Pony Dreams
by K. C. Sprayberry
Published by
Fire and Ice
A Young Adult Imprint of Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
www.fireandiceya.com
Pony Dreams, Copyright 2014 by K. C. Sprayberry
ISBN: 978-1-61235-792-8
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Design by Stephanie Flint
PONY DREAMS
by K. C. Sprayberry
Abigail Weston's starry-eyed dream is to become the first female Pony Express rider. Ma, Pa, and six overprotective brothers won't even let her near the corral to train mustangs for the mail venture, so she gives up her dream to sneak out and talk to the ponies, teaching them to accept her weight on their backs.
Then her life changes and all her dreams are dust. Or are they?
Dedication
A book in production seems to be a lonely endeavor from the outside. That can't be further from the truth, and I take this opportunity to thank those who made Pony Dreams possible.
My husband, Jim, and our youngest son, a high school senior, Josh. They knew just the right moment to interrupt, took on research when I couldn't, and were always ready to stir up a cup of coffee for those middle of the night brainstorms.
Donna, fellow author and a great friend, who fact checked for me, told me when my beautiful prose was too much, and was just there when needed.
The ladies of Flying Wagons Critique group, Kay, Mary Ann, and Teresa. You saw this story several times. Yet, you never complained, and helped me work out the technical things.
Thank you, one and all.
K.C. Sprayberry
Table of Contents
"Pony Dreams"
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author
Previews
Chapter One
Late May, 1860 near Carson City, Nevada
If anyone had asked me to describe fifteen, I'd tell them it was near an impossible age. Everyone expected me to act like a lady and wear dresses all the time. I had to pin up my hair instead of letting it swing in the breeze in two long braids. Ladies didn't run around without a care in the world, nor could they allow the sun to tan their skin.
Being a lady stinks.
What I wanted deep in my heart was to wear pants and train horses from sunup to sunset. No one in my family listened whenever I begged them to let me help with training the horses, so a lady I was. They told me to get about my chores. To stay out of trouble, I did those awful, everyday, jobs but with hate in my heart. That was all I, Abigail Grace Weston, faced—never-ending, boring housework day in and day out.
I would never get a break from this boredom, as a lady in the nineteenth century never had a chance to think for herself, nor did she really run her home. A man always took care of a lady. This was one of the strictest rules I learned at an early age. No one ever let me forget it, no matter what dreams I had, like the forbidden desire to one day becoming a Pony Express rider.
Sneaking off to join the Pony Express wasn't available to me as my family lived on a ranch far from any towns. But I did have a chance to get near horses, as we provided them for the cross-country mail service. Yet, I still felt a bit empty inside. Even with the opportunity to spend time with the half-broke mustangs, a part of me yearned for the freedom of racing over mountains, across streams, and through the unrelenting prairie.
“Why won't Ma and Pa understand?” I dropped a pink calico dress over my head and buttoned up the bodice. “I have to train the ponies. They need me.”
I brushed out my hair, did up my braids, and pinned them in a neat bun at my neck. Sunlight peeked around the curtains over an oiled paper window. After pushing aside the patched and faded curtains made from one of my cast off dresses, I opened the window and leaned my elbows against the splintery wood to stare at the corral.
“It's positively sinful to make me sleep in the only bedroom overlooking the corral.” I sighed. “I'd promise Ma anything to spend two ... no, three days a week working with the horses without having to sneak around.”
Temptation gnawed at me until I had to break a rule, or I'd bust into a hundred pieces. I crawled out the window and sneaked between the house and barn to get to the corral. Halfway there, I heard a branch snap.
Fear froze me in my tracks. None of the stunted piñon trees were anywhere close to the house or the corral. A branch snapping meant someone was near me, someone I couldn't see. My heart thud-a-thumped so loud I wondered why my parents and six brothers hadn't raced outside to see what I was doing.
“Peter, Paul, is that you?” I called softly.
They were the worst of all my brothers. Peter and Paul thought nothing of harassing me while I ironed miles of sheets, or sneaking food from a pot while I cooked.
“Where are you?” I looked around. “Ma will wear out her broom on your backsides if you scare me again.”
Their favorite trick was to pretend to be Paiute Indians and jump out when I least expected them. I listened hard so I'd catch them before they scared me out of a year's growth. The only sound I heard was the ponies nickering in the corral. Torn between returning to the house or spending time with the horses, I looked around again, but saw no one.
“I'll just spend a minute or two with the horses.” I ran the rest of the way to the split rail fence surrounding the corral, deciding the noise had all been in my head. “I can't resist.”
After leaning over the fence as far as I dared, I reached for one of the half-broke mustangs weaving around behind the wooden rails. Pa and four of my brothers would soon take them on a delivery to several Pony Express Stations, but I wanted to make sure the animals were ready.
