Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail (26 page)

The room hummed with excitement as each team began to study together. Carrie and Kris acted as if they didn’t care about winning and looked at their cards. Leah Small popped her head in and smiled at Jed. “Wow, they really love your games. So, is this the famous Jed Carpenter Horse Bee?” she asked, looking around the classroom.

“Yep,” he said.

“I just got a call that Devon Spencer’s here. He brought a foal in this morning and Milla is with him. That’s probably why she’s late. If you want I can be her partner,” said Leah.

“If she gets here in ti…” Jed began, breaking off as Milla stepped into the class. Milla looked around at the pairs of students. She looked at Carrie laughing and sitting with a boy.

“Good morning, Milla,” said Leah. “Guess who’s going to be my partner in the Horse Bee? Come on, let’s sit over here.” Jed handed them both cards and they began studying with the rest of the class.

Carrie looked up and watched as Milla and Leah sat in a corner. It was hard to tell what kind of mood Milla was in. She seemed okay. I feel like an idiot with these flash cards, she thought. Kris seems to know a lot about horses. Suddenly, he kicked her sneaker and she looked up. “You ready or what?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mumbled.

“There are three types of American Saddle Horses. Name the types,” he said.

“Um, Three-gaited, Five-gaited, and…um…oh, hang on…um,” she fumbled.

“Harness,” said Kris.

“Oh, okay, harness. Got it,” said Carrie, feeling stupid. Why couldn’t Milla have gotten here five minutes ago? she thought, feeling her palms getting sweaty.

“Okay, now ask me one,” said the boy.

“What is the name of the Indian tribe that was known for breeding the Appaloosa?” she asked.

“The Nez Perce.”

“How tall are the American Saddle Horses?” asked Kris.

“Fifteen to sixteen feet,” replied Carrie.

“Almost,” he said. “It’s called hands, not feet. They measure horses by placing their hands at the tallest part of the withers and then to the ground. I think my mom said it’s like four inches equals one hand.” Carrie just blinked at him. Her mouth was completely dry and she wanted to crawl under her seat. How could she have said something so stupid? She actually said a horse was fifteen feet high. Ugh, how humiliating.

Kris didn’t seem to think anything of it and said, “That’s good you got the height correct on that one. Just remember to say hands.” Carrie looked at the card, breathing a little easier.

“What are the different types of patterns and colors of the Appaloosa?” she asked, knowing he would probably breeze through the answer.

“Oh, man. That’s a hard one,” he said. “Blanket, Leopard, umm…something about snow…hang on…Snowdust or Snowcrust,” he said, wrinkling his brow.

“Snowflake and also Marbleized Roan,” she said, smiling that she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know it all.

“Oh, right, duh, Snowflake. That’s not that hard, but Marbleized Roan—I hope we can remember that one.”

Carrie saw Milla staring at her. She gave her a little wave and Milla nodded and then turned back to her card. The class became noisier and noisier as they discussed their horse breeds. Jed was just about to look at his watch when the buzzer sounded.

“Aw,” moaned the children in unison. Jed walked around the room collecting the cards. Kris pushed back his chair and seemed relaxed. Carrie felt totally unprepared. I thought this was supposed to be a game, she thought. This feels too much like school and stupid tests. Now the whole class will hear me say something wrong and Kris will hate me and this dumb game will ruin camp for me. She frowned at Milla, who was smiling and chatting with Leah. Just then she remembered Kris’s incorrect answer. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad; maybe even Milla would miss some answers, too. What was the big deal anyway and how could any kid know all of the stuff on the cards? she wondered, looking around at the other students.

Jed stood at the front of the room smiling. “Okay, gang. It’s time for the fun part. Each of you pick number one or two. After you decide which of you is one and which of you is two I want all of the Ones on this side of the room and all of the Twos on the other side.” Kris and Carrie looked at each other confused. How were they supposed to work as a team if they were being split up?

“You want to be one or two?” asked Kris.

“I like even, so I’ll be two,” said Carrie, looking over at Milla.

