Gib and the Gray Ghost (11 page)

“Gibson,” she said, “thought I told you to make it short. And as for you, Hyram Carter, you lie back now and relax, and stop even thinking about horses.” Gib did what he was told and Hy appeared to be doing the same, except maybe for the not thinking about horses part, which Gib wouldn’t have wanted to vouch for.

It was the very next day that the gray let Gib touch him for the first time. He came up to the stall door while Gib was talking to him and stretched out his neck until his nose just brushed Gib’s hand before he snorted and shied away, back to the other side of the stall. And it was that same afternoon that Gib started bringing a pocketful of carrots with him whenever he showed up at the barn.

Gib found the carrots in the vegetable bin in the cellar and he was careful to take only the small wizened-up ones that Mrs. Perry wouldn’t want to feed to humans. He knew Silky loved them and it turned out that the gray did too. And it was that same day that Gib started teaching him that he could have a carrot anytime he let himself be touched.

That evening after dinner Gib went up to talk to Hy again. They talked about the gray first and the other horses and then Hy brought up the weather. “It looks as how it’s not fixin’ to get any better soon,” he said. “I seen a couple of winters like this afore, when the snow just kept a-comin’ all winter long. Mighty hard on stock it is. And hard on any kind of wheeled contraption, like a wagon or buggy. If it goes on much longer you and me might have to ride into town and take the mules to pack in some provisions.”

Gib said he could do that, but he didn’t think it would be necessary anytime soon. “Mrs. Perry says she’s got enough foodstuff in the cellar to feed us right through the winter.”

“But how about school?” Hy asked. “Miss Hooper been keepin’ you and Livy up to snuff on your lessons?”

Gib shook his head. “We haven’t been doing much studying lately,” he admitted. He decided against saying that both he and Miss Hooper had been too busy lately, what with all the extra doctoring and barnyard duties.

“It’s a durn shame you and Livy are missin’ out on so much schoolin’ ’cause of a little bit of snow,” Hy said. He shook his head. “And it’s a double durn shame that Livy’s pa never let her learn how to handle a horse. If she was half the horsewoman her mother was at her age, you and Livy could forget about that heavy old buggy and ride into school every day on Silky and Lightning.”

That, Gib decided, was something to think about. To think about but not to mention to Livy. Not if he knew what was good for him.

G
IB DID KNOW WHAT
was good for him, at least where Livy was concerned. So he certainly didn’t mention what Hy had said about how they could have ridden Lightning and Silky to school, if Livy were half the horsewoman her mother had been. But it turned out that somebody else must have mentioned it. Either that or Livy had been listening outside Hy’s door. Which, after all, was pretty likely. Livy had a special talent for that sort of thing.

The first hint Gib noticed was when Livy suddenly became more friendly, and a lot more helpful too. The very next morning she started taking care of the chickens again, and that same afternoon she asked Gib if she could come to the barn if she promised to knock before she came in and to do exactly what he told her to once she got inside. Gib was surprised. “Well, I don’t know,” he said. “You’d have to ask your mother about that I guess.” And to his amazement she agreed to that too.

“You’re right,” she said. “I think I should ask her.”

So when she showed up at the barn a couple of hours later he supposed that was what she’d done. He’d been in the barn for quite a while by then and most of his work was finished. The horses were all fed and the gray was safely shut in a freshened-up stall, when Gib heard the barn door rattling and somebody calling his name. It was Livy, all right, but this time, instead of barging on in, she opened the door just a crack and called to ask permission. Gib made one last check to be sure everything was secure before he told her to come ahead.

They went to look at the gray first and Gib showed Livy how much the ghost horse had quieted down. How he let Gib scratch his forehead now, and even pat his neck a little. Livy said again that he was the most beautiful horse in the world. And she also said, “I think it’s just amazing how you’ve been able to calm him down so quickly.”

Gib chuckled. “Nothing amazing about it,” he said. “He’s not mean. Just scared to death. I bet you’d act pretty mean too if you thought you were fighting for your life. But it didn’t take him long to figure out that I wasn’t fixing to hurt him. You’re a smart one, aren’t you, old boy?”

Gib was still talking to the gray and patting his neck when Livy sighed deeply. And when Gib just went on talking to the horse, she sighed more loudly. When he finally looked around she smiled and said, “I guess Hy’s right about you after all, Gibson Whittaker.”

