A Horse, Of Course!

by Sibley Miller

  “Oh!” Brisa cried. “What is this place?”

  She zipped over the peoples’ heads into the tent. Once inside, she gasped in awe.

  Brisa saw three bright-striped rings laid out in the sawdust-covered floor, glittery trapezes hung near towering platforms, and cartoony clowns warming up the crowd.

  It was a circus!

  An instant later, Brisa couldn’t see anything, because a beam of light had just flashed in her eyes!

  The coral-pink filly darted to the side and blinked away the spots dancing before her eyes.

  She looked around the tent in confusion, until she saw a small canvas doorway toward the back. The tent flap was propped open and sparkly light was spilling through it.

  “Ooh!” Brisa exclaimed with curiosity. She zipped through the tent flap, and gasped.

  She was backstage!

  There were performers stretching their muscles and warming up their voices.

  There were monkeys and baby elephants having pre-circus snacks.

  And everywhere Brisa looked, there were mirrors surrounded by giant lightbulbs. Plus costumes decorated with rhinestones and sequins.

  Every time the light hit the sequins and stones, beams of color bounced into the air.

  “This is what made me see stars out in the big top,” Brisa said. “I was blinded by beauty! Speaking of which, it’s been at least an hour since I looked in a mirror.”

  Brisa saw a particularly large make-up mirror in one corner and flew over to it, intending to give her mane a quick comb.

  But the moment she fluttered in front of the glass, a musical voice jangled her.

  “Ex-cuse me,” the voice said. “But that mirror is reserved for the star of the circus. And the star of the circus is me! I’ll thank you to keep your sparkly little self out of my way!”

  Brisa gasped, flitted away from the mirror, and looked down at the speaker.

  The horsy speaker.

  “Ooooh!” Brisa cried.

  She was gazing down at a filly who was more beautiful than any spangled costume.

  The graceful Percheron had a snowy-white coat and silvery gray mane and tail, which was woven with pink ribbon.

  Between her ears, the big horse wore a red feather. And her hooves were painted pink!

  Aware of Brisa’s stunned admiration, the filly preened.

  “Go on and say it,” she said indulgently.

  “Say what?” Brisa asked with wide eyes.

  “What everybody says when they first meet me,” the filly said. “‘You’re TrixieBelle LaRue, the world-famous circus horse!’”

  “TrixieBelle?” Brisa breathed. It was the most beautiful name she’d ever heard. “Circus horse?”

  “Wait a minute,” TrixieBelle said, as she squinted at Brisa. “Do you mean to say you haven’t heard of me?”

  Brisa shook her head no. But before the sparkly filly could feel insulted, Brisa rushed to add, “But I don’t have to know you to know that you have the perfect career for me! I want to be a circus horse just like you!”

  TrixieBelle paused and gave Brisa a hard look. Brisa shook her blonde mane as TrixieBelle took in the little Wind Dancer’s jeweled necklace and magical halo, along with her shimmery coral-pink coat.

  “You do have a certain something,” TrixieBelle admitted. “You remind me of myself when I was a foal.”

  “Plus, I have wings!” Brisa pointed out helpfully.

  “Yes,” TrixieBelle said casually. “Some of us need wings to dance on air, I suppose. Me? Not so much!”

  “Still, do you think I have what it takes to be a circus horse?” Brisa asked breathlessly.

  “We’ll see, sweetie,” TrixieBelle said absently. She turned to gaze into the mirror. “Now leave me be, please. I must prepare for my performance.”

  Brisa grinned!

  So must I! she thought to herself.

  * * *

  A little while later—after a dip into a rack of spangled costumes and circus-performer make-up—Brisa was big-top ready!

  Around her neck, she wore a fan-like collar of fuzzy feathers. Her hooves glimmered with her multi-colored magical jewels. And she’d woven her mane and tail into glittery braids. She was a show horse like none other!

  Well, like one other.

  Fluttering over to TrixieBelle, who was standing at the entrance to the main tent, Brisa announced, “Miss LaRue! I’m ready for my close-up!”

  TrixieBelle whinnied in surprise, staring at a Brisa who was so weighted down, she had trouble staying in the air.

