No Horse Wanted (13 page)

Mom sat in the bleachers in the far corner of
the arena. For once she was quiet at a lesson instead of coaching
from the sidelines. That made it easy for me to listen to Rocky and
to stay relaxed in the saddle. After warming up, we moved our
horses out to the wall. Charming wanted to hang by his mama and
follow her around the arena, but I turned a couple circles and that
gave us space.

Walking, trotting, patterns and exercises at
various gaits kept us and the horses focused on performance. Rocky
had me pull Charming into the center when she wanted Dani and Vicky
to gallop. It was a very controlled run, what she called a slow,
show ring lope, but I was glad we didn’t have to participate. Oh
sure, I knew that Charming was trained for it, but just the idea
was enough to freak me out, much less careening around the ring and
trying to do it.

We finished by doing our version of the
Shamrock Stable Macarena, standing up in our stirrups, reins on the
neck and spelling out the name of the barn while we trotted our
horses. It was always fun, and according to Rocky, it helped with
our balance. It also boosted my confidence when I rode with no
hands, controlling Charming with my seat, legs, and other aids.
When we lined up in the center, Rocky told me that on Saturday I’d
be doing ground school with my lesson horse. There were several
things I needed to teach Twaziem. First I had to become skilled at
leading him, backing, long line driving, and longeing him. Since
Charming was already an expert, he could train me.

“Bring lots of carrots,” Rocky said. “You’ll
need them.”

“If I’m doing ground work on the weekend,
then why am I riding during the week?” I asked.

“Because you’ll be breaking Twaziem to ride
next summer when he turns three,” Rocky said. “And you need to have
incredible skills to train a young horse. You don’t want to teach
him things he shouldn’t learn, like people can fall off.”

“Good point,” I said, “but I’d rather have
you ride him.”

She nodded. “I’ll be the first person who
rides him. Sierra can take over once I know he’s trustworthy. She
can handle being bucked off, but I’m still a mom and I hate the
idea of her being hurt. I don’t want you messing up what we’ve
taught him, so you probably won’t be on his back before next
summer.”

“Okay, as long as I don’t have to be on him
when I might get hurt,” I said. “Jack says I’m wimpy and he’s
right.”

“You’re not wimpy,” Rocky said. “You’re
smart. Nobody wants to take flying lessons when they’re training a
horse, so we’ll skip those.”

After we unsaddled and groomed our horses, we
met Mom at the office. She drove Vicky home first, and once we were
alone, I asked her about a sleepover on Friday. Asking for
something like a slumber party in front of friends meant a
guaranteed
no
, but since I hadn’t, she was good with it.
Like she said, then she didn’t have to get up early to go pick up
Vicky. We could go straight to the barn in the morning. Porter and
Gwen could go on a trail ride while I had my lesson, then the three
of us would leave and let Vicky do her internship.

I arrived home in time to help Jack with
chores. While he did the other horses, I mucked Twaziem’s stall,
watered, and fed him. He flicked his ears at me when I worked
around him, but he didn’t try to bite or kick me. I remembered that
I needed to talk to Rocky about his gender bias and decided to
email her as soon as I got in the house. Then, I could ask her if
she would be able to send me blank pages for the binder I planned
to put together for Twaz. Next week when Officer Yardley showed up,
I’d show him what paperwork really looked like.

After dinner, it was Jack’s turn for dish
duty. Mom, Dad, and I headed for my father’s home office. I pulled
the contract Brenna had given me from my backpack and passed them
each a copy. “I really want this Mustang, and so I talked to Brenna
about the installment plan.”

Mom stared at me and then looked at the
figures on the sheet. “Twenty-one thousand dollars? Are you
serious? That’s a lot of money.”

“Not if you spread out the payments,” I said.
“And Brenna is willing to finance this herself.”

“Have you figured out the full amount you’ll
be paying over five years?” Dad turned on the calculator on his
desk. “Let’s do some math and see what the full price will be. How
will you make the payments?”

Mom looked at him as if he were crazy. “The
answer is no. School comes first, and she’s not getting a full-time
job so she can pay out close to five hundred dollars a month for a
sports car, John.”

“When you add in the insurance, taxes, and
licenses, it comes closer to six hundred,” Dad said.