“Good luck,” said Kris as he walked over to stand with the Ones. Carrie walked over to the Twos and found Milla standing there.

“Hey,” said Carrie.

“Hey,” Milla replied.

“I didn’t think you’d make it today,” said Carrie.

“Long story.”

“Okay, now here is how this works,” Jed announced. “You are two teams working against each other. When I ask a question, raise your hand if you know the answer. I will pick one person from each team. The team that gets the most answers is the winner.”

“What’s the prize…what’s the prize?” they squealed.

“The losers have to shovel manure all day,” said Jed.

“Nooooooo,” yelled all of the kids, jumping up and down.

“Just kidding,” said Jed. “The winners will just have to wait and see.”

Carrie forgot about school and tests and getting answers wrong as she was too busy having fun. She looked around and watched as the students were chattering away. They were tall and short, thin and round, dark and light, and they varied in age. She had learned that some of the other kids had parents who were divorced too. Some came from poor families and some came from wealthy ones. It really didn’t matter; they were all here learning and laughing. The Horse Bee had the students snickering as Jed pretended to be a game show host, using a microphone made out of an ear of corn. The children volleyed back and forth scoring points. Carrie was thrilled when she correctly answered a question about Appaloosas. Milla was shocked when even Leah, a teacher for goodness sakes, got a Clydesdale question wrong. Fifteen minutes later it was over and Carrie and Milla moaned as the other team was jumping for joy. The Twos watched as the Ones received coupons for free pizza from a favorite pizza joint in Reno. Kris, waving his coupon, yelled over to Carrie. Carrie laughed, thinking he looked as goofy as the little boys running around with their prizes. They all headed to the art class and Carrie paused to look once again at the poster depicting the different horses from around the world. And as she slowly walked to class, she shook her head in wonder, marveling over the differences between the horses of the Calico Mountains and the similarities among the kids in the Hidden Valley Horse and Art Camp.

Chapter 44

The steam from the shower fogged the mirror and when Milla wiped it with a towel a smudgy miserable version of herself stared back. It was dawn and she had crept in to claim the bathroom after hearing Mr. Adams’ car pull out of the driveway. She checked the bathroom lock for the tenth time. She had spent another restless night in what Mrs. Adams called the “makeshift parlor bedroom.” It was more like a museum with a cot in it. The room was filled with glass figurines of poodles and parrots. Mrs. Adams apparently had a thing for them. She had even framed and glued puzzles of poodle puppies and hung them between sconces of what looked to Milla like angry parrots ready to peck your eyes out if you broke the look-but-don’t-touch rule. The furniture was old and fragile and Milla thought she would surely break something if she sneezed.

She dressed quickly and carried her towel to the laundry room. Mrs. Adams had told her germ-free laundry was more important than conserving water so she washed everyone’s used towels daily. Milla had been taught the importance of recycling and cringed as she threw the wet towel into the basket. She tiptoed back to her cot hoping to have more alone time before the rest of the family woke. As she turned the corner she heard someone run down the hall and a door being shut. She stood in place frozen, not wanting to move. Each day she would try to avoid Mrs. Adams’ darling son, Ulysses, better known to her as Foot. Here in his home he somehow avoided punishment, whereas in school it was a different story. It seemed to Milla he spent more time in detention than any other kid. She walked back to the parlor and looked around at the room. Everything seemed in order and the angry parrot sconces were still standing guard with beaks and wings open wide. Everything except her backpack, that is. It had been moved from under her cot and lay crumpled under the spindly-legged couch. She raced over to it trying to remember everything she had packed. Luckily her journal was safe at home. She pulled out her clothes and her face grew hot as she thought of Foot looking at her underwear. They were still hidden inside her other clothes—whew, what a relief. But her sketchpad looked as if it had been messed with. Slowly she opened the page and that’s when she saw it. Someone had placed a newspaper clipping with the words “Horse Killer” written in red over the article.

