Dreams of a Dancing Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall Page A

problem with that.” She glances out the window at … me.
    I shut my eyes and slump, pretending to be asleep.
    â€œWe can’t go to New York. Not now,” Molly says.
    â€œI know,” Jonathan agrees. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. Fella has been so good to us. We wouldn’t be where we are now if it weren’t for Fella. We could never leave that horse.”
    â€œI wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of him,” Molly adds.
    â€œMe either.” He sighs.
    I open my eyes and gaze in at them.
    Molly reaches across the little table and puts her hand on Jonathan’s. “We’re happy here, aren’t we?”
    Jonathan puts his other hand on hers. “We’d be happy anywhere, Molly.”
    â€œAbsolutely,” Molly agrees.
    When Molly steps out of the house, I nicker to her.
    â€œHey! I thought you were asleep, Fella.” She comes over and wraps her arms around my neck as far as they’ll go. Then she kisses my nose. “Good night, sweet Fella. See you tomorrow.”
    I watch her walk away, knowing that I won’t see her tomorrow.
    Through the window I watch as Jonathan packs the money away into his money box and loads his paints and brushes for the morning.
    Jonathan and Molly are two of the best humans I’ve ever known. As long as I’m around, they won’t leave. They’ll stay and see their dreams of New York City fade and disappear.
    Jonathan leans out the window and calls, “Good night, Fella!”
    I whinny a good night … and a good-bye.

 
    18
    All Danced Out and Dreamed Out
    I travel night and day to put distance between myself and the marketplace. I believe Molly and Jonathan will try to find me, and I can’t allow that. They must move on. I picture them in New York City, painting and singing. I shall never forget them. And I hope they will remember their “Fella.”
    But as day after endless day passes me by, a sadness settles into my soul. The farther I walk, and the more tired I become, the more I wonder. Why can’t I find a friend I don’t have to leave? Why can’t I have a home of my own?
    I would have been happy dancing at the plow with Lena. Later, I might have become part of Bessie’s herd if those cowboys hadn’t run me off. And Mary? All I wanted to do was help that little girl’s dream come true, just like I wanted to help Molly and Jonathan.
    That’s all I ever want. And where does it get me? In the middle of nowhere. Without a home. Without a friend.
    Well, what about my dream? What about Federico the Dancing Horse?
    Dancing. What’s dancing ever done for me, except get me into trouble?
    I slow to a trot and try to hear my mother’s song in my heart.
    Only I can’t. There is no music in my heart.
    There is no Federico the Dancing Horse.

    For days I wander. No dreams. No music. What I need is a job. Fred the Plow Horse needs work. Isn’t that all we plow horses were born to do?
    I pay little attention to where I’m going. I walk with my head down and stay out of humans’ paths. I keep as far away from homes and farms as I can. On and on I travel.
    When it begins to rain, I barely notice. Only it rains and rains and rains. All day and all night it comes down. I’ve never seen anything like it.
    Still, I plow on.
    Instead of music, I hear the plodding schlush schlush of my giant hooves striking mud. Instead of my mother’s song, a new refrain plays in my head: I need a job. I need a job. I need a job.
    Even at Quagmire Farms I had a shelter over my head and food to eat.
    And Lena.
    The rain falls in slanted sheets. I turn my face from the wind and trudge on, blinded by watery eyes. And then …
    Thump!
    I crash right into the back of something that feels bigger, rougher, than I. It has a ratlike, hairless tail and wrinkled, rough hind legs that truly are the shape and size of tree stumps.
    â€œHey! Whaddya