Horse Talk (8 page)

“Deborah,” Stevie said impatiently, “they’re helping with the call-in show.”

“We’re going to call in,” Corey explained, “so that Lisa and Carole won’t feel all alone.”

Deborah shook her head sympathetically. “I think that’s nice of you, but I can’t let you all stay. Maxi needs her nap. Stevie, you’re it. Everybody else leaves.”

“But Deborah!” Stevie protested in vain. The Pony Clubbers were already filing out the door. Everyone listened to Deborah just the way they listened to Max.

“And you can only make a few calls,” Deborah continued. “I need to use the phone for some work myself. And whatever you do, keep your voice down.”

“Okay,” Stevie promised. She checked her watch.
Horse Talk
was just about to begin. She switched her boom box on low and heard Lisa and Carole’s theme music starting. She dialed the office number.

She got a busy signal. “Oh no!” Stevie whispered.

Over the radio, Stevie heard Carole say, “
Horse Talk
! Who’s calling?”

“This is Andy,” said a voice Stevie didn’t recognize. It definitely wasn’t Chad’s. Stevie felt a surge of hope. Maybe it was a serious caller.

“Hi, Andy, I’m Carole.”

“And I’m Lisa. Do you have a question for us?”

Stevie gritted her teeth. This first question would tell her if Chad and his friends were up to their tricks again.

“Um, yeah, I do. Could you train a horse to climb a tree?”

Stevie pressed her face into one of the pillows on the couch. If she didn’t, she was afraid she would scream loudly enough to wake the baby.

“I don’t think so,” Carole replied calmly. “For one thing, an average horse weighs a thousand pounds. Thank you.” Carole, Stevie realized, had hung up on Andy. Frantically Stevie redialed.

S
HE GOT ANOTHER
busy signal. The next caller was named Jamie. Jamie asked if horses could be trained to climb really big, strong trees.

The next caller asked if horses could be trained to climb the Eiffel Tower.

“Horses,” Carole said through gritted teeth, “are not squirrels. They do not climb. They jump and run, and that’s about it.”

Lisa gave Carole’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. She pressed the button to disconnect the caller. Immediately the phone rang again. Lisa hit the button. “We’re not interested in any more climbing questions,” she said.

“Um, right.” This caller was a girl, and Lisa felt a bit better. Maybe this wasn’t one of Chad’s friends. “My name is Melanie, and my question takes a little bit of explaining,” she said.

“Go ahead, Melanie,” Lisa said encouragingly. She gave Carole a thumbs-up sign. A real caller at last! Carole shook her head warningly.

“Well, okay, so I was listening the other day to the caller who wanted to know if he could get his horse to do all the work, because riding made him so stinky—”

“I remember,” Lisa said dryly.

Carole passed Lisa a note.
What’s the name of Chad’s new girlfriend?
it read.

“Okay, so I was thinking,” the caller continued, “where does the stink come from? I mean, is it just from the exercise, or do horses stink, and does some of that rub off on the rider? If so, maybe you could get a
big tall saddle that would hold you way off the horse’s back, and then instead of blowing back on you, the stink would just sort of drift away. Under the saddle, do you get my drift?”

Lisa nodded to Carole.
Melanie
, she wrote on the note, and passed it back. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said into the microphone. “Horses are the sweetest-smelling animals around, and I’d take the smell of three dozen horses any day over one jerky soccer-playing boy I know.” She disconnected, but not before she heard Melanie start to laugh.

Lisa cradled her head in her hands. Why had she lost her temper? It would only make things worse.

The phone rang again. “What color is a horse in the dark?”

“The same color it is in the light,” Carole snapped. She didn’t want to lose her temper, either, but she was starting to feel it go. Didn’t anyone in Willow Creek have a legitimate horse question? She patted Lisa’s hand encouragingly while the phone rang again.

“If horses only eat grass and oats and stuff like that, why do we tell people that they eat like a horse? Nobody I know eats only oats.”

No, Carole decided, no one in Willow Creek did.

