She is gentle and mild. I think she would let me go back out into the sunshine if she could. I don’t know where their lead mare is, but the older male who comes sometimes is cruel. Perhaps he has driven away most of his herd. Monday morning I woke long before dawn and lay in my pantry, unhappy, thinking about spring cleaning. Mrs. Stevens never missed a day of housework. Her round of chores rolled along like a cart wheel on a hard-packed road. Like most women, she arranged her work according to the days. I lay still, listing them in my mind, dreading the extra work that would be added this week. Monday was always wash day, and doing the laundry was the hardest, meanest, worst backbreaking work we did—so we did it while we were still rested from Sunday’s Bible reading and rest—and a big Sunday supper. Every Monday I smelled lye soap from the neighboring farms and knew women were boiling laundry pots. I saw the tiny white rectangles of their bedding hanging from lines all down the valley.
What do You think about Katie And The Mustang #1 (2004)?
