Chasing Gold (2 page)

Haley's cousins and some of her friends at school still liked to make fun of her choice of sports and breeds, since most of the horse people in these parts rode Western on stocky quarter horses, paints, or Appaloosas. But Haley was in heaven. She'd read and reread
Misty of Chincoteague
so many times she could hardly believe that the cute little pinto in her pasture with the wing-shaped markings across his back was a real, live Chincoteague pony who'd made the swim across the channel from Assateague Island as a foal. It was just a bonus that he jumped as if he'd been born and bred for it!

As Haley was thinking about that, the sudden blast of a car horn nearby made her jump. Despite the early
hour, traffic was already zooming by on the busy country highway just a few dozen yards beyond the farm's sturdy woven-wire perimeter fence. Haley yawned again and rubbed her face, then gave Bandit one last pat and got back to work. Riding had woken her up for a while, but yet another early morning was catching up with her. Still, it would all be worth it in a few weeks when she and Wings got to that clinic.

A few minutes later Haley was struggling to balance a wheelbarrow full of manure and open the gate when her seventeen-year-old cousin Jake wandered into the barnyard, hands shoved into the pockets of his baggy jeans.

“Get the gate for me, will you?” Haley called. The muck pile was outside the perimeter fence to make it easier for her uncle to get to with the tractor. That meant opening and closing the sturdy mesh gate for every trip out there so that none of the animals escaped onto the busy road.

Jake grinned, lounging against the hitching rail in the middle of the yard. “Why should I? I'm paying you to do
all
my chores this morning, remember?”

“Just do it!” Haley said, knowing he would.

Jake was like a brother to her, for better and for worse. So was his younger brother, Danny. And Aunt Veronica and Uncle Mike were like parents to Haley—the only ones she remembered, mostly, since her own parents had died in a car crash when Haley was just four years old. Her only memories of them were hazy and dim—her father swinging her up into a battered Western saddle atop an ancient quarter horse for her very first ride; her mother laughing and dancing in the kitchen; the three of them having a picnic in a park in Chicago. Sometimes those memories made Haley feel a little bit sad, as if she should remember more of the four years she'd had with her parents. But her aunt and uncle treated her like one of their own, and that was mostly good enough for her.

Jake opened the gate, shoving Bandit back with his foot to keep the dog from following Haley outside. She dumped the wheelbarrow with one expert move, then hurried back to the gate. Jake swung it open again and then latched it behind her. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly.

“Sure.” Jake watched her shove the wheelbarrow back into the shed. “Already finish the stalls?”

“Only half.” Haley checked her watch. “I'll have to do the rest after school—I still need to check water and feed the chickens. Oh, and I haven't gathered eggs yet. . . .”

“You're making me tired just watching you.” To prove it, Jake let out a wide yawn and leaned against a fence post. “I hope this silly English riding thing you're going to is worth it.”

“It will be.” Haley didn't bother rising to the bait about “silly English riding.” She'd heard it all before, and she didn't really care what anyone thought of her sport. “Zina Charles is the best of the best. She was short-listed for the US Olympic Team last time, and she'll probably make it next time. Plus, I hear she's an amazing trainer. Someone posted on one of the online eventing forums that he'd learned more from a one-day clinic with Zina than he did in a year's worth of lessons with anyone else!”

“Hmm.” Jake didn't look impressed. “Anyway, Mom sent me out to check on you. I'm leaving in twenty minutes, so don't be late.”

Without waiting for a response, he loped off toward
the house. Haley checked her watch again. She knew Jake probably wouldn't actually leave without her, at least not if her aunt was paying attention. But Aunt Veronica wouldn't be happy if Haley made them all late for school. . . .

Minutes later Haley had fed and watered the chickens, topped off the big stock tank in the horses' pasture, and grabbed that morning's eggs from the henhouse. Bandit shadowed her the whole time, his fringed tail wagging.

“Here you go, buddy,” Haley said, quickly dumping some kibble into a couple of shallow pans in the barn aisle.

Bandit dove for the food, while the beagle mix and a couple of other dogs raced over to join in. The cats watched with interest, though none of them moved until Haley poured their food into several dishes on top of the big wooden cabinet in the barn office, where the dogs couldn't reach it.

Hurrying out of the office, Haley paused, tempted to grab the broom leaning near the door. But she didn't have time to sweep right now—that would have to wait until after school too, unless Aunt Veronica did it for her before then. Feeling slightly guilty for leaving chores undone, she
raced into the house. She grabbed a waffle off the platter on the table, wolfing it down dry as she sprinted up the creaky steps to her small bedroom overlooking the back garden.

As she was pulling on her school clothes, Haley wandered over to look at the flyer pinned to the bulletin board over her desk. It was the information sheet she'd received in the mail after sending in her deposit for the clinic. There was a picture of Zina Charles at the top, and below that were the time, location, and contact info for the clinic.

Haley finished yanking her shirt on over her head, then reached out and touched the flyer with her fingertips. “I'll see you soon, Zina,” she whispered with a smile.

Glancing down, she noticed her laptop lying on her desk where she'd dumped it the afternoon before. She hadn't touched it since then, thanks to that babysitting job. Which meant she hadn't logged on to the Pony Post in almost twenty-four hours.

