Read Nothing But Horses Online

Authors: Shannon Kennedy

Tags: #coming of age, #horses, #barn, #growing up, #teenage girl, #stupid people, #intolerant, #riding stable, #old habits, #wannabe cowboy

Nothing But Horses

BOOK: Nothing But Horses
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Nothing But Horses
Shamrock Stable #3
by Shannon
Kennedy

 

 

 

 

Published by

Fire and Ice
A Young Adult Imprint of Melange Books, LLC

White Bear Lake, MN 55110

www.fireandiceya.com

 

Nothing But Horses, Copyright 2014
Shannon Kennedy

 

ISBN: 978-1-61235-972-4

 

Names, characters, and incidents
depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of
this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage and retrieval system, without
permission in writing from the publisher.

 

Published in the United States of
America.

 

Cover Design
by
Lynsee Lauritsen

 

 

Table of
Contents

 

"Nothing But Horses"

 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

About the Author

Previews

 

 

Nothing But Horses is dedicated to “Nevada”
a real Morgan-Belgian-Quarterhorse born on New Year’s Day. He loves
long, skinny carrots and the people who bring them to the barn for
him. His mischief and antics over the past sixteen years helped
inspire this story, but to fit the purposes of the book, I made him
a year younger.

 

 

NOTHING BUT
HORSES

by Shannon Kennedy

 

If the going gets tough,
wannabe cowboys exit stage left, according to Sierra McElroy.
Because her family owns the local riding stable, her old life was
nothing but horses. Now, Sierra has a new car (new to her), a new
puppy, a new school, a new coach, and a new basketball
team.

However, she's brought her same old patterns
into this new life.

She still doesn't
have any patience for stupid people who are a waste of time, space
and oxygen. In order to take over Shamrock Stable someday, does
Sierra need to learn to tolerate these people who make her
crazy?

 

 

Chapter
One

 

Shamrock Stable, Washington

Sunday, December
15
th
, 4:00 pm

 

Christmas was ten days away and my plan to
save some of our horses from being sold to wanta-be cowgirls and
cowboys was in full swing. With my
Deck the Stalls
contest
going strong, the stable looked more festive with each passing
hour. Our riding students had signed up for extra lessons so they
could choose their favorite horses and proceeded to turn the place
into a holiday wonderland. Santa would love it here. I had strung
gold and silver tinsel garlands along the beams in the barn. Soon
each stall would have its own theme. The dollar store was
undoubtedly turning a profit this year thanks to all the people I’d
sent there to buy decorations. I’d seen stall doors covered with
wrapping paper or plastic tablecloths or even door mats. I’d
noticed a few place mats too. Lots of red and green plastic ribbon,
bows, Santa pics—there wasn’t any limit to the imagination.

We’d judge the contest when my grandparents
arrived so they could help decide which stall door looked the best.
Our traditional Shamrock Stable Christmas Party on horseback
happened next Sunday. We’d announce the winners then and they would
receive halters, or lead-lines, or brushes, or riding lessons. Top
prizes were scholarships to horse day camp next summer.

I was in the middle of helping Dani, one of
our nicest boarders decorate her stall door for the stable contest.
Blonde, petite, she was a fashion statement in riding pants, muck
boots and a light purple, fleece jacket. Her Quarterhorse mare had
abandoned us for the outside paddock, adjacent to the stall when
Dani ran out of long, skinny carrots. That left the two of us to
fit the old-time cardboard fireplace to the outside of the door.
I’d barely reloaded my staple gun when Jack and Bill showed up with
Harry, the blond surfer dude that Dani had just started dating.
“Hey guys,” I said.

“We need your help,” Jack, a dark-haired
football jock, told me. “And Dani, this is hush-hush. No telling my
sister, the Christmas snoop or Vicky who will pass the word. We’re
counting on Sierra to do the ‘what happens at Shamrock, stays at
Shamrock’ routine so we can make our holiday arrangements.”

I nodded. “You got it. Robin and Vick are my
friends, but business is business. What can I sell you?”

Dani giggled, sounding like a typical blonde
bubble-head. “I’m
so
telling Robin what you called her. And
then I’m getting you in trouble with Vicky. She’s not just your
girlfriend, Jack, she’s Robin’s B.F.F.”

“They know.” Bill ran a hand through his
chestnut hair and looked at me hopefully. “Sierra, do you have an
extra barn around here that we can borrow or rent just till
Christmas Eve?”

“Why?” I asked. “What’s it for? What are you
guys up to?”

“We need to hide a ‘68 Mustang,” Harry told
me. “Someone tried to sell my sister this loser hardtop. She didn’t
go for it because it’s a major mess. It would take us way too much
time to bring it back so we could sell it at the car lot, but by
the time Robin fixes it up, the car could be amazing.”

“My folks won’t let me keep it at our house
because my older brother already has three dead cars in the yard,”
Bill said. “And I can’t put it anywhere at Jack’s or Robin will see
it, but I have to move it today or lose the deal.”

“Bring it here,” I said. “We’ll put it in the
garage. Robin never goes there. None of the students do when they
come for lessons. Mom and I usually park the Ranger up by the
house.”

