Nothing But Horses (2 page)

“You got it.” I watched Dave pick up my
sister and carry her out the door so she wouldn’t have to put on
her muck boots. Last time that Grandma and I talked, I told her
about Mom’s latest flirt. Grandma called him a nice guy and said
that he’d always been majorly decent. Even if I didn’t say so, I
had to agree.

I eyed Meredith. Didn’t she ever get tired of
being a witch? Hadn’t she done enough when she told Autumn not to
bother decorating her pony’s door for the contest? I mean, come on.
What kind of person gets pleasure out of picking on a
seven-year-old? Mom had run interference when my little sister
decided if she couldn’t participate, then she and her Shetland
would help judge the competition. Mom had said there would be a
special category for the owners, staff and interns, which totally
made Autumn happy. Of course, she threatened to beat all of us, but
I could deal with that.

“You know, we weren’t thinking about the
holidays and being fair to you, Merry,” I said.

She glared at me. “I hate nicknames.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, flicking a quick
glance at Mom. “Anyway, we think you should have a bonus and the
rest of the year off. We’ll see you in January.”

“Or February, if that’s better for you,” Mom
said, going to her desk in the corner of the room and opening up
the farm checkbook. “It will be crazy around here with the new
pre-owner program starting up, Sierra at a new school, and me
dating Dave. You may need some time to adjust.”

“We
will.” At a look from Mom, I
headed for the kitchen to make popcorn and pour sodas.

A short time later, I returned to the living
room with treats, passing around the drinks and putting the bowl of
popcorn on the coffee table where everyone could reach it. Dave was
in the other recliner, Mom and Autumn had the couch, and Meredith
was long gone. The only Grinch was the one on the TV. Dave put away
his cell phone. “Pizza’s on the way, ladies.”

* * * *

Marysville, Washington

Tuesday, December
17
^th
, 5:30 pm

I’d had high hopes that my at-risk teen group
meeting would be canceled because the holiday was so close, but
Mrs. Claus, as I referred to my therapist, had insisted we meet
tonight. She said that people tended to have a lot of baggage round
Christmas, and it didn’t all come in Santa’s sleigh. A couple
months ago, she and my mom had decided I needed to deal with my
anger issues and the fact that I thought most guys were dirtbags.
Make that lazy, lying, cheating dirtbags and it came pretty close
to what I still believed.

Mom might think this was helping me learn to
handle life. Frankly, I thought it was a wonderful way to get out
of the barn once a week. Much as I loved our horses, it was great
to have a night free from mucking, watering, and feeding. The work
was always harder in the winter when they stayed inside 24/7.

When I walked into the conference room, the
latest Shamrock Stable intern, Vicky got up from her chair. She
handed me a cup of spiced cider. Her makeup was light tonight. She
didn’t look as if she’d spent a lot of time chasing after her
step-sibs today. I was glad that things were getting better for
her. “You look good.”

“Thanks. Mom’s still helping around the house
and I’m starting to have a life.” Vicky hesitated. “It’s my turn to
ask for help from the group. Will you be straight up with me?”

“I’m always straight with everyone,” I said,
giving her a solid onceover. She wore the new jeans and the sweater
Jack’s mom bought her. “It’s how I win enemies and influence
rivals. Besides, you helped me organize my barn contest so I
wouldn’t have to help Mom sell horses. You should know by now that
I’ll do whatever you need.”

Vicky grinned appreciatively. “Do you
remember what Robin’s dad says about tact?”

“What?” I liked John Gibson. He was a good
accountant and he was nearly as blunt as I was. He’d helped me when
I wanted to raise prices before the holidays. “He’s amazing.”

“Yeah, well he loves quoting Winston
Churchill who said that ‘tact is the ability to tell someone to go
to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip.’ I’m just
saying you could opt for a bit of subtlety, Sierra.”

“It sounds like too much trouble,” I said.
“I’ll just offer driving directions to Hades so people who are a
waste of time, space, and oxygen don’t get lost.”

Vicky laughed and shook her head. I drank my
cider. The meeting was as boring as always when the other six teens
arrived. I endured the weekly whining and sniveling about how
everybody was abused or mistreated by life. Of course, this week
there was a lot more griping because they all had holiday baggage
to share.

