لخّصلي

The Littlest Horse in the Herd Cory and his family live on a large ranch where they raise cattle. This working family rides horses to round up or herd cattle together. Once they guide the cattle into a group, they use their horses to drive or move them back to the ranch. Cory had just turned nine years old. He took the tape measure out of his father’s toolbox. Standing up straight against the wall, Cory marked above his head with a pencil. Then he measured from the mark on the wall to the floor. “I’m still the shortest in my class,” he sighed. “Being tall isn’t everything,” his mother said. “That’s easy for a grown-up to say,” Cory thought. “You’ll grow someday,” his father said. Someday wasn’t soon enough for Cory. He decided to ask his father for advice. “Dad, do you know of anything I can do to grow faster? Are there any special foods or exercises that might help?” “Not that I know of,” his father answered. Cory felt like crying. “Listen,” his father said softly. “Tomorrow, your brothers and I are riding out to the hills. We’re going to round up the cattle. Could you come with us? You’re old enough now.” Cory couldn’t believe his ears. He had dreamed of going on a roundup someday. “But I thought I was still too little to join the roundup,” he said. “You’ll stay next to me,” his father said. “Be ready at sunrise.” Cory had trouble sleeping that night. The following day, he was ready before dawn. At the barn, Cory watched his brothers Jed and Lennie. They swung their saddles onto the high, strong backs of their horses. They mounted their horses just as quickly. Jed and Lennie sat tall in the saddles. Cory wished he could do the things his big brothers could. Then Cory’s father walked up, leading a miniature horse. “I’m not riding that little thing, am I?” Cory asked. “Yep,” his father said, cinching the saddle on the miniature horse. He gave the strap an extra pull to ensure it wasn’t loose. Jed and Lennie smiled at each other. “Do you think that pony can keep up with our horses?” Jed asked. “Yep,” his father replied. “This horse’s name is Spunk. The word spunk means a special kind of courage. You’ll soon see why I gave him that name. Now let’s get going.” After half an hour, they started climbing the hills. Spunk was keeping up with the more giant horses fine. After another hour, he was ahead of them. I found the cattle in a dry creek of thick, thorny bushes. Jed’s horse didn’t like getting scratched. Lennie’s horse kept slipping on the rocks. Spunk, however, was perfect for the job. He wanted to weave through the bushes, moving in and out like a wild rabbit. He climbed rocky hills like a mountain goat. He could make cattle move faster than the larger horses could. Cory sat proudly on Spunk as they herded the cattle back to the ranch. Cory helped his father put Spunk into a fenced area called a corral. As they closed the gate, Cory said, “Spunk is amazing. He’s better than the big horses.” “He’s the littlest horse in the herd,” his father said, “but he’s learned to do so much. Being small hasn’t bothered him.” Suddenly, Cory understood what his father was saying. Cory vowed that he would not feel wrong about his size anymore. He promised himself to be more like Spunk.