A Summer Without Horses (11 page)

“Are you angry with us?” Leslie asked.

“Angry? No. I’m just relieved to know you’re all okay. I should have been there with you. I had no business leaving you all alone when Red left. You guys should be angry with me. Aren’t you?”

“Nope,” said Mark. The rest nodded, agreeing.

“Well, since nobody’s angry, maybe we can just take a minute here to get a few things straight.” I was putting on my teacher voice. I’ve heard enough teacher lectures in my life to know just how to do it.

“Trail riding is something experienced riders can do without an instructor. It’s something intermediate riders can do
with
an instructor and it’s something novice riders—that’s you guys—can’t do at all.”

“But we did it, didn’t we?” Reuben said smartly.

There was something about him that reminded me of myself.

“Yes, you did it, and look what trouble it got you into!” I was very aware of sounding like Miss Fenton, the principal of my school. I’m not proud of it, either, but I persisted. “What on earth were you all thinking of when you decided to do this?”

“You,” Leslie said simply.

“Yeah. We wanted to find Merlin for you,” said Natalie.

“We heard what you said to Red about never being able to ride again and, well, we just thought, maybe …”

My face turned red. This whole thing was my fault. “Look, guys,” I said. “That’s just pretend. There’s no such thing—”

“But you told us the whole story!” said Natalie.

“
Story.
That’s what it was. A story. There’s nothing to it. There never has been.”

“It’s a
legend
,” said Leslie. “Everybody knows that there’s always some truth to a legend.”

“Not this one,” I said. “I made up the whole legend right then and there in the stable yesterday. There never was a witch; she never had a horse.”

“But there’s the house on Garrett Road …” Leslie reminded me.

“Well, there’s a North Pole, too, but do you really think that a red-suited man lives there, makes toys, and trains flying reindeer?”

The look on Reuben’s face indicated that he at least sort of
hoped
that one was true.

“Reuben?”

“Nah, I know better, really.”

“And do you know better now than to believe in a witch and a magical horse?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Yeah, maybe it’s true and you just don’t know it.” There was that side of him again.

“Right. Did you ever think of that?” Leslie piped in.

Mark, Natalie, and Jessica started nodding, as though they were agreeing with Reuben and Leslie.

I stood up and put my hands on my hips. I knew they were young and all, but I couldn’t help feeling surprised that any one of them could actually believe in the tall tale I’d told them.

“I made it up. I fabricated it from thin air,” I said impatiently. “I should have been telling you all about grooming and instead, I invented a story about a magical horse who never was and never will be and who doesn’t have any magic.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Not only is there magic, but it works!” Jessica said, siding completely with Reuben and Leslie and utterly confounding me.

“And just what would lead you to believe that there is any such magic?” I asked.

Leslie cocked her head and looked at me slyly. “Well, you’re riding, aren’t you?”

For the first time since I’d gathered the young riders around me, I was speechless.

B
Y
THE
TIME
we got back to Pine Hollow, my mind was more of a mess than it had been when I’d left. In fact, the only good news I could think of was that except for Leslie’s knee, the kids were unharmed and the ponies were safe. For my own part, my legs were killing me from standing up in the saddle for so long and even worse, my sitting-down section had hit Topside’s saddle enough for me to know I’d put my own recovery back a couple of weeks. It wasn’t going to matter, though. When Max learned that I’d let the kids go on a trail ride without an instructor, he was never going to let me near a horse again, with or without a sore bottom.

“Stevie?” It was Reuben interrupting my miserable thoughts.

“Yup?”

“We’ve just figured out that we’ve gotten you into big trouble, haven’t we?”

“I think I did most of the work on that myself, Reuben. You kids aren’t responsible. I’m just irresponsible.”

“Maybe, but isn’t Max going to be angry with you?”

“I think we can count on that.”

“And he ought to be angry with us.”

“I think you can count on that, too,” I said. “Actually, he won’t be angry so much as worried, but sometimes worry comes out as anger. I bet each of you can count on your parents for both worry and anger, too.”

“I don’t want my mother to be worried and angry,” Leslie said.

“Me, neither,” added Mark.

“That’s a lot of worry and anger,” said Reuben.

“And a lot of upset adults,” I said. “Too much worry and anger isn’t good for them, but life is like that sometimes. It’s called facing the music.” Frankly I was tired of life lessons for the day, but there was another one staring me in the face.

“Hmmmmm,” said Jessica.

“Look! There’s Max! He’s waving at us!”

He was, too. I could see him standing next to the paddock behind Pine Hollow, waving widely. We all waved back. I think the kids thought he was welcoming us home. I sort of thought it was more like, “Get yourselves in here before you’re grounded for life!” Since none of the
kids could trot, we just walked slowly and carefully—me still standing tall in the saddle.

When we arrived and dismounted, I told the kids to take their ponies to their stalls and said I’d be in in a minute to help them. I deserved the tongue-lashing; they didn’t.

“Max, I’m sorry,” I began.

He interrupted me as well he should. Nothing I was going to say was going to be anywhere near as bad as what he had to say, so he had to have a chance to say it and I had to listen to it.

“Stevie, the minute I got back here and saw Topside and the ponies gone, I knew exactly what had happened.”

“You did?” I mean, how could he have known about Merlin?

“Of course it was only going to take you a couple of days to figure out that you could ride standing up and the minute you figured it, you were going to be in the saddle. I’m not dumb. I can’t say I’m happy about your taking the kids out without an adult, but I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to do it. It was awfully hard for you to watch us leave today. The look on your face this morning said it all.”