BLM ROUND-UP KICKS UP PROTEST

Saddlecrest, Nevada – The Bureau of Land Management announced it will hold another massive round-up of wild horses in the Calico Mountains. Over twenty horses are reported to have died in the last Calico round-up. This does not include the fifteen mares that aborted late term foals in the Painted Ridge Wild Horse and Burro facility. The BLM has decided not to provide veterinary reports on the cause of death in the Painted Ridge facility, according to BLM manager Devon Spencer.

Milla didn’t bother to read the rest of the article. I will not cry, she said to herself. Foot’s a jerk. I will not cry, she said again, feeling her face flushing hot. She blinked back tears and shoved everything into her backpack. She wished she could run the short distance to her house, but what good would that do? Her house would be locked and empty. She thought back to the conversation with her dad yesterday morning as he drove her to camp. He looked awful and she knew he wasn’t sleeping and not really paying attention to her as she pleaded with him to let her stay in their house alone. It was useless. He warned her he had no time for drama. That’s what he always said, but what would he say about the creepy thing Foot had placed in her backpack?

Mrs. Adams was in the kitchen humming as she began to make breakfast. Her children must be the only kids on the block who ate quiche for breakfast. Milla kept her head down and tried to block out the tune with which Mrs. Adams was serenading her. Each morning it was the same routine. Mrs. Adams would wake and spray every surface with ammonia and wipe every counter. This seemed odd to Milla, as the woman had done the same thing before she went to bed. Did she think somehow elves sprinkled germs to attack her kitchen overnight? And to make matters worse, after the ammonia bit, she then sprayed air freshener until Milla choked. Now the entire house had an ammonia lemon scent. Sheesh—and she wondered why Milla never had an appetite. Apparently the yellow-aproned lady only knew one humming song. Milla sank into her book, desperately trying to ignore the sixth verse of “Coming Round the Mountain.”

Fern walked into the kitchen carrying her towel. Milla looked up and nodded and Fern shot her a chilly hello. Milla hadn’t really meant to be unfriendly to Fern; it was just that she didn’t want to be there. Hanging out with someone and staying in their oddball family’s house was another thing. Next Foot bumped into her chair accidently on purpose, causing Milla to bite down on her tongue sharply. Her book flew across the table and crashed into the powder-pink vase of flowers, toppling it over. Milla tasted blood and got up to go rinse her mouth.

“It’s okay,” said Mrs. Adams as she quickly mopped up the water and examined the unbroken vase. “You didn’t break anything this time Milla, but please try to be more careful.”

Foot smirked as he went to help his mother.

“I’ll do this, Mom. You go back to your cooking,” he said innocently.

“Oh, Ulysses, you are such a darling,” she sighed, tousling his hair.

Milla went to the bathroom and locked the door. She rinsed her mouth and washed her face. “I will not cry, I will not cry,” she said to her reflection.

Ten minutes later she was standing on the corner waiting for the van that would take her to art camp. As it pulled up, a smiling Jed along with a few noisy students greeted her. Milla got in and settled into her seat. She thought of the newspaper clipping and the words “Horse Killer” scribbled in red across the page. Her dad had often told her to ignore stories she heard on the playground. This seemed different. How did he get up and go to work every day and do what he did and not be bothered by the stuff they wrote about him in the papers? She wished her grandma were here to explain everything the way she used to. She grinned thinking of what Grandma would say to Mrs. Adams about water conservation. Man, would she let her have it, thought Milla.

They pulled into the long driveway and the children waved to Candy and Roxie, who were trotting along the fence trying to match the pace of the van. Milla looked over to Hope’s pen but didn’t see the little foal. The van came to a stop and everyone got out. Carrie was talking to Mrs. Preston and her grandchildren, Mac and Tracey. How lucky, thought Milla, to be able to go to work with your grandmother every day. Mrs. Preston was a wonderful artist and she had even known Milla’s grandmother. Just the other day she had given Milla the greatest compliment of all when she told her that her painting reminded her of Milla’s grandmother’s style.