No Time for Horses (5 page)

“What’s up?” Sierra asked. “Need some
help?”

“I’m not having a great day,” I said. “Your
mom told me to saddle up Summertime and I’d feel better.”

“When I feel bad, I ride Dream,” Autumn told
me. “She makes me forget the lonely cobble-wobbles inside. Want us
to help brush your horse?”

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I’ll get his halter and grooming kit.”
Autumn marched off to the tack room, a seven-year-old in charge of
the world as she saw it.

Sierra waited until her sister was out of
earshot. “Are your folks using you like a tennis ball again,
bouncing you back and forth?”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

“Listen to my mom or Robin’s dad. Like
Winston Churchill said, ‘There’s something about the outside of a
horse that’s good for a man.’ You can always apply that to women
too.”

“I’ll remember it,” I said, beginning to feel
better.

With the three of us working, it didn’t take
long to brush Summertime and tack him up for the lesson. When I led
him into the ring, nobody else was there. I walked him around a
couple of times in each direction so he could see that we were
perfectly safe. He flicked his ears, switching back and forth from
monocular to binocular vision.

Those tulip-shaped ears were my signal for
what Summertime watched. He arched his neck and pranced next to me,
little baby steps so I’d know that he was doing his
Wizard of
Oz
dance. I might not see any ‘lions, tigers, or bears’ in the
indoor arena, but I wasn’t a four-legged walking sandwich that knew
everything planned to eat him.

Scanning straight ahead, his eyes worked
together, focusing on everything that moved and a few things that
didn’t. Since he was a prey animal, he’d want to run first, look
second, and think last. When he calmed down, he’d return to
monocular vision, the left eye seeing off to the left, and the
right eye seeing off to the right. The information would be
recorded on each side of his brain and Rocky said the two sides
barely talked to each other. That was why horses spooked whenever
people changed directions.

Throw in a few other details like gates that
appeared as holograms, dogs that seemed as big as ponies, and
obstacles that became invisible at the last moment, it was little
wonder my horse had issues. I reversed and took Summertime the
other way on the right track. He’d started to settle down so I
paused in the center of the ring to tighten his cinch.

“Go ahead and mount up,” Sierra said. “You
can warm him up at a walk and trot. I’ll stick around until Mom
gets here.”

“All right.” I led the Arabian over to the
mounting bench. “Thanks, Sierra.”

“It’s what friends are for,” Sierra told me.
“Like my counselor says, ‘You can’t let people who do so little for
you control so much of your mind, thoughts, feelings, and
emotions.’”

I eyed Sierra again and then nodded in
agreement. She made all sorts of sense. I swung up into the western
saddle, settled into the seat, and gathered up my reins. Whenever I
sat on a horse, I felt like I’d come home. I turned Summertime onto
the left track, and he picked up a medium walk. The tension slowly
eased out of my back. At last, I felt as if Rocky was right.
Everything would work out.

* * * *

Wednesday, November 13th, 7:30 p.m.

Our house was dark when Jack pulled into the
drive after my lesson, barn work, and dinner at the local burger
joint. He put an arm around my shoulders. “Want me to come in with
you?”

“That’d be great.” I took a few minutes to
sort through my purse and pull out my keys. Okay, so I was sixteen.
I still hated going into a pitch-black room even if I was too old
to be scared. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Hey, I’m good at driving off dragons. Just
ask my sisters.”

I laughed, feeling even better. Holding
hands, we walked up to the front door. I unlocked it and led the
way inside, clicking on lights. “Watch where you step.”

“I know that by now,” Jack said.

I followed his gaze around the hall. Coats,
shoes, and toys were scattered on the floor between here and the
kitchen. I definitely didn’t want to go there. “Well, it looks like
the house is safe.”

“How do you know?” Jack asked. “Maybe a
burglar broke in and trashed the place.”

“Not hardly. No self-respecting thief would
admit to coming in here.”

It was Jack’s turn to laugh. “Okay, I’ll
vacuum. You pick up all the crap off the floor. Deal?”

“No way,” I said. “I’d never ask you to do
that.”

“You’re not asking. And I’m not leaving you
to clean up this pit by yourself.”