The questions got worse and worse. Every time they finished one question, someone rang immediately with another.

“Let’s talk about Willow Creek’s middle-school radio
project,” Lisa said desperately. She ignored her short script and spoke at length, but when she had totally run out of words, she found that only two minutes had passed.

“Why doesn’t Stevie call?” Carole whispered. Lisa rolled her eyes and tried to sound cheerful, or at least not furious, for the next caller. They both knew why Stevie wasn’t calling. Every kid in Willow Creek was phoning in, and Stevie couldn’t get through.

S
TEVIE COULD TELL
from the strain in her friends’ voices that if Carole and Lisa had to answer one more question about how horses did or did not compare to squirrels (no, horses did not hibernate; yes, they probably would eat nuts; no, they didn’t bury nuts), they were going to break, go completely crazy, trash the barn, and probably get kicked out of the stable. She had to do something, but she couldn’t. She called and called, and all she got was a busy signal.

“
Arrhgyh
!” Stevie finally yelled, slamming the phone down. From upstairs came the thin wail of a startled baby. “Sorry, Deborah,” Stevie whispered.

“Out,” Deborah said, pointing to the door. “Now.”

S
TEVIE SLUNK INTO
the barn and draped herself over a chair. “I’ve been evicted,” she whispered under the cover of the commercial Carole had put on.

“Then we’re doomed!” Lisa whispered back.

“We were already doomed,” said Carole.
Horse Talk
was a failure, and they were doing a terrible job as its hosts. “
Horse Talk
! This is Carole!” she added when the phone rang as soon as the commercial ended.

“Hi, this is Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third,” said the caller.

“That’s Chad,” Stevie mouthed.

“Hi, Rosie,” Lisa said. “You called in last week, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, um, I did,” said Chad. “I have another question.”

“Let’s hear it,” Carole said. She rolled her eyes at Lisa.

“What’s the difference between riding English and riding Western?”

“What?” Carole couldn’t help sounding startled.

“You know, the way cowboys ride doesn’t look like the way people ride when they jump and stuff.”

“Right,” Lisa said, grabbing the microphone and shooting Stevie a puzzled look
A real question! From Chad
? “Actually there aren’t as many differences as there might seem to be …” The Saddle Club rode Western style when they visited their friend Kate out West, so they knew a lot about it. Lisa and Carole talked about riding styles for some time. It was a relief after comparing horses to squirrels.

“Okay, thanks,” Chad said when they were finished.
“Um, I think you guys are doing a good job. It wouldn’t be easy, doing a call-in show live and all.”

“Thanks,” Lisa whispered as she disconnected. Chad had started this whole mess. Was he feeling guilty?

The phone rang. “We’re
Horse Talk
, and you’re on the air!” Lisa said with renewed enthusiasm. Whatever Chad’s motives, it was nice to have answered one real question.

“Hi,” said the caller. “I took a pony ride at the zoo several years ago, and I have to say I didn’t think it felt like work at all. I mean, I just sat there. I didn’t notice any particular stink, either.”

Carole rolled her eyes at Lisa. “Is that your question?” she asked.

“Oh, no,” said the caller. “I’ve been listening to everybody talk about squirrels, and I was thinking, really, horses are a lot more like cows than they are like squirrels. So why don’t people ride cows? Have you ever ridden a cow? And do you think cows could climb trees?”

S
LOWLY THE HANDS
of the clock dragged themselves toward five. The stupid questions rolled in as inexorably as a morning fog. Lisa felt utterly drained. “One more question,” she mouthed to Carole, who nodded.

“Hi,” said a voice that sounded like a very young girl. “Am I really on the radio?”

Lisa sighed. Another joke call. “Yes, you really are,” she said. “Welcome to
Horse Talk
. What’s your name?”

“Melissa,” said the girl, “but everybody calls me Missa.”

“Hi, Missa,” Carole chimed in. “What can we help you with?”

“Well, see—” Missi began. Lisa sighed again. Another long-winded question. Those were her least favorite. At least the short ones you could get rid of quickly. “See, I live in just a regular house. I mean, in a neighborhood with just houses all around?”

