No Horse Wanted (11 page)

“Until next spring,” Jack said. “When we do
all the other critters on the farm, you’ll do him again.”

“Still sucks to be him.” I pulled him away
from the hay and led Twaziem outside the barn. Jack already had the
shaker can sitting on the lawn, a pair of plastic gloves underneath
it. He explained how to sprinkle the delousing powder into Twaz’s
mane, the dock of his tail, his girth area, inside his back legs,
around his ears, and along his spine.

But, that wasn’t all. I had to work the thick
white powder into my horse’s coat. The acrid dust blew into my
face, up my nose and tasted bitter. Twaziem snorted and snapped at
Jack, almost biting him, but my brother just kept pointing out the
spots I missed. I’d barely finished when a green and white
sheriff’s car pulled into the drive.

“I knew it,” I said. “This is against the
law. It’s sister abuse and I’m so turning you in.”

Jack laughed. “Go talk to the cop, Ms. Wimpy.
He’s probably lost. Stay downwind so he doesn’t have to smell you,
and I’ll put away Jaws. After that, hit the shower.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll hurry so I can come
back down and help after I clean up.”

“Don’t stress over it. I do chores all the
time and I’ll make the dinner table. You’d better, too, or Dad will
have a fit and fall in it.”

I nodded and started toward the cop car,
peeling off the plastic gloves. The big, burly guy in a dark blue
uniform climbed out and came toward me, carrying a metal case with
papers attached. “Hi,” I said. “Are you lost?”

“Not if this is the Gibson place.”

“Yes, it is.” I stared at him, aware of the
white powder on my arms and the smell. So much for looking decent
when people came to visit. That wasn’t happening. “Why?”

“I’m Officer Yardley.” He started to hold out
his hand like he wanted to shake hands and be polite. “I’m from
Animal Control.”

He stopped when I shook my head and didn’t
take his hand. “No, I stink. What are you looking for?”

“It’s more of a who.” He smiled, but it was
still scary because he didn’t look all that friendly and the smile
didn’t touch his dark eyes. “I think I saw the horse, but I’m
looking for Maura Gibson.”

“That’s my mom,” I said and jerked my head
toward the house. “And what do you want with my horse? We just got
him last weekend.”

“According to his previous owner, Maura
Gibson is the person who has him now.”

I heaved a sigh. “I hate being sixteen. He’s
mine, but Mom has her name on his papers until I’m an adult.”

“Okay, then let’s go talk to your mother. And
after that I want to see the horse. What were you doing with
him?”

“Can’t you smell it? I was delousing him. The
vet said he had to have it done again today, and my brother made me
do it this time. I majorly stink. And Jack said I couldn’t come in
the barn until I had a shower.”

“But your horse can?” The cop walked beside
me toward the house. “Why?”

“Because it’s supper time and he has to eat.”
I eyed him. “Don’t you know anything about horses? Jack says if
Twaziem doesn’t get his food at regular times, he’ll colic and that
would totally suck. I have a ton of homework, and I don’t want to
walk him all night.”

“I can see where that would be a problem.”
The cop looked like he was trying to hide a grin.

“Yeah, and you don’t even know my teachers.
They so need to get lives.” I led the way into the back porch. I
opened the back door and saw Mom in the kitchen stirring something
at the stove. “Mom, this cop is here about Twaziem. Don’t let him
arrest my horse.”

Chapter Thirteen

Tuesday, September 17
^th
, 6:05 p.m.

Mom turned off the burner, then came toward
us. “What have you been doing, Robin?” She sniffed and caught a
good whiff of the delousing powder. “Never mind. I know. Go hit the
shower, and on your way, tell your father to come join us. And
after that, put supper on the table for me.”

“But, what about Twaz?”

“He’ll be fine,” Mom said. “Before the county
can remove him, they have to serve us with papers and that takes
time. Believe me, if your dad has to wait for dinner, that will be
worse than anything you’ve ever seen. Get busy.”

“Okay.” I headed for the study.

Behind me, the cop called, “It was nice to
meet you, Robin.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” I said, but I was lying. I
didn’t trust the cop. Actually, when it came down to it, I didn’t
trust anyone but us to take care of Twaziem. A lot of people would
look at him and see death walking. They’d be like the guy who
wanted to take him to slaughter, not put the time and energy into
saving his life.