  “What have you done to yourself?” the circus horse demanded of Brisa.

  But before Brisa could answer, she was interrupted by the ringmaster’s voice, which was booming through the big top!

  “And now, ladies and gentleman,” the ringmaster announced, “please direct your gaze to the center ring, where you will behold the very picture of equine excellence, acrobat and dancer on air TrixieBelle LaRue!”

  “We’ll talk later,” TrixieBelle said to Brisa.

  “Sure!” Brisa chirped. “Right after our performance!”

  “Our performance?” TrixieBelle gasped.

  But there was no time to argue. It was time for the show!

  TrixieBelle pranced into the center ring, tossing her mane proudly.

  Brisa darted behind her, wobbling a bit in the air as she hauled her heavy collar and gem-weighted hooves along with her.

  “Oh, I wish I wasn’t invisible to people,” Brisa sighed. “Then the audience could see my beautiful costume.”

  “Shhh,” TrixieBelle admonished her. “I have to focus on my act!”

  To the sound of a drum roll, TrixieBelle launched herself onto her hind legs and began scooting around the circus ring, waving her forelegs in the air.

  She was amazing!

  When TrixieBelle had dropped back to all fours, she sank into a deep curtsey.

  The audience roared and Brisa clopped her hooves together right along with them.

  “That was very nice!” Brisa complimented the big filly. “Now it’s my turn!”

  Brisa reared back in the air, fluttering her front hooves daintily.

  At least, she tried to be dainty. But her costume was so unwieldy that she tumbled into an awkward backflip!

  “Whoops!” Brisa giggled when she had regained her balance. “That didn’t go quite the way I planned it, but at least my collar is still fluffy!”

  She blew a few feathers out of her face, then she sank into a shaky imitation of TrixieBelle’s curtsey.

  “Ta da!” she announced.

  “Ta da?” TrixieBelle sputtered out of the side of her mouth. “Talk about putting the cart before the horse!”

  “What do you mean?” Brisa asked. But TrixieBelle didn’t answer. She was too busy doing her next move.

  She scampered up onto a giant ball and balanced on top of it! Then she rolled the ball—and herself—in a perfect circle around the ring.

  “Oooh!” Brisa exclaimed. “Now me!”

  The moment TrixieBelle pranced off the ball, Brisa hopped on.

  And she stayed on, for about half a second.

  “Ta-daaaa!” she squealed as she scrabbled down the side of the ball and landed on the ground with a splat! The impact sent glitter and jewels flying!

  “My costume!” Brisa wailed.

  TrixieBelle galloped over and gasped.

  “Who cares about your costume!” TrixieBelle neighed at the tiny horse. “What about my performance!? I can’t risk doing my next bit—a side shuffle—with jewels in my way! I could trip and fall!”

  “Oh, the audience wouldn’t mind!” Brisa scoffed. “Not when you look so pretty.”

  “Being a show horse isn’t just about pretty,” TrixieBelle scolded. “It’s about stunning feats of performance! It’s about talent. And it’s about hard work.”

  “Oh,” Brisa said quietly. She hung her head. “Oh, I see.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to cut my act short,” TrixieBelle sighed,
beginning to trot off-stage.

  “No, don’t!” Brisa cried. “There is one thing I can do very well and that’s magic!”

  She used her wings to scoop her jewels into a little pile. Then she popped each one back into her magic halo: fizz, fizz, fizz!

  In an instant, TrixieBelle’s stage was cleared. The snowy Percheron nodded at Brisa, then launched into the rest of her act.

  Meanwhile, flying toward the ring’s edge, Brisa squirmed out of her huge, feathery collar.

  “So being beautiful isn’t enough to make me a circus horse,” Brisa said to herself, a bit sadly. But then she brightened, as TrixieBelle finished her act with a flourish.

  “Someday I’ll figure out how to be a circus horse!” Brisa promised herself, as she waved to TrixieBelle and flew out of the circus tent, headed for home.

  CHAPTER 4

  Sirocco the Swift

  Sirocco knew he should be looking for a career, just as the fillies were. A responsible, grown-up horsy job.

