Keeker and the Sneaky Pony (2 page)

Finally, FINALLY, it was riding day. When Keeker woke up that morning, it felt like Christmas. Even the dogs were running around barking crazily, as if they knew something great was about to happen.

Keeker got dressed and hurried to the field to get Plum.

Plum let her get close, then trotted off.

When Keeker slowed down, Plum slowed down.

When Keeker sped up, Plum sped up.

“Rats!” said Keeker. “This pony is sneaky!”

Keeker tried showing her who was boss.

“PLUM! GET OVER HERE!”

Keeker tried coaxing her with a carrot.

“Heeeeere ponyponypony.”

“That pony is IMPOSSIBLE!”

Keeker was so frustrated that there was only one thing left to do. So she went behind the barn to stomp around and cry a little.

“What a silly girl,” sighed Plum. “All she had to do was ask nicely.”

Plum wandered off to look for clover blossoms.

After her temper tantrum, Keeker felt better. She found her parents and asked for their help. Keeker’s father went into the field and spoke nicely to Plum, who allowed herself to be caught and led into the barn.

Keeker’s mom and dad helped Keeker brush her off and put on the brand-new saddle and bridle.

Plum saw her reflection in the tractor and snorted.

“Who’s THAT?”

Keeker and Plum were ready for their ride.

“Just go to the end of the road, then come back,” said Keeker’s mom. “If you want, I’ll go with you. I can guide Plum on the lead rope.”

“NO!” said Keeker. “I want to go by myself.”

After all, she was an experienced rider. Lead ropes were for babies.

Keeker and Plum set off down the road at a fast walk—
clop-clop.
It was a lovely bird-sing-y, sun-zing-y day, and Plum felt frisky.

So frisky, in fact, that she started going faster—
cloppity-clop.
Soon she was trotting—
cloppity-cloppity-clop.

Keeker held tight to Plum’s mane, so she wouldn’t fall off. She’d never been jiggled so hard in her life. It felt as if all her brains were going to bounce loose.

“Enough of this,” Keeker thought.

“WHOA!” she said, and Plum stopped. They were about a mile down the road, right at the place where Keeker’s mom had said to turn around.

Off to the left was a little trail that went winding into the woods.

“THAT looks interesting,” thought Plum. She flicked one ear back to see what Keeker thought.

Keeker wasn’t sure. She knew they were supposed to turn around, but she’d been on that trail before, with her mom, and she knew where it went.

“Okay,” Keeker said. She gave Plum a little kick.

They headed into the woods, following the trail.

Once they were in the woods, it was like being in a whole different world.
Swish-swoosh- swish,
Keeker and Plum plowed through the tall ferns. Birds chittered and hooted overhead. Squirrels raced around. The whole forest seemed to be moving.

Plum put her nose in the air and took big sniffs. She smelled lots of good things to eat—moss and nuts and roots and curled-up little fiddleheads.

“I might need to lose this girl,” thought Plum sneakily, “so I can really enjoy these woods.”

Just then a fat chipmunk came racing down the path, headed right for Plum’s two front hooves.

“Yippee!” thought Plum. “Here’s my chance.”

She bugged her eyes out and snorted and reared up. Keeker slid off backwards and landed on her bottom in the dirt.

“Oooooo, oooooo,
I am so SCARED of chipmunks!” pretended Plum as she cantered off.

Keeker was all alone in the woods.

“Rats,” said Keeker. Plum had charged off into the ferns, and Keeker had no choice but to follow her. Even though the forest seemed bigger and darker than it had before, and the noises didn’t sound quite so friendly.

Keeker set off to find her pony.

Swish-swish. Clomp-clomp.
Keeker walked and walked and walked, but still no Plum.

Finally, she sat down on a stump to have a rest. Her feet hurt, and she had bugs in her hair, and she was as tired and thirsty as she had ever been. Everything was horrible.

“Maybe I’ll never find my way home,” thought Keeker sadly. She began to think of everything she would miss: her mom, her dad, the goat, the dogs, blueberry pancakes, presents, making things with glue and tape—the list was endless.

She let her eyes fill up with tears a little. She thought about stomping and crying, but there didn’t seem to be much point. Instead, she lay
down in the moss and had a think. She tried to put herself in Plum’s shoes.

“If I were a sneaky pony,” Keeker wondered, “where would I go?”

Suddenly, she knew. She remembered a place farther up the trail that opened onto a clearing, a place with tall grass and lots of blackberries.

“That pony is a P-I-G! If she got back on the trail ahead of me, I bet that’s where she went!”