When I told Dad about the Animal Control cop
coming to see Twaziem, Dad hurried off to help Mom. He paused long
enough to pat my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, honey. Take your shower
and keep your cell with you. I’ll call if I want you to get our
lawyer. Your horse isn’t going anywhere.”

I nodded and headed for my bathroom. I washed
my hands and arms before I got out my cell phone and put it on the
vanity. Now, it wouldn’t stink like the lice powder. I slid out of
my clothes, piling them on the tile floor next to the hamper. I’d
take them to the laundry room and dump them in the washer right
after my shower.

I hurried through washing my hair and
showering away the smell. Then, I toweled off and blew dry my hair.
I hustled into clean underwear, a T-shirt and jeans. I didn’t
bother with makeup, which was totally not like me. I always wore
it, even when I did cross-country, but it wasn’t true that I had to
look perfect to go to the barn, no matter what Jack said.

I bundled my smelly clothes into the towels
and went to throw everything in the washer on the hot cycle. Once
that was done, I checked the meatloaf. It was ready. So were the
potatoes when I poked them with a fork. Same went for the green
beans—they’d finished steaming after Mom turned off the heat. I
wasn’t putting the food on the table to get cold. Dad would hate
that.

I checked my cell. He hadn’t called. Did we
need a lawyer or not? When I looked out the front window, I still
saw the green and white sheriff’s car. Okay, so Officer Yardley was
still here. Didn’t he have a home? And why didn’t he go there?

I pulled on my running shoes. I didn’t need
my boots. It wasn’t like I’d be in the stall with Twaziem. I was
just going back to the barn to save him. There was no way I’d let
this guy have him, not when he obviously hadn’t done much to make
the Bartlett brats step up and look after him.

Dad and Mom came out of the barn with Officer
Yardley between them. I went to meet them. “He’s mine, right?”

“For now,” Officer Yardley said.

“For keeps,” I said. “So, what’s it going to
take to make you go away and not come back? How do I make that
happen?”

“By being polite,” Mom said.

I shook my head. “No. I don’t think so. Mrs.
Bartlett was dying of cancer and her snarky, nasty grandkids didn’t
feed Twaziem.” I stared at Officer Yardley. “And he left him there
to starve. So, why do I have to be polite?”

“Because if you’re not,” Dad said, “I’ll
ground you past forever and you’ll lose all your privileges, but
none of your responsibilities.”

I folded my arms, tapped one foot, and glared
at him, even though it wouldn’t work. Dad was almost as stubborn as
I was. The cop grinned at me, but I didn’t smile back. I just
waited for a long moment, then another one and a third. “He’s
mine.”

“I can see that you folks are trying to do
right by him,” Officer Yardley said. “And as long as he keeps
gaining weight, I don’t have a problem with him living here. I’ll
talk to Dr. Tomlinson about the prognosis and I’ll also be in touch
with your farrier.”

“And you’ll leave Mrs. Bartlett alone,” I
said. “She has enough to contend with. She doesn’t need to be
hassled because her family messed up when she was in the hospital
with cancer. Harass them. If you want their addresses, I’ll get
those for you. I have friends who still go to school with
them.”

He stared at me suspiciously. “Why would you
do that?”

“Hello? How do you do your job?” I asked, but
I didn’t wait for an answer from him. “The three of them are
rotten, and they had to learn to be mean to animals from somebody,
so you should go after their parents.”

Utter silence from the three adults who
stared at me, then at each other. I didn’t have a problem ratting
out the three Bartletts. It wasn’t because I was afraid of them. I
wasn’t. I just didn’t like Caine who was overtly cruel or his
cousins who were covertly abusive. Either way somebody helpless
always suffered whenever the Bartletts were around, and it didn’t
matter if it was a two-legged or four-legged person.

The cop made a couple more notes then closed
up the metal case that held his paperwork. “I really don’t see the
point in citing you folks for doing something kind. I’ll be back to
check on Twaziem once a week for the next month. As soon as he has
a substantial weight gain, I’ll close the case.” He eyed me. “And
if you’re willing to give me names, I’ll look into it, Robin. This
was the first time I found Mrs. Bartlett at home, and now, I know
why.”