  “But how can I think about work,” Sirocco asked himself, “when I’m so hungry?”

  “Here’s an idea,” he continued, as he zipped through the sky, “whichever I find first—a job or lunch—that’s what I’ll go for.”

  No sooner had the words left his mouth when Sirocco smelled something.

  Something warm and toasty.

  “Yum!” Sirocco declared. “I guess that settles it. Lunch it is! Now if I can just find where that delish smell is coming from…”

  Sirocco sniffed the air carefully, following his nose as he flew.

  “Hmm!” Sirocco said, reaching a place that was open to the air and filled with rows of bleachers packed with people. And many of those people were eating salty—

  “Pretzels!” Sirocco cried in delight. “It’s my lucky day. Now I just have to figure out how to get my hooves on one and—”

  Wah-wah-WAH-wahwahwah-WAH-wah!

  A bugle call startled Sirocco out of his foodie fantasy. He froze!

  Suddenly, he realized why all those people were sitting in bleachers.

  The stair-step seats faced a big, dirt track.

  And onto that track were trotting big horses! A whole parade of sleek, slim, muscled thoroughbreds!

  Each horse stepped into a starting gate.

  Then a horn blew even louder than the bugle. The horses darted out of their starting gates and began galloping around the track!

  Sirocco was so dazzled, he forgot all about pretzels.

  “That stallion likes speed as much as I do!” Sirocco exclaimed, following a racing horse toward the back of the pack. He spotted the number eight on the horse’s saddle blanket and looked at a scoreboard.

  “His name is Sebastian Steed!” Sirocco said. “Cool!”

  Sirocco began to cheer along with all the other race fans.

  “Come on, Sebastian Steed!” he neighed. “You can do it!”

  Sirocco did loop-de-loops high above the track. He pumped his hooves and whinnied.

  “Go, go, go, Sebastian Steed!” he cried.

  To Sirocco’s shock, Sebastian Steed began to go indeed! He swung to the inside of the pack of pounding horses and began to inch forward. He passed Horse Number Three. He passed Number Six. He passed Two, and Five.

  And in the final stretch, Sebastian Steed passed the remaining horses! He thrust his nose out impossibly far and crossed the finish line—first!

  “Hooray, Sebastian Steed!” Sirocco neighed. In his excitement, he darted down to the track, straight to the champ.

  “Awesome race, Sebastian Steed!” Sirocco whinnied. “You’re even cooler than a hot pretzel!”

  “I will be in just a minute,” the racehorse muttered, as his trainer aimed a hose of nice, cold water at him.

  “Aaaaaah!” he moaned as the water washed sweat and dirt from his coat. “That’s better. Now who are you, squirt?”

  Sirocco frowned.

  “Well, I know I’m little,” he admitted. “But check out these!”

  He fluttered his wings at Sebastian Steed. “They’re made for speed!”

  “Don’t tell me you want to get into the racing game, too?” the stallion said.

  “Sure, I got it in me!” Sirocco declared. “Hey, do you get to eat pretzels every day when you’re a racehorse?”

  “Junk food? Have you got the wrong idea!” Sebastian Steed said with a laugh. “Walk with me, kid. I’ve got to stretch these legs before I hit the winner’s circle. Then I get my rubdown.”

  Respectfully, Sirocco flew next to the stallion’s head as the big horse loped around the inner field.

  “So, how did you start racing, Big S?” Sirocco asked the stallion. “What happens after you win? I bet they let you spend lots of time living the good life!”

  “I live the good life, sure,” the stallion said. “After I put in hours of training every day and eat a healthy diet and—”

  Wah-wah-WAH-wahwahwah-WAH-wah!

  Sirocco jumped. The bugle was calling. Another race was about to begin!

  “Can you hold that thought?” he asked Sebastian Steed. “I’ve got some business to take care of.”

  Sirocco eyed the starting gate, as some racetrack workers rolled it back out onto the track.

  “Now, squirt,” Sebastian warned. “You don’t want to jump into the race, do you?”

  “Hello?” Sirocco said, fluttering his wings so hard they hummed. “Do you even have to ask? I’ve beaten hummingbirds in races. This career is made for me!”

