The noise of the newborn paint foal suckling could be heard throughout the barn aisle.

"H-he's b-b-beautiful!" exclaimed Anna, the daughter of the barn owner. All you could hear from her father, James, was a barely audible grunt.

"Dr. Morales, should we consider euthanasia?" mumbled James in a monotone voice. The vet nodded. He knew that this foal was the only hope to save the farm, but at the moment, euthanasia seemed like the only humane thing.

"D-daddy? What's eu-eu-euthan-euthanasia?" stuttered Anna.

Her father kneeled down to look Anna in the eye. "It means to put him to sleep - forever."

Anna took a moment to comprehend. "No! " she cried. "Y-you can't!" Anna's father was her one and only friend. James knew that if he put this foal to sleep, it meant that Anna would have an emotional downfall. She had bonded to this foal and would be devastated without him.

"Okay," he said reluctantly, "we'll let him stay one year.

Diagnosed with turrets syndrome barely three weeks ago, Anna Carper was severely depressed. The only thing keeping her head above water was a paint yearling Anna christened Spotty.

"How are you Spotty?" Anna said as she routinely did every morning, and Spotty habitually let out an appreciative whinny.

Now that her condition was diagnosed and she was taking medication, Anna rarely had turrets syndrome-related outbursts and barely stuttered.

"So how is the yearling?" Anna's father asked. He never referred to Spotty by name.

"Just fine," Anna replied curtly. James took no notice of her rudeness.

"You'd better start getting him ready for the auction, it's in a few days."

"But daddy!" Anna squealed. "You know he'll be sold for slaughter!"

"No use keeping him here," James responded. "You know he's worth nothing to us." Tears swelled in Annas eyes.

"Just make sure he looks his best."

"Yessir," Anna muttered.

Due to a severe hock deformity, Spotty could never be ridden and no one would want to breed their mares to him. He was born to a very prestigious ex-barrel racer and the Carpers were hoping to sell him for a very high price and rake in enough cash to bring the farm out of debt. But all that changed the day that Spotty was born. Shortly after Spotty was weaned, his dam had died due to colic and Westbrooke farm took a turn for the worst.

"Did you hear that Pixie?" Spotty said later that day with a sniffle. "They are planning to sell me to-to-to a slaughter house!"

Pixie, a wise old owl, tried to console him, to no avail. "Don't worry I'll think of something."

"No you won't," boomed Sparra, a self-centered oriole, making Spotty cry harder. "He's doomed."

"Don't listen to him Spotty," Pixie said soothingly, giving Sparra a death-like stare, making him cringe. "I'll find a way to save you, I just have to think....."

"So how was your day?" asked Mary, Anna's mother, that night at the dinner table.

"Fine," Anna replied.

"Thank you."

"Huh?"

"Fine, thank you," said James. " Be polite."

"Fine, thank you," said Anna reluctantly.

"At the rate horses are selling these days," said James changing the subject. "We could get as much as six-hundred dollars for our paint yearling."

"Spotty," Anna said cooly.

"Yes, Spotty," James said with a glare. " Anyway, the price per pound has raised a lot this year."

"Mom, tell him to stop!" screeched Anna despairingly.

"Not at the dinner table, James," she commanded.

"May I be excused?" inquired Anna.

"Yes, dear," replied Mary.

Anna dawdled, a tear in her eye, down the slope that led to the barn.

"It's okay Spotty, I'll find a way to save you," Anna cooed and kissed the soft velvety muzzle of Spotty.

"I got it!"burst Pixie unexpectedly. "Where's Sparra?"

"Right here, why?" Sparra said from a high rafter. Pixie flew up and told Sparra her plan.

"What's in it for me?" Sparra replied greedily.

"I know of a not-to-far-away meadow with a large quantity of worms," mentioned the wise old owl.

The oriole's eyes twinkled at the mere mention of food.

"Okay, you got yourself a deal."

The final bell rang and all the kids at Madison Elementary school ran out and let out yells of joy - it was the last day of school. Anna walked with her new friend, Laura, to a nearby park and they played games. Laura noticed Anna's sadness.

"What's wrong?" Laura questioned in a concerned voice.

Anna let out a sigh and said, "the Montana State Auction is in four days."

"Great! We can go together! But I still don't understand, what's wrong?"

