Hannah’s Pony Twist (Dream Pony Riders) by Susan Count
Hannah’s Pony Twist (Dream Pony Riders)
Middle-Grade Horse Novel
Reading age
8 – 12 years
6th in Series
Publisher
Hastings Creations Group (October 8, 2024)
Hardcover
190 pages
ISBN-10
1952371201
ISBN-13
978-1952371202
Digital ASIN
B0DGS287C7
Will what the pony needs break Hannah’s heart?
Freckles can’t be convinced to trot sometimes, and even though that’s fine with Hannah, she suspects something must be wrong with the pony. The barn manager thinks it’s time to retire him, so the vet is called and tests are run.
But Hannah enjoys being with Freckles even if they only walk down the trails.
She ignores the facts. When all her efforts to help him fail, she tries desperately to write a happy ending to her pony story.Will she have to put on her big girl breeches and let Freckles take his own trail, or is she the real problem?
About Susan Count
Susan Count writes for the joy and entertainment of young readers. She is an Amazon best-selling, award-winning author of the Dream Horse Adventures Series, Dream Pony Riders Series, and Texas Boys Adventures.
She prefers to create stories in a quiet zone. Out her window, her mind wanders through the forest and keeps her in a grateful, contented state of being. Susan writes at a fabulous antique desk that has secret compartments filled with memories, mysteries, and story ideas. As a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, American Christian Fiction Writers and Alliance for Independent Authors, she takes studying the craft of writing seriously.
Susan confesses to being overly fond of brownies, and horseback riding on forest trails. She is a lifelong equestrian and is owned by a Rocky Mountain Horse.
You are invited to saddle up and ride along. www. susancount.com
Please like Susan Count at
https://www.facebook.com/susancount
where I post only horse-related videos.
I’m also on Instagram
https://www.instagram.com/susancountauthor/
And Pinterest
https://www.pinterest.com/susancount/
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EXCERPT 2
Fleckles’s Story
T he day I was born, a vast crowd of witnesses came to meet me because I was from noble bloodlines. My royal name is Spotted Spirit. Giggly two-legged creatures reached out to touch me everywhere, fascinated with the white blanket across my rump. I was fetching. Still am, if you ask me.
The two-leggeds that Mother calls girls would rub me all over. The girls enjoyed me trying to stand on my new legs, and I didn’t let it hurt my feelings when they laughed at my falling down—which happened a lot. They cheered when I began to run and gasped when I tumbled.
My favorite napping spot was a patch of yellow buttercups. Mother said not to nibble on them or they’d make my stomach hurt, but the girls liked to hold them under their chins reflecting the glory of the sun. They draped me in flowers and stuck yellow bouquets into my fuzzy mane.
After the crowd of girls faded away, one special girl remained. Mother said she was Bonnie. When she called my name “Spirit!,” I would stop playing and run to her. When I was old enough to eat grass, my mother moved to a separate pasture with her friends. My days were spent leaping and running with other foals when I wasn’t eating. Bonnie visited me every day. The other foals crowded around her, but she loved me best. I could tell.
One day, Bonnie fitted a fine leather strapping over my head with a short rope attached and taught herself to go before me. I trusted her completely. By the time I was three, I was so used to her dressing me in whatever suited her fancy that I didn’t realize the significance of one piece of leather she placed ever so carefully on my back, but it changed everything for us.
She pulled the strap running under my belly tighter than she ever had before. I didn’t like it at all. I’m sad to say that, for a few minutes, I forgot about keeping her safe and thrashed around, trying to get the strap off. I pressed my head to her chest and said I was sorry about stomping on her foot, but she still cried. I was more careful of Bonnie after that. I sometimes have to make myself think instead of reverting to my wild side and acting like I don’t have any sense. I’m nothing if not sensible.
Later, when Bonnie jumped up and leaned across my back on that leather pad, I was shocked. Even though I wanted to leap away, I forced myself to stand still. If I’d been a pond, there wouldn’t have been the thought of a ripple in the water.
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