Relief washed through me. He hadn’t said no.
He just wanted to talk money. With two of us on the same side, we
could convince Mom this was a good idea. I just knew it.

* * * *

Thursday, September
19
^th
, 3:15 p.m.

There were approximately ten schools in our
division, and of course, all of them had teams at the first meet.
There was lots of competition for the top four runners who would be
going to the state competition, two girls, and two guys. Porter,
Gwen, and I were three of the long distance runners for Lincoln
High. We would be one of the first groups to take off since we had
more than three miles to cover. It meant we found an empty spot
near a couple picnic tables and started stretching.

I really liked our navy and gold uniforms
better than last year’s crimson and gray. I looked so much better
in blue. Hey, that was important when Harry would see me at
assemblies and around school. There hadn’t been anything except an
announcement this morning at school to promote the first
cross-country meet, and I wasn’t surprised. It was football season
after all. Tomorrow’s pep assembly would be to rouse everyone’s
spirits for the game with Northside Academy in Snohomish, but if I
P.R.’d today, it might get mentioned, and did I say Harry would see
me? Yes! Another reason to do my best.

Coach Norris gave the team his usual pep
talk, then looked at me, Porter and Gwen. “I could say that it goes
without saying, but I’m saying it anyway...”

We all laughed and he shook his head at us,
but kept smiling. “I expect the
Three Musketeers
to come in
first, second and third, and everyone to P.R. today or at least try
their hardest.”

“How can they even finish when they kept
getting lost during practice?” Lew asked.

Coach Norris just eyed him for a long moment.
“Don’t worry about them, son. Just focus on keeping Steve in sight,
so you all finish in the top scorers, and I’ll be happy.”

“I don’t get it,” Lew said, as we jogged
toward the starting line.

He was a dark-haired, dark-eyed junior who
could have been a hunk if he didn’t sneer when he talked to girls,
so I pretty much ignored him. Steve took pity on him and said,
“Last year, Robin and Porter went to State. Gwen missed by two
points.”

“Not this year,” Gwen said. “One of them can
stay home.”

“If we tie, maybe they’ll send three of us
from our division,” I said.

“It’s never happened before,” Porter said,
“but as Coach says...”

“There’s a first time for everything,” Gwen
and I chimed in with her.

Lew looked at us as if we were nuts. It was
time to go. We lined up across the track. We watched the
official, 50 meters or more in front of the
starting line, wait for attention. Then he fired a pistol and we
took off.
I didn’t try to get out in front. Neither did
Porter or Gwen since we could make up time in the woods. We hit the
first hill, and I took the lead into the woods, passing Lew with a
friendly wave. I saw Steve ahead of me and increased my pace a
little.

Sunlight glinted through the trees, dancing
on the dirt path. It was the perfect day for a run, not too hot
with a cooling breeze. The leaves on the maples and alders had
started to turn color from green to gold and red. And the track was
dry because the rainy season hadn’t started yet. I passed two other
runners. They wore red, and I recognized Snohomish’s colors. Steve
was still ahead of me. He was so going down, even if he didn’t know
it yet.

This time the course was
clearly marked
with survey tape, so none of
the competitors would make wrong turns and nobody could interfere
with the race.
The trail wound up hill and down, winding
through the trees, and I heard the gurgle of a creek up ahead. It
was barely down to a trickle. I leaped over it and kept going. Out
of the corner of my eye, I saw Porter right behind me. We were
making great time. Up ahead, a log and a couple evergreen branches
lay across the path. Steve was the only one in front of us now. He
was over the cedar log, past the branches. I was right behind him,
then Porter and Gwen.

I heard a faint buzz. Weird. What could it
be? We were in the middle of nowhere.

And then somebody started yelling behind us.
A guy by the sound of it, but I didn’t recognize the voice.

I slowed down and Porter pushed my shoulder.
“Get going. Yellow jackets. Move it. Move it! Gwen’s allergic.”

I sped up, passed Steve, and we raced for the
next curve in the trail. Once around it, I slowed down to a jog to
check out Gwen. “Did you get stung?”

