“Is she trying to kick?” asked Ginny.
“She might if she could. But she can’t while you’re holding her foreleg up,” said Michael.
The colt nursed clumsily at first. Michael held him patiently. The colt struggled to control all four of his legs and his first tries at nursing at the same time. It was difficult. More than once he started to tip over and fall. But Michael’s quiet hands were there to steady him. Ginny held Mokey still.
Slowly the foal grew stronger and more sure of himself. Mokey seemed less tense and scared. Michael nodded. Ginny let Mokey’s foreleg down gently. The pony turned her head. She softly nuzzled the flanks of her foal.
The colt stopped nursing. His legs buckled. He swung his head away from his mother. There were white drops of milk all over his small muzzle. His large, dark eyes were half closed. His white-starred head swayed weakly from side to side.
“What’s the matter with him?” asked Ginny in a panic.
Michael smiled. “He’s sleepy,” he said. He eased the foal down onto the straw.
Mokey was stiff-legged. She made a circle around the stall. Then she put her head down to sniff the foal from head to tail. Almost shyly, she put out her tongue and licked his shoulder.
“She’s getting braver,” Ginny whispered. Mokey blew softly through flared nostrils. The foal lifted his head and nickered. He was drowsy. Then he fell asleep. Mokey nudged him with her muzzle and jumped back. The foal didn’t move.
With a huge sigh, Mokey stood quietly over her foal. Her head dropped. Her muzzle was almost touching his shoulder. Then her eyes closed.
The foal was still damp. He was starting to shiver. Ginny tiptoed into the tack room and turned on the heat lamps. They bathed the sleeping foal in a pool of warm light.
“Take Mokey’s halter off,” Michael told Ginny in a low voice. “It’s risky leaving a halter on a mare with a foal. There’s always the chance of his getting a foreleg caught in it.”
Shivering at the very thought, Ginny moved quietly into the stall. She slipped Mokey’s halter off. Then she looked down with weary pride at the foal in the straw.
“Let them rest,” said Michael. Ginny left the stall. She gently pulled the door almost shut behind her. She left it open just enough for them to watch.
Twenty minutes later, the foal woke up. He stretched. He scrambled strongly to his feet. Ginny started into the stall with Mokey’s halter, but Michael waved for her to wait.
The colt teetered around his mother. Mokey stood still. She watched him. She was nervous. But she didn’t move. The colt butted his small head in annoyance against her flank. He was searching for his milk. Mokey squealed softly but didn’t kick. In a moment the foal was busy nursing. His short, curly tail was whisking from side to side.
As the minutes passed, Mokey lost her worried look. She turned her head. She nuzzled the nursing foal’s hindquarters with a tender, loving gesture.
Ginny hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out with a long sigh of relief.
“I guess she knows it’s hers now,” she said.
Michael was watching with warm approval.
“No doubt about it. She’s accepted him as her own. And that’s a nice colt, Miss Ginny. He’s going to be well worth raising. Too bad we don’t know the breeding of the sire. There’s real quality there.”
Ginny squinted her eyes in thought. She nodded and then laughed.
“I guess you’re right,” she said. “But I think he’s beautiful just because he’s here.”
Mrs. Anderson came home. She was very disappointed to hear she’d missed the birth. Dr. Nichols came soon after. He spun into the driveway looking worried and anxious. Ginny told him quickly that everything was all right. They all went quietly down to the stable together.
Mokey didn’t like having them there. She swung herself right between the open doorway and her foal. She was hiding him from sight.
“Now what’s the matter with her?” Ginny said with anger. “First she won’t let him near her. Now she won’t let us see him!”
Michael and Dr. Nichols agreed that none of this was strange at all. Especially in a mare with her first foal. Ginny put a halter on Mokey. She held her tightly while the doctor checked the foal. Dr. Nichols gave him a tetanus and antibiotic shot. Michael held him. Then they watched as the little colt ran across the stall, back to his frantic mother.
“She’ll settle down in a few days,” the doctor told Ginny. “You can let them outside in the paddock for a few minutes tomorrow, if the weather’s warm.”
When everyone had left a few minutes later, Ginny gave the stall a good cleaning. She filled Mokey’s bucket with fresh water. She emptied the uneaten grain from her feed tub. Then she went to make the pony a fresh hot mash as Dr. Nichols had told her to do.
She glanced at her watch as she made her way up to the house. It was barely noon. It seemed impossible. After all those dreary, endless weeks of waiting. All those sleepless nights and tiresome days. Now everything had happened and was over in such a short time.
She sat down for a minute on the kitchen steps. She was going over in her mind all the instructions Dr. Nichols had given her. The white snowdrops were gone from the corner beside the steps. Yellow and purple crocuses bloomed in their place. In the hazy light of the spring sun, she could see the buds of the blossoms on the apple tree next to the kitchen window. They were starting to swell and turn pink. Ginny chewed thoughtfully on the end of one braid. Spring was everywhere now. It had been almost a year since Mokey had come.