  “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Sebastian replied. “To find out, you’ve got to train!”

  “Trust me, Big S,” Sirocco said. “I’ve got all I need. Not to mention a great racehorse name. I just came up with it! Sirocco the Swift! Like it?”

  “Subtle,” Sebastian said dryly. “But seriously. You really don’t know what you’re getting into—”

  Sirocco saw the next batch of racehorses trotting up to their gates.

  “Listen, Big S,” he interrupted. “Can we talk later? How about in the winner’s circle!”

  Before Sebastian Steed could protest any more, Sirocco zipped toward the starting gates!

  “Hi, there!” Sirocco introduced himself to a black filly in the first gate. She looked away.

  So, Sirocco tried the colt in the next gate.

  “My name’s Sirocco the Swift—”

  “Buzz off, butterfly,” the horse muttered.

  “Butterfly!?” Sirocco whispered to himself. “Of all the nerve! Oh…”

  Sirocco cast a guilty glance at the butterflies fluttering in his magic halo.

  “Sorry, guys,” he said. Then he went further down the line of gates.

  “That big horse will be eating his words when he sees me win this race!” Sirocco murmured to himself.

  He placed himself between the heads of two other horses. Then—

  HONK!

  The race began! As the big horses shot out of their gates, Sirocco flew right above—and suddenly behind—their heads.

  “Whoa!” the flying colt yelled. “You guys don’t waste any time, do you?”

  Of course, none of the thoroughbreds answered him. They just continued to thunder down the track, so that Sirocco found himself flying through a cloud of dust and dirt!

  “I like a mud pie as much as the next horse,” Sirocco huffed as he continued to trail the pack, “but this is ridiculous!”

  “Only another lap to go, folks!” boomed the voice on the loudspeaker. “And Willie the Kid is in the lead!”

  “Uh-oh!” Sirocco said indignantly. “That’s supposed to be my name he’s announcing. I better catch up!”

  Sirocco grit his teeth and buzzed after the pack. He had no doubt that he could catch up to them. And win!

  Sure enough, Sirocco soon overtook the last horse in the pack.

  “See ya!” Sirocco giggled as he whizzed by the horse. “Wouldn’t want to be ya!”

  Sirocco plunged into the herd. But they were so tightly packed together, he
had to veer right and left to avoid being tangled up in a flying tail or batted by a flapping ear!

  Sirocco’s wings began burning with effort.

  He was suddenly too out of breath to quip.

  But a quick glance at the winner’s circle—where Sebastian Steed was being draped with a blanket of flowers—made Sirocco forget his aches and pains.

  Squinting fiercely, he flew faster than he ever had before! He inched forward a little. And a little more! But just when Sirocco was sure he was going to pull ahead—

  “Whaaaaaaa!” the tiny colt neighed.

  Sirocco found himself hurtling through the air—but now going in the wrong direction! He’d been tossed out of the race by a gust of wind.

  He landed with a loud oof in the soft dirt at the edge of the track.

  Sirocco then watched, heartbroken and humiliated, as the big horses pounded to the finish line without him.

  “And the winner is…” the announcer boomed.

  Sirocco dipped his head and pressed his front knees over his ears. He didn’t want to hear the winner’s name if it wasn’t his name!

  When he regained himself, Sirocco flapped slowly into the air. He gazed sorrowfully at the winner’s circle. Now that this race was over, Sebastian Steed was being led through a trophy ceremony.

  “Sebastian was right,” Sirocco whispered, hanging his head. “I wasn’t ready. I didn’t deserve to win!”

  The flying colt now knew that the only way he could succeed as a racehorse was to train and train hard. But his wings ached. His flank was bruised from his tumble. And his pride hurt most of all!

  Which is why he flew straight out of the racetrack. He didn’t wait to say good-bye to Sebastian Steed. He didn’t even get himself a pretzel!

  CHAPTER 5

  Not Quite Home on the Range

  “Empty grass hills,” Sumatra muttered to herself, as she flew beyond the dandelion meadow. “How am I going to find a career in a whole lot of nothing?”

  But before long, she found herself singing.