Midnight Mystery: 4 (Winnie the Horse Gentler) (4 page)

The Colonel covered the runaway so smoothly, for a second I wondered if I’d imagined trouble. But I know a terrified horse when I see one.

I turned the corner to an open field and spotted Ramon sitting on the ground with Catman beside him.

“Not very impressive,” Ramon said as I ran up to them. “Two spills in one day. I’m glad the circus scout wasn’t around.”

“That’s a bad scene, man!” Catman helped Ramon up.

“I’ll get your horse,” I offered.

Ten yards away Midnight stood statue-still, his black skin twitching.

“Easy, boy,” I coaxed. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Midnight let me walk up to him, but he jerked his head away. White circled his pupils, a sure sign of fear. Keeping my hands low, I scratched his chest, then moved slowly up his neck. Mom taught me that horses need scratching. If you can discover their favorite spots, they’ll do almost anything for you. After a while, I found Midnight’s soft spot under his wavy mane.

I led him back to Ramon. “Want me to cool him down?”

“Thanks, Winnie,” Ramon said. “I hate that I missed my cossack act.”

The Colonel’s voice was announcing the return of the LeBlonds and their amazing Lipizzaners. They must have been covering for Ramon.

I unbuckled the silver-trimmed, brown saddle and slid it off with the blanket. Midnight sidestepped.

Catman and Ramon rushed to help me with the saddle.

“See how Midnight’s back twitches?” I asked. “Like it’s sore or—ouch!” Something jabbed my hand as Catman took the saddle blanket from me.

I flipped the blanket over. A giant burr was stuck to the underside. “No wonder Midnight acted up!” I pulled out the burr. It looked like a miniature porcupine.

Ramon shook his head. “I check my equipment before every performance.” He stroked Midnight’s back. Midnight pranced in place, still unsettled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but it’s not just that burr.” He turned to me. “Winnie, if you really can help horses, will you help Midnight Mystery? I have to get him back to normal before Friday!”

As I stared back at Ramon, I felt something horses sometimes experience. Two horses who want to break from a stable or get to greener grass can form an instant connection if they want the same thing. At that moment I knew Ramon and I wanted the same thing—to recapture a world that had included our mothers. I needed to put on a horse show just like my mom had. And Ramon needed to star in the circus that had once starred his mom. “I’ll do everything I can,” I promised.

The Barker children and dogs slept most of the drive back home. Catman and I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Barker and Granny Barker before hopping out at my house.

I was glad Catman got out with me, but I didn’t envy him walking back to his place. The Coolidges live in a three-story mansion that could have starred as a haunted house in a horror movie. The first time I saw it, I thought the house was deserted.

We ran inside. “Dad! Lizzy!” I shouted. I couldn’t wait to tell them about the circus.

Lizzy burst into the room in high-speed talking mode. With her dark hair and green eyes, my sister looks like I would if I were two inches taller, had better hair, and lost my freckles. Some people mistake us for twins, even though she’s a year younger. “Winnie! Catman! You’ll never believe this! It
so
rocks! Guess! No, you’d never guess!”

“Lizzy,” I tried, “slow down.”

“When they called, I answered. And they said, ‘Didn’t you get the confirmation packet?’ And I said, ‘Huh?’ And they said, ‘Oh no, you didn’t get the tickets?’ And I asked what they looked like and they told me. So I searched through that whole pile of mail Dad hasn’t even touched, while they’re still on the phone saying how they can’t trust the mail anymore, but I found it! Straight from Chicago, with Dad’s name on the envelope and—!”

“What are you talking about?” I interrupted.

“The Invention Convention, of course! Dad won the Inventor’s Contest!”

“Far out!” Catman exclaimed.

“You’re kidding!” I thought back to how Dad hadn’t even wanted to enter the contest. Catman and I had talked him into it.

“Imagine!” Lizzy continued. “The Chicago Invention Convention! All expenses paid! I wish I could go with him. Remember Zack? Wasn’t he in that school we went to in Chicago? One of the
I
states for sure. I’ll bet by now he’s—”

“Chicago?” I repeated. “Dad’s going to Chicago? Flying?” Images of planes crashing and burning flashed to my brain. “On a plane?”

“Duh,” Lizzy teased. “All the geese were booked.”

I tore down the hall to Dad’s bedroom.

“Winnie, you’re back!” He pulled down an old suitcase from his closet.

Catman stepped in. “Groovy, Mr. W. Congrats!”

“Thanks, Catman.” Dad plopped the suitcase onto his bed and dusted it with his sleeve. “I still can’t believe I won! I have you two to thank. I never would have entered that contest if it hadn’t been for you.”

I didn’t want any of that credit. What if the plane got hijacked? “Dad, don’t go! I mean, you can’t just leave Lizzy and me!”

Dad chuckled. “Don’t worry, honey. Catman’s parents have graciously offered to let you girls stay with them while I’m away. Bart’s driving me to the airport Monday so I don’t have to leave the cattle truck in the Cleveland parking garage. He offered to come pick up some of your things for the week.”

“The week?” I repeated, a lot louder than Dad.

“I should be back sometime next Saturday night.” He clicked the suitcase open.

“Dad, you can’t go,” I said quietly.

Dad frowned.

“Friday’s Mom’s birthday.”

Dad’s frown caved in deeper. He’d forgotten. I saw it in his eyes. My dad had forgotten Mom’s birthday.

