Pleasure Horse (10 page)

Figuring out a solution—and one that involved horses—had put Stevie in the best mood she’d been in all weekend. She felt exuberant riding through the snowy night on an important mission. It would make a great story to tell Carole and Lisa—providing it worked. The one worrisome thing was that as Stevie and her uncle rode into town, they passed a few shops that were closed. The dark, quiet Main Street was like a deserted ghost town.

“You do think the supermarket will be open, don’t you, Uncle Chester?” Stevie asked anxiously.

Uncle Chester frowned. “I hope so. It’s supposed to stay open for another half hour, but you never know, with the weather this bad.”

A little farther down the road, Stevie noticed that the lights were on at the local gas station’s Quickie Mart. That was a good sign. She patted Sparkles and crossed her fingers. It would be terrible to have to go home after their dramatic departure and face Angie’s disappointment. Besides, Stevie was excited about the party now, too.

Before she could fret any longer, they turned into the parking lot of the supermarket. Stevie’s heart sank to the bottom of her cowboy boots. Except for a couple of cars that seemed to have been left there for the night, the lot
was empty. And the store was dark. Stevie urged Sparkles closer. There was a sign hanging in the window that told the worst:
CLOSED DUE TO WEATHER
.

Uncle Chester drew Birdie alongside Sparkles. Stevie heard him sigh loudly. “Well, Stevie, we’ve done our best. Aunt Lila and I will just have to try to reschedule this party for another time. Let’s head home now and break the news.”

Stevie nodded absently. Her mind was whirling. Something told her she couldn’t give up now. There had to be somewhere they could get their hands on some food. Then she had it. She wheeled Sparkles and led the way out of the parking lot and back down the street toward home.

“Stevie?” Uncle Chester called, following on Birdie. “Was it something I said?”

Stevie didn’t have time to respond. They had reached their destination: the Quickie Mart at the gas station. The owner was inside, but he was turning off the lights! Jumping off Sparkles, Stevie tossed the reins at her uncle. “Hold him for one minute while I talk to the guy!” she called over her shoulder.

When she tried the front door, it was locked. She rattled the handle and rapped on the glass until the man came to the door and opened it. “Look, I’m just about to close so that I don’t get snowed in here,” he said.

“Please can we just have five minutes—no, two minutes! If you’re stranded, I’ll give you a ride home,” Stevie begged.

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t look old enough to drive, young lady,” he said, surprised.

“No—I mean a ride on a horse,” Stevie explained. She stood aside and pointed to Sparkles, Birdie, and Uncle Chester.

The man did a double take. “You mean to tell me you
rode
here?” he demanded.

Stevie nodded, crossing her fingers for the millionth time that night.

“I thought I saw a couple of horses go by a few minutes ago, but I said to myself, ‘Jim, you’re either crazy or hallucinating or an old fool or all three!’ But I’ll be darned—I was right.”

Stevie had crept and sidled her way halfway inside the store by the time the man finished talking. “So does that mean we can come in?” she pleaded.

“Seeing that you’re my first customers ever on horseback, I guess it does,” he decided.

Stevie didn’t need a second invitation. She ran to Uncle Chester, helped him tie the horses to a sign next to the side of the building, and bolted for the door again.

Inside Jim had snapped the lights back on. Uncle
Chester greeted him and thanked him briefly while Stevie began tearing around grabbing food. Soon she and her uncle were tossing bags of chips and boxes of cookies at the counter. “One bag of sour cream and onion!” Stevie cried, keeping a running total of the take. “Two bags of barbecue! Three nachos—hey, is there any salsa?”

Uncle Chester scanned the shelves. “No salsa, but there’s spray-cheese in a can! For cookies we’ve got chocolate chip, Oreos, peanut butter …”

Before long the counter was piled high with all kinds of soda and junk food. Stevie added a dozen candy bars, which they could use for prizes, and then glanced around to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. Hanging behind the counter was a big color poster—a huge submarine sandwich.