“Max, I—”

“Look, there’s really no excuse for doing what you did, but if there were one, it would be the one you have—”

“Max, you don’t—”

“But I really do, Stevie. I do understand how much
horses and riding mean to you. I do understand how much you love it and how hard it is to not be able to do it. I do. I can’t condone your taking those young riders out on a trail ride without an adult, but I can understand it. Really. Even though I can see that Leslie’s had an accident.”

“Max, you’re being too nice.”

Can you believe I said that? It’s a sign of how upset I was by what I’d done and how astonished I was by what Max had assumed I’d done.

“No, Stevie, I’m not going to be all that nice. Much as I understand it, I can’t let you get away with it free and clear. There have to be consequences for irresponsible behavior.”

“I know,” I said.

“So, even though you’ve figured out how to ride with a sore seat, I’m going to ground you for the rest of this session. No riding. Period. I still need you as a helper, but I can’t let you get on a horse.”

The thing Max couldn’t know—and which I had no intention of discussing with him—was that my bottom was so sore from the little bit of sitting I’d had to do in the saddle that there was no way I could possibly have gotten into the saddle for the next two weeks.

He had more to say and the news was just as good. “Moreover, I want you to know that in no way do I blame the kids for this. They are not going to hear one word of it from me. You can explain to them why you aren’t riding anymore.”

“I’ll take care of it, Max,” I promised, realizing that I’d miraculously managed to take on one hundred percent of the blame and best of all, the kids wouldn’t be punished.

“I want you to take care of Leslie’s knee, too. You know where the bandages are. I’ll talk with her mother and explain. Are we done?”

Were we ever! “Yes, Max. And, uh, again, I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I really do understand.”

He didn’t, of course, but that was okay. I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome and I was almost walking on air as I led Topside back to his stall and said good-bye to him for two weeks (except for grooming him and watering him and mucking out his stall and tacking him up for other riders, etc., etc.). Really, the only bad news was that Carole and Lisa weren’t there to share my triumph. They always say I have a way of getting away with murder and though this wasn’t exactly murder, it was the next closest thing in Pine Hollow terms—and I
was
getting away with it, practically scot-free!

Once I secured the latch on Topside’s stall, I went to the section where the ponies were kept. It was all I could do to keep a grin off my face and when I found the kids, I gave them all one big hug.

“What did Max say?” Leslie asked.

“He thinks I took you out on the trail ride because I was so happy that I’d figured out how to ride again.”

“Is that what you told him?” Reuben asked, sounding
admiring. Clearly, he’d decided that was a pretty clever lie.

“Actually, no. I was about to tell him what happened, but when Max assumed something different, well, I couldn’t honestly see any reason to make things look worse than they are. I know it’s sort of a lie.…”

“But it doesn’t make us look as stupid as the truth does, does it?” That was Reuben.

“If you want to put it that way,” I conceded.

“So, what’s going to happen to us?”

“To you, nothing. To me, well, I’m grounded for two weeks.”

“You mean you have to stay home?” Leslie asked. I was touched by her concern.

“No, it means I have to come here and work with the horses, but not ride.”

“Oh, well, that’s not soooooo bad,” she said.

“No, it’s not soooooo bad,” I agreed. “I can live with it. It seems like mild punishment for what I actually did. And the other thing I have to do is help you clean up that cut and bandage it.”

I took her hand and led her to Mrs. Reg’s office to get the medicine and bandages and then to the big double sink where we could clean it.

Leslie took off her boot and rolled up her pant leg very carefully. I could see that the cut hurt and I knew we’d both feel better when we got it covered.

I ran the water and got some clean cloths and soap. We rinsed it in warm water and then washed it very carefully.

“Natalie and I did a good job in the creek,” she said. “That was smart of you to suggest it.”

“All from experience,” I assured her. “When you’re out in the woods, you sometimes have to improvise.”

“What does that mean?”

“Make up stuff.”

“Like ghost stories?”

“Not exactly. It means more like making do with what you’ve got. You had to wash the cut. There wasn’t any soap and warm water, but there was cool water and I know the creek is clean because it comes from hills where there isn’t any pollution, so it was only logical.”

“That’s what you are, Stevie, you’re very logical.”

It was a compliment and I appreciated it, but there was something about her use of the word “logical” that caused a tingle in my memory banks. I ignored it for a few minutes while I finished tending to the knee.

Once the cut was washed, I dried it very carefully, then I put some ointment on the bandage and applied it to the knee, taping it in a way that wouldn’t cut off circulation, but that would stay on. It looked pretty professional and Leslie hadn’t grimaced once, so I must have done a good job.

She brought her pant leg down again over the bandage, put her sock back on, and then tugged her boot back over it. Aside from the hole in her new riding pants, she
looked very put-together. I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, a sweet innocent smile. Suddenly she seemed so young, even though she had on very grown-up-looking riding clothes: fawn-colored pants, shiny black boots, snowy white blouse, black riding jacket. All those brand-new clothes only made me think of one thing: Veronica diAngelo.

I gasped and then I gagged as the full impact of what had happened that day hit me, smack in the face.

I’d been on a horse. I’d ridden a horse. My friends and I had pledged that we wouldn’t ride. I, of all people, had violated the pledge.

I had a good excuse, I knew, but no excuse was good enough in the face of a pledge to my two best friends. We’d made a promise to one another and nothing Max would ever know or not know about what had really happened was going to make a difference when it came to Carole and Lisa. Friends don’t lie to one another so I would have to tell them. But then, if I told them, it would mean we’d have to invite Veronica to join The Saddle Club. Correction, it would mean
I
would have to invite Veronica. If I did that, Carole and Lisa would never speak to me again and what would be the point of having The Saddle Club if they wouldn’t speak to me again.