Kris leaned forward against the top of the tall fence and stretched her legs to reach the bottom rail. It wasn’t a nice, clean fence like the ones back home. The cowboys split logs into long rails. The end of each rail fit into holes carved into the posts so that it fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. Splinters poked out of the rails, so Kris had to be careful where she put her hands. She didn’t want one of the splinters to stab her!

Her dad stood on her left. He was tall enough to stand on the ground and lean on the top rail. So was Buddy, the cowboy on her right. Buddy stood even taller than her dad, but maybe that was because of the high heels on his dirty brown cowboy boots. The wide brim of his cowboy hat cast a dark shadow over his face, but the shadow couldn’t hide his sparkling eyes or friendly smile.

Buddy was her uncle, but not an ordinary uncle. He was her grandma Mable’s brother, which made him a great uncle! Kris thought he was pretty great, no matter what the reason. His ranch was a great place to take a vacation.

“What kind of horse is that?” Kris pointed at a tall brown horse with black feet, a black tail, and a long black mane that blew in the wind.

“That horse is called a bay,” Buddy answered.

“A bay? Like by the ocean?” Kris asked.

“I guess, but I’ve never been to the ocean,” he answered.

Kris giggled as she imagined the graceful bay horse playing in the water on the beach, pretending to be a seahorse. It looked nothing like a seahorse.

Another horse pranced along the fence before stopping right in front of them. This horse was much smaller, but even the smallest horse was bigger than Kris. The horse pushed his nose against Kris’s hands and sniffed.

“Looks like she likes you.” Buddy smiled.

Kris reached out and touched the horse’s nose. Her fingers brushed over the short, stiff hair. It wasn’t as soft as she thought it would be, but it wasn’t prickly either. The nose was part brown and part white. So was the rest of the horse. Kris couldn’t tell if somebody spilled brown paint on a white horse, or white paint on a brown horse.

“What kind of horse is this one?” Kris asked.

“An Appaloosa,” Buddy replied. “She’s only a couple of years old.”

“An Apple Loose?” Kris asked. “That’s a funny name!”

Buddy laughed, but it wasn’t a mean laugh. “Not apple loose. It’s all one word. Appaloosa. It’s a Native American word.”

“Native Americans use some strange words,” Kris said.

“Our words are probably strange to them,” Kris’s dad said. Kris had been so busy looking at the horses, she forgot her dad was there.

“I guess so.” The only things Kris knew about Indians were from books and movies. They were always hooting and hollering and fighting with cowboys. She wondered if they were really like that.

“Does the app-a-loose-a have a name?”

“Apples,” Buddy answered, “because she really likes apples!”

Buddy took an apple out of his jacket pocket. “Let her take a bite.”

Kris stretched her hand as far from her body as she could. She didn’t have to wait long. The horse jumped up and down and pulled back her lips to show off her enormous teeth. “That horse needs to see a dentist! Doesn’t she ever brush her teeth?”

“How is she supposed to brush her teeth?” Buddy asked. “She can’t hold a toothbrush without fingers!”

Apples opened her mouth and took a bite of the apple. It might have been a little bite for a horse, but it was a huge bite for Kris. The horse’s little bite took half of the apple. Kris examined the half of an apple left in her hand. Black seeds stuck out of the white middle. The horse even ate half of the core!

Kris couldn’t help laughing. “She must be hungry!”

Buddy smiled. “She does like her apples, but that’s just her dessert. She’s already eaten her real food.”

“What do horses eat?” Kris asked.

“They eat grass in the pasture, they eat grass, but in the barn, we feed them oats.”

“I eat oats for breakfast sometimes,” Kris said.

“Pretty much the same.” Buddy nodded. “But I imagine your dad cooks yours first.”

“You mean you don’t cook the horses’ oats?” Kris asked.

“Nope!” Buddy answered. “They like them raw.”

“That would be hard to chew, wouldn’t it?” Kris asked.

Buddy laughed again. He must enjoy laughing. “Did you see Apple’s teeth?”

Kris nodded. “They were awfully big.”

“Horses need big teeth to grind their oats and grass down so they can swallow it.”

Kris imagined how much work it must be to chew raw oats and grasses. Just thinking about it made her jaw tired.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Buddy asked.

Kris shook her head. “I’ve read about riding horses, but I’ve never done it before.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can teach you how,” Buddy said. “If it’s alright with your dad, of course.”

Kris turned to her dad with her best well-behaved smile. 

Dad laughed. “It’s alright with me as long as you follow directions and be careful!”

“I will, Dad.” Kris rolled her eyes. He was always telling her to be careful.

“Great!” Buddy said. “We’ll start tomorrow right after breakfast.”

Kris couldn’t wait to ride but hoped she didn’t have to eat raw oats like the horses. She might not get done chewing them until lunch!