A tear trickled down Anna's face. "My dad wants to take Spotty to the auction. He'll probably be sold for slaughter."

"Oh no!" Laura screeched. Though not an avid horse lover, Laura still felt Anna's pain. "We have to do something!"

"I know."

" ‘Ere ‘oo go," said Sparra, a piece of thin card board in his mouth.

Pixie took the paper and read "dull."

Pixie scowled at the paper. "No, that won't do. Find a nice word Sparra, like joyful or radical."

"But I can't read!" protested the bird.

"Try, or I won't tell you where the worms are."

Sparra, licking his lips, flew away.

"So what's your plan?" Spotty inquired. Spotty always looked at Pixie as a mother figure, someone to leave the deciphering to.

"Don't you worry," she replied. "Hmmph. I don't know why that little bird likes worms. Being an owl, I would love to curl up with a tasty rat....."

Pixie drifted off to sleep, thoughts of scrumptious mice and lizards clouded her mind.

"I know!" exclaimed Laura. "We could buy Spotty then he'd be ours and no one could take him away."

Anna sighed. "I have no money, do you?"

Laura shook her head. "I'm all out of ideas then."

Later that night, James cautiously asked Anna, " do you want to go to the auction with me?"

Anna thought for a moment. "Yes," she ultimately replied. She wanted to spend as much time as she possibly could with Spotty.

I just gotta think of a way to save him! thought Anna

"Where is he? My life is on the line!" said the extremely agitated Spotty.

"The wretched mud hopper of a bird should be here soon," Pixie said, unsettled but comforting.

They sat around, twiddling their thumbs, so to speak, seeing as neither the paint nor the owl actually had thumbs.

Just when Spotty was about to have a nervous breakdown, the two animals heard a loud "thud" on the window near the rafters above them.

"I'm okay!" chirped the bedraggled oriole. "And how may I help you, lovely owl?"

Pixie glared at her fellow avian. "Stop playing games, Sparra."

"Sparra?" said the bird, flapping his wings. "I'm not Sparra, I'm Beagle Buttersworth."

The indignant owl lunged for the throat of the amnesiac "Beagle Buttersworth" who then, shocked, fell over backwards from his perch on the rafter onto the concrete barn aisle with a "thwack."

"You never told me this job entailed pain," said Sparra, rubbing his head with a wing of bent and broken feathers.

"Where's the word?" said Pixie, oblivious to the earlier going-ons.

"Here ya go."

"Hmmm, dazzling," muttered the owl. "That's perfect."

"Grrreat!" exclaimed Sparra inching closer to the owl. "Now how ‘bout your end of the deal?"

Pixie thought for a moment then said, "nope, not till Spotty is saved from the slaughter house."

"But-" Sparra defiantly began, but retreated at the pang from Pixie's icy glare.

"We must get started on the project," the owl bellowed, projecting feelings of pride at her hopefully life saving idea.

"Bacon's good, mom," Anna said routinely as she scarfed down her breakfast the next morning. Anna then got up and rushed out to the barn where Laura was waiting.

"Do you have it?" Anna asked excitedly. After talking on the phone for two hours the last night, the girls had finally come up with a half-way decent idea.

Laura nodded then held up a nondescript box.

"Okay, we'll do it tonight." the girls shared a devious smile as the hid the small box in a hole in the wall.

"So fill me in, Pixie," commented Spotty. "What's the plan?"

Pixie sighed then started to explain. "I needed to find a word to describe you, to attract attention so people will like you and won't want to kill you."

"Why couldn't you just think of a word?" replied the equine.

Again, a sigh then, "I can read but I cannot spell, so Sparra fetched a word off of old boxes and things from the dump so I could spell it."

"But what are you gonna do with the word?" Spotty replied.

"I have a friend that can spell but not read," she replied with a wry smile. "She can also weave. She'll color twigs with the coloring she gets from different plants- us birds use the coloring sometimes to color worms to make them interesting so the little birds will eat. Anyway, she'll weave the colored twigs to spell the word dazzling."

"Oh!" exclaimed the horse. "But then what?"

"I will take mud and plaster the words to a board, the same type mud birds use to make their nests. Then I'll puncture the ends with my beak to make holes and use bailing twine from the barrels of hay to hang it around your neck."