The Pony Post was a private message board Haley had started along with three other girls. She considered the other members among her very best friends, even though the four of them had never met in person. Maddie
Martinez lived in California, Nina Peralt in New Orleans, and Brooke Rhodes in Maryland, just a short distance across the Virginia state line from Chincoteague. The four of them might never have met except for one thing—they all loved and rode Chincoteague ponies. The Pony Post was a place where they could share that interest, along with photos and stories about their ponies and the rest of their lives.

When Haley logged on to the Pony Post, she found several new posts from the others. She skimmed them as she pulled on her socks. Most were just the usual chitchat about the other girls' ponies and such, but a few were aimed at Haley.

[MADDIE]
Hey Haley, thought of u today—Ms. Emerson offered to take some of us from the barn to watch a big local three-day event as a field trip! I told everyone I know someone who events, and they were all totes impressed!

[NINA]
Sounds fab, Mads! Just think—someday
it'll be Haley riding in those big events. We can say we knew her when!

[BROOKE]
Have u saved up enough for the ZC clinic yet, Haley? I know u were worried about that. It's coming up pretty soon, right?

[NINA]
But we know you can do it! You'll make it to that clinic and blow ZC away! She'll probably want to hire u as her groom and apprentice.

[MADDIE]
& she'll prolly be so impressed w/Wings that she'll try to buy him so she can ride him in the next Olympics!

[BROOKE]
But Haley will never sell—she & Wings are a team!!!

[MADDIE]
Of course she won't sell. I'm just saying. Anyway, Haley, check in when u can and let us know what's up and how we can help!

Haley smiled. Maybe nobody around here understood how excited she was to ride with Zina Charles. But at least her Pony Post friends were just as thrilled about it as she was!

She clicked open a text box, thinking about how to respond. Just then she heard her aunt hollering her name.

Oops. Haley realized it was time to go. Writing back to her Pony Post friends would have to wait a little longer.

“Coming!” Haley shouted, tucking the laptop under her arm and heading for the stairs.

CHAPTER

HALEY YAWNED AS SHE SPUN
the combination lock on her locker. She was so tired that she had to do it three times before it clicked. As she swung the locker open, she glanced at the collage of pictures she'd taped inside the door. There were several photos of Wings. Her favorite one showed him wading in the farm pond, which reminded her of his Chincoteague heritage. There were also a couple of pictures of her and Wings jumping various things, including her aunt's favorite garden bench. Danny had taken that one—he was actually a pretty good amateur photographer.

More recently, Haley had added a big picture of Zina
Charles that she'd clipped out of a magazine. It showed Zina aboard one of her horses, a big bay with a wide blaze and a bold expression. The two of them were jumping an impressive-looking trakehner at last spring's Rolex Kentucky Three-Day, the most prestigious event in the United States.

“I'm getting there, Zina,” Haley murmured, brushing her fingers across the picture. She couldn't wait to meet Zina and soak up everything she could from her. All she needed was a little more money to pay the clinic fee. Then she and Wings would be on their way to moving up the levels. And maybe someday it would be them jumping a huge obstacle in some important competition. . . .

“Yo, Duncan,” a voice interrupted Haley's daydreams.

Blinking, she turned and saw Owen Lemke standing there, grinning at her. “Oh,” she said. “Hi.”

She'd known Owen for as long as she could remember. Not only were they in the same class at school, but he was a rider too. Haley often competed against him when she took Wings to local play days and team pennings. It wasn't eventing, but it was still fun—especially when
she and Wings beat out Owen and his fancy registered quarter horse.

“What're you doing?” Owen leaned past her, peering at the pictures in her locker. “Trying to figure out where to get a real horse instead of that weird East Coast thing you've been riding?”

Haley rolled her eyes. “Hardly. And even if I was, you're the last person I'd ask for help.”

Owen grinned. “Don't be a hater, just 'cause Chance and I beat you at that penning last month.”

“Only because our last cow was a dud. And don't forget, Wings and I beat you the three times before that,” Haley countered. “It's nice to have a horse who's good at everything, instead of one who can't do anything except chase cows.”

Owen snorted. “What else is there?” he said. “I'd never ask Chance to prance around in a fancy-prancy English saddle. If I did, he'd probably buck me off.”

“Probably,” Haley agreed with a smirk. “Come to think of it, you're probably better off sticking to Western. If you didn't have the horn to hold on to, you'd probably
fall off the first time your horse broke out of a slow Western Pleasure lope.”

Owen's friend John appeared just in time to hear the last exchange. “Ooh, burn!” he cried, shoving Owen into the lockers.

“Get out of my face.” Owen shoved John back. “What, are you thinking of trading in your cowboy boots for some tight britches, just like Haley?”

“No way!” John shoved Owen again.

Haley rolled her eyes as the two boys continued to trade taunts while they moved off down the hall. She was glad they'd forgotten about her. The teasing about being an English rider was familiar, and normally she didn't mind it. But today she was too tired to come up with good comebacks.

“I told you, Haley!” Tracey exclaimed, rushing over with her blue eyes wide and excited. “Didn't I totally tell you?”