Broken Horse (2 page)

Carole smiled. “I didn’t forget,” she assured her friend. “I was just saving the best for last.”

Stevie noticed that Lisa was taking another picture. “I can’t believe you can even think about schoolwork when we’re talking about the Starlight Ride.”

“I’m listening,” Lisa said. “I can’t wait for Christmas, either. But first I have to finish my report. Can you believe
how different the forest is now from the way it is in the summer?”

Stevie looked around and shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “In the summer everything is green. Now everything’s all brown and dead.”

“But not totally,” Lisa said. “It’s amazing how much life there is if you look for it. It’s just moved below the surface, that’s all.” She leaned over to focus on a beetle scurrying across a patch of earth.

Carole was still thinking about the Starlight Ride. “It seems like it’s ages away, doesn’t it?”

“It sure does,” Stevie replied. She didn’t even need to ask what Carole was referring to, because she had just been thinking the same thing.

Lisa looked up from her viewfinder. “Are you still talking about the Starlight Ride? It’s less than three weeks away.”

“I know,” Carole said. “But that sounds like a long time to me.”

“Me too,” Stevie agreed.

“Me three,” Lisa admitted. “But I’m sure it will seem closer when Christmas vacation starts the week after next.” Fenton Hall and the Willow Creek public school system started their winter vacations at the same time.

The girls continued along the winding trail, which was becoming steeper as it climbed a heavily wooded hill. The air was chilly, and a light breeze made it seem even cooler, but the girls had been hiking for more than an hour and
were warm with exertion. Lisa had kept them moving at a brisk pace as she hurried from one photo to the next.

Halfway to the top of the hill, Carole stepped off the trail and collapsed onto a smooth rock. “I don’t know about you two, but I need a rest after all that climbing,” she said, puffing.

“Good idea,” Stevie said, sitting down beside her. “I think we’re right at the edge of the park, anyway. We should probably head back soon.”

Lisa was looking ahead at the craggy crest of the hill. “I’d like to take a look from the top there,” she said. “There might be a good view of a valley or something on the other side. I only have a few pictures left on the roll, and most of my shots so far have been close-ups. It would be nice to get a photo of the whole landscape.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Carole asked. “If Stevie’s right, you might be trespassing on private property.” One of the things the owner of Pine Hollow, Max Regnery, had taught all his young riders was respect for others’ land. One of his strictest rules was that no one could ride on private property without permission.

But Lisa didn’t think this qualified. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m sure no one will mind if I just take a few pictures. You guys can wait here if you want. I’ll be right back.”

Carole and Stevie watched as their friend began scrambling up the last few dozen yards of steep trail.

“Can you believe how responsible she is?” Stevie commented.
“All I can think about is that vacation can’t come fast enough, and all she can think about is her school project.”

Carole laughed. “That’s just one of the things that makes Lisa Lisa.”

“True,” Stevie said, glancing again at Lisa, who had just reached her destination. “I guess—”

Carole never found out what Stevie was about to say, because her words were interrupted by Lisa’s loud, horrified voice calling out their names.

W
HEN
C
AROLE
AND
Stevie reached her side seconds later, they saw that Lisa’s face was pale and her expression shocked. She didn’t say a word. She simply pointed.

The land sloped away sharply on the far side of the hill. In the valley directly below the girls was a cluster of buildings that made up a small, ramshackle farm. Carole and Stevie hardly noticed the dilapidated farmhouse, barn, and other outbuildings. They immediately focused their attention on the source of Lisa’s horror—a tiny, muddy corral with a horse in it.

Even from a distance it was obvious that there was something very wrong with the horse. It was painfully thin and standing with its head hanging low and one forefoot lifted off the ground. It was difficult to tell what color the horse
was because its coat was matted and filthy. The horse clearly needed veterinary help—and fast.

“What should we do?” asked Stevie.

“I don’t know,” Carole said slowly. “We can’t just leave the poor thing here.”

“How bad off do you think it is?” Stevie asked.

“It’s hard to tell from here,” Carole said uncertainly.

“Maybe we should go down and take a quick look,” Stevie suggested. “If the horse looks as bad from there as it looks from here, we can go get help.”

Carole bit her lip. There was nothing she hated more than seeing an animal that was obviously in pain. But this horse was on private property and she wasn’t sure what they should do. “If the owner of the farm is home, I’m not sure I want to meet him.”

“That’s a good point,” Stevie said. “Lisa, what do you …” Her voice trailed off as she turned and saw that Lisa was already climbing down the steep slope, picking her way carefully among the slippery rocks and thornbushes. Carole and Stevie exchanged glances, then followed. Lisa was the most sensible member of The Saddle Club. If she thought they should go down to the horse, down they would go.

The Saddle Club approached the corral slowly, casting nervous glances at the nearby house. They could hear a dog barking inside. But there was no other sign of life or movement, and when they got a little closer, Carole noticed that
there were several newspapers piled on the porch, still wrapped in the plastic bags in which they were delivered.

“It looks like whoever owns that poor horse hasn’t been home for a few days at least,” Carole said, pointing at the papers. She felt relieved and angry at the same time. She was relieved that the girls weren’t likely to meet the owner of the farm, and she was angry that someone would leave a horse and a dog alone for several days.

