Chasing Dream (5 page)

9

Tricks

Once I'm home, I brush Dream and cool her off. She's sweatier than usual, so it takes me a long time. I tell her that I love her and that she did great. But I know nobody else is thinking about how great my horse is.

Pinto Cat tries to hop up onto Dream's back like she always does. But Dream shakes her off.

That's a first.

“Sorry, Pinto Cat,” I say.

The calico struts away, tail high and switching like she's scolding her friend.

I muck out the yard and fertilize bushes and trees. We have the healthiest trees in town.

When I'm done, I walk the fence again, checking posts and planks. Even when I'm feeling down, I love being around my horse. I feel better simply being close to her. And I think more clearly when I talk to Dream.

I pick up a soft-bristle brush and go back to grooming Dream. Right about now in every house with a fourth grader in Hamilton, families will be talking about Cassie and Misty winning the race. The other kids will fuss over Misty at horsemanship tomorrow. And I'm glad. At least, part of me is glad. I'm happy for Misty and for Cassie. I really am. If Dream and I couldn't win that race, I'd want Cassie to.

But I can't stop wishing people were talking about Dream and how special
my
horse is.

Maybe I could teach Dream a few tricks. I read a book once on how to get your horse to say yes and no, to count, and to bow. Stuff like that.

I'm still brushing Dream when I hear the back door slam. I expect to see my brother, but instead it's Colt.

He lifts a hand in a half wave. “Hey, Ellie.”

“What's up?” I can tell something's wrong. Colt and I have been best buddies since kindergarten.

He shrugs. “Looks like your family just got bigger this weekend. I have to stay with you guys. Mom's going out of town on business. And she can't find a house sitter on short notice. She even tried Dad, but he's not answering the phone.”

Since Colt's parents split up, Colt is supposed to go to his dad's in St. Louis every other weekend. But I don't think that's working out.

“Cool. You can help me teach Dream a couple of tricks.” I nod for him to come over. But when he does, Dream sidesteps out of the way.

“I don't know what's gotten into Dream. She's not herself today. Don't take it personal. She just shook off Pinto Cat.” I scratch Dream's withers and under her jaw. That always calms her down and can even put her to sleep. But not today. She won't hold still.

“Maybe it's a full moon,” Colt says. “Weird things are happening over at our place too. Somebody—or some
thing
—must have broken into the barn really early this morning. Then whatever it was disappeared into thin air.” He says this in his bad imitation of a monster's voice. “It ate more grain from the bin. I mean a lot of it, too.”

I glance up at the sky. It's pretty dark. Only a sliver of the moon is filled in. “Somehow I don't think we can blame the moon, Colt.”

Mom finally gets home from the cat farm and calls us in to dinner. Ethan is so psyched that Colt's staying over, he barely touches his fried chicken. His fingers are too busy signing about the game tomorrow. Ethan says he gets to pitch.

“So, Ellie,” Dad begins. He glances at Colt, then back at me. “Don't suppose you have those . . .
things
you promised me and whatnot?”

“What things, Dad?”

“You know. The
things
. Sings.”

It's a bad rhyme, but good enough to remind me that I forgot to come up with a list of rhymes for Dad's barrel campaign. I guess Dad must be worried that Colt will tell his mother that I have to help with the rhyming jingles.

“Um . . . I'll get right on those
things
I
bring
that
sing
and
ring
.”

Mom is in top form as dinner storyteller. “Wish you all could have been at the cat farm today. I was petting one of those poor quarantined cats”—she pauses to give me a meaningful look because that's really my job—“and this fella came in dressed to the nines. Shiny suit, ironed shirt, silk tie. ‘Madam,' he says to me, ‘I would like a kitten for my granddaughter.' He glanced at his watch. ‘
Now
, if you please.' Well, I told him he'd need to fill out papers and have a background check like everyone else.

“‘Do you have any idea who you're talking to?' he bellowed. I told him I didn't, but I wouldn't use that against his granddaughter. I've learned not to judge people by their kinfolk. That set him off on a string of words the likes of which prompted me to cover the ears of the cat I was holding.

