Nightmare (2 page)

In a crisis, Lisa was coolheaded, logical, and straightforward. She was never intimidated by a large project. She’d break it down into small components and attack it with a plan that actually made sense.

Lisa lived with her mother and father in a house right
down the street from Stevie’s house. Everything in the house was always as neat and organized as everything else about Lisa.

Lisa was also multitalented. Her mother believed that her daughter should be well-rounded (though Stevie insisted that that meant she was supposed to eat a lot!). Mrs. Atwood had seen to it that Lisa had instruction in a number of areas she considered critical to the well-roundedness of a proper young lady. Lisa had taken lessons in dance (ballet, ballroom, even tap), art (painting and sculpture), sewing, knitting, and walking with a book on her head for posture. In another girl, all these lessons might have combined to make a pretty snobbish teenager; in Lisa’s case, they only added to her enormous fund of knowledge about almost everything.

Lisa was the newest rider in The Saddle Club. Both Carole and Stevie had started riding when they were little girls. But Lisa had approached riding the same way she did everything else. She was methodical, thorough, and precise. She studied hard and worked hard, and she learned fast. There were times when Carole and Stevie could give her pointers, but she was almost as good as they were, and she always kept up with them when they went riding together—which was as often as they possibly could.

Both Stevie and Carole owned their own horses. Lisa didn’t. She felt that as long as she was still in the process
of learning so much, she was better off riding a variety of horses. Stevie and Carole thought that was a good idea, but they also thought it showed some restraint! Most of the time, Lisa rode a Thoroughbred mare named Prancer that had been retired from the racetrack because of a congenital problem with her leg. It was a problem that mattered a lot in a racehorse but not at all in a pleasure and show horse.

Stevie was as different from her two friends as they were from each another. Sometimes her friends thought it was a good thing that The Saddle Club helped each other out, because Stevie was always needing it! There was an irresistible quality to Stevie: a gleam in her eye that spelled fun—and trouble. Stevie was an expert at getting into trouble, and every time her friends pointed that out to her, she reminded them that she was as good at getting out of it as she was at getting into it … well, almost. The one part of her school that she seemed to know the very best was the principal’s waiting room. She’d spent a lot of time there, but she remarked that some of her finest hours had actually been in the principal’s office because she was such an expert at talking the principal out of being angry at her or punishing her. Even her best friends thought the principal might not agree with Stevie about that, though.

Carole glanced out the bus window, barely noticing the lovely countryside they drove through. She thought
back to her afternoon at Pine Hollow. It wasn’t wonderful just because of what Max had said. It was also wonderful because of what Judy had said.

When Carole had finished riding, she had groomed Starlight and given him water. As she was wiping off Starlight’s tack so that it would be clean for the next time she rode, Judy Barker’s van arrived at Pine Hollow.

Carole knew what that meant: Judy was bringing Delilah home. Delilah was one of Pine Hollow’s loveliest mares. She was lovely in every sense of the word. She was lovely because she was pretty. Although every serious rider knew that a horse’s looks were the least important part of the horse, a golden palomino like Delilah was a feast for the eyes. Even lovelier was her personality. Delilah was a gentle mare, always trying to please her rider or handler. Almost everyone who ever rode Delilah became a fan of hers. Carole was no exception.

Delilah was returning to Pine Hollow from a very important visit at another stable near Pine Hollow called Hedgerow Farms. She had been mated with Hedgerow’s prize stallion, and everybody was hoping they would soon find out she was carrying a foal. She deserved special treatment.

Carole had helped Judy bring Delilah out of the van and return her to her clean home stall. Carole looked at her very closely, hoping for some indication of impending motherhood, but the horse didn’t give a sign.
Clearly, the only thing on Delilah’s mind was a nice chomp on some hay and a drink of fresh water. Carole had given her a final pat, closed the stable door, and clicked the lock.

Judy had thanked her for her help. That had reminded Carole of something she had wanted to ask her about.

“Can you take a look at Nero while you’re here?” Carole asked.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well, he seems a little off. I’m not sure I can explain it, but he seems restless. It’s probably nothing. He hasn’t been ridden in a couple of days and that might be why, but, well, I don’t know …”

“We’ll just see,” said Judy. The two of them walked over to Nero’s stall. He was a big old black gelding, part quarter horse. He’d been at Pine Hollow for years. He’d been trained by Max’s father. He always seemed unflappable, which was why it struck Carole as odd that he was being restless and fussy now.

Judy just watched the horse for a minute. At first Nero just watched her back. Then he stomped his rear right foot on the stable floor, shook his head, swished his tail, and stepped back. He raised his rear right foot again, almost as if trying to scratch his belly, and then reached for his flank with his nose.

“Could that be colic?” Carole asked.

“Bingo,” said Judy. “It’s subtle, but it’s there—classic
colic symptoms, the restlessness and trying to get at his belly. He’s not really feeling bad yet, but if you hadn’t noticed, he’d be feeling awful in a very short while.”

Judy then went to her truck, got her medical bag, and returned to give Nero a full checkup. Before long, she had confirmed their suspicions and given the horse the medicine he needed.

“You might have saved his life, you know. Without early treatment, this kind of colic can be deadly. Good work, Carole. I thank you, Max thanks you, but most of all Nero thanks you.”

Carole had looked at the horse. He hadn’t looked terribly grateful right then. He eyed Carole and Judy suspiciously. Carole didn’t mind that he hadn’t enjoyed his medical treatment. Horses didn’t always know what was good for them. But Carole seemed to. Judy said she’d saved his life.

