Lakota
One cold, winter day I was in the barn feeding Cherokee. I heard a noise coming down the hill. I went to the window to see what it was. It turned out to be a herd of mustangs. All of a sudden, the door burst open. A big, black stallion reared up. He broke a saddle in half! I tried to tack-up Cherokee when the rest of the herd broke down the door. They knocked Cherokee and me over. I was in the middle of it all when everything went black.
When I woke up Dad wanted me to come to the barn with him. In the barn I saw the same black stallion that had broken down the door. Dad said he was a birthday present for no one else but ME! Dad said his name was Lakota.
When dad tried to mount Lakota, he bucked and reared. Dad said I shouldn’t ride him. I didn’t like to see him caged up though. That night I sneaked to the barn and tacked Lakota up and rode him. I was having fun when Dad’s alarm clock rang. He got up and ate breakfast. I untacked Lakota. I sneaked back in the huse and acted like I was in bed all night long. The door burst open and there was dad, madder than ever. I hid under the covers thinking he knew.
"Where were you last night?" questioned Dad. "I found Lakota’s bridle snapped in two!"
Oh, no. He knows, I thought. "I rode Lakota last night, Dad." He’s going to kill me, I thought. Instead he gave me a hug. That was odd.
"I’m glad you told the truth," he said. "You can keep him, but you must take care of him. You understand?"
"Yes, I do," I said. "Thank you very much, Dad."
"You’re welcome. But now it’s time to feed Lakota."
"Okay, Dad. I’ll go." I left for the barn to feed my very own horse – Lakota.