“I should have expected the house to be
destroyed since I spent the night downstairs.”

“Think positive. We only have one level to
muck, and there isn’t any poop on the floor,” Jack said. “Come on,
girlfriend. Sooner to it, sooner through it.”

He was such a hunk and pure sweetness too. I
couldn’t think of another guy who’d volunteer to help clean house.
I pulled the Hoover out of the hall closet. While he vacuumed the
formal living room and dining room, I began collecting all of the
treasures. The house wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Mom never
allowed the kids to play in the front rooms reserved for company.
They just needed to be vacced and dusted. The same went for the
dining room and the master suite.

However, the rest of the house disgusted me.
I couldn’t believe they’d left the kitchen for me to clean when I
hadn’t even been here for breakfast. I loaded the dishwasher and
wiped down the counters and walls. I mopped the floor, not like
there was a choice when someone spilled apple juice. Then, it was
onto the family room.

Two and a half hours later, the house was
immaculate. Jack had kissed me goodbye and made his escape before
my family arrived home. I sat on top of the washing machine reading
my SSR book for English class. I glanced up at the thud of
footsteps in the hall and saw Kevin with the diaper bag, followed
by Mom carrying a sleepy Chrissy.

“Hey,” I said. “How was your day?”

“I had the early swing shift,” Mom said. “And
then the kindergarten teacher called me because nobody picked up
the kids at school.”

I slid off the washer and put my book up out
of reach on the highest shelf by the laundry detergent. “Wednesday
is my internship. You both know that. I think you should give the
daycare staff permission to collect the kids at the elementary
school. They could take them back to the center.”

“I don’t want to stay there.” Kevin glared at
me. “It’s just a bunch of little brats.”

“Well, you should fit right in,” I said,
taking my baby sister from Mom. “If you want people to think you’re
responsible, try acting like it.”

“Why should I?” He shoved the diaper bag at
me. “I don’t want to have to do what you do all the time.”

I laughed at him, slinging the strap onto my
shoulder. “Well, sweetie, think ahead. I’m out of here in a year
and a half. Who will be running the house when I go to Clinton
Anderson’s school in Texas or Monty Roberts’ farm in
California?”

Mom spun around, staring at me as if I was a
total stranger. “Vicky, no! I need you. I count on you. What will I
do without you?”

“You better start training another maid,
cook, nanny, and bottle washer,” I said. “My Cinderella license
expires on my eighteenth birthday.”

I left her sputtering and Kevin whining
behind me. I carried Chrissy down the hall to our bedroom. Her
diaper was dry, but I changed it anyway. Linda and Cathy charged
into the room and then stopped to gape at the piles of clothes and
toys on their beds. “Put your things away,” I said, “and get into
your jammies. You better hurry if you want a story.”

“But, you always put away our things,” Cathy
told me.

“I know,” I said, “but it’s been six months
and I’ve already done it once. Since you threw your clean clothes
on the floor, it’s your turn to pick them up. Same goes for your
games.”

“What if I don’t?” Cathy lifted her chin,
narrowing blue eyes. “What will you do?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I finished easing
Chrissy into her sleepers and tucked her into the crib. “I’m out of
here in a year and a half. If you want to sleep with your clothes
and toys until I move out, you can.”

“Pick up and put away, Cathy.” Linda tossed
her blonde curls. “I want my story. If you’re mean, I won’t get
one.”

It only took a half hour to get the four
older kids tucked into their beds. I read two stories to the twins.
Cathy and Kevin always claimed they didn’t care about the ritual,
but then again, they always listened. For once, they’d all put away
their belongings, and I decided it was time for new rules. I had
places to go and things to do. My parents might think I was a maid,
nanny, and housekeeper, but my siblings needed to learn better. If
I didn’t teach them to respect me, who would?

Mom sat at the kitchen table reading the
newspaper. I poured myself a glass of milk and went into the
laundry room to get my SSR book. When I came back, Mom pushed back
in her chair and eyed me warily.

“Vicky, sit down. We need to talk.”

“About what?” I leaned against the counter,
sipping my milk. “I can’t think of anything we need to say.”

“Your internship for one. Your nasty attitude
for another.” Mom drew a deep breath. “And your school for a
third.”

