Dreams of a Dancing Horse by Dandi Daley Mackall Page B

think you’re doing back there?” The creature turns its head, and I see gigantic, floppy ears. A nose the size of my tail pokes me in the face. It’s an elephant!
    I back up and look around to size up the situation. Three elephants. A long truck turned on its side. Perhaps a dozen men watch as the elephants try to right the truck. With little success, I might add. Even from here, I can see that it won’t work. The elephants are off center, with three pushing, instead of the four they’d need to turn this truck. Consequently, the truck stays overturned.
    â€œWho is it, Harold?” The elephant in front asks the question. She has a sweet, high-pitched voice.
    â€œIt’s not an elephant,” the one named Harold grumbles. “I can tell you that much.”
    â€œWell, bless my soul,” says the second elephant. “It’s a horse!”
    â€œOne of the horses from the show get loose, Fanny?” asks a third elephant. She’s on the far side from her friend, out of sight.
    â€œMy, no,” Fanny the Elephant replies. “He’s a rather large fellow. And brown.” She turns back toward Harold and me. “Harold, introduce yourself.”
    â€œ You introduce yourself,” Harold shoots back.
    â€œI’d be delighted to do just that. I’m Fanny, the oldest elephant with the Greatest Show on Earth.” She waves to her partner in front. “This is Tina. We’re very pleased to meet you. And you are …”
    â€œFed—” I start to say “Federico.” Then I think better of it. “I’m Fred. Fred the Plow Horse.”
    â€œWell, mercy me,” Fanny says. “What are you doing out here in the rain, child? With all that hair, you’re likely soaked to the bone.”
    â€œPull!” Tina shouts.
    They do, but the truck doesn’t budge.
    Humans stand around, shouting orders at one another. A few try to unload the truck. But they jump back when the truck groans and seems ready to flip all the way over.
    â€œThis is not what I signed up for,” complains the elephant I rammed into.
    â€œHarold is an old grumbling fuddy-duddy,” Fanny explains. “Don’t mind him.”
    â€œThat’s right!” Tina shouts. “When the good Lord was handing out brains, Harold there thought God said ‘trains,’ and he let them pass by because Harold doesn’t like to travel.”
    I laugh and get a dirty look from Harold. As big as I am, that fellow must be twice as big.
    But we plow horses are strong. I step into the empty position to complete the four-cornered team. “Here. Let me help.” I know they’ll never get out of this mud unless I do.
    â€œWell, bless your sweet heart!” Fanny says. “We can use a helping hand.”
    â€œHe can’t help,” Harold says. “He’s not an elephant.”
    â€œCan’t put one past you, can we, Harold?” Tina says.
    â€œHmmmph!” The sound is blown from Harold’s long snout. “I wish Ricardo was still here.”
    â€œRicardo was the fourth elephant. He left our little crew a couple of stops back and joined a zoo,” Fanny explains. “It was his lifelong dream, though I can’t imagine why.”
    Dreams again.
    â€œI should have gone with him,” Harold complains.
    â€œThey didn’t want you ,” Tina says. “Who’s going to pay good money to go to a zoo and stare at you ?”
    â€œNow, Tina,” Fanny says.
    â€œHmmmph,” Harold breathes again. “I still say we wait for the humans to get us another elephant to help us. Not this scrawny excuse for a horse.”
    Me? Scrawny?
    â€œNow, Harold,” Fanny says in her soft, high voice. “You know elephants are scarce as hens’ teeth in these parts. Here we were, the three of us, without a prayer of getting this truck righted, and Fred appears. Don’t go looking a gift horse in the