It took a while for the horse to comprehend the complicated plan of the wise old owl. "Oh! Great idea!" said the horse scratching his head - just a figure of speech as you may have guessed.

A clang resounded throughout the barn. The two girls froze in their tracks. Even though it was pitch black in the barn, Laura knew Anna was glaring at her.

"Sorry," Laura apologize, "I didn't know there was a bucket there."

The girls crept on to Spotty's stall. They turned on a single dim flourescent light bulb so they could see what they were doing. Anna tied Spotty in his stall.

"Read the directions," commanded Laura. Anna took the box from the hole in the wall.

"Dampen hair then apply dye generously. Rub in vigorously. Let set for ten minutes then wash remnants with w-water," Anna said nervously. "R-remind m-m-me w-why we a-are do-doing this." Due to her turrets, Anna still stuttered occasionally, mainly when under a lot of pressure or when nervous.

"We're doing this," said Laura while splashing Spotty with water from his automatic water bucket, "because no one will want a purple horse."

The two birds sat motionlessly up in the rafters watching the two girls. Most animals are color blind, including the birds and the horse. None of them understood what the girls were doing.

The girls worked diligently, spreading the purple dye over the horse's body, unaware of the birds' steady gaze from up above. Spreading the dye soon became a game to the girls and they made designs with the dye. Spotty just assumed they were giving him a massage. When the patterns of purple swirls and streaks had fully consumed the horse, the girls sat to talk while the dye sunk in.

"I hope it works," muttered Anna.

"So do I," replied Laura.

After about a dozen minutes, the girls got to work washing off the remnants of the dye.

The animals didn't understand any of the people noises so they just went about their business. Pixie punched holes in the wood with her beak and tied the bailing twine to "Spotty's word."

The owl hovered near Spotty's head, long after the girls had left, sign in her mouth. She tossed the sign onto Spotty's neck: the only hope she had for saving her four-legged friend.

"You have to prance!" Sparra called. "Be dazzling!"

Spotty tried. He walked around his stall, lifting his hooves high whenever he took a step.

"No! No, no, no, no!" said the oriole as if he were training a fashion model. "Strut! Swing! Think ‘I am beautiful! I am dazzling!' "

The bird "strutted" down one of the low rafters, swinging his tail all the while. When he got to the edge, he spun quick as a jack rabbit on his heels and trotted back down the rafter, wing tips on his hips.

"Okay, I got it!" Spotty exclaimed. He held his head high and swung his rump as the narcissistic horse strutted his stuff.

"Good! Good!" called Sparra. "More impulsion! Awesome!"

"What is going on here?" called a stern voice.

"Pixie, Pixie, Pixie!" called Sparra. " If we call the monster dazzling, he has to be dazzling!"

The owl glared at the oriole but didn't make a move to attack.

When the creatures heard voices outside, Pixie used her beak to open the stall door, and Spotty, ever so nervous, trotted out into the front, most visible paddock.

"Oh my God," muttered James. He stood dumbfounded and dropped the bucket of grain he was carrying. He rubbed his eyes, not believing he was seeing a purple horse. A sudden wave of anger overcame the barn owner as he realized it was the paint; it was the horse with hock problems. It was Spotty.

The gruff, middle-aged man picked up the bucket he dropped then trotted into the barn. He stopped in front of Spotty's stall to pick up a little box that was carelessly thrown on the floor. It read: purple hair dye: semi-permanent (15-40 days).

Anna stretched and yawned. A new day. She looked out the window to catch a glimpse of the rising sun. Then she saw Spotty and remembered. Spotty's purple coat shone in the dawn sunlight but that wasn't what Anna was paying attention to.

He knows, she thought as she saw her father storming toward the house. Her first instinct was to run away, but if she did, the punishment would be worse when she was caught. Instead, she got back into bed, pretending to be asleep. Just as she pulled the blanket up to her chin, she felt the house shake with the force that came of James slamming the front door.

James wanted to reprimand his daughter for what she had done, but instead, sat down at the table and gripped a cup of coffee with shaking hands. A single tear slid down his cheek.