As Carole stepped off the bus, she was still undecided. Which one of her exciting pieces of news would she share with her father first: being a distinguished rider or a life-saving veterinary assistant?

What a nice decision that was to have to make.

C
AROLE
SLIPPED
HER
key into the front door and was pleased to see that it wasn’t locked. That meant her father was already home. She pushed the door open, stepped in, and called out, “Dad! I’m home. And guess what?”

Her father stepped out of the kitchen and reached out to give her a welcoming hug.

“I’ve got some news for you, too,” he said. “You go first.”

Carole went to drop her riding gear bag in the foyer, but she found that her usual drop point was taken up—by a suitcase.

“No, I think you’d better go first,” she said uneasily. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like her father’s
news much. It would be better to know sooner than to worry about it.

He hugged her reassuringly and they walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. It was their usual place for serious talks. This made Carole even more uneasy.

“Honey, I have to go away for a while,” he began.

“I figured that when I saw your suitcase,” she said. “Where? And how long?”

“That’s the hard part,” he said. “I can’t say. I mean, I know, more or less, where I’ll be and how long I’ll be gone, but this is a classified operation and I can’t tell anyone.”

“Even me?” Carole asked, the news sinking in.

“Even you, my darling. It’s the law and I’ve got to follow it, even when it hurts. I’m going to be okay. Nothing to worry about, I promise. It’s you we have to take care of. I thought we might call Aunt Joanna and Uncle Willie to see if you could stay with them—”

“But they live in Florida!” Carole exclaimed.

“Great weather,” said her dad.

“But that’s so far away. You must think you’re going to be gone a really long time …” She was near panic.

“No, no, that’s not necessarily true,” Colonel Hanson said. He reached for her hand and held it tightly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought maybe this might be an opportunity for you to have a nice long visit with them. But not too long. Really, not too long. I’m sure.”

Carole breathed deeply. She knew that as a Marine,
her father had to go where the Corps sent him, and if it was a classified mission, she couldn’t press for information. She also knew that it wouldn’t be fair to him to show how worried she was. Then
he’d
just be worried. If he had to be away, doing something important and secret, then he had to be able to do it well. If he spent all his time worrying about Carole, he might mess up, and she hated to think what that might mean. She didn’t want to cry. She swallowed hard.

“Um, this isn’t a good time to leave school,” she said. “It’s, like, the middle of the semester. Can’t I stay here?”

“Alone?” her father asked.

“No, I mean like with one of my friends. That way I won’t miss school, and I won’t miss Starlight.”

She bit her lip right after she said Starlight’s name. Carole had always found comfort in being with horses. When her mother was ill and the world was topsy-turvy, horses and riding had been a safe haven for her. As long as she could ride, something was right in the world. She couldn’t lose that now. She just had to stay near Starlight.

It didn’t take too long to arrange. Together they decided that it would make the most sense to ask if Carole could stay with Lisa’s family. Now that Lisa’s brother had graduated from college and was working in New York, Carole might be able to use his bedroom.

Colonel Hanson called the Atwoods and made the arrangements. Carole wanted to talk to Lisa, but she
wasn’t home yet. Her mother thought she was at the library. That didn’t surprise Carole. Lisa spent a lot of time at the library—and she put the time to good use.

Mrs. Atwood told Carole she’d have Lisa call when she got home, and in the meantime, they were happy she’d be visiting them. She was welcoming—warm and kind. Carole knew she was trying to be especially nice, and that made her uncomfortable. That meant that Mrs. Atwood thought it was as awful as Carole did that her father was going away so mysteriously.

She hung up the phone and put on her best smile before she turned to face her dad.

“That settles that,” he said. “Now, what’s your news?”

Carole had no idea what he was talking about.

L
ISA
FROWNED
AT
the history paper in her hand. It had her name on it. It said “A” at the top. Normally that would have been enough to satisfy her that she’d done her best. Today, it wasn’t enough.

She stared at the pile of books in front of her. She was trying to learn everything there was to know about the buildup of arms in Germany in the 1930s. She thought it might be a good topic for her term paper, which would be due in the spring.

She thought she’d done a good enough job on the paper she’d just gotten back, but when Mr. Mathios had decided to read one student’s paper out loud to the class, it wasn’t Lisa’s paper. It was Fiona Jamieson’s.

Lisa stood up and took the pile of books to the return
desk. The library was closing. It was time to go home.

Lisa shoved her paper into her book bag. As she walked slowly home, it was as if she could still hear Mr. Mathios reading Fiona’s paper. “ ‘Virtual political vacuum,” ’ she muttered. That was how Fiona had described war-torn Europe at the end of World War I. Mr. Mathios loved it. Lisa did, too. She just wished she’d written it.

Lisa actually liked Fiona Jamieson. She was a nice girl—very hardworking, and everything she did was good. In fact, everything she did was as good as everything Lisa did. They had almost identical grades all through junior high school. She and Fiona were in eighth grade and would be graduating to high school in the spring. What Lisa wanted, more than anything, was to be valedictorian at her junior-high graduation. The valedictorian was the person with the best academic record in the class, and being valedictorian meant getting special privileges, like course choices, in high school. It also meant it would be on her record when she applied to college. She knew that would look good to any college admissions officer. Yes, this was a time when second place meant losing.