So Mama made a list: ten-pound boxes of dried apples, prunes and raisins, hundred-pound sacks of flour, sugar and oatmeal, canned tomatoes, enough tea and coffee, salt and baking soda to last them through the worst of the winter.

  “We’ll get potatoes and salt pork when the weather is cooler,” she said. “But with these supplies in the cellar I won’t have to sit worrying about when the first storm will come.”

  The day Pa went into Curlew for the supplies he was late getting home. Sam and Josie started the evening chores without him. Sam led the two cows into the barn. Milking was his job. Josie’s hands weren’t strong enough yet for milking, but she could give the horses their oats. Matt looked after the chickens. He made sure they had water and feed and enough straw in their coop.

  The chores were nearly finished when the children heard the gate open and the wagon rattle into the yard. They hurried out of the barn. The wagon was filled with boxes and burlap sacks, and Pa was just climbing down from the seat. But Sam had no eyes for Pa or the wagon.

  Tied to the back of the wagon was a horse. A small, stocky white horse with a Roman nose.

  Pa pushed back his hat and smiled at everyone.

  “Hello, Sam,” he said. “Hello, Josie. Hello, Matt.” He looked from one to the other as they lined up in front of him. “Did you want to hear the news from town?”

  Josie stamped her foot. “Oh, Pa. You know we want to know about the new horse.”

  Sam was peering around Pa.

  “He looks kind of small for a plow horse,” he said.

  Pa turned toward the wagon. “Oh, you noticed Prince,” he said in a surprised voice. “Well, I hope you like him because he’s your horse. He’ll take you all to school. In fact, once he gets a fix on this farm as his home, he can take you anywhere and he’ll always bring you back.”

  Sam wanted to leap into the air and shout, but he knew it was important to be calm around a horse who didn’t know you. Josie was already rubbing Prince’s nose and Matt was stroking his side, seeing how high up he could reach. Sam stood where he was. He thought that Pa had something more to tell him.

  “I wanted a good, trusty horse for you children,” Pa was saying. “A lot of folks use an old worn-out workhorse for a school horse. One that can just amble along the path to school with the youngsters on its back and rest all day and bring them home again. But I wanted a horse with more spirit for you, Sam. It’s no good for a boy your age to be tied to the house.”

  Sam couldn’t say anything. He could only think of riding toward the horizon, never turning back until he and Prince were ready to head home. He half listened for what he knew Pa would say next.

  “Of course,” Pa went on, “he’s for all of you children and he’ll be useful for some work around the place, too.”

  “Of course,” said Sam. He didn’t expect to have a horse all to himself. Back in Iowa he had had a pony, but Prince was a real horse and horses had to earn their keep. Anyway, the work he could do with Prince would be more pleasure than chore. He could already imagine riding to town on errands for Mama and bringing cattle in from a far field for Pa.

  “Where did you get him?” he asked.

  “Chalkey told me about a fellow who was selling out. Didn’t take to prairie life. He had some good horses so I went around to see them. Prince is an old-timer and he knows his way around the prairie. I could see that he was sound so I bought him. Go make friends with him, Sam.”

  It was easy to make friends with Prince. He stood calmly, swishing his tail while all three children petted him and talked to him.

  Up close Sam could see that there were gray hairs mixed with the white. Prince was actually a gray horse turning white, as gray horses did when they got older. His mane and tail were white but his eyes were dark, and Sam thought he saw fire in there.

  “How old is he, Pa?” asked Sam.

  “My guess is he’s about ten. The fellow I bought him from didn’t know exactly. He got him as part of the deal when he bought his land. He’s probably a catch colt, bred out on the range. I’d say he has some quarter-horse in him and some mustang.”

  Chalkey had told Sam about mustangs. They were horses that had gone wild and lived in herds in the foothills. Now most of the herds were gone because so many settlers had come into that country, but many prairie horses had some mustang blood. Some people didn’t like mustang in their horses. It was too unpredictable, they said, and the horses often looked a bit scrubby.