“Yes?” Lisa prompted. She didn’t understand what Missa meant.

“I mean, no barns or farms or anything. The library’s on the corner—”

“We understand now,” Carole cut in.

“Okay, so one morning this fall, it was on a Saturday, and I woke up really early ’cause I didn’t have to go to school, and I looked out my window to the backyard, and there was a horse! So what should you do if you wake up and find a horse in your backyard?”

“Roll over and try to wake up again,” Carole said. “Clearly you’re still sleeping. I’ve had that dream a hundred times.”

“But I’m serious!” said Missa. “It was standing right by my gym set.”

“If it was fall, then it wasn’t Christmas,” said Lisa. “So was it your birthday?”

“Maybe you should start leaving carrots in your backyard,” Carole suggested flippantly. “Like for the Easter Bunny. Maybe what you saw was the Thanksgiving Pony.”

“But it was a
horse
,” said Missa. “I saw it. I tried to catch it, but it ran away. I think it needed help.”

“Whoa, look at the time!” Lisa said, disconnecting the phone. “Thanks for calling! We’re
Horse Talk
, and believe it or not, we’ll be back next week!” She cued their exit music and slumped her head to the desktop. “Oh, yuck,” she said. “What a horrid afternoon.”

Carole took off her headset and ran her fingers through her hair. “I think that was the longest hour of my entire life. Did you hear some of the things I said?”

“Did you hear some of the things the callers said?” Lisa asked with a groan. “We’re never going to live this down.”

“Guys,” Stevie said. “That last call … What if it wasn’t a joke? What if it was real?”

T
HE
S
ADDLE
C
LUB
packed the radio gear back into the boxes they kept it in and stacked them neatly in the corner of the tack room.

“I bet it wasn’t real,” Lisa said. “I hope it wasn’t.”

“Let’s ask Max,” suggested Carole. They walked to Max’s office. Max was sitting in his desk chair surrounded by a group of younger riders, who were sitting on the floor. They were all cleaning tack, and all had obviously been listening to
Horse Talk
. Max’s radio sat on the desk next to him. When The Saddle Club walked in, everyone in the office fell silent.

“Max,” said Carole, “what if you woke up one morning and found a horse in your backyard?”

Max started to smile, but when he saw Carole’s
thoughtful expression he answered her seriously. “I heard your last caller,” he said. “I think you guys took the right approach answering her—I’m pretty sure that was supposed to be a joke.” He gestured toward the radio. “No offense, but I don’t think you should take any of those calls seriously. You guys handled yourselves well. You should be proud.”

“We felt really sorry for you,” said May. “I’m sorry Deborah kicked us out—we wanted to call up and tell everyone else to quit being jerks!”

“Rotten creeps,” added Jasmine.

“We’re just a little worried about that last call,” Lisa repeated. “I know it sounded weird, but it wasn’t totally stupid. What if it was real?”

“Nah,” said May. “Horses don’t just wander around the streets.”

“Sometimes they do,” Corey Takamura said. “Don’t you guys remember when Sam ran away?” Samurai was Corey’s pony, and he’d been missing once for several days. He’d come back on his own, and they’d never discovered just where he’d been. “Sam could’ve been roaming through people’s backyards. He would have gone wherever there was good grass to eat,” said Corey.

“That’s right,” said Janey. Stevie turned with a start. She hadn’t spoken to her little sister since yesterday’s lesson, and she hadn’t noticed Janey in the office. “A horse wandered onto my family’s sheep station once,”
Janey said. “We couldn’t catch him, and he seemed pretty happy grazing with the sheep. He stayed a few weeks before we figured out who he belonged to.”

“How did you figure it out?” Stevie asked.

Janey shrugged, but she also smiled. “We just asked around—you know, other farmers, vets, the feed store. Most people notice when one of their horses goes missing.”

“Great idea,” Stevie said with relief. “That’s what we’ll do. We’ll call the other stables and the feed stores, and Judy.” Judy was Pine Hollow’s veterinarian.