Horse Wise (6 page)

W
HENEVER THE SUBJECT
was horses, Carole was happy. This evening, she was especially happy. Even Veronica diAngelo hadn’t been able to ruin it. Pine Hollow was going to have its own Pony Club!

“We’re having our first meeting next week,” she told her father as they headed for the car.

“I heard,” he said. Carole thought maybe he was teasing her a little bit, but she didn’t mind.

“It’s a mounted meeting, you know,” she said as she took her place in the front seat of the car, next to her father.

“I heard, but what does that mean?” he asked.

“It means we’ll be mounted—you know, on horseback.”

“Oh.” Colonel Hanson started the car. “With your saddles, right?”

“Sure we’ll have saddles. If there weren’t going to be saddles, we’d call it
bare
back.”

“That makes sense,” he said, pulling the car out of Pine Hollow’s driveway. He turned the car toward the base, where the Officers’ Club and navy-bean soup awaited them.

Carole couldn’t stop talking about the Pony Club. “Then, at other times, we’ll have unmounted meetings. I can’t wait until the farrier talks to us. That should be neat.”

“What’s a farrier?” Colonel Hanson asked. “Someone who makes fair coats?”

“Very funny, but no,” Carole said patiently. “A farrier is a blacksmith. He makes horseshoes and fits them properly to the horse’s hooves and nails them on.”

“Nails them? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“No, the horse’s hoof is like a toenail. As long as the nail just goes into the toenail part, the horse can’t even feel it.”

“You mean there are other parts to the foot?” her father asked.

“Oh, sure, there’s the frog and the bulbs and the sole and that’s just the beginning. Horses’ feet are very complicated.”

“I guess they are,” the colonel said. He was quiet for a while and seemed to be thinking. It gave Carole some time to think as well. Carole knew a lot about horses. She’d read a lot of books, but mostly she’d
learned because she spent time with people who knew a lot about horses and who had taught her about them. That was one of the best things about a Pony Club. All the members were there to learn and all the volunteers were there to teach them.

But what about a volunteer who didn’t know anything? One who didn’t know the difference between horseback and bareback? What good was he going to be? There was something else bothering her, too, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Her father began singing. He loved music from the fifties and sixties. He started in on an Elvis Presley medley, beginning with his favorite, “Big Boots.”

Carole looked at him from the corner of her eye. Usually, she liked it when he sang or told his silly old jokes. Usually, she liked almost everything he did. But was she going to like it when he became part of her riding and showed everybody that he didn’t know anything?

Carole was very proud of her skill in riding and her knowledge. She loved it when people asked her questions and she knew the answer. She knew she had a tendency to give them more answer than they might want. It was something her friends liked to tease her about, but she didn’t mind. She still liked just plain knowing.

So now, how were people going to feel about her when they saw that her father, her wonderful father who could do so many other things, was a total ignoramus
when it came to horses? And how was that going to make Carole feel?

“Dad?” she said, interrupting “Heartbreak Hotel”

“What, honey?”

“I have a couple of books you might want to look at about horses,” she said.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m sure that whatever I need to know, you can tell me.”

Carole sighed. That was what she was afraid of.

A
FTER THE MEETING
, Lisa’s parents were more enthusiastic than ever about buying a horse for her. Lisa suspected it was because they had seen how few of the riders there actually did own their horses. She didn’t think that was a very good reason for buying a horse, certainly no better than buying one because Veronica diAngelo had one. Still, she herself wanted to own one very much, and as long as her parents wanted to buy a horse, she didn’t really care why.

The very next day, they picked her up after school again. The secretary from the vice-principal’s office had given Lisa a strange look when she’d given her the second note about meeting her parents after school in less than a week, but that was another thing Lisa decided not to worry about.

This time, the farm was really a horse farm, not just a farm with a horse for sale. Lisa liked the place immediately. It had big, airy, light stalls for its horses. They all opened onto individual outdoor paddock areas.
Those areas, in turn, opened to a large field. The horses had plenty of room to move, but their movements were controlled. The place seemed like a good combination of stabling and pasturing.