“Are you sure?” Jack gave me a steady
dark-eyed look. “We could use the carport.”

“No, we can’t. Grandpa always parks his
motorhome there. He and Grandma will be here this Wednesday night.
Grandma’s taking me to see Stewart Falls Academy, and a couple
other private schools on Thursday.”

“No way.” Dani finished taping up red holiday
stockings to the mantel of the fireplace, then began stapling up
gold tinsel garland to the doorframe. “We want you at Lincoln High,
not somewhere else. You’d love our school and I’m not just saying
that because you know all of us.”

“You’re right. I would love it,” I said, “but
I’m so sick of being messed with at Mount Pilchuck that I could
scream. I wanted to go out for basketball, but practice times just
suck, and if I miss one, I get benched. I went through enough of
that crap during the soccer season. It’s not worth the hassle to
deal with it one more time. I’m not staying there regardless of
which private school I have to attend.”

“I get that, but we still want you with us,”
Dani said.

“I’ll ask Grandma if she knows anyone at
Lincoln,” I said. “It could happen. She taught high school for
years and she still connects with a ton of other teachers and
principals.”

Chores done and customers gone a couple hours
later, I headed into the house. Dani had spent most of the
afternoon sharing the benefits of Lincoln High, as if I didn’t
already know. Most of my friends had transferred there once
Washington State released the basic skills in Reading, Math and
Science test scores. Mount Pilchuck’s continued to plummet while
Lincoln’s, Stewart Falls Academy and Centennial Mid-High elevated
to the top in the local area.

I found Mom on the landline in the kitchen. I
always felt like a giant in comparison to her. We both had red hair
and green eyes, but she barely topped five feet in her Ropers,
while I was five feet eight in my socks. She said I got my height
from my father, a guy I barely remembered. He’d gotten lost on the
journey to find himself back when I was three. I hadn’t seen or
heard from him in the last thirteen years. As for child support,
Mom hadn’t received any of that either.

Mom hastily said, “Here she is now, Robin.
I’ll let you girls talk.”

“Okay, what are you two up to now?” I asked
my friend as soon as I took the receiver. “This is getting
spooky.”

“No, it’s not,” Robin said, “It’s Christmas,
not Halloween. Of course there are secrets. Everything isn’t about
you. It’s about me because I’m blonde and gorgeous.”

“Want to bet? What’s up?”

“Not much. I just called to chat and see if
you’d tell me why my brother had to come to Shamrock today with his
friends.”

I opted for the party line Jack gave me when
the guys dropped off the beat-up Mustang. “He wanted to buy a gift
certificate for Vicky so she can do a discounted version of the
pre-owner package. And guys travel in gangs when they shop, just
like we did on Black Friday.”

“My big brother is so cute when he does the
boyfriend thing. Want to guess what else she’s getting?”

“How can I?” I pulled over a chair and sat
down next to the kitchen extension. “You tell me. What’s her other
present?”

“The blue merle collie pup from that litter I
rescued. They’re nearly old enough for homes and Dad says I can
only keep two puppies and the mom,” Robin said. “I tried telling
him with the cows, chickens, horses and everything else around
here, he shouldn’t notice my fleet of dogs, but he didn’t go for
it. Anyway, Vicky’s mother actually paid me twenty bucks for the
merle so I’d save him for Vick until Christmas.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. Vicky’s little brother wanted a
laundry list of everything the puppy will need. He and the other
kids are rounding up the gifts to put under the tree. It’ll be her
best holiday ever.”

“Christmas is all about love,” I said. “It’s
amazing where you find it.”

“You’re telling me.”

We talked a while longer but Robin didn’t
give me any hints of why she really called or what she’d been
talking about on the phone with my mother. When I went into the
living room, I found Mom and my seven-year-old half-sister, Autumn,
cuddled up on the couch watching the cartoon version of the Grinch
stealing Christmas. They looked so loving that I joined them,
dropping into one of the recliners.

Just as the song started, our riding
instructor Meredith came in the door, followed by Dave Yardley, the
local animal control cop in regular clothes. A silver-haired,
fifty-something, horsy know-it-all, Meredith glowered at the three
of us. Then, she pulled a long garland of tiny fake red apples out
of her coat pocket. “Look what I found on Dream’s stall door. I
told you this stupid contest wouldn’t work. We’ll be lucky if we
don’t have a bunch of dead horses by Christmas.”

“Not Dream.” One tear slid down Autumn’s
cheek, followed by a second, then a third, before she turned her
face into Mom’s sweatshirt. “Not my pony. She’s smart. She knows
the difference between decoration and real.”

“I’ll bet she does.” Dave snagged the
ornaments from Meredith. “Why don’t you come help me hang them
around the top of her stall, up where your sister put the tinsel?
Then, Dream won’t make a mistake in the middle of the night when
she wants a snack. Next time I come, I’ll bring a bag of apples
just for her, but you’ll have to get your big sister to help you
chop them up.”

“And I’ll write Meredith’s check. It’s a long
drive home to Seattle for her.” Mom hit pause on the remote. “We
can finish the movie when you two get back. Sierra, go make some
popcorn please.”

BOOK: Nothing But Horses
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