“Long story short, I turned that bag of air down flat. Not that difficult to tell the goat from the sheep on a sunny day in Poughkeepsie. I gave him one piece of advice passed to me by your granny: Never miss a good chance to keep your mouth shut tighter than Ebenezer Scrooge.”

I watch Colt's face while Mom talks. His eyes twinkle, and the corners of his mouth can't keep from turning up. Colt told me once that my mom says more words to him in one day than his mother says in a year.

Mom leans back in her chair and groans. “I'm full as a tick on a bulldog. Anybody want dessert?”

After dinner Colt and I go out back to see if we can teach Dream a few tricks before horsemanship tomorrow. I whistle for Dream. She's standing in the back of the yard and doesn't turn around. I call out to her, “Dream! Come here, girl!”

Instead of running to me like she always does, she paces the fence and pays no attention to me.

“Okay,” I tell Colt, “now I know something weird's going on. Stay here. I'll go get her.”

As it turns out, it's not as easy to catch my horse as it usually is. When I get close, she pivots and walks away. She does this four times before I can grab her halter.

“What's going on with you, girl? It's only Colt and me. Come on. You're going to learn a few tricks. It'll be fun.”

I walk Dream back to Colt. He has already picked a couple of handfuls of grass for us to use as treats and rewards.

“The book said the easiest trick to teach a horse is to shake hands,” I explain.

“Cool. How do you do it?”

I let Colt hold Dream's halter. Then I stand beside her, kind of like I do to clean out her front hoof, but more in front of her shoulder. “Okay. Don't let her pull backward on you.”

I lean into her shoulder so she takes the weight off her left foreleg. Then I grab her knee and bend it. She lets me lift her leg, but when I try to pull it forward like a handshake, she jerks her hoof out of my hand.

“I'll try that again. I forgot to tell her to shake. I read that you need to say the words the same every time. They said most horses won't get it the first time.”

I go through the same routine. Only this time I remember to say, “Shake, Dream.” At least I get the leg forward and halfway up before she yanks it down again.

Six more times I give it a try. Each time I repeat, “Shake, Dream.” And each time I have Colt hand me grass to reward her. But every single try, she pulls her hoof away before we really get a friendly shake. She's not even that interested in her reward. Usually Dream loves eating grass from my hand.

“Maybe this would work better with the right leg,” I consider. “The book said that if you teach a horse to shake with both legs, you can work in a second trick. You can point to which leg you want to shake, and the horse will give it to you.”

Colt shrugs. “Whatever you say. I'm just along for the ride.”

I repeat everything from Dream's right side this time. But it's the same story. No shaking. And no grass eating.

When I call it a night and let Dream go, she bolts away. She doesn't stop until she reaches the end of the pasture. Then she paws the ground and paces the fence.

Colt and I leave the backyard in semidarkness. Above us, stars have poked through the sky. I spot the Big Dipper and Orion without even trying.

“We should have brought Bullet over,” I say. “Maybe he could have learned a trick or two.”

“The only trick I'm interested in is barrel racing. You think we can squeeze in time tomorrow to get going with those barrels?”

I feel a stab of guilt. We should have done that instead of wasting the night on Dream's tricks. “Definitely! We'll do it tomorrow.”

The next morning I open my bedroom window and call Dream. But she doesn't come. Just like yesterday, I stare out the window and survey the backyard. I can't see Dream anywhere.

I have got to get to the bottom of this.

I pull on my jeans and T-shirt and lean out my window as far as I can without falling. “Dream! Here, girl!”

No Dream.

There's a knock on my door. I run to open it.

There stand Ethan and Colt, both rubbing their eyes and still wearing their pajamas. Cowboy pajamas—both of them. When Colt stays over, he sleeps on an air mattress in Ethan's room. One side of his face has dots on it from the little buttons on the mattress.

“What's going on?” Colt demands. “Were you trying to wake the whole neighborhood?”

That
would
be a trick since we don't have neighbors. “Dream's gone again.” I sign it too so my bleary-eyed brother can see.

Not this again,
Ethan signs.

I drag both of them to the backyard. On the way, I explain to Colt about Dream going missing but turning up again. I remind him that Dream had to have gotten out before she showed up in the school library.

Barefoot, we step onto dewy grass and peer into the yard.

