A Tiny Piece of Sky by Shawn K. Stout Page B

day one, and Elizabeth worked hard to please everyone so that she could maintain her royal designation.
    â€œAnd what do you think you’re going to do on those skates?” asked Elizabeth, indignant.
    â€œUm, roller-skate?” said Frankie, who wondered why it was that Princess, of the three of them, was considered to be the smart one. Such a question.
    â€œNo, you are not,” said Elizabeth. “It’s your turn to clean Dixie’s shed.”
    â€œI’ll do it later,” said Frankie. “I’ve already got my skates on.” She stuck her feet in the air and shook her wheels at her sister.
    â€œMother left me in charge while she and Daddy are taking care of some business at the restaurant,” said Elizabeth. “And you need to clean the shed before you do anything else.” She licked her finger and turned the page of Mother’s magazine. The page made such a snap that it punctuated Elizabeth’s command, and Frankie knew that was the end of the argument.

16
    FRANKIE READ JOAN’S LETTER to Dixie twice. The pony stomped her hoof when Frankie got to the part about turning the horses out to pasture, and then once again when she said Dixie’s name. “I
am
taking good care of you,” she said, but Dixie shook her head back and forth in her stall. “I am too,” insisted Frankie. “You’re as bad as Elizabeth.” And then she scooped a handful of oats from the metal bucket they kept in the food bin just outside the shed and held it out to the pony. Dixie immediately drove her nose into Frankie’s palm and sucked up every last one of the oats quicker than Mother’s Electrolux sweeper.
    â€œFrankie!” yelled Elizabeth from inside the apartment. “Make sure you give her fresh water! And latch the door when you are finished!”
    â€œI know!” Frankie shouted back.
    â€œLast time you didn’t and she got into the cider, remember?” yelled Elizabeth.
    How could Frankie forget, when Elizabeth brought it up all the time? She made a face in Elizabeth’s direction. “And it wasn’t the last time,” Frankie said under her breath, “it was last year.” She stroked Dixie along her mane. “Joan will be back before you know it. And in the meantime, I’m as good as a Number Two as far as you’re concerned.”
    But do you know, that pony shook her head again?
    Frankie glared at her.
The Pony With the Human Brain, my word.
“What do you know?” She grabbed the saddle hanging on the wall and laid it across Dixie’s back. Then she pulled down the leather driving harness from the shelf and spread it out on the grass. The pony snorted. Even she knew this was going to be a mistake. Frankie slipped the bridle around Dixie’s head, grabbed the reins, and led her out of the shed. That part she had done a few times on her own, without Joan, but the driving harness and the cart, well, that was a different story.
    For one thing, the driving harness had a lot of different parts and Frankie wasn’t quite sure where they all went, how they fit together, and what they hooked onto. That was a lot of things to be unsure about. She tied Dixie to the hitching post by the cart and then stood over the pieces of harness. There was the browband, noseband, and throatlash, which she recognized right away, but had some trouble putting on. It didn’t help that Dixie didn’t really enjoy having those straps around her head and so kicked up a bit of a fuss. Still, after a brief struggle and some more handfuls of oats, Frankie managed to secure them. “There you go,” she said, smiling. “I told you I could do it.”
    Dixie flicked her tail, which Frankie took to mean that she was impressed.
    Frankie stared at the remaining pieces on the ground: wither strap with rein rings, breastplate, false martingale, false bellyband, girth, traces, breeching and breeching strap, hip