Janette Oke by Laurel Oke Logan

her well, but he clutched a clump of mane tightly in his hands as he set out for a ride.
    Sometimes he did fall off, but Beauty was a small horse and the young boy was never hurt. Then he would coax to be boosted back up again, calling, “Mr. Steeves, Mr. Steeves. The old bronc rider isn’t dead yet!” and his grin would spread from ear to ear. Beauty was good for Bobby, and somehow the small pony seemed to know it.
    Other schoolmates occasionally came to play at the Steeves’ farm. The closest neighbor lived about a mile away, so it was particularly exciting to share play time with children other than siblings.
    Perry and Grace Rhine lived almost two miles away and had a family of eight whose ages roughly corresponded with the ages of the Steeves children, though the sexes did not. The oldest was Perry Jr., always referred to as Junior, then Dale, Fern, Faye, and Leonard, called Sonny. After them were Lylas, Harvey, and Alta.
    Over the years there developed a great deal of teasing over one Rhine-Steeves match-up or another. Betty was linked with Junior, perhaps with some justification. After all, he had once given Janette a dime to “get lost.” And he did seem to hang around a good deal of the time.
    Jean was teased about Dale. If there was any basis to this, it was hidden much better. Janette was teased about Sonny, and little Joyce, who was still very young, was tormented about Harvey.
    Poor little Harvey. He had done absolutely nothing to deserve the teasing and laughter, but on more than one occasion little Joyce declared vehemently, “I love everybody in this world—’cept Harvey and Hitler and the Devil!”
    The Rhines had a number of horses, and many adventures developed around them in one way or another. There were bucking horses and shying horses, running horses and horses who threw their riders.
    One day Janette was finished playing at the Rhine farm and was ready to start home. Dale, a teenager, volunteered to give her a ride home on horseback. He caught the horse, pulled Janette up to her place behind him, then they started off.
    There was one spot on the Rhine road crossed by a little creek bed. Whenever it was filled enough to be flowing, that part of the road could be under water, and after the worst rains it became a marshy bog. Only during dry weather could wagons pass that way at all. Even saddle horses hated the spot. Rows of loose logs had been laid across the swampy spot in corduroy fashion, but horses often balked and fussed, refusing to cross the makeshift bridge of uneven, shifting poles.
    It was unclear just what spooked the horse on that particular day, but at just that muddy spot she suddenly plunged off the road, across the ditch, and deposited both of her riders on a rough pile of logs left there for future use in the crossing. She then lit out for home.
    Dale, a big fifteen-year-old, bulging with farm-earned muscles, blazed with anger at the jittery horse. He took off after her, lifting lengths of logs from the ground and hurling them at the fleeing animal. None of his missiles connected, but throwing them seemed to release some of Dale’s anger.
    â€œC’mon,” he called to Janette, and the two muddy riders trudged off after the animal.
    It was not until they reached the Rhine barnyard that they caught the runaway and mounted again. Determination clenching his jaw, Dale advised Janette to hang on by locking her small hands together around his waist.
    This time they made it safely to the Steeves’ farm. Janette, a little sore from the fall, thanked Dale and then watched as he swung the horse around, ready to firmly coach it across the mud again.
    Fred occasionally made trips past the Rhine farm to pick up grain or some other necessity. One day he asked Janette and Margie if they would like to ride along and get off at Rhines’ for a visit. He also suggested that they tie Beauty to the wagon so they could ride her home.
    On arriving at