“See?” I tell them. “My horse isn't—”

Ethan elbows me and points toward the gate. I turn in time to see my horse galloping toward us from outside the fence. She speeds up as she gets closer. Her hooves pound the wet grass. She reaches the fence and leaps.

Ellie's Dream jumps over the gate with the ease of a flying bird.

10

Jump

“Did you see that?” I need to ask Colt if that was for real because this is the kind of thing I imagine all the time. “Did you?” I demand.

“I saw it, all right. That was amazing!” Colt says. “What a jump!”

Ethan steps in front of us so he can be part of the conversation.
Ellie, that must be how Dream got out and showed up in the library! And maybe you weren't crazy after all when you thought she was out of the yard.

I flip my fingers from my chin in the
thank you
sign and hope Ethan picks up on the sarcasm.

“She really did it,” I mutter. “My horse is a jumper.
That's
her trick. Jumping!” I turn to Colt. “We have to get Mr. Harper to set up jumps at his arena today.”

Colt has his arms folded like he's cold. “You want to get Dream to jump at horsemanship practice?”

“I've never wanted anything more in my whole life. Except when I wanted a horse and didn't have one,” I add.

An hour later Colt and I are at the Harpers' arena. We gulped down breakfast, then rode Bullet and Dream straight here.

“Thank you for doing this, Mr. Harper.” From my spot on Dream's back, I watch as he and Colt set up jumps across the arena. I'd help, but I'm looking after Bullet and Dream.

“Thank
you
, Ellie,” Mr. Harper says. He sets down a big wooden X, walks two steps, and places another one. Then he sets a lightweight bar across the two wooden Xs. “I have been trying to get Ashley to work on jumps with Warrior. Should be fun for all of us. I'll keep the jumps low.”

“Not too low,” I say. “Maybe you could set up one high jump. We could see how things are working out and try it if it's going well.” I know Dream and I will want to try.

Dream paws the ground. She sidesteps, dancing side to side.

“Take it easy, girl,” I whisper. “I'm as anxious as you are to get at those jumps. Just wait until they see you sail over the highest bar. Then everybody will get it. They'll see for themselves how great you really are.”

Ellie and Dream line up for the American Royal jumping competition. Crowds have gathered from all across the state of Missouri. And some from Kansas and Iowa too. Dream paws the ground. Then they're off. Ellie and Dream take the first jump as if it's not there. Dream clears the second jump and the third. She turns to try the giant fence jump, which no horse has ever attempted before. Especially not Custer's Darling Delight. Dream's hooves strike the ground hard. Ellie James clings to her pinto. They lift up, up, up . . . and over! The crowd sits in stunned silence. Then everyone breaks into thunderous applause. “Ellie! Ellie! Dream! Dream!”

I stop daydreaming because Dream is getting edgy. She won't stand still, and I'm trying to hold Bullet's reins while Colt sets up the jumps. I dismount and lead Bullet to the hitching post. “There you go, guy. Colt will be right back.”

No way will Dream settle for being hitched to a post today, so I keep her moving. We trot around the Harpers' stables. It's a perfect-weather day. If I had the power to make it hotter or colder, I wouldn't know which way to go.

Harpers' doesn't smell like K. C. Stables, where Larissa boards her horse. Here, there's still a barn smell, earthy and horsey. Fancy stables like K. C. Stables take all the horse smell out. If I had to put Dream in a stable—and I'd never want that to happen—this is where I'd come.

Larissa is last to arrive. A trailer backs up to the arena, and the driver gets out. He reminds me of Frosty the Snowman, all middle and almost no legs. He waddles around to the back of the trailer and lets down the ramp. Then he backs Custer down and out of the trailer.

Larissa's lanky three-gaited gelding is gorgeous, all right. But he reminds me of runway models on TV. They look pretty and all, but you'd never want one of them for your mom or your best friend.

“I still can't believe you couldn't get me here on time!” Larissa whines. “I'm telling Daddy you made me late.”

The driver has his back to Larissa and his front to me. He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, miss. If I'd known those trucks planned to have an accident on Highway 36, I would have taken an alternate route. Plus, we had ball game traffic.”

Ball game!
I forgot all about Ethan's game today. And I promised I'd be there to sign Coach's pregame talk. Why didn't Ethan remind me?

