Listen to Coronavirus Patient Zero
Book Excerpt: A Dream Come True (A True Story About Horses)
Book Excerpt: A Dream Come True (A True Story About Horses from the book, "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam") From the book: "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam" by LeAnn R. Ralph (trade paperback; October 2004; 190 pages; $13.95; FREE! shipping) -- http://ruralroute2.com "Highly recommended reading" -- The Midwest Book Review "I have to tell you I feel a little sad. Just read the LAST page of "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam." I enjoyed every word.
I wish your book went on forever .now, bring on "Cream of the Crop!" I'll be waiting! (A. -- Dousman, Wisconsin) "I have read both of your books ("Christmas in Dairyland" and "Give Me a Home Where the Dairy Cows Roam")and thoroughly enjoyed all the stories! I think my favorite is the one when you FINALLY got your horse, Dusty. What a wonderful writer you are, as I feel like I'm right there with you on all of your adventures! My mother-in-law loved the books, also. Keep up the good work! Looking forward to more books!" (D.-- Lapel, Indiana) 3031 words ************************* Mom and Dad were riding in the front seat of our car, and Loretta and I were in the back seat. It was a lovely June afternoon. A Sunday. The kind of day that if colored pictures were put into dictionaries and you looked up June, this is what you’d see—a deep blue sky with puffy white clouds, sparkling sunshine, and tall green grass waving in the breeze.
And yet, as we drove along the country road, I still couldn’t quite believe it. We were on our way to the pony farm. For as far back as I could remember, I had wanted a pony. Whenever we had a turkey for Thanksgiving or Christmas and my mother asked if I would like to make a wish with the wishbone, I’d wish for a pony. Every time someone asked me what I wanted for my birthday or for Christmas, I always answered, “a pony.” On every birthday, each year with one more candle to strengthen the wish—I wished for a pony. If Mom and I accidentally said the same thing at the same time (such as, “pass the butter, please”) and then we said the rhyme: “Needles, Pins, Triplets, Twins; What goes up the chimney? Smoke; Your wish and my wish shall never be broke”— You guessed it. I wished for a pony. Unfortunately, each time I mentioned the subject, my mother always answered the same way. “You’re too young to have a pony.
” “Why am I too young? How old is old enough?” I’d ask. “You know I’m afraid of horses,” my mother would reply. “Why are you afraid?” “I don’t know—because they’re so big. I was always afraid of the workhorses when I was a little girl.” “Did the workhorses ever hurt you?” “No. But when we put hay up in the barn, someone had to drive the team to pull the hay fork. And that was my job. And I was always terrified. Everybody else was on one side of the barn, and there I was on the other side, all by myself with those great big things.” “But the workhorses never hurt you.
” “No,” Mom would say. “I was just afraid of them.” “Workhorses are a whole lot bigger than a pony, you know. So why can’t I have a pony?” “Because you’re too young.” “How old is old enough?” “I don’t know. But you’re not old enough now, that’s for sure…” Dad, on the other hand, thought it was a fine idea. “A pony would sort of be like having Pete and Ole around again, although I guess it would be a lot smaller than Pete and Ole,” he’d said when I had asked for his opinion. Pete and Ole were the last team of workhorses my father had owned, and I could tell by the way he talked about them that he still missed them. He would tell me about the time when he worked at the canning factory and had loaned Pete and Ole to some neighbors who lived a few miles away and how the horses had come home by themselves, in the middle of the night, but had stayed hidden behind the barn, and no one knew they were back until the next day when Loretta and Ingman got home from school.