“No. It was the people behind me who got
swarmed.” Gwen wasn’t even breathing hard, and she looked fine. Her
face wasn’t swollen, and I didn’t see any big spots on her legs or
bare arms. “I’m okay. If I was stung, I’d be down on the ground,
and you’d be doing CPR. Let’s go. I want to P.R. today.”

“Okay, but get in front of us,” I said. “Then
if there are any more wasp nests, we’ll be the ones who get the
brunt of it.”

“Oh, aren’t you the fun girl,” Porter said,
sarcasm in each word.

“Yeah, I am,” I said. “And I’m so not giving
Gwen the kiss of life. She’s not my type.”

Giggling, Gwen took off like a rabbit being
pursued by a dog, her ash-blonde ponytail bouncing against her
shoulders. At this pace, we’d have no problem being the first ones
back. For a moment, I wondered what the other distance runners
would do about the yellow jackets, then decided I didn’t have time
to worry about them. I needed to keep up with Gwen, and wow, could
she run!

We were the first three runners to finish the
five kilometers or just over three miles. Gwen came in first, me
second, and Porter was right behind us. It would have been awesome
if we could have crossed the line together, but the end was always
set up in a funnel or lane to prevent that. We had to come in
single file so the scoring would be accurate.

Coach Norris caught up to us a couple minutes
later. “All three of you P.R.’d. Great job at your first meet,
girls! Now, if the rest of the team hustles, we could win this
thing!”

Chapter Sixteen

Thursday, September 19
^th
, 6:10 p.m.

To celebrate Lincoln High winning their first
cross-country meet, we swung through
Kentucky Fried
for
chicken on the way home. As soon as we arrived, Jack headed for the
barn to do chores. I’d just walked in the kitchen when the phone
rang. I hurried for the landline. “Hello.”

“It’s me,” Jack said. “Your horse has colic.
Tell the folks and I’ll start walking him.”

“I’ll be right there.” I turned to Mom.
“Twaziem colicked again. I’m changing and going to the barn.”

“Okay, I’ll mix up a mineral oil cocktail,”
Mom said.

“I’ll get the drugs.” Dad headed for the
refrigerator and the drawer where we kept horse medications. “We’ll
save him this time, Robbie. No problem.”

“I wonder why he’s sick. He was fine when I
fed lunch,” Mom said.

I left the two of them talking as they worked
and hustled to my room. It only took five minutes to switch from my
track suit to jeans, a T-shirt, and sweatshirt. I pushed my cell
into the back pocket of my jeans so I could call Dr. Larry if we
needed him. Then, after a pause in the back porch for my boots, I
was off to the barn.

When I arrived, Jack already had Twaziem in
the indoor arena. Pinned back ears, evil glares and if a horse
could stomp his hooves, mine was about to have a serious meltdown.
He snaked his head around and tried to bite at my brother again. I
went across the ring and took the lead. Twaz’s mood instantly
changed. Ears up, he nuzzled me. “Yes, I’m here to save you,
baby.”

“He’s a baby with teeth,” Jack told me,
rubbing his arm. “I’ve seen dogs lunge like that with their mouths
wide open, but never a horse. This guy has some issues. I’m going
to take care of everyone else and then go find the ice.”

“He’s lucky to have you on his side,” I said,
towing Twaziem around the arena. “A lot of guys would walk off and
let him die because of his crappy attitude.”

“I’m destined to be a hero.” Whistling, Jack
headed off to shovel horse poop.

“You’ve got to get over yourself.” I petted
Twaziem’s brown neck. “My brother will never hurt you. He’s not
like that creep, Caine. Okay?”

Another bump with his nose and I kept walking
him. “No, you don’t get any carrots right now. You have to get over
your tummy troubles and I need to hear your gut rumbling first,
plus I need to see and count lots of turds. Dad will never let me
have the Mustang if he has to pay another vet bill for you, so we
better not need Dr. Larry tonight.”

* * * *

Friday, September
20
^th
, 7:40
a.m
.

I barely got to school on time the next
morning, and of course, we were on assembly schedule today.
Luckily, I had Mr. Sutcliffe for Algebra instead of eagle eye, rule
worshipping Mrs. Weaver. He waited at the door and held my mocha
while I yawned my way through my backpack, hunting out my math
homework.