“Right about me?” Gib asked cautiously. He’d known Livy long enough to know that when she used that tone of voice he needed to be on the lookout.

“Yes. When he said you had an absolutely magic touch with horses.”

Gib grinned. “Hy said that?” he asked. But what he was thinking was that it didn’t sound too likely. He knew that Hy thought he spoke “horse lingo,” but an “absolutely magic touch” didn’t sound a bit like anything Hy would say. What it sounded like, Gib thought, was that Livy was working up to something. And sure enough it turned out that she was. What Livy wanted was for Gib to give her riding lessons.

“Not on Silky,” she said quickly. “I know I’m not ready for Silky. I learned my lesson about that. But maybe on Lightning? If you started in giving me lessons right away maybe I’d be able to start riding to school by the time Christmas vacation is over.”

So that was the way it started. The very next day right after lunch Livy showed up in the barn wearing an old divided skirt and carrying a saddle. The skirt and the saddle, she told Gib, had been her mother’s when she was a little girl, and they had been packed away in the bottom of an old trunk ever since. “Like she’d been saving them until I started riding,” she told Gib, twirling around so he could get the whole picture. “Don’t you think I look like a professional horsewoman?”

Gib had to agree that, sure enough, she looked like a horsewoman, before he headed down to the tack room for Lightning’s bridle. Livy followed right behind him, chattering away about how she was probably going to be even more absolutely magical with horses than he was, because of being her mother’s daughter, and a Merrill and all. She went on talking like that while she watched the saddling up. Then she followed Gib and Lightning to where a bench outside the tack room door made a handy mounting block.

But when Gib said, “All right. Up you go,” she suddenly became very quiet. Pressed back against the wall, fists clenched and eyes wide, Livy stared at Lightning like she was scared to death. Like she was paralyzed with fear, actually, except that her lips were moving in an almost silent whisper.

“What?” Gib asked. “What are you saying?”

The whisper got a little louder. “I can’t,” Livy was saying. “I’m afraid.”

“No, you’re not.” Gib grinned at her. “Remember, you weren’t afraid before. When you got up on Silky you weren’t afraid. Remember how—”

But Livy interrupted. Loudly. “I know,” she said. “I wasn’t afraid. And remember what happened. Remember how she bolted with me and—and—what happened to you, and everything.”

Gib remembered. How Livy’s getting ahead of herself and trying to ride Silky had almost gotten her thrown, and how Gib had been sent back to the orphanage because her father had blamed the whole thing on him.

It took a lot of talking on Gib’s part, quiet talking about how Lightning wasn’t Silky, and how they were going to take it easy and go real slow at first, before Livy climbed up on the mounting block and finally on up into the saddle. By the time Gib led Lightning up and down the aisle a couple of times she was herself again, talking and giggling and wanting to learn everything at once.

Lightning was very patient, walking up and down the corridor between the stalls and turning in circles over and over again without fretting or getting too frisky. Gib was surprised because, as Hy was always saying, Lightning had a full head of steam for an old codger, and he could be a mite headstrong at times, particularly when he hadn’t been ridden regular. But now it was as if the old horse realized who was riding him and was taking the responsibility seriously. Gib was pleased with the old cow pony’s performance and after they were through with the lesson he told him so while he gave him some extra oats and a good grooming.

Livy learned a lot that first day, things about using the reins and keeping your weight in your feet. And as it turned out, Gib learned a lot too. First of all he learned that Livy really had eavesdropped on his conversation with Hy. And, more importantly, that she hadn’t asked her mother’s permission to have a riding lesson. He hadn’t been too surprised when Livy spilled the beans about the eavesdropping, because he already figured she’d done that. But when she made her other confession, on their way back to the house, it did put his back up a little.

“Livy Thornton,” he was beginning when Livy interrupted to say, “I know. It was very sinful of me.” She was hanging her head and looking pitiful as anything. After a minute she went on, “I
am
going to ask, though. I am going to get permission right away. Right now. As soon as we’re back in the house.” And when Gib gave her a look that said he didn’t know whether to believe her or not she added, “You can come with me while I do it. And you can help me do it too. You can tell my mother how well I’m doing and what a good horsewoman I’m going to be. If you do, I’m sure she’s going to say it’s all right. My mother has always wanted me to ride, and besides, she thinks you’re absolutely magical with horses.”

