June 1941 The New Pony

Midmorning on a humid Saturday in the early summer of nineteen-forty-one, two young boys, one nine and the other four, wrestled in the broad swath of grass in the front yard of a large, white farmhouse that sat at the end of a long gravel lane a quarter mile north of a small, Midwestern farming community. It was a windless day that enabled sound to carry over long distances, and as the two played, they would stop from time to time, stand up and look out across the cow pasture fronting the house when one or the other of them would detect a vehicle traveling from town on the one-way, concrete-slab highway. From their behavior, one might easily discern that while playing, they were really outside anxiously waiting for someone to arrive.

"Dad, Mom," the older of the two, grass stained and sweaty, finally shouted up at the kitchen window high above them where their mother was working at the sink washing dishes. "I think he's coming. There's a truck coming from town that's pulling a horse trailer behind it," he exclaimed loudly and ran back out to the edge of the yard to watch the truck draw closer.

"It's them ... it really is them, isn't it?" the excited younger boy asked his brother hoping to get some assurance from him. "I hope it's them," he mumbled to himself when his brother didn't respond right away.

Their mother's voice could be heard through the window yelling into the rear rooms, "Ethan! Marianne! Your brothers think they see a truck coming out of town that's bringin' the pony." Her announcement was instantly followed with squeals of excitement from her thirteen-year-old daughter, Marianne, who came rushing through the house, out the back entrance and banged the screen open; she ran wildly into the yard and focused her eyes on the distant truck pulling a horse trailer. She fought to contain her excitement once she realized that she was seeing what she had been envisioning for several days.

By the time the slow moving truck turned into the farm's long driveway, all six members of the family had gathered in front of the milk cooling shed at the end of the sidewalk. As they watched, the battered, old, 1936 International Harvester truck rattled and lumbered up the long gravel driveway. Printed on the door in bold, white letters was JAY CARTWRIGHT AND SON across the top line and underneath, ATWOOD, ILL in light blue. Riding behind in the dust was an unpainted, two-wheeled, horse trailer that softly swayed through the shallow pot-holes. The mother and kids watched in anticipation to see what kind of pony their father had bought at the sale barn a few days earlier. Several times they had quizzed him and each time he had not offered any information except to tell them that it was a fairly large, white pony with big brown spots. The old truck clattered around the two narrow curves by the garden, pulled up and stopped a few feet away from them in the large circular turnaround for vehicles.

Standing at the front of the family group was Marianne, a petite, brown-haired girl, dressed in white, short, puffy-sleeved dress with a bit of embroidery around the neck and hemmed with a flounce just above the knees. Around the small waist of the dress was a wide band of rose-colored fabric, tied in a loose bow off to the side. Marianne had been trying it on to see if last year's dress still fit when she heard the call from her mother. The very feminine, thirteen-year-old was the pride of her father. She was the main reason he purchased the pony which he had managed to buy only with careful planning and a shrewd bid at the sale barn. Initially he felt guilty about the purchase because it had been a long time since he had bought anything other than the necessities for farming; however, the pony was an early gift for his daughter's birthday and with the family's finances steadily improving, he decided on a spur-of-the-moment to frivolously purchase the pony that had caught his eye.

Dressed in his soiled work bibs and long-sleeved denim shirt, their grey-haired, fair-complexioned, thirty-eight-year old father slouched behind his small cluster of children while their dark-haired mother stood stiffly beside him in her brightly patterned, hand-sewn print dress.

The children rushed over to see more of the pony than just the top of his head, eyes and ears which were partially visible through the wooden slats of the trailer while their father walked around to the driver's side of the truck to greet Mr. Cartwright, who was delivering the pony from the man who had put it up for auction.

"Jay," their father acknowledged Mr. Cartwright who was already stepping down off the running board.

"Mornin, Milburn. It looks to me like your kids are happy with the pony," Jay commented, smiling, eyeing the kids gathered around the trailer eagerly trying to peek in through the slatted sides. "Maybe we oughta let the back gate down and get that little horse out before they start climbin' over the top or dismantlin' my trailer!" he laughed.

The younger boys jumped around in anticipation but Marianne, although in a more reserved way, was the most thrilled with the idea of having a pony and in time she would claim it as hers, which no one would ever dare dispute. She was very fond of the two horses already on the farm and when she had a free moment, she would go to the barn to curry and brush their coats and manes. While she worked, she often carried on conversations and shared secrets with them as if they understood every word she was saying. Horses were some of her best friends and she especially loved feeling their strength when riding on their bare backs. Maude, the biggest, was a large, dark-brown draft horse which, because of her size, the kids only rode out of necessity. Buddy, the other horse, was a Morgan, a smaller breed they used for a variety of purposes around the farm, and the one the kids enjoyed riding the most.

Shifting their feet and moving around to the back, the children maneuvered to get a clear view of the pony as Jay worked to lower the back gate. Marianne, standing slightly to the side, felt the new pony would add to her activities while on the other hand, her father was hopeful the pony might give both of his oldest kids a healthy distraction to keep them settled, maybe not forever but at least for the immediate future. He had recently noticed some restiveness in their behaviors, not unlike what he had felt at their age before he ran off from home. Marianne, he hoped would see the pony as an animal she could lavish with affection and continue to be satisfied with her life on the farm. What her father could not foresee was that although the pony actually would give Marianne something she desired, a welcome opportunity for a little freedom, he didn't foresee that his wife's relentless demands and expectations on her daughter would gradually create more tension between the two of them.

"Stand back!" Mr. Cartwright ordered cheerfully, working with the crossbar that held the back gate up. "I need to lower this thing so you can see your new friend. Look out now! Go on ... stand back! We don't want someone ending up with a knot on their head now, do we?" he said, chattering away, teasing as he worked.

The tailgate, once lowered, acted as a ramp. Jay backed the pony out of the trailer as the children bunched excitedly around their father who waited with one hand extended in case he needed to soothe and settle the pony. He had a proud...