Mama made me an Indian outfit. By now, I’d been around the chickens long enough to know a mother hen would jump all over anyone getting near their chicks. I’d already been flogged trying it This was different. In my Indian dress, I was brave and invincible. I played pretend in the yard shooting several buffalo with my bow, saving the tribe from starvation. I rode my horse, Midnight, bareback across the prairie, my long black braids flowing behind me. I had actually imagined myself up two horses. Midnight, a black stallion with a white mane and tail and Silver a white stallion with black mane and tail. If only I’d imagined Silver a mare, they could have created their own imaginary colt, but that never crossed my mind. They were both wild and would allow no one else to ride them. When I rode one, the other ran along with us. After killing a bear and saving the chief, I rode into the chicken yard, bravely scooping up a baby chick. Mother Hen ignored my Indian dress, imaginary horses, and my long black braids flowing behind me, jumping up on my head, squawking, pecking, flogging, and scratching till I gladly dropped her baby. I’d never been so disillusioned in my life. That hen had no imagination whatsoever!!!