Jim, the owner, followed her glance. “It’s kind of late to be making hoagies …”

Remembering that in Philadelphia they called subs “hoagies,” Stevie launched into an all-out appeal. “Oh, please! You don’t understand—it’s my cousin’s sweet sixteen, only it’s not that sweet because the caterer couldn’t come and all of the cheerleaders and football players and the band and neighbors and relatives are at the house with nothing to eat and a couple of three-foot subs—er, hoagies—would save the whole party!”

Jim seemed totally bowled over by Stevie’s speech. “Well, okay, I guess,” he said.

“Yea!” Stevie clapped her hands together in delight. Jim got out bread and a bunch of cold cuts and condiments and whipped up two three-footers. Getting into the spirit of things, the man even helped them carry all of the food out to the horses. Everything fit in the saddlebags and backpacks except for the sandwiches. Uncle Chester and Stevie decided they could each hold one while they rode. They mounted, and Jim carefully passed up the hoagies. Before leaving, Uncle Chester made sure that Jim’s car would start.

“Thanks again. You really saved my daughter’s birthday,” said Chester.

“And you gave me the best story I’ve had in ages. Two customers come to a gas station—on horseback—and buy everything in the store! I guess you didn’t want to fill them up with unleaded, did you?” Jim joked, waving good-bye.

The ride back seemed to take forever. Stevie held the reins with one hand, western-style, and balanced the sub across the pommel of the saddle with the other. Uncle Chester did the same. Neither of them spoke—it was too nerve-racking to try to make conversation. After what seemed like an eternity, they could make out the lights of the house down the road.

They could also see two figures coming toward them on cross-country skis.

“Who on earth would be skiing at a time like this?” Uncle Chester asked.

Stevie squinted hard. “Chad and Alex Lake, naturally,” she answered.

“We came to see if you’d gotten lost in the storm,” Alex explained cheerfully.

“I hate to disappoint you, but I’m alive and well,” Stevie said, grinning at the welcome sight of her two brothers. “Say, Uncle Chester—these two look like they could use a couple of sandwiches, don’t they?”

“They sure do,” Uncle Chester agreed.

He and Stevie passed off their three-footers to Chad and Alex, both of whom looked slightly surprised at the size of the “couple of sandwiches.”

“Take them up to the house while we unload, okay? Sneak them into the kitchen and have Mom slice them up so we can put everything out at once,” Stevie instructed, guessing that they were too hungry to protest. Sure enough, Chad and Alex did as they were told without any fuss.

In the front yard of the house, Stevie and her uncle dismounted. They led the horses back to the barn, scraped the snow off their coats, blanketed them, and fed them. Stevie would have liked to linger with the
horses, but she knew they had to hurry back to the house with the bags of food.

Pausing on the doorstep before they went in, Uncle Chester put his hand out for Stevie to give him a high five. “Great thinking, Stevie,” he said. “Angie’s going to be so happy.”

“I hope so,” Stevie replied. She had just remembered the list of groceries Angie had pressed into her hand before they had left. She drew it out of her jacket pocket, but it was a sodden, snowy mess. Anyway, Stevie doubted that the Quickie Mart would have had any of Angie’s requests.

“Hello-o! We’re home!” Uncle Chester called, pushing through the door. Stevie followed him, laden with bags.

Angie immediately appeared in the hallway. Despite the new, casual tone of the party, she had redone her hair and reapplied her powder, lipstick, and mascara so that her face was perfectly madeup again. “Phew! I was getting nervous. Everyone’s been really nice, but I can tell they’re all ravenous. Now, did you find the smoked salmon and the Belgian endive and the other things on the list?”

Stevie looked her cousin boldly in the eye. “Not exactly,” she said. She handed Angie one of the bags. “But come on. Let’s get this party started!”

A
S SLOWLY AS
she could, Lisa walked down the aisle. She and Carole had taken a break from the training to groom Prancer and Starlight, but they’d agreed to meet back in Samson’s stall. Lisa was already five minutes late; she couldn’t put it off any longer. The way she was dragging her feet, though, they could have been made of concrete. She was dreading what she was sure would be the final session with the colt, dreading Carole’s reaction when they failed again.

