OF MY HORSE MONEY


My mare been gift from El Mayor, who boss the Lowell people. Was gift of his flirtation; but he send her by my brother Driver, for courtesy between our towns.


Then I been a slight fourteen, and Driver new-made sergeant. He grown eighteen himself, was bell in strength. Arm like a knife of steel. He lead this spotten pony to me by a ribbon halter, tied on crafty by some Lowell. Yo Money prettieuse, move neat as wrens. Her every step show gallant, though she still was leggy young.

Driver's face been laughing sweet. He say, "Some undeserve fourteen receive a gift from El Mayor."

I been the only fourteen Sengle at this time. So I gone wiggling happy. Ain't know which crowing yell to make. But then I see how Driver look, he waiting on my sense.

Our horses Weasel and Big Smoke own by the Sengles all together. Earn from Lowells through long work, by hour and hour these horses bought. Extra horse must be the sergeant's keep. I put my hand into her comben mane, and all my greed resent.

Voice ain't want to budge, but I force out, "The filly must be yours." My sad hand clutchen in her mane. "You sergeant. So be drill."

Then Driver swat my head and laugh. "You take your goods, my sister. No El Mayor ain't loving me. Nor ain't my carcass need to pay this debt." His laugh come loud.

So I get my Money. Nor I pay El Mayor his gift. Ain't our Sengle manners that we love for bargains so. Sure El Mayor resent this. Call me selfish cat and robbers keepers. In our loving quarrels, Money's name be always heard. But she been worth all guilts and gripes. Before I done no deeds ferocious, riding her gallop been the first life of my fearless heart.