I froze, dread creeping through my body. My
voice felt trapped. I barely managed to croak, “What about my
school?”

“The tuition falls due in January, and we
don’t have it,” Mom said. “Your dad won’t pay it this year. You’re
going to have to leave Lincoln High and attend public school.”

Chapter Five

Wednesday,
November 13th, 11:30 p.m.

It felt like someone punched me in the
stomach. I struggled to breathe. “Why are you doing this? What have
I ever done to make you and Dad hate me so much?”

“What are you talking about? We don’t hate
you.” Mom ran a hand through her short brown hair, so much like
mine. “Honey, it’s a fact of life. When a couple divorces, the
woman’s and kids’ standard of living drops while the guy’s
improves. This isn’t personal. I can’t afford to send you to
Lincoln High. You have to transfer to a public school.”

“You hate me.” If I hadn’t been so angry, I’d
have started bawling. “You and Dad just don’t have the guts to
admit it. Wait a second. He really isn’t my father, is he? I
shouldn’t be calling him ‘Dad’. Do you want me to call him by his
first or last name? I wouldn’t want you to say I have a
bad
attitude.”

“Give it a rest, Victoria. He’s been your
father since you were six years old. You don’t have to call him
anything else.”

“Really.” I spun around, shaking with fury. I
wouldn’t let her see me cry. I wouldn’t! “You two treat me like a
servant, not as if I’m your daughter too. Now, you want to take me
away from my friends, my teachers, my riding instructor, and
anybody else who stands up to you.”

“You’re just being silly. You can still see
your friends even if you do attend a new school.”

“Oh, let’s be honest here.” I stalked over to
the sink, rinsed my glass, and put it in the empty dishwasher.
“Once I leave Lincoln in the lurch so the cheer squad doesn’t get
to compete in rec cheer competitions and win another title, nobody
will be speaking to me. And that’s what you really want, isn’t
it?”

“There’s no talking to you when you get on
the pity-pot.” Mom pushed back her chair and stood. “It’s not all
about you, Vicky. I’m giving you a heads-up that things are going
to change even more. Please make sure the master suite is clean
tomorrow. I have a possible renter coming to look at it when we get
back from the counselor’s.”

“Yes, Mrs. Miller. I’ll be happy to do that
for you around cleaning the rest of the house, doing all of your
brats’ laundry, and prepping and cooking three meals, Mrs. Miller.
Is there any possibility that you’ll pick up the kids to take them
there, Mrs. Miller, or should I plan on skipping cheer practice
again so we can walk to the shrink’s office?”

Since I knew the answer already, I grabbed my
paperback and stormed out. Okay, it was immature, but I didn’t
care. The only support system I had was at my school. My teachers
went all out so I could keep up my grades. My cheer coach bent over
backward to keep me on the squad. My friends lined up to babysit.
My wonderful guy had even helped muck out this rathole tonight so I
didn’t end up doing everything.

I stopped in the bedroom long enough to grab
my nightgown, my backpack, and a change of clothes before I headed
down to the basement. I was through pretending I was a part of her
freaking family. I wasn’t. Tomorrow, when I cleaned the house, I’d
move into the studio apartment, and I wasn’t paying one cent of
rent. My work had to count for something. And the nice Vicky was
done. When I got to the counselor’s with the kids, I was letting
her know all about this crap-fest. If she gave me the line of bull
that we were in the midst of a transition which was hard on
everyone concerned, I’d let her know that six months was long
enough. Mom and Dad, I mean Rick Miller, could just get over
themselves.

* * * *

Thursday, November 14th, 7:05 a.m.

I was in the Commons when Robin arrived with
a mocha for her and a peppermint latte for me. She gave me a big
brown-eyed look, obviously surprised I wasn’t late for school. I
glared at her. “Do
not
start with me. You will not win.”

“Wow, someone needs some caffeine.” She
handed over the cup containing my sixteen-ounce latte. “Do I want
to know why you’re here on time? Or will you bite my head off?”

“I woke up the wicked witch of the western
hemisphere at six a.m. and asked her if she wanted me to get her
brats up and off, or if she’d like to pretend to be their mother
and do it herself.”