“I hope no one notices I'm not doing my chores,” I whispered, “and that Ma doesn't need eggs soon.”
One of the dusty brown animals nuzzled my fingers. I smiled. Whenever I could break free from my chores, I worked with the horses, but only when no one else was around. Breaking horses was something no sensible woman ever did, according to Ma. It was one of the many rules a female had to live with in 1860, and I hated every single one of those foolish rules.
“Do a good job for The Pony,” I whispered to the mustang. “Don't let those riders down.”
Images of riders streaking over mountains and through barren desert raced through my mind. Until a few months ago, my family trained these horses for other
ranchers, local lawmen, and a few men passing through who'd heard of Weston Ranch. Then a man from Russell, Majors, & Waddel Overland Freighters had visited.
“We've heard how well you train your stallions, Mr. Weston,” the man had said. “Will you consider doing the same for our new enterprise, The Pony Express? It will carry mail across the country, from St. Joseph, Missouri to San Francisco, California, and then back again. The mail will only cost a nickel for a letter. Imagine how much you'll help people connect with family members living so far from each other.”
Pa had nodded, and our lives turned upside down.
“Except mine. Holy Heck! Why can't a girl train horses?”
Sighing, I patted the horse and jumped to the ground. No one knew of my impossible dream; one I gave up on when my oldest brother, Adam, returned from Carson City and said The Pony Express had more riders than they needed. Until he confessed he had tried to hire on, none of us suspected what he wanted. After Pa and Ma expressed relief, I never told a single soul my deepest wish; one I made on the first star I saw after I heard about The Pony Express.
I wanted to be the first female rider.
This day, as the sun peeked over the horizon, that wish became an uncontrollable urge. Deep within my heart, I felt the desire to mount the mustang I'd just touched, and keep riding until I was in Carson City and then finding a way to make myself look like a boy.
My foot moved of its own accord. I stepped back up on the fence and reached for the horse. He moved toward me, and I smiled in anticipation of leaving Weston Ranch for my own adventure.
“We can do it, can't we?” I asked the horse. “You can carry me to the nearest station and then we can deliver the mail.”
The horse nickered and bobbed his head up and down. Oh, my second sweetest dream was about to come true! I was about to ride one of these beautiful horses
* * * *
The horse nudged my open hand with his nose. He stared at me with eyes filled with longing for the open desert. Who was I to deny this animal his freedom, but only if it came with my escape from my boring life?
“Shall we go to The Pony?” I asked and then regretted my hasty words.
A horse such as this one had a spirit rarely seen in humans or other animals. By taking this mustang from his herd, I might break that spirit. And then there was Adam's announcement about The Pony not needing any more riders, a far bigger disappointment than Ma and Pa's edict I couldn't ever consider riding astride or training the horses in anything but secret.
With my hopes dashed by Adam's revelation The Pony didn't need me, I decided my second wish had a better chance, training the horses. But I still faced the you're-a-girl-and-can't-do-anything-fun obstacle.
“I'll show everyone.” I cast one last look at the horses. “Better get my chores done, or Ma'll figure out what I'm up to.”
If I didn't get over to the chicken coop and gather eggs, one of my pesky brothers would tattle on me. I took a step but stopped when four shadows approached. The excuse I had come up with to explain why I was out of the house withered on my tongue at the sight of the men blocking my path.
“Morning, Abby,” Mr. Johnson said.
He owned the ranch closest to us, about five miles away. Albert, Daniel, and Gabriel, his sons, grinned at me in such a way as to scare the life out of me. Nervousness made me skitter to the side, but they blocked every path of escape.
If any of the other neighbors had shown up, I would have taken them into the house and told Ma I'd snuck out. The Johnsons weren't the sort to invite anywhere. Gabriel, the oldest, had hinted he wanted me to take care of his place. Since I was close to marrying age, I viewed his interest as a threat, one I wouldn't give him a chance to make come true. As soon as Pa heard a whisper of a rumor about Gabriel's plans, he'd chase the Johnsons right out of Nevada. That is unless Adam, Bart, Charles, Mark, Peter, and Paul didn't catch wind of the Johnsons nefarious plans first.
“Them the horses Michael plans to take to The Pony Express?” Gabriel asked.
None of the Johnsons had any respect for my family, but he was the worst. By using Pa's first name instead of addressing him properly, Gabriel showed me how much he despised my family. He slouched to one side and nodded at the horses. He was a mean one and took pleasure from causing pain to small children and animals. I rubbed my arm remembering the time he left it black and blue from a vicious pinch. I was only seven but knew enough to keep it covered so as not let on to Ma or worse yet Pa and my brothers know about the injury.
