only a few feet from the wolf. For one awful moment the two stood and stared at each other. Then Joe yelled and waved the burning stick at the wolf, who turned and fled back into the night.
With his heart pounding, Joe peered into the darkness to make sure there was no sign of the wolf returning. The horses were still stomping nervously and the cattle seemed about to bolt, so Joe quickly woke the others and they began the task of settling the herd down.
Just before daybreak, his Pa and the others rode back into camp. They found all three, exhausted, guarding the restless herd. “What’s goin’ on here?” Pa demanded as he jumped off his horse and hurried over. “What happened boys?” He questioned.
Joe answered quickly, “It’s alright, Pa. A wolf came into camp last night during my shift. He looked real skinny and desperate. He was goin’ after the calves, so I grabbed a stick from the fire and ran at him yellin’ real loud. For a minute I thought he was gonna attack me, but we just stood there staring at each other. Then he turned tail and headed out.”
”Were you scared?” Mike asked.
”Sure I was,” Joe nodded. “But then I remembered what Pa said about wolves being afraid of fire. Anyhow, I knew I couldn’t let that wolf get at Pa’s herd.”
”Son,” Pa put his big hand on my shoulder. “I’m real proud of you. I think you’re gonna make a right fine cowboy. In fact, I think you might just be ready for a horse of your own.” His eyes twinkled, “So I’ve decided to give you that horse you’ve got yer eye on — White Star.”
For a moment Joe couldn’t believe his ears, then he whooped and threw his his hat in the air, “Thanks, Pa!”
All the men crowded around Joe to congratulate him, slapping him on the back and roughing up his hair. Over the noise he grinned and yelled, “Hey, Mike! I told ya I’d get my horse, didn’t I?”
THE END
I wrote this little story in poetry form first, as part of a writing assignment for a class. After putting it away for a week or so, I took it out again and decided it needed to be a short story instead. Here is the finished product.
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The Jacket
by Sara McCoy
I felt her shadow before she spoke. I jumped and whirled to face her. She had a weathered brown face, and snow white hair. She wore an old men’s overcoat with most of the buttons missing.
“Can I help you?” I said cautiously.
“You got a light, lady?” She rasped, through thick smoker’s lungs.
“I’m sorry, I don’t smoke.” I replied, as I took a good look at the woman who stood in front of me. Then I realized there was something I could give to her.
“Here,” I shrugged out of my own coat, a warm fleece-lined jacket with hood that my sister had given to me. I held it out to the woman. Up till now, she’d kept her head down. But when she saw the jacket she reached out and touched it carefully. Her fingers closing around it, she rasped, “For me?” Her eyes came up and she squinted at me, blue eyes piercing, seeing right down to my soul. I’m not sure what she found, but she took the jacket from me.
“What do ya want?” She questioned.
I shook my head in response. “I just want you to wear it,” I said. “And maybe come hear me sing?”
“What you talkin’ bout?” She began coughing forcefully.
“I’m singing at the mission tonight, I’d like you to be my guest,” I said. The woman fingered the jacket some more.
“Alright, I’ll come,” she coughed. “Gotta get me out of this cold.”
We walked two blocks to the mission, found the chapel and sat at the back. When it was time I walked to the front and sang the old song: “Amazing Grace”. When I finished the crowd was so silent, I thought maybe they’d fallen asleep. Then a few began clapping and smiling, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
After two more songs and sharing my story of how my life had been changed, I left the stage and somebody else played guitar. When the service was over I took my guest to the mission’s front desk where I helped her sign in for a bed. Tonight she’d be out of the bitter cold; she’d have a warm place to sleep.
I took her wrinkled hand and held it in mine. As I looked at this weathered old woman, all dirty and smelling like smoke; wearing my new fleece-down jacket, I smiled. “Goodnight, Mary. It was very nice to meet you. I hope to see you again.”
She said nothing, just gawked at me and nodded her snow white head, as I turned and walked out the door.
The next afternoon, I returned to the mission and found a letter addressed to me. The gal at the desk shook her head and described how old Mary had died last night in her bed. They’d discovered her there in the morning, still wearing my fleece-down jacket. And a peaceful smile on her face.
Now Mary couldn’t read or write, so she’d asked the gal at the front desk to write this letter to me:
“Thanks for the jacket. I like it a lot. I’ve never been good at thank-you’s. I liked your song, you sure sing real good. And I know you believe what you’re sayin’ cause you gave me your nice, fancy jacket, and you didn’t even know my name.
I never put much stock in religion, but this Jesus sounds real nice. So I’ve decided I’m gonna believe in Him. I guess He must think I’m alright.”
—Mary
My eyes got so full, I couldn’t hold it. The tears just had to fall. This homeless gal who had nothing, had found a way to give me something in return. She’d accepted Jesus into her heart, the night before she died.
And to think, it all began with a warm fleece jacket.
THE END