Stopping at every stall along the way, Lisa greeted the
school horses and ponies, gave Belle a special pat for Stevie, and dawdled over Delilah.

“You’re his mother, Delilah,” Lisa murmured to the palomino mare. “Can’t you tell us what to do?”

Delilah placidly chewed a bite of hay, staring dreamily into space. “Thanks,” Lisa said. “Thanks a lot, Mom.”

Inching down the aisle, Lisa thought how much easier it would have been if equine mothers trained their foals. In one sense, they did—the same as all animals. Delilah had taught Samson to take care of himself: to run with her, eat hay and grain, and drink out of a water bucket. She’d also taught him to trust humans, the way she did. But the minute the foal was ready to begin real training, he had been weaned away from his mother.

I wonder what ‘stirrup’ is in horse language
, Lisa mused. She paused in front of Samson’s door, listening. “Carole?”

“I’m in here,” Carole said quietly.

Lisa opened the stall door slowly. As the light fell on Carole’s face, Lisa could see that it was wet and that Carole’s eyes were puffy. But Carole looked calmer than she had in days. She was actually smiling through her tears.

“Do you want to take Samson to the indoor?” Lisa asked hesitantly.

Carole shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure? We probably still have some time,” said Lisa.

Carole swallowed hard. “Yes—time to wrap him and get him ready to go to the Grovers’.”

Lisa could hardly believe she’d heard correctly. “Carole, I—I thought—” She stopped, not knowing how to continue.

Carole nodded. “I know. Believe me, I know. You thought I wasn’t going to be able to let Samson go. I thought so, too. I came in here to get him a little while ago. I started crying, and I just couldn’t stop.”

“Carole, I’m sorry,” Lisa murmured. She hated to think of her friend crying by herself while she dawdled.

“No, listen. The more I cried, the more I realized I was crying for Cobalt, not Samson. And once I let myself cry about it, I felt much better. I—I know that Samson has to go away because it’s best for him.”

Lisa hardly knew what to say. She’d been preparing herself for the worst. Instead, Carole had figured everything out on her own. What made it even more difficult to respond was that Lisa knew that Cobalt’s death reminded Carole, in some way, of the death of her mother. Carole had lost both of them within a couple of years. Any time she got close to a person or an animal, she was taking a risk that she would face yet another loss. Even
something like letting Samson go to Mr. Grover’s could trigger her fears. “Oh, Carole,” Lisa said finally, “I’m sorry you still miss Cobalt so much.”

Carole sighed. “I do miss him,” she said honestly. Then she added, in a determined voice, “But I can’t make Samson into a replacement for his father. If we keep him here, we’ll just be jeopardizing his chances to become a fantastic pleasure horse, right?”

“Right,” Lisa echoed her. “And we don’t want to do that. So what do you say we give him a good good-bye grooming?” she suggested.

Carole looked pleased by the suggestion. The two girls led the colt out and cross tied him in the aisle. As they curried and brushed him, they chattered and joked happily for the first time in days. When his black coat was gleaming, Lisa got cotton and leg wraps from the tack room. As they were rolling the bandages, they caught sight of Max on his way to his office.

“Max!” Carole waved him over.

“So you’re getting Samson ready for his trip?” Max asked. By the tone of his voice, the girls could tell that he knew how important the question was.

Carole took a deep breath. “Yes. I—we—we know we can’t cure him of his problems, and he belongs with a professional,” she said. Then she looked down, flustered.

Max nodded approvingly. “It’s a hard realization to
come to, Carole, but I think you’ll both agree with me that it’s the best,” he said seriously.

The way Max spoke sounded like he was addressing them as fellow horsemen. After her desperation over the last few days, Carole felt both humbled and thankful. She’d been afraid that Max would think she’d acted stupidly, but he simply seemed pleased that she and Lisa understood why Samson should go away to be trained.