He was gone in less than five minutes. I
walked up with my parents toward the house. Dad hugged me, then
said, “Robbie, you need to work on your diplomacy.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like your grandmother says, ‘Diplomacy is
the art of telling someone to go to hell in such a way that he
looks forward to the trip,’” Mom said. “And honey, sooner or later,
people are going to realize that you’re very intelligent. You can’t
play the blonde dimwit card forever.”

“Hey, if they’re stupid enough to buy into
stereotypes, why should I stop them?”

Both my folks laughed, which was my intent. I
didn’t need to be on Dad’s list and grounded past forever when I
wanted to have a sleepover on Saturday. We walked into the kitchen
together and found Jack sitting at the table, holding a bag of
frozen peas on his upper arm. I felt my stomach lurch. “Oh no. What
happened?”

“Jaws of the Baskervilles,” Jack said. “In
other words, your horse took a bite out of me, and I wasn’t even
the one who deloused him. He has some issues.”

“I already told you that he doesn’t like
guys,” I said, “and now I know why. I ran into Phil at practice
today, and he told me that Caine, Wanda, and Ashley Bartlett are
whining up a storm because I have their horse.”

Jack whistled softly. “When is your first
meet? Thursday, right? I’ll go with you.”

“So will we,” Mom said. “Now dish up supper,
Robin. Slide out of that shirt, Jack, and let me look at your arm.
Did he break the skin?”

* * * *

Wednesday, September
18
^th
, 7:00 a.m.

All the way to school, I kept thinking about
Twaziem and Jack. My brother hadn’t mentioned the horse bite to the
cop and that was a relief. I’d never seen the horse do anything
other than stomp his feet and kick at the wall. How was I supposed
to know he’d bite Jack? I didn’t think it had anything to do with
the carrots I fed Twaz. Treats didn’t make him bite. For some
reason, he connected my older brother to his previous home and the
abuse he’d suffered. There had to be a solution because if the
Morab was dangerous, Dad wouldn’t want us to keep him.

“Are you stressing over anything in
particular, Robbie?” Dad asked.

“Just Twaz,” I said. “I’m going to talk to
Rocky when I have my lesson today. There has to be a way to show
him that all guys aren’t the same. And at least Rocky admits horses
have preferences when it comes to riders. Some trainers don’t.”

“Well, you’re thinking up solutions. Good
job.”

He seemed pretty receptive, so I asked, “Dad,
can we talk about the Mustang tonight? You, me, and Mom.”

“Sure,” Dad said. “As long as breaking into
your college fund isn’t one of the options, I’d love to hear what
you’ve come up with. I’ve always admired your determination.” He
grinned at me. “You brighten my days.”

“I do? How?”

Dad chuckled. “Oh, how about the time you
decided your grandparents should visit Cobbie when they didn’t want
to? I barely managed not to laugh after the pony disgraced himself.
I thought I’d choke when I saw the look on my old man’s face.”

I stared at him. “I thought you were mad at
me that day.”

“At you?” Dad shook his head, still grinning.
“Oh, I won’t say you’ve never annoyed me over the years, Robbie. It
wouldn’t be true. But, that day? No. You’re such a spitfire. It’s
why my mom says that you’re just like my father.”

“Wonderful. Well, if you expect me to join
the Marines, forget about it. It’s so not happening.”

“Good. Having you in danger would keep me
awake nights.”

Coffee in hand, I was at school a few minutes
later. Porter, Gwen, and I hung out in the Commons, waiting for
Vicky, but she was a no-show. I knew she’d be late when the warning
bell rang and we hadn’t seen her. I stopped by her locker on the
way to English and grabbed her stuff before I headed to class. Her
younger brothers and sisters must have been in slow motion today
and she had to drop them by the day care a half mile away before
she came to school. And they were walking, since her mother had the
car.

Vicky rushed in the door three minutes after
the final bell rang, and Mrs. Weaver glared at her from the front
of the room. “You’re late, Victoria. Go get an admit slip from the
office.”

“Please don’t make me. Another tardy and I’m
on academic probation, and that means I’m off cheer.”

“You should have thought of that when you
didn’t get to school on time.”

“If I get kicked off cheer, it messes with
athletic scholarships,” Vicky tried again. “Please, Mrs. Weaver. I
promise I won’t be late anymore.”