He loved his daughter dearly and he knew she loved the paint. But how could he let the horse stay? He's of no use to the farm. But she loves him, he thought. He was overwhelmed with emotions. We need the money, he finally decided. Tomorrow was the first day of the two day auction. The first day, mares and stallions were to be sold, the second, geldings and yearlings. Spotty was to be sold in two days. But how could he sell a purple horse? James decided that he would act like he didn't suspect Anna and just go on with business as usual.

News of the "dazzling" purple paint spread throughout the small town of Klaphill. Almost all of the 208 residents stopped by to see Spotty. Some even stopped twice, saying that they couldn't get enough. One newspaper reporter stopped by and did a front page report on Spotty ( which showed how small the town really was.)

But the crowds soon dissipated and so did the hope that both the animals and Anna had for Spotty. There was no use losing sleep over it though, so everyone slept, or tried to, but their dreams were very disturbed.

The next day was as normal as ever. Except that it was auction day. James loaded six horses into his trailer and James, Anna, Don, the main stablehand, and Laura, who slept over that night piled into the cab of the truck.

It was a silent ride to the auction grounds, spare the blaring country music.

"Seven-fifty, dubba duba dub, do i heya eight hundred? Yes, dudy dubba dubya dub..."

The sounds of the ever-babbling auctioneer boomed throughout the park. Anna and Laura sat eating an elephant ear piled with cinnamon and cherries. They talked but didn't mention Spotty.

James was not bidding on any horses this time, only selling them, so he and Don spent copious amounts of time grooming and beautifying their horses.

Anna watched three of their horses auctioned, one to slaughter. The thought overwhelmed her and she asked Don to drive her and Laura back to the stable. When they got there, Laura walked home and Anna went to visit Spotty.

The paint was let out in one of the paddocks to graze, along with a few of the broodmares. She noticed that all of the broodmares were huddled in one corner. Though Anna thought it was awkward, she still ventured forward. She heard the moos of the neighboring cows and bulls and thought how much less it would hurt if they had cows and bulls to sell to slaughter instead of horses.

She saw Spotty and he whinnied to her, but didn't come running to her as usual. Instead he ran away. Deciding he probably just wanted to play tag, Anna jumped the fence and started chasing him.

Then she stopped dead in her tracks. An enormous bull snorted and pawed at the ground, only ten feet away. One of the bulls must have gotten loose from next door and broken into the paddock. Anna stood stark still, but in her red and yellow sundress, she was the perfect target for the bull. Right after it hit, she was knocked unconscious.

Spotty trotted up to Anna. His hocks were as normal as any other horses. She jumped onto his bare back and Anna and her beloved horse cantered into the clouds.

"Anna? Anna are you awake?" The young girl heard the voice, but it was very distant. She fought to open her heavy eyelids and finally managed.

"What happened?" she whispered to her dad who stood over her, his tear stained face smiling.

"Don't you remember?" James asked. "The bull charged and hit you. Then you climbed onto Spotty's back and he carried you to where you mother could see you."

Anna smiled, remembering her dream. "How'd he do it?" Anna asked.

Without any further questions, James knew she meant Spotty. "His hocks are stronger that we thought and you, my girl, are pretty light."

Suddenly Anna remembered. "What day is it??" she half screamed. "Where's Spotty?"

"The auction's over honey-" James began.

"No! No, no, no!" Anna began to cry

"But honey, we didn't sell Spotty. We're gonna keep him." The young girl, with no one to love but the horse smiled.

"You saved me, Pixie!" exclaimed Spotty.

"No, Spotty, you saved yourself." the owl replied. "My word didn't help. You, when you took the girl to safety, saved yourself."

Spotty blushed (so to speak) and said, "but I love her, that's why I did it."

"Eh-hem," said Sparra through a mouth full of worms. "What about my payment?"

"What payment?" said Pixie slyly.

The oriole's eyes narrowed. "The meadow with all the worms."

"Oh! That! I lied."

"You lied!?" the bird said surprisingly.

"There's always a first time. And by the way Spotty," said Pixie, "I heard from a friend who can understand people noises, that you'll be able to be ridden soon, maybe even go to the top in barrel racing. And you know who to give credit to," she made a few devious gestures.

"Yes, Pixie I know. And thanks."The three creatures fell asleep, after all, it was late at night. The owl slept perched on the horse's head and the oriole on his back.

These three friends, as different as possible, came to be the best ever and will be for a long time.