From Foal to Freight Mare
Back when I was just a foal girl, I loved the fairs, partner. Every sunny Sunday we trotted down the road - me chained by Mama’s side, runnin’ proud beside the wagon. Folks would stare, admirin’ how our muscles glistened under the sun. I thought life couldn’t get no better.
But years roll az Shackleford… Now I’m the one pullin’ that same dusty wagon. Ain’t much glory left in it - just the crack of the whip and the sweat on my back. Guess that’s how a mare learns what obedience really meant.
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