Dreams of a Dancing Horse Read Online Free Page B

Herbert?”
    â€œA tractor. Ain’t you never seen a tractor before, girl?” Herbert Quagmire elbows his son, and they both laugh, a most similar and ugly sound.
    â€œNot in this here field,” Lena replies.
    â€œWell, you have now,” Rollo says. “And my daddy and I are gonna be rich!”
    â€œThat right?” Lena says, obviously unimpressed. “So does this mean Fred here won’t have to pull that nasty plow anymore?”
    I hadn’t yet thought of this possibility, and a glimmer of hope simmers in me.
    Herbert Quagmire lets out one insincere guffaw. “Ha! Not on your life, girlie! I already thunk of that. It’s part of my moneymaking scheme. My boy Rollo here will drive this here tractor. And you, little lady, can drive the plow behind the nag. Rollo says he taught you how to plow.”
    â€œWhat about my other chores? And the housework and cooking and—?” Lena asks.
    â€œYou’ll just have to work faster, girl,” Herbert answers.
    â€œYeah,” Rollo agrees. “Can I drive it now, Daddy? Can I? Huh? Can I?”
    I want to protest. There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than to have Lena as a driver instead of Round Rollo. But I am too worried about my friend to contemplate such a thing. Already, they’re working her fingers to the bone. And now she has to do the plowing too?
    â€œWell, you better get to it, gal,” Herbert Quagmire says. “You and that nag won’t be as fast as my brand-new tractor.” He checks the newer, shiny plow, which is attached to the rear of the new tractor.
    Lena starts to drive me, then stops. “Rollo, did you have your eyes shut when you harnessed poor Fred?”
    Rollo doesn’t even turn around. He’s too busy climbing up on the tractor.
    Lena adjusts the straps of the harness until they’re perfect. We set out, and the plow is so much easier to pull now.
    Meanwhile, Herbert shouts orders to his son, who can’t seem to get the contraption started.
    When we’re out of earshot of the Quagmire males, Lena starts humming. It’s a lovely tune, and my tail swishes in time with the music.
    After a while, we’re both swaying and sashaying. If it weren’t for the fact that Lena will be overworked now, I would be truly happy knowing I am to spend days, as well as nights, with my friend.
    All of a sudden, Lena screams. She reins me hard to the left.
    I bolt. Just in time, I dodge the green monster as Round Rollo races within inches of us, spraying dirt onto Lena and me and whooping as he passes by.
    â€œYeehaw!” Rollo hollers, as if he’s riding a bronco. He might as well be. The tractor bucks and jumps under him. He swerves across the field, his plow banging behind the tractor, destroying our neatly plowed rows.
    Something tells me Herbert Quagmire’s moneymaking scheme is destined to fail.

 
    7
    Tractor Tragedy
    Over the next weeks, Lena and I dance in the field as we plow. But we rarely have time to dance at night. Often, Lena is still doing chores at midnight. I worry about her. If I could speak human, I would have a few choice words for Herbert Quagmire.
    Then one evening after Lena and I have plowed our section, she returns me to the barn, bids me good-bye, and heads in for her domestic chores.
    No sooner has Lena left than Rollo appears. “Out!” he shouts, yanking at my halter. “You’ve got work to do.”
    He drags me back to the field and puts the harness back on. “Tonight you’re pulling my plow and the tractor.”
    At first, I think Rollo must be joking. But I should know better. And sure enough, he hitches me to the tractor that’s hitched to the plow. Then he climbs onto the seat, puts his feet up, and opens his comic book.
    Rollo cracks his whip. I lean into the harness. It slips up to my neck because it’s too loose, and I’m already foamy with sweat from plowing all day. The straps around my