By this time the girls were close enough to get a good look at the horse in the corral. It was a gray mare, though the sores and filth that covered her thin body made it difficult to tell what she might once have looked like. Her sides were crisscrossed with red welts and scratches, and the forefoot she was holding off the ground was badly swollen. It was obvious that her coat hadn’t been clipped or brushed in a very long time, and her mane and tail were knotty and matted with debris. She had long, slender legs and a well shaped head, but at the moment both were covered with cuts and sores. Her sides were bony from malnutrition, and her breathing was labored and a little too fast. Every few seconds a visible shudder would pass over her whole body.

“Wow,” Stevie said grimly. Her friends didn’t say a word for a few minutes. They were too shocked by what they saw to speak.

Finally Lisa broke the silence. “She looks even worse than Sal,” she whispered.

It took Carole and Stevie a moment to realize what Lisa
was talking about. Then they remembered. Sal was a horse that had been rescued by a local animal welfare organization called the County Animal Rescue League, or CARL for short. He had been badly neglected and abused. Lisa had met Sal when she had visited the CARL facility. Despite the top-notch care he had received there, Sal’s injuries had proved to be too much for him, and he had died not long after being rescued. The memory of the abused horse was something Lisa would never forget.

“She looks bad, all right,” Carole said, staring at the mare, which hadn’t reacted to their arrival at all. “In fact, I’d guess she’s just about on her last legs. We’ve got to get help. Fast.” She sometimes volunteered as an assistant to the local equine vet, Judy Barker. While making rounds with Judy, Carole had seen a number of abused animals. She knew immediate medical attention was the key factor in their recovery—though some, like Sal, were too far gone to save.

“There’s only one thing to do,” Stevie said. “Let’s call CARL. This mare qualifies for a rescue if any animal ever did.”

“I hate to leave her here,” Lisa said, taking a step closer to the fence. At the movement, the mare raised her head for the first time and stared dully at the girls.

“Don’t try to approach her,” Carole advised gently. “We’d better leave that to the experts.” She glanced at the farmhouse
again. “I just hope whoever did this doesn’t come back before the people from CARL get here.”

“That doesn’t seem too likely,” Stevie said.

“No,” Carole agreed. She glanced again at the empty house and shuddered. “Still, I wouldn’t want to take any chances.”

“Maybe I should stay here with her,” Lisa said.

Stevie shook her head. “No way. If the horse’s owners come back, I don’t think you’d want to meet them alone.”

“Right,” Carole agreed. “Anyone who could do this to a horse probably wouldn’t hesitate to do something just as horrible to you. We’d better hurry and find a phone.”

“There’s one in the visitors’ center by the park entrance,” Stevie said. She pulled out the map she had picked up at the visitors’ center and studied it carefully. “If we take the Green Trail we’ll get back much faster.”

“Let’s go,” Carole said. She started to follow, then paused and glanced back at Lisa, who had lifted her camera and was pointing it at the mare. “Come on, Lisa,” she called.

“Just a minute,” Lisa replied. She could barely stand to look at the poor battered creature through the viewfinder, but she forced herself to use the last of the film photographing the horse. She had a feeling the pictures would come in handy.

Then she turned and followed her friends, glancing over her shoulder at the mare every few steps. The horse barely
seemed aware of their retreat. Her head was hanging down once again, and her sunken sides moved visibly as she struggled to breathe.

“Hold on,” Lisa whispered under her breath. “Please hold on. You’ll be safe soon.”

She just hoped it was true.

T
WENTY
MINUTES
LATER
the girls were on the phone with the volunteer receptionist at CARL, a young man named Nicholas Canfield. After taking down all the necessary information, he warned the girls not to go back to the farm.

“But we want to help,” Lisa insisted.

“Are you sure about that?” Nicholas asked. “If the horse is as bad off as you say, there may not be much we can do. It might be easier if you weren’t there in case we have to put her down.”

Lisa didn’t even want to think about that. “We want to help,” she said again.

“All right then. Just wait at the park in the visitors’ center,” Nicholas said. “One of the cars will pick you up on the way back. But don’t go near that farm yourselves.”

“We won’t,” Lisa promised. “But please hurry.”

As Lisa started to hang up, Carole took the phone and fished another quarter out of her pocket. “I want to call Judy,” she said. “They might not call her until after they bring the horse back, and there’s no time to lose. Besides, maybe we can prepare her for some of the problems.”

“Good idea,” Stevie said. “If anyone can help that horse, Judy can.”

Carole reached the vet on the phone in her truck. With the other two girls helping her, she quickly told Judy everything she could remember about the mare’s condition.

“Sounds bad,” Judy said when they had finished, her voice strange and tinny on the portable phone. “I’m not far from CARL right now. I’ll head over there and get ready to meet them when they return with the mare.”

“We’ll see you there,” Carole promised, then hung up. After that, all the girls could do was wait.

I
T
SEEMED
LIKE
hours before one of the CARL volunteers arrived at the visitors’ center to pick up The Saddle Club. The volunteer, a plump, friendly middle-aged woman with blond hair who introduced herself as Luanne Gregg, told them that the rescue had been successful and that the horse was on her way to the CARL facility.