Personally, I had to agree even if I wasn’t
stupid enough to share my feelings. Christmas generally sucked
since that was when my mother’s latest boy-toy or flavor of the
month acted out. However, this year was different. Dave didn’t
bring any drama with him to the barn or the house. He jumped in and
helped with whatever we were doing, whether it was mucking stalls
or setting the table for dinner.

The other thing that was different tonight
was the Lincoln High newspaper Vicky passed around. One of the
reporters had created an expose of her life. There were two pages
of pics that showed her babysitting her younger half-sibs, buying
groceries, hanging laundry and basically showing her daily
existence in all its sucky glory.

She wasn’t mad about the photos. She was
angry because the writer hadn’t included any details about what she
accomplished as the new Sophomore Class Prez. The group
brainstormed a few ideas, most of which centered on complaining to
the ‘powers that be’ at Lincoln High. Mrs. Claus, as I called her,
because she was round, jolly and white-haired sat and listened like
it was all new and not the same old tripe. I yawned. This was
majorly boring. “What if you do a guest commentary, Vicky?”

“A what?” Tom McNeely, a blond senior asked.
“How will that do any good?”

“It’s a newspaper. If you check out the
editorial pages of the Seattle or Everett papers, you’d see that
they welcome columns from knowledgeable people,” I said. “Vicky
writes one that tells all of the ‘deets’ about your food drive and
that toy drive she plans for next Christmas.”

“And the coat and blanket drive in January.”
Vicky smiled at me. “Great idea, Sierra. Can I email you a
draft?”

“Yeah, I guess. You promoted my ‘Deck the
Stalls’ contest. I’ll help you write a letter, but you have to
convince the morons at the paper to run it.”

“That’s a good solution. Thank you, Sierra.”
Mrs. Claus or Ingrid, which was her real name, smiled around the
group. “Let’s move on.”

Now, it was time for her to give us the
sitcom pabulum about being nice to each other and nice to everyone
in our little worlds. That way we would all have the perfect
holiday experience. I struggled not to groan aloud. This was more
of the stuff I shoveled in the barns. No, the manure was more
useful because when I spread it on the fields, the grass grew.

We went around the circle with Ingrid asking
us to share something positive we’d learned last week or were going
to try to do during the next week. As usual, it got to me and I
said, “I’m positively going to teach Summertime not to be afraid to
ride outside if it snows again.”

“Wasn’t that your goal last week?” Tom asked,
channeling
Dr. Phil
. “How’s that working for you?”

“It didn’t. Last week I was trying to
convince him that trees didn’t eat horses. He’s still scared of
them. We’ll have to go back to it. He decided that my little
sister’s snow people ate horses.”

“I’d really still like to see you work on
self-improvement,” Ingrid told me. “What could you do to make
your
life better, Sierra?”

“I’m still holding out for a few million
dollars,” I shot back, “but nobody’s bought me a lottery ticket
yet, and I can’t get my own because I’m only sixteen.”

Chapter
Two

Shamrock Stable, Washington

Wednesday, December
18
^th
, 3:30 pm

It was a great day when I got to ride with
other students and I didn’t have to babysit or horsy-sit. Mom was
down in the indoor arena discussing the Saturday schedule with
Vicky while she prepped the young Arabian, Aladdin she was
training. Robin had Prince Charming and I had my big, red bugger,
Nevada.

Across the barn aisle, Robin sang an off-key
version of
Blue Christmas
. Charm didn’t complain about the
sound effects and I kept my mouth shut. She didn’t need to hear
that I thought she ought to turn up the music on her IPOD instead
of trying to sing along. I liked Robin. I really did. If she just
wouldn’t sing!

Well, if I couldn’t block her out, I’d join
her. While I cleaned Nevada’s hooves, I chimed in on being blue
without whoever. Oh yeah, sure. Personally, I thought the holidays
sucked. I was always glad when my mom got rid of her latest boy-toy
so they couldn’t demand all of the attention and presents under the
tree. Autumn, my little sister was more mature.

“What do you want for Christmas?” Robin
asked, from the stall on the other side of the barn. “I mean
besides a new saddle blanket since you told me that Nevada chewed
the fringe on his.”

