This was not your usual rustic homesteader cabin. At least, it wasn’t as far as I could tell, based on my limited acquaintance with the work of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Just the thought of watching Black Beauty made me sleepy and bored. I’d read about fictional heroines drawing horse pictures and wishing for a pony and I’d feel out of place, like I was spying on some bizarre cult that was obsessed with orange juice.

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