By Jodi Huelin

It is time for this year's Pony Play! Cotton sweet is the director, and she or he will be operating a bit too not easy to make the play ideal. fortunately, she realizes little aid from her associates is simply what it takes to place at the top convey ever!

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Emma paused outside the open tent flap and listened. As she had expected, the band switched from the first tune to the waltz in an effortless flow. Though the change might look easy, it was not. Hours of practice were required to make every detail of the music just right. Very little was left to chance at this circus. She wouldn't be surprised if her grandfather had spent part of the time he should have been asleep making sure the band lived up to his standards. Thanks to her grandfather's superb management, the Gerhardt Circus was a well-run reflection of his devotion.

The laborer who kept the back door of the tent clear of bystanders so she could return her cats to their wagons without mishap, gave a brief nod acknowledging her performance. She returned the nod just as the wire-walking act, Otto, Helga and Heloise, passed by, walking single file as alwaysan odd quirk that Emma rarely noticed anymore. She registered with half an ear the commands issued by Otto with the precision of an army sergeant. The commands were always the same, every night. "Mach schnell!

The man stopped on the front porch. In one hand he held a Spencer rifle; with the other hand he pushed back the broad-brimmed hat that shaded his features. John took in a sharp breath. " he whispered, half afraid that any sound would make his brother turn to silver moonlight and disappear. Peter nodded, once, and stepped inside. John wanted to grasp his brother's hands to prove the man in front of him real, but Peter held his rifle in a grip so tight his fingers had gone white. John frowned and looked into his brother's face.

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