Amish Circle Letters by Sarah Price

Author:Sarah Price [Price, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781495383366
Publisher: On Demand Publishing, LLC-Create Space
Published: 2014-01-28T13:30:00+00:00

Katie stared at the pony. It was cream colored with a fluffy white mane. Its large, dark brown eyes seemed to stare back at her, as if the two of them were quickly and quietly assessing each other. It was hard to see those chocolate colored eyes as its forelock hung over its face. But the pony seemed to be staring at her, watching her every move with great curiosity.

Katie was not very experienced with horses but she knew that they had the natural ability to sense the moods and intentions of their handlers and react accordingly. She tried to still her beating heart and stop her palms from sweating. Certainly she didn’t want to pony to sense how nervous she was.

“Mine?” she asked softly, refusing to tear her eyes from the pony to look at Eleanor who stood by her side.

“You bet,” the Englische woman answered, her voice cheerful and upbeat. “I’ll need to borrow her back next summer for a spell, but you take good care of her in the meantime and I promise to return her to you in the fall.”

Katie glanced over her shoulder at Eleanor. “What’s her name, then?”

“Butterscotch,” the woman said, reaching a hand out to stroke the pony’s white mane. “And she’s quite the good girl.”

For a long moment, Katie felt as if she was dreaming. For years, she had wanted her own pony to love. Two of her friends had ponies and they rode those ponies everywhere during the warmer months. Katie sometimes watched, fighting the urge to feel envy for her friends. But it was hard to be so good that she didn’t feel a touch of jealousy at their joy. Despite the fact that they let her ride their ponies, Katie knew it wasn’t the same thing. She wanted her own pony, one that she could groom and feed and ride when she wanted to, not when she was granted permission.

“Butterscotch,” she repeated softly. It was a right gut name, Katie thought. After all, the pony was the color of butterscotch ice cream, that was for sure and certain. “May I groom her?”

Holding up her hand, Eleanor waved a small bucket that she had hidden behind her back. “You sure can! I even brought you some grooming tools, Katie,” she said. “Just in case you didn’t have any to bring with you: A curry comb, a couple of hard brush, a body brush, a sweat scraper and a hoof pick. You may leave these here so you’ll always have them handy.”

A broad smile broke out onto Katie’s face. Eleanor had sure thought of everything, she reckoned. Timidly, she reached out to take the bucket then turned back to the pony. Butterscotch, she thought, her heart racing with excitement. My Butterscotch.

There was a rattle in the driveway of the farm and Katie looked up in time to see a grey-topped buggy driving down the lane. It stopped outside of the open barn door. She squinted and tried to make out who had arrived.

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