But I know the answer to that question. Ethan didn't want to bother me. He never does. He doesn't ask for much. I should have come through for him on this one thing.

I determine to get to the ballpark before the game ends so I can at least sign Coach's after-game talk to the boys.

Larissa had better not make us all late.

The driver of the K. C. Stables trailer snaps a leather lead rope on Custer and hands it to Larissa. Then he disappears inside the trailer cab and comes out with an English saddle, a blanket, and a bridle, plus another bag. After he hangs the saddle and blanket and bridle over the fence and drops the bag, he heads back to the trailer.

“Where do you think you're going?” Larissa demands. “You don't expect me to saddle my own horse, do you?”

“We can get it, Larissa,” Mr. Harper calls. He flashes a smile at the driver.

“No thank you,” she replies. “That's what we pay these people for.” She holds out the lead rope for the driver to take.

Colt jogs over from the jumps and takes the reins. He holds Custer while the driver saddles Larissa's horse without a word.

Mr. Harper gives Rashawn and me English saddles to use. I saddle Dream, then stand back and admire how awesome she looks in the neat leather saddle.

I glance at Dusty. Her saddle looks like a wallet on an elephant.

Rashawn catches me staring. “High fashion, don't you think?” Then she bursts out laughing. She's already having fun. Sometimes I think that girl could have a good time taking math proficiencies.

I block out every thought of proficiencies and homework. No way am I going to let math ruin Dream's big moment.

Finally we're all set. Everybody falls into line so we can take turns jumping. I let Cassie, Rashawn, and Colt in ahead of me. Larissa pushes in behind Ashley.

Mr. Harper gives us all some tips about jumping before having Ashley demonstrate. “Any horse can be a jumper,” he begins. “Doesn't matter what breed or bloodline. The only requirement is that your horse loves to jump. And you never know that until you try. Some horses bred for jumping never develop the passion for it. Other horses come by a jumping talent naturally and only need to be nurtured.”

“That's how it is with Dream,” I tell Colt.

Larissa turns in her saddle. “Ellie, don't tell me you actually think your little spotted pony could be a jumper?” She laughs, but it sounds like a blue jay robbing a robin's nest. That's what my granny would have said.

“She'll see,” I whisper to Dream. “They'll all see.” I reach down to stroke her neck. My hand comes back wet. Dream is already sweating foam as if we've been racing all morning. But I haven't done anything except walk her. And it's not that hot out.

Mr. Harper is explaining the jumps he and Colt have set up. “These are all simple cavalletti jumps. I wouldn't let any of you do this if I didn't know you're ready. I've worked with most of you for a couple of years now. Take it slow. Practice holding the reins with a handful of mane. Remember the two-point position I taught you. Let your horse take your weight out of the saddle. Put your weight into your stirrups. Let your knees keep you steady. And keep your helmets on.”

I haven't paid much attention to the jumps, so I take a good look now. The sides look like big white Xs. The pole rests right on them. Each jump is set a little higher than the one before it. The last jump, farther down and off the course, is really high.

“Ashley,” Mr. Harper says, “take Warrior through the regular jumps to demonstrate.”

Warrior goes straight over each jump with no mistakes. But Ashley steers her horse away from the high fence at the end. She doesn't even attempt it.

Rashawn goes next because Mr. Harper calls her up ahead of Larissa. But Dusty isn't into it. She steps over the first two jumps and walks straight through the next two. Rashawn laughs and pets her horse's neck as if Dusty won a trophy.

Cassie and Misty give the jumps a good try. Misty heaves himself over the first jump. We cheer. But the pony's legs are too short for the other jumps.

“My turn!” Larissa cries, heading for the starting line.

“Ellie!” Mr. Harper calls like he hasn't heard Larissa. “It's your turn. Ride Dream up here.”

I urge Dream forward. Instead of walking on, she paws the ground. Faster and harder, she paws. Dirt flies up. I feel her tremble. I'm trembling too. Something is wrong. Dream stops pawing. Her neck cranes around. She stares at her stomach like it's not even part of her body.

I jump off and stand in front of her. “Mr. Harper, something's wrong with Dream!”