“Just to keep all of the horses,” I said. “I
hate it when my mom says we have to sell some. My grandparents will
be here tonight and Grandpa always wants to know who we’re sending
down the road.”

“The stable belongs to your mom, doesn’t
it?”

“She’s buying it from them,” I said, “and
since they hold the mortgage on it, Grandpa still likes to think
he’s the boss of the world.”

“Wow! I thought that was your title.”

“Stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine.” I
curried Nevada’s red hide and he leaned into the pressure. He
adored being groomed. He loved treats. He just thought the riding
portion of the lesson stunk. He had issues with unbalanced dudes
who sat like rocks in the saddle and pulled on his mouth. When he
got ticked enough, he opted for flying lessons. He’d drop his
shoulder, add a baby buck and watch the wanta-be cowboys and
cowgirls go splat. I swear he snickered at them, especially if they
landed in a pile of horsy poop.

I moved around to the right side and curried
some more, bringing up the dirt with the circular motion of the
rubber comb. “I think he found some mud somewhere. It’s kind of
hard to believe because I’d swear the dirt was frozen out in his
paddock.”

“Maybe, he thawed it by peeing on it,” Robin
suggested. “He can be disgusting.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a total slug like the guy
you love.” I switched over to the body brush and used the stiff
bristles to sweep away the crud. Nevada nudged me in search of
treats and I gave him a piece of carrot.

“You’re lucky we’re a team,” I told my horse.
“Otherwise, I’d ride your mom.”

I had him saddled and ready to go in another
ten minutes. I bridled him up with the snaffle I preferred for
arena work. Then, I went to check on Charm. Robin usually tacked
correctly, but it was an insurance requirement that every horse was
inspected before a student mounted up. Okay, so the agent wasn’t
standing in the barn verifying that I’d done my job, but I didn’t
want to lose the family home because I was negligent.

There wouldn’t be anywhere for us and the
horses to go if we were sued. I so wasn’t taking responsibility for
that. I started by checking the placement. The pads lined up with
the front of the arm. Yes, horses had those too even if they were
part of the leg. The saddle was in line with the back of Charm’s
arm.

I ran my hands over the saddle. Cinch okay,
not twisted. The left and right latigos were even with each other.
The breast collar fitted above the shoulders and didn’t cut off the
windpipe so Charm would be able to breathe during the lesson. The
tie-down snap on the middle cinch ring faced downward and that
meant it wouldn’t be gripping skin instead of metal – no blood
blister.

“Nice job,” I said. “Let’s go to class.”

“I can’t believe you still take lessons,”
Robin told me. “I’d think you’d know everything your mom has to
teach.”

“I may know most of what she does,” I said,
“but Nevada still has gaps in his horsy knowledge and thinks he
should be the class clown.”

Robin laughed appreciatively. She stepped up
to Charm’s left side, warming the bit in her hands. Then, she eased
the western curb into his mouth. She adjusted the chin strap,
fitted the headstall over each ear. She finished by giving him a
carrot. “You’re such a good boy.”

He nuzzled her and earned a hug. That got him
a second treat. He knew how to play the game and win the prize. I
gave Nevada a carrot so he wouldn’t feel like his little
half-brother got all the love. Then, we headed down to the indoor
arena. Vicky was ready to ride Aladdin when we arrived.

Jack sat on the bleachers. He waved at us
when we walked in with the other two horses. I led Nevada past him.
“Are you here for system support?”

Jack nodded, all concerned boyfriend. “I know
Vick has already ridden him a few times since she came off him a
couple weeks ago, but I just want to be here for a while.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said. “You’ll give her
confidence.”

He grinned at me and I caught my mom rolling
her eyes.
Oh, come on
, I thought.
Quit channeling
teenagers, Rocky. That’s my job!

Even if I claimed that most men were lazy,
no-good bums who preferred to watch us muck stalls rather than
taking part, I did like a few guys. Granted, they were usually the
ones my friends dated since they didn’t opt for scumbags. Jack and
his buddies were pretty decent. I wasn’t just saying that because
they came in and mucked stalls on a snow day so I could go shopping
with Robin and Vicky.