The Guardian of Fort Crooked

Morning Star was my father’s horse. She was a non-spotted appaloosa, or more accurately, her spots were brown on brown, so you really couldn’t see them. When I was quite young, her pasture took up the back half of our yard.

Our fort, Fort Crooked, was in the middle of her pasture, and served as a shelter for her. My brother and I thought nothing of crawling through the fence and running out to play in the fort. This wasn’t a problem for our parents, but it was for one of our babysitters. She was afraid of the horse (and to be fair, Star did nip), and wouldn’t follow us out there. I was too young to do much on my own, but I do remember going out to the fort with my brother when that babysitter was there, and happily ignoring her as she called us to back to the house.