“I’m sorry, Winnie.” His shoulders slumped. He was going to change his mind. I knew it. No way would my dad break Mom’s birthday tradition.

Dad broke into a smile. “I know! We’ll celebrate Sunday when I get back! How’s that?”

“That stinks!” I shouted, feeling overheated, like the house’s forced-air heater would suffocate me. “Mom’s birthday isn’t Sunday! It’s Friday!”

Dad opened his dresser drawer and riffled through it. “Your mother would understand, Winnie. She always said I should take a chance and create. She said I could do anything. . . .”

I couldn’t speak. My head pounded.

Lizzy walked in and plopped on the bed. “You are
so
lucky, Dad! Well, not luck. I mean, you must really be a great inventor! And Chicago! Sweet!”

“Lizzy, Dad wants to be gone on Friday!” Dad might be able to hold out against me, but not against Lizzy, who almost never argues with him. “We have to watch
Lady and the Tramp,
and—” I didn’t want to give away the horse show surprise—“and eat spaghetti!”

“Hey!” Lizzy cried, sitting up cross-legged. “We can do it when Dad gets back! I’ve got Power of the Pen on Friday anyway. You know, that essay competition in Mansfield?”

Was I the only one who cared? Tears pushed at my eyes, making my head throb harder.

Dad put his hands on my shoulders. “Winnie, I’m sorry about all this. Although I have to admit, I thought you’d be happy for me.”

I shook him off. I
wasn’t
happy for him. I wasn’t happy for me or anybody else.

“Hey! There’s no school on Friday. Teacher’s convention, I think. Maybe you and Catman can do something fun together!” Lizzy suggested.

I didn’t want fun. I wanted Mom. And if I couldn’t have her, couldn’t I at least have her birthday? What was wrong with them? Had they changed so much they didn’t even miss Mom?

“Fine!” I snapped. I didn’t need them. I’d celebrate Mom’s birthday on my own. They could have their lives, and I’d have mine. Colonel Coolidge had invited Nickers and me to be greeters, and greeters we’d be! “You and Lizzy can do whatever you want!
I’m
joining the circus!”

I cried myself to sleep that night after a picture of every one of Mom’s birthday horse shows had flashed through my brain.

It wasn’t until the middle of the night that Dad’s words sank in. I bolted straight up in bed, sheets tangled around me. Lizzy and I were moving into Coolidge Castle!

Sunday morning I walked through cold dawn darkness to the barn. I needed a bareback ride on Nickers to clear my head. Early frost clung to fallen leaves, turning the pasture into a giant bowl of frosted cereal flakes.

When I finished riding Nickers, I took a spin on Hawk’s Appaloosa. Towaco had started out in the ritzy Stable-Mart, owned by Spider Spidell, who seems to have multiple arms clutching his Ashland businesses: A-Mart Department Store, Pet-Mart, Pizza-Mart, Burger-Mart, and Stable-Mart. Towaco, like all horses in Spidells’ sterile, unfriendly stable, had been caged in his stall nearly 24 hours a day. No wonder he’d turned into a problem horse.

Mr. Spidell’s daughter, Summer, and I tried to stay out of each other’s way, which wasn’t easy since we had some of the same classes in middle school. To Summer Spidell and her friends, I’d never be Winnie the Horse Gentler. I was nothing more than Odd-Job Willis’s kid, a wild Mustang to Summer’s classy American Saddle Horse.

By the time I’d finished brushing, mucking, and feeding, I had to head in to get ready for church. Maybe by now Dad had come to his senses. I imagined him downing a giant Lizzy-breakfast and waiting to tell me he’d changed his mind about Chicago.

But nobody was in the kitchen. Not even the reliable scent of Sunday pancakes was there. Instead, I heard Dad and Lizzy laughing as they searched for jokes Dad could use in his acceptance speech. He wasn’t even going to church with us. In Wyoming, Mom had seen to it that we never missed church. Although Dad had stopped going after Mom died, since we’d moved to Ashland, he’d started up again.

But not this Sunday. He had to get ready for Chicago.

Catman showed up late for church and sat by me in the Barker pew. I asked him to tell his great-grandfather that Winnie Willis and Nickers were signing on as circus greeters for Ashland.

After church, I didn’t feel like talking to Dad. I changed clothes and tried to leave before he could say another word about Chicago.

I’d made it to the front door when Dad caught me. “Winnie! There you are! You slipped out this morning before we could talk.” He was wearing an orange jumpsuit, and he hadn’t shaved. I guess people think my dad’s handsome, but right then he looked more like a prisoner than an inventor. “So . . . the circus . . . the Invention Convention . . . we’re okay?”

My dad isn’t much better at communicating than I am.

“I’m in a rush, Dad.” I jerked the door open and hurried out.

“Winnie?” Dad’s voice faded as I closed the door and ran down the steps.

I didn’t stop running until I reached the brick building where I work part-time for Pat Haven. I stopped to catch my breath and stared at the picture window, where faded white letters spelled out
Pat’s Pets.

Pat’s round face appeared through the glass. She waved, then came around to open the door. Pat’s not only my boss. She’s the substitute teacher for my life science class
and
our landlord. She’s also my friend. Pat’s not much taller than me. When she laughs, her brown curls bounce across her forehead. My mom would have called her “spirited.” They would have liked each other.