  Sam could see that Prince was a bit short in the leg, and he did have a long nose. But already Prince was beautiful to him.

  “Horses with mustang blood have good instincts. They are survivors. That’s what every creature on the prairies has to be,” Pa was saying in a philosophical tone of voice. Then he spoke more briskly. “Sam, you take the first ride. See how you and Prince get along. I’ll give you a knee up.”

  Sam sat on Prince’s bare back and looked around. Everything looked different from there: the farmyard small and friendly, the prairie all around as huge as ever but more inviting. Even the horizon did not seem so far away. He leaned forward and stroked Prince’s neck, smooth one way, rough the other. He walked the horse around the edge of the farmyard. Then he rode back to where the rest of the family was standing.

  “Can I take him just a little way down the wagon road?” he asked. He couldn’t stop grinning. “He’s a fine horse, Pa. Just fine.”

  “Go ahead,” said Pa. “But don’t be long.” He raised his eyebrows at Josie and Matt who were bouncing on their toes with eagerness. “There are other riders waiting.”

  Sam rode out the gate. He turned west. Prince began to trot and then to lope along easily. Sam watched the prairie flow by him and felt the rhythm of the horse’s hoofs on the dry earth. After a short time he turned his head to see how far they had come. He was astonished at how small the house looked. He pulled on the reins and sat for a moment patting Prince’s warm neck. No longer did he feel like a small creeping thing on a huge table top.

  “We may not be big,” he said to Prince, “but we can move. Next time we’ll go farther.” Then he turned his horse and rode back to the waiting family.

  9

  THE CHILDREN SPENT the next few days getting to know Prince. They showed him his stall in the barn, fed him as much mash as Pa would allow, and curried him until his coat shone and his white mane and tail flowed in the prairie wind.

  Sam had ridden many horses on the Iowa farm but none had ever suited him so well as Prince. He could get his arms over the small horse’s back and pull himself up. Once up he was at home. From the very first day he felt that he and Prince understood each other.

  Josie knew how to ride, too, but she was used to the child-sized pony back on the old farm. The first time she rode Prince alone she spent some time just sitting on his broad back, looking at the ground, before she would let him take a step. He stood quietly until she was ready and then meandered peacefully around the farmyard. It was not long before she was wanting to ride him off down the wagon track.

  Matt was fearless but he had a problem. Josie could mount Prince by climbing up on the fence, twisting her fingers in his mane and pulling herself over onto his back. But Matt was too short for that and had to be lifted up. He couldn’t mount Prince unless there was a bigger person around to help him. Then one day he noticed that his feet fit perfectly on the outward bend of Prince’s back legs, the hocks. So he grasped Prince’s tail, stepped up on his hocks and pulled himself up over the horse’s rump.

  Pa came out of the house and found his youngest child sitting proudly on Prince’s back. When he found out how Matt had got there, he turned a little pale.

  “You’re lucky that horse didn’t kick you to kingdom come,” he said. “I knew Prince was a trusty horse for you children. But, Matt, never try that with another horse.”

  It was Josie who discovered another uncommon way of mounting Prince. She was waiting to go for a ride around the farmyard one day, but Prince was busy taking a long drink at the trough. Josie, as always, was impatient.

  “Look,” she said to Matt, “I can easily climb on his neck. Then I won’t have to lead him over to the fence when he finally stops drinking.”

  Prince had his nose deep in the trough. He just rolled his eyes when he felt Josie’s weight close behind his ears. Suddenly he snorted and lifted his head high in the air. Josie was startled but kept her balance as she slid down the neck onto Prince’s back. It was so much fun that she and Matt spent the afternoon waiting for Prince to drink from the trough so that they could slide down his neck again.

  When Sam got back from helping Pa haul a wagonload of coal out from town, Josie told him about Prince’s new trick. Sam didn’t believe her.