Gib couldn’t help grinning. Seemed as how a whole lot of people had been talking about how “absolutely magical” Gib Whittaker was.

They found Missus Julia in the library. She was reading a book and looking as filmy and elegant as always. Maybe almost too filmy, Gib thought, with her pale skin and those sorrowful shadows under her eyes. When she looked up and saw Gib and Livy the shadows faded, but then suddenly her welcoming smile changed to a questioning frown.

“Livy,” she said, “is that my old riding skirt?” She didn’t ask why Livy was wearing it, but the way she said it asked for her. And when Livy started to tell about the riding lesson the frown deepened.

“Livy Thornton,” Missus Julia said, “I told you to stay away from that barn and you said you would. Gib has enough to handle out there without you complicating things. I can’t believe you would—”

But Livy interrupted then by kneeling down by the wheelchair and putting her head in her mother’s lap. She stayed there for a long time and for a while her mother only looked away while the sorrowful shadows returned to her face. At last Missus Julia sighed and asked, “What have the two of you been doing? Tell me about it, Gib.”

Gib was still squirming and clearing his throat when Livy said, “It wasn’t Gib’s fault. It was Hy who said it would be a long time before anybody could get into Longford in a buggy. And Hy said it was a shame I didn’t know how to ride because if I did Gib and I could ride Silky and Lightning to school.” Livy raised her head then and looked at her mother. “I heard Hy say that, Mama. And Gib thought I had permission to learn. I didn’t lie to him exactly but I made him think you’d said it was all right.” She stopped talking then long enough to make a kind of sobbing sound before she went on, “I’m so sorry, Mama.”

Livy really did look sorry but Missus Julia didn’t seem to be accepting her apology, at least not right away. But then Livy sighed and, clasping her hands in front of her chest, said, “Oh, Mama, I just love horses now and I love riding too. And I’m learning really fast. Aren’t I, Gib?”

So Gib said she was doing right well. But Missus Julia went on frowning until he added, “Comes by it natural, I guess. Having Merrill blood and all.”

Missus Julia laughed then and said, “Gibson Whittaker. I declare, horses aren’t the only creatures you know your way around.” Then she sighed and said, “All right. I’ll give you permission to go on with the lessons as soon as Hy is well enough to be there to keep an eye on—”

“But Mama,” Livy interrupted. “We’ve already missed so much school. And if I have to wait until Hy is well we’ll have to miss a lot more.”

She went on arguing then about how careful they’d be and how calm and gentle Lightning was. At last Missus Julia sighed and said, “All right, all right. You may continue the lessons, Gib, as long as ... She turned toward Livy. “As long as you both promise to use Lightning. Lightning only. Not Silky. And Livy, you stay away, a long way away, from that dapple gray.” She shook her finger. “You hear me, young lady?”

“Oh yes, I promise,” Livy said. “I promise I won’t even get near his stall. And Mama, I’m so happy that I’m finally going to learn how to ride, and I know you are too.” Livy left then to get cleaned up for supper, but as Gib started to go Missus Julia asked him to wait “Don’t go, Gib.” She patted the sofa beside her chair. “Sit down a minute. I want to talk to you.”

Gib sat, expecting more about Livy’s riding lessons, but when Missus Julia started to talk it was about a different subject entirely. A subject that Gib had been wanting to bring up for a long time without knowing how to go about it. “Gib.” Missus Julia looked almost as uncertain as Gib was beginning to feel. “Hy tells me that you’ve been concerned about”—she paused and smiled uneasily—“about, as Hy put it, ‘having paperwork that says you belong to be here.’ Is that right, Gib? Are you worried about that?”

Gib swallowed hard, shook his head, and nodded it almost at the same time. “Well, I was just wondering ... ,” he was starting to say when Missus Julia went on, “I want you to know that I wrote to Lovell House way back last November offering to sign adoption papers, but no one answered for a long time. I didn’t write again as I probably should have because ... Well, there were the blizzards and, as you know, I haven’t been feeling very well. But just last week I finally did hear from Miss Offenbacher. Unfortunately, all she had to say was that you would have to come back and establish residency at Lovell House first, because Miss Hooper didn’t fill out the proper forms before she took you away.”