“Right!” Seemingly recovered now from her ordeal, Tori wiggles to be put down, which Uncle Max does with obvious reluctance. Once more grabbing my hand, Tori pulls me past the goat-lady toward the next stall. “Come on, Lexie! Let’s go see the ponies!”
I don’t really want to go with her. I want to stay by Mommy’s side—no, that’s not quite right. What I want, really, is for Mommy to pick me up the way Uncle Max did so effortlessly with Tori and for her to carry me around the farm while she laughs and tells me what a brave, sweet girl I am becauseIwouldn’t be scared of a little fainting goat.
But the fantasy leaves a weird feeling in my stomach, one I recognize as guilt. It’s not Tori’s fault I’m too big for Mommy to pick up, and it’s not really her fault she got startled by the goat and her Daddy overreacted.
Setting aside those uncharitable imaginings, I let myself be led to the next set of animals. Ponies, just like Tori said, or what constitutes ponies in a place like this, anyway. A man and a woman, standing tall and proud in odd boots that make it look as though they actually have hooves. Similar gloves adorn their hands, but unlike the other animals I’ve seen so far, they aren’t simply wearing ears but rather a leather mask that covers their entire face. The mask looks so unnervinglyreal, I take a step backward—and bump straight into Mommy.
“It’s all right, little one,” she murmurs, crouching behind me with her arms around my waist. “They’re just ponies. Would you like to try feeding them?”
With Mommy’s arms around me, the ponies don’t seem quite as unsettling as they first appeared. “Can they eat with those things on their heads?”
“They can.” It’s Miss Bridgette who answers as she strides up to stand beside me, a warm smile on her face. “I had the hoods specially designed to be worn all day without restricting their regular activities. So they can breathe, eat, drink water all with no problem. Would you like to try giving them some bits of apple?”
“Yes, please.” Now that the shock has worn off some, I’m feeling bolder.
“That’s my brave girl.” Mommy presses a kiss to my cheek and everything inside me lights up at her praise. “Go with Miss Bridgette. I’ll be right beside you.”
Letting Miss Bridgette lead the way, I follow her back to the edge of the ponies’ stall. The foreman—forewoman?—unlocks a cabinet I hadn’t noticed earlier to reveal a small fridge. She pulls out a bag of freshly chopped apples and places a few pieces in my hand.
“Hold your palm out flat. They don’t mean to bite, but the hood can make it difficult for them to see what they’re munching on, so you want to keep your fingers out of the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My body doesn’t seem to realize we’re notactuallyapproaching a wild animal, judging by the way my heart slams against my rib cage as I step forward, my fingers laying as flat as possible. Stopping just in front of the enclosure, I hold my hand up, waiting for them to take the wet pieces of apple from my palm.
The horse-lady notices me first, her head canting slightly to the side as she studies me through what I assume are eye holes in her mask. I can’t actually see her eyes, leaving me with the impression that this is a real horse watching me, sizing me up.
Okay, we’re back to that very unsettling feeling from before.
But before I can take a step backward, Mommy’s hands come to rest on my shoulders. “Just hold your hand right there, baby. Let her come to you.”
Considering I had no intention of trying to go to the horse-lady, it’s not a difficult instruction to follow. I stand stock still beside the wooden gate, my arm beginning to ache from being held in the same position for so long.
And then she moves, her long, slender legs lifting high at the knees with each step, and all my worries fade to the background.
She’sbeautiful.
“Rosie and Soren are show ponies,” Bridgette whispers as the large white head drops to my palm. Something wet brushes over my skin and a moment later a chunk of apple disappears into Rosie’s ‘mouth’. “We have sturdier ponies meant to pull our carriages, if you’d like to go for a ride later.”
“Oh, yes please,” I whisper in return, my voice breathless with wonder as Soren joins his mate, his movements equally graceful as he bows his black head to take a delicate bite of the apple in my palm.
Miss Bridgette beams at me, then smiles up at Mommy. “What a polite Little girl you have, Cat.”
“Thank you. She makes me very proud.”
Happiness wells in my chest at Mommy’s words, and I hold them close to my heart. Maybe that’s what will set me apart from the others and ensure Mommy lovesmebest. Maybe if I’m the most polite and well-behaved Little on the island, she won’t need the other Littles around to make her happy.
“Miss Bridgette, Miss Bridgette!” Nelly’s voice rings out, loud and sharp as she comes running up to the stall. “Can I feed the ponies, too?”
Rosie skitters backward, clearly startled by the sudden noise, and Miss Bridgette frowns at Nelly. “What have I told you about yelling so loudly in the barn, Natalie Quinn?”
Pink rises to Nelly’s cheeks as she drops her gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Miss Bridgette.”
“Go tell your Daddy you need a timeout. At least five minutes, and then if you can approach the ponies properly, you may feed them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Head down, Nelly drags herself over to where her Daddy is talking to Uncle Gideon about something and tugs on his sleeve. When he ducks down to listen to her, the smile vanishes from his face as he sighs and shakes his head. Taking Nelly by the hand, he leads her out of the barn, and a few moments later comes the distant sound of a Daddy’s hard palm connecting with his naughty Little girl’s bottom, followed by Nelly’s distressed wails.