  “He does it on purpose,” she insisted. “He likes to do it. Come on, Prince, let’s show him.” But Prince was in no mood to cooperate. When Josie urged him over to the trough, he just shook his head and looked the other way.

  Sam laughed. “It’s true what Mama says. You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink. Come on, Josie. If we go into the barn Prince will forget all about us.”

  They stood side by side in the hot barn, squinting through a crack in the door, until they saw Prince amble over to the water trough. He didn’t object when Josie climbed onto his neck. He even twitched his ears as if he was saying, Just a little farther forward, please.

  Then he rolled his eye toward Sam and tossed his head high. Josie slid down onto his back and sat there grinning triumphantly. Sam could almost swear that Prince was grinning, too.

  When they told the family about it at dinner, Mama said, “You children mustn’t pester that horse. We’re lucky to have a horse that likes children so much and you must treat him as a friend, not just something to climb on.”

  “Your mother is right,” Pa said. “You have to treat Prince with respect. He’s the one we’re trusting to get you children safely to school and back every day.”

  Sam was a little offended. Surely he could look after the younger ones. But when he thought about it, he knew what Pa meant. Prince would do what instinct told him to do. He wouldn’t panic or get confused and he wouldn’t need a compass to tell him the way home.

  Three times Sam rode Prince to the school and back. Dry runs, Pa called them. “Once Prince knows the way, he’ll always get you to school and back. If you have a disagreement with him over which way to go, Sam, you let Prince have his head. Don’t argue with him.”

  Sam knew that Pa was thinking of snowstorms. The clear autumn weather wouldn’t last forever.

  On the first day of school the three children climbed on Prince. Sam sat in front because Pa and Mama said he was in charge. Josie sat in the middle and Matt was last.

  “You’re the end rider, Matt,” said Pa. “Hang onto your sister. The end rider is in a perilous position.” Matt straightened up proudly. Perilous sounded special, even though he wasn’t sure what it meant.

  Each of the children had a schoolbag. Sam’s was slung over one shoulder, but Josie and Matt carried theirs around their necks, bouncing against their bellies. In each bag was a tin box of lunch and a reader brought with them from Iowa. Sam was in the fifth reader and Josie in the third. Matt had Josie’s old first reader. They each had a copy book, too, and a pencil.

  Mama and Pa had done everything they could to get their children ready for school, but Sam still was not sure he wanted to go. As they jogged along he looked at the expanse of prairie around him and wished he could ride Prince all day instead of being shut up in a little schoolhouse.

  But he could feel Josie hanging onto his belt and he knew that he would be heading this direction five mornings a week for months to come.

  “Do you know how many pupils will be in the school?” he asked Josie. She paid attention to such things.

  “Five from town, I know,” she said, “and two others from the country besides us. That’s all Mrs. Pratt told me about.” Working at the store kept Mrs. Pratt up on all the news, and besides, Mr. Pratt was chairman of the school board.

  “Ten,” said Sam. “That’s not too many.” Probably many of them would be little kids like Matt. He wondered whether there was anyone around Curlew his age, besides the boy from the soddy. He wouldn’t be at school for sure.

  The schoolhouse was exactly like the one the Ferriers had attended back in Iowa, except it wasn’t painted yet and it looked more lonesome because there was nothing around it. The Jericho schoolhouse had had some small trees in the schoolyard and a shed for the horses. Mr. Pratt had promised the Curlew school would have a shed before the snow came. In the meantime the horses would have to graze in the fenced schoolyard.

  Sam knew exactly what the inside of the schoolhouse would be like. First there would be a cloakroom with hooks for coats — girls on one side, boys on the other. In the big room would be rows of desks with the heating stove and the teacher’s desk at the front. As one of the older pupils, he would sit farthest away from the stove.

  Nobody knew much about the teacher. Mrs. Pratt said she was from Edmonton and was properly trained. She would be boarding with a family in town. But would she be a stern teacher who used the strap on unruly pupils? Sam wondered about that.