The owner, Mr. Jenrette, greeted the Atwoods. He explained that he’d just acquired a horse, Brinker, as part of a package deal, but he wasn’t a breeding horse so Mr. Jenrette wanted to sell him right away.

“He’s a real beauty,” Mr. Jenrette said. “I know you’ll love him. I’ve already had three other phone calls about him. You’re lucky that you called first.” Mr. Jenrette led them over to the paddock. Brinker was a bay, which meant he was brown with a black mane and tail. Brinker’s nose and ankles were black as well—that was called having black points—and he had a white blaze on his forehead.

Brinker was in his paddock. Lisa approached him slowly. He looked up and walked over toward her. It was as if they were already friends. The horse gazed at her curiously, and she patted his forehead. He seemed to like it, so she did it some more. Then she patted his neck.

“Here are some carrots,” Mr. Jenrette said, offering her a handful. Lisa took one and gave it to Brinker. She loved the sound of a horse crunching on carrots. Brinker loved the carrot.

“He’s not a purebred or anything,” Mr. Jenrette said. “But he’s got good lines. You’ll love riding him for a long time to come.”

“What does that mean?” Mrs. Atwood asked. Lisa explained that calling a horse purebred meant that it was registered as part of a breed, such as Thoroughbred, Arabian, or Quarter Horse. Both of its parents had to be registered and had to have the papers to prove it. It was a guarantee of quality breeding, though not necessarily of a good horse, and it was a guarantee of cost.

“You know something about horses, don’t you?” Mr. Jenrette asked.

“A bit,” Lisa said. “And I read a lot, too.”

“I can tell,” he said. Then he turned to her parents. “So, do you want him?” he asked.

“Oh, I think so,” Mr. Atwood said, and he turned to Lisa for confirmation. “Is this the right one?” he asked.

“He certainly looks good,” she said. “And I think I like his disposition—at least his stable manners. But there are lots of things we have to check first.”

“Like what?” her mother asked. “The horse is pretty, you like him, he’s for sale. What else is there?” Mrs. Atwood turned to Mr. Jenrette for an answer. The answer he gave was to look at his watch, as if he were waiting for the next buyer to show up and make him a better offer. It was a small gesture, but it told Lisa a lot. Lisa had a few doubts, and that little gesture gave her the confidence to follow up on them. Mr. Jenrette seemed to be very anxious to sell his horse.

“I need to check a few things,” she said, climbing over the fence into the paddock. It made her even
more suspicious that Mr. Jenrette didn’t join her and help her. She wanted to check the horse’s conformation, to make sure he had no obvious physical defects. She was no expert, so she could have used some expert advice. Why didn’t Mr. Jenrette want to give it to her?

An expert could determine a lot of things by looking at a horse. There were many small things that could be wrong that might not mean much at the time of a purchase, but could cost thousands of dollars in veterinary bills over time. There were also lots of things that could seem odd, but not mean anything at all. So why didn’t Mr. Jenrette want to show Lisa how good Brinker’s conformation was?

Her parents watched, confused, while she checked the points she could. Mr. Jenrette just kept looking at his watch whenever he thought somebody was looking at him. Lisa definitely smelled a rat. Now, instead of being doubtful, she was sure there was something significantly wrong with the horse, and it became a challenge to her. Would she find it before Mr. Jenrette sprained his wrist looking at his watch?

It was almost like a game of Hot and Cold. When Lisa was looking at Brinker’s head and neck, his body and his flanks, Mr. Jenrette had his hands on his hips. As soon as she picked up a hoof to examine Brinker’s foot, Mr. Jenrette began looking at his watch. She let go of the hoof and the man’s hand went into his
pocket. When she knelt to study the foot as it sat on the ground, he spoke.

“Did you hear a car come in the drive?” he asked. He wasn’t being subtle at all.