Ginny closed her eyes dreamily. What should she name the new foal? She pictured the sturdy little red-bay colt with his pretty head and blazing white star. Maybe she should call him Starlight.
A bird flew down. It hopped busily across the lawn under the apple tree. Ginny watched it for a moment. She wanted a spring name for Mokey’s new foal.
Ginny stood up. The bird flew away. Its red breast flashed over the soft green of the new spring grass.
“I’m going to call him Robin,” Ginny said out loud. In a daze of happy weariness, she went into the house to cut up some carrots for Mokey’s mash.
About the Author
Jean Slaughter Doty wrote fourteen children’s books, including Can I Get There by Candlelight?, The Crumb, The Monday Horses, and Summer Pony, the companion to Winter Pony. In her spare time, she bred Welsh ponies, showed hunters, fox-hunted, and judged equitation and pony classes at major shows, including the National Horse Show. Her stories about horses and ponies have been treasured by generations of riders—and readers—everywhere.
About the Illustrator
Ruth Sanderson has illustrated over seventy books for children since 1975. She is well known for her lavishly illustrated fairy-tale picture books. In 2003, she won the Texas Bluebonnet Award for The Golden Mare, the Firebird, and the Magic Ring. Earlier in her career, she illustrated the first paperback covers for the entire Black Stallion series, as well as a number of chapter-book horse stories. She lives with her family in Easthampton, Massachusetts, and her favorite hobby is horseback riding. Visit her on the Web at www.ruthsanderson.com.
To find out how Ginny and Mokey met,
read the companion novel Summer Pony,
also by Jean Slaughter Doty.
Read excerpt!
Excerpt copyright © 1973 by Jean Slaughter Doty.
Published by Random House Children’s Books,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
by Jean Slaughter Doty
“Why, she’s blind in one eye!” gasped Ginny.
“No, miss, she’s not blind. She’s got one brown eye and one blue one. Just because they don’t match doesn’t mean she can’t see perfectly well. Makes her look a bit special, don’t you think? Come on, then, up you go!” Before Ginny knew what was happening, he had boosted her up onto the pony’s thin bare back. He put the reins into her hands. “Off you go and give her a try. Enjoy yourself.”
Ginny glanced at her mother. She
was smiling. “You look very nice on her, dear,” she said. Ginny smiled back. But her face felt stiff, as though the smile would crack it. She turned her attention to the thin pony under her. “Come on, you poor creature,” she said under her breath. “Let’s get this over with.”
If you like books about animals, you might also want to read …
Ghost Horse
by George Edward Stanley
Emily got out of bed. She ran to the window and pulled back the curtains. In the moonlight, she could see the beautiful white horse!
Emily pinched herself. “Ouch!” Now she knew she wasn’t dreaming. The beautiful white horse was really there!
He started walking toward her window. But the closer he got, the paler he got.
Emily gasped. She could see through the horse!
“You’re … you’re a ghost!” she whispered.
by Gloria Whelan
Right on my tenth birthday and just two days before Dad was to leave for the Iditarod, Ruff had five puppies. “Because they were born on your birthday,” Dad said, “I’ll give you one of the puppies—the runt of the litter. He probably won’t make much of a racing dog.”
My pup had one blue eye and one brown eye. He had soft, downy fur the color of shiny coins. “I’m going to call him Silver,” I said.
White Bird
by Clyde Robert Bulla
When John Thomas was tired of staying inside, he went out into the rain. He found that he could walk in the woods and keep almost dry. The branches were like a roof over his head.
One morning after a storm, he went to the woods. He came upon a great oak that had been struck by lightning. The trunk was split and burned. At the foot of the tree was something white.
At first he thought it was a flower or a toadstool. Then he saw it was a bird.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 1975 by Jean Slaughter Doty
Illustrations copyright © 2008 by Ruth Sanderson
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York. Originally published by The Macmillan Company in slightly different form in 1975.
Random House and colophon are registered trademarks and A Stepping Stone Book and colophon are trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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www.randomhouse.com/teachers
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Doty, Jean Slaughter, 1924–1991.
Winter pony / by Jean Slaughter Doty ; illustrated by Ruth Sanderson.
p. cm.
“Stepping Stone book.”
Summary: In this sequel to Summer Pony, Ginny now owns Mokey
and assists her in giving birth to a beautiful foal.
[1. Ponies—Fiction.] I. Sanderson, Ruth, ill. II. Title.
PZ10.3.D7197Wi 2008
[Fic]—dc22 2007019091
eISBN: 978-0-307-47782-8
v3.0
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Summer Pony: by Jean Slaughter Doty
Ghost Horse: by George Edward Stanley
Silver: by Gloria Whelan
White Bird: by Clyde Robert Bulla
Copyright
Winter Pony Page 6