  When the Ferriers arrived at the school they saw that there were extra people there for the opening ceremonies. The children were standing in a little group near the steps, but there were several big horses tied to the fence and even two buggies. It was Mr. Pratt who came to the door to call the pupils in.

  The school was exactly as Sam had imagined it, but there were grownups standing at the back of the room. The whole school board was there and a few other citizens from the town. Mr. Pratt gave a little speech about what a proud day this was for Curlew and how it meant that Curlew was becoming a town to be reckoned with. He introduced the teacher, Miss Barnett. She looked like a medium person — medium sized, medium aged and neither stern nor smiling. After the speech Mrs. Pratt handed out gingersnaps and oranges to one and all.

  After the townspeople were gone, Miss Barnett called the roll and asked each pupil what reader they were in. As Sam had expected, he was the only one in the fifth reader. All the others were Josie and Matt’s age.

  Miss Barnett looked more lively now. She even looked younger. It occurred to Sam that maybe she didn’t like crowds of strangers any more than he did.

  She looked straight at Sam now and said, “I’ll be counting on you to help with the fires and the horses. I’m afraid I don’t know much about horses, and the younger children will need help at the end of the day.”

  So when school let out, Sam found himself helping a girl and her brother hitch up their little buggy to their stout brown pony. When he was finished he turned to Matt and Josie.

  “Now we can go home,” he said.

  “No, we can’t,” said Josie. “Prince won’t come.”

  Sam looked across the schoolyard. Prince was standing by the far fence calmly eating grass, but as Sam approached he sidled away just fast enough that Sam couldn’t grab his bridle. When Sam moved faster, so did Prince, until he was dancing backwards away from Sam. Sam was sure his horse’s black eyes were laughing at him.

  Josie was laughing, too, but Matt looked a little worried. “How are we going to catch him, Sam?” he asked.

  “He’s just bored with waiting all day. He’ll give it up soon.” Sam hoped he was right. It would be awful if they were late getting home because he couldn’t catch Prince.

  Just then Miss Barnett came to the schoolhouse door. She was smiling.

  “Maybe these will lure him,” she said and handed Sam three gingersnaps.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Sam. “Maybe you do know something about horses.” He held the cookies out and began talking to Prince. “Come on, you old rascal. You’re just having fun with us. Don’t you want to get out of this yard?”

  Prince stopped backing up and began to edge forward.

  “Here, Josie, you hold out these cookies,” said Sam. He waited until Prince was almost within arm’s reach. Then he stepped forward and caught the bridle. Prince paid no attention. He took the cookies in his soft lips and began to chew. Then he rolled his eyes back at Sam.

  Miss Barnett laughed and so did the children. When Sam could stop laughing he spoke sternly to Prince. “Now you have to work,” he said.

  He lifted Matt onto the horse’s back, pulled himself on and then reached a hand down to Josie.

  Josie said, “Goodbye, Miss Barnett. Tomorrow we’ll bring a treat for Prince.” Then they all waved and Sam turned Prince toward home.

  10

  SEPTEMBER TURNED INTO October. Sam began to look forward to school each day. Three more pupils had shown up and one of them was a boy just a year younger than Sam. He made the schoolyard games much more fun for Sam, but he lived far from the Ferriers. Josie had the same problem with her new best friend, Dorothy.

  “You see,” Josie explained at dinner one night, “Dorothy lives just as far on the other side of Curlew as we do on this side so we never see each other except at school. Now, if I could just ride Prince over to her house…”

  “No,” said Pa. “Absolutely not. Sam is the only one of you old enough to ride out alone. I hope you understand that, Josie.”

  “Yes, Pa,” said Josie meekly.

  In fact none of the pupils saw each other out of school unless they lived in town. But they made up for it by coming to school early to play Red Rover and Kick the Can before the bell rang. During noon hour they played marbles and skipped rope.

 

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