The problem had to be in Brinker’s feet and legs. Lisa thought she spotted it. There was a complex set of bones at what might be called the horse’s ankle, leading up to the main lower-leg bone, the cannon. Lisa didn’t know the names of all the parts, but she knew that the lowest portion of the leg was supposed to be at approximately the same angle as the hoof, almost as if it were a continuation of the hoof. That wasn’t the case on Brinker. His leg went straight up right above the hoof.

“Hmmm,” she said.

“Next people are coming in about five minutes,” Mr. Jenrette said.

“I’d like to try riding him, and then we’ll have our vet check him out tomorrow,” Lisa told him.

“He’ll be sold by then,” Mr. Jenrette said.

That was when Lisa decided it didn’t matter whether she was right or wrong about where the problem was. If Mr. Jenrette expected to sell the horse to somebody who would not have it checked by a vet, he was definitely hiding something a vet would find. Brinker was a pretty horse, and he seemed to have a sweet disposition. But Brinker was not a horse she was going to own.

“No, thank you,” Lisa said.

Mr. Jenrette shrugged. “Your loss.”

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Atwood demanded, suddenly realizing he’d been missing out on an entire drama.

As confident as she was that something was wrong, Lisa didn’t want to make a scene. She’d explain to her parents on the way home. She tried to think of a reason that would satisfy them.

“It’s just that the color doesn’t seem right to me, Dad. You know I’ve got my heart set on a chestnut,” Lisa said. It was about the dumbest reason she could think of for deciding not to buy a horse, but maybe it would work.

“Oh,” her father said.

“Sure,” her mother said. “Those are the sort of auburn-colored ones, aren’t they? I love that color. I’m sure we can find a horse like that for you, dear. I just didn’t know—”

“It’s okay, Mom, and thanks, Mr. Jenrette,” Lisa said, shaking his hand vigorously. She had the wild idea of trying to give his right wrist as much exercise as his left wrist had been getting. It was all she could do to keep from laughing as she did it.

Once the Atwoods were on the road, Lisa’s father looked at her in the rearview mirror. “A chestnut?” he asked. “What was that all about?” She’d fooled her mother, but not her father. She doubted that she’d fooled Mr. Jenrette, either.

“Well,” Lisa began.

“It was the vet part, wasn’t it?” Mr. Atwood asked.

“Yeah,” Lisa said, smiling. “As soon as he didn’t want a vet looking at the horse, I knew something was wrong—really wrong. I think Brinker has a problem with his hooves and legs, but a vet would know for sure.”

“This horse-buying business is a complicated one, isn’t it?” Mr. Atwood asked.

“Yes,” Lisa agreed. “It is.” They had found one horse that was sound, but not right for her. Another was right for her, but not sound. It was a complicated business, and it was even more complicated than her father realized, because he had no way of knowing how much Lisa wanted to tell her friends and how afraid she was of doing it.

“I’m going to be away on business for a couple of days,” Mr. Atwood said. “We’ll look at more horses when I get back, okay?”

Lisa nodded.

“Don’t worry. We’ll find you the right horse,” he assured her.

Lisa nodded again. After all, that was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

“H
ORSE
W
ISE
,
COME
to order!”

Stevie tugged ever so slightly on Topside’s reins. The horse stood still, seeming to sense that something exciting was about to happen. And something exciting
was
about to happen. The first Horse Wise mounted meeting was about to begin. All of the riders were about to become full-fledged members of the Pony Club.

It took a few minutes for all the horses to line up, especially since Veronica was riding Garnet in a group for the first time. It wasn’t that Veronica couldn’t control Garnet; it was that she didn’t want to control her. As long as Garnet was acting up, Veronica was the center of attention and almost everybody had to look at her and her beautiful horse. Stevie stared straight ahead, and so did Lisa and Carole. Finally, Garnet was
in line with everybody else. Max gave Veronica a warning look that told her to keep it that way.