“Leave the mustangs alone,” I said.
Since Pa signed the Pony contract, the Johnsons had tried all kinds of dirty tricks. They had dismantled the fence during the night so the horses escaped or scattered the hay or filled the water troughs with sand. Mr. Johnson had once bragged he would do anything to convince Russell, Majors, & Waddel to give him the contract.
“Ain't no way for a woman to talk,” Albert said.
“Take her back to our place,” Daniel said. “Been a while since we had anythin' good to eat. Little Abby would learn her place right quick after we gave her a few licks for that sassy tongue.”
Chapter Two
No one knew if there was a Mrs. Johnson at their disreputable ranch. Those men were all anyone had ever seen. I backed away from them and looked for a way to escape but ran smack into the corral fence. Unless I wanted Ma's hand lighting up my backside for sneaking out, I couldn't let anyone know the Johnsons had shown up.
“Pa's...” I cleared my throat when a lump clogged it. “Pa'll chase you clear to Carson City if you don't leave. That is if my brothers don't do it first.”
The Johnsons laughed, and I took off at a run while they hung onto the fence to keep from falling over. Their futile attempts to grab me didn't slow my escape as I raced into the chicken coop. After slamming the door, I peeked through a loose board. To my surprise, those men ran past without slowing.
“Guess they're blind as well as stupid.”
I gathered eggs and thanked the Almighty for my narrow escape.
“Where are you, Abigail?” Ma hollered.
Snatching up the last of the eggs, I walked as quickly as possible, but made sure the eggs stayed in the oversized basket woven from reeds that came from a river far from the Nevada desert. Making another basket was impossible, since we had no river within several hundred miles, according to Pa and Adam.
“Please, God, don't let Ma light up my backside,” I prayed.
When I reached the kitchen, I ducked under my oldest brother's arm. He tapped the top of my head.
“Where have you been, short stuff?” Adam asked.
My guilty gulp echoed around the warm room. He shook his head and turned to Ma, but she kept her back to us as she flipped ham and stirred grits.
“Set the table, day's a wasting, and we have to do the wash,” she said.
Grits bubbled and ham sizzled on the stove while biscuits baked in the oven. I laid out bowls, plates, and spoons. Every single one of my brothers was already in the kitchen and ready to wolf down the good meal she had prepared.
“Saw you out the window,” Paul whispered. “I'm gonna tell Ma you went to the corral.”
“Nah,” his twin, Peter, said. “It's my turn to tell on the runt.”
Older than me by a year, they were the youngest of my brothers. Before I found a response to their threat, Mark settled between them.
“I'll let Ma know you balanced the water bucket over the privy hole if you do,” he said.
Peter and Paul blushed and stared at the table. The timing of their move couldn't have been better as Pa entered the kitchen. He adjusted his suspenders and looked over us with pride.
“Good morning, family,” he said. “It's getting late. No lingering over breakfast today.”
I helped Ma serve the food before sitting down. Quiet descended as we ate.
Right after everyone finished, we assembled on the front porch.
“Peter, Paul,” Pa said. “I don't want to hear about
you goofing around while I'm gone. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir!” the troublesome twins chorused.
As soon as Pa turned to Ma, Peter nudged Paul. They grinned and glanced at me. Certain they had some kind of mischief planned, I shook a finger at them, but they kept smiling like silly fools. Their glee drove home how I would have to put up with their pranks without anyone around to keep me from going insane. Sniffing, I hugged Adam. At eighteen, he often helped me with my never-ending chores.
“I know you won't say anything to Pa,” he whispered. “Tell me if the monsters act up.”
“I will.”
“Be good,” Bart said.
He and Charles, seventeen, tugged out my hairpins and stuck them back in at odd angles. After straightening my hair, I retaliated by snatching their soft, floppy hats from their heads and hiding them behind my back.
“We'll leave anyway, but it'll get mighty hot on the ride if Bart and Charles don't have their hats.” Mark, sixteen, plucked the hats from my hands. “Sorry, Abby, we can't stay. Pa needs help with the herd.”
After Pa hugged me, he went to the corral with most of my brothers. I stood beside Ma while Peter and Paul leaned against the porch railing. The others rode past with the mustangs.
I waved at my menfolk, even though they didn't acknowledge my farewell. Before their dust cloud settled, she made a beeline for the kitchen door.
“Peter, stoke up the stove in the wash shack,” she called over a shoulder. “Paul, get water and don't be stingy with it this time. I don't want to have to stop in the middle of the rinsing to round you up for more water.”
I followed her inside, with nothing but chores in my future. Before the door closed, a voice hailed us.
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