One Unhappy Horse (4 page)

Mattie frowned and stopped in midstroke. "Now, why can't I remember right? My daughter quit that job so she could stay home and be a consultant. A consultant just tells companies what to do, and they pay her good for it. I think that's what she said. It's so she doesn't have to work so hard. But—" Mattie looked at Jan as if Jan might unmuddle her, but Jan couldn't.

"Anyway," Mattie said with renewed cheer, "it's not that my daughter doesn't want to see me. She and I are as close as—Why, once she even sent me a card that said I was her best friend."

"Uh-huh," Jan said.

"Yes," Mattie assured herself. "But she's busy. So I thought I'd take myself for a little walk in the fresh air. And
I'm sure glad I did because here you are, and isn't this nice?" She leaned her cheek against Dove's warm neck.

"The vet looked at Dove's leg today," Jan said. "But she isn't sure what's wrong. She's got to do x-rays."

"X-rays? They did those on my head after the car accident, but they couldn't find anything." Mattie laughed. "I guess that's because there's not much up there to find." She knocked her fist against her skull.

Jan tried to smile, but she couldn't quite manage it.

"Well, don't look so sad," Mattie said. "Whatever's wrong with this big horse can be fixed. He's young, isn't he?"

"Dove's sixteen."

"Oh, that's a good age for a horse. You'll be grown up and married before he's too old to patch up."

"But we don't have any money to get him patched up," Jan said.

"Umm." Mattie frowned and shook her head. "Money's a nasty business, isn't it? I gave all mine over to my daughter so I wouldn't have to think about it. There're always people in trouble and needing help, and I didn't have enough to help everyone. At least, that's what my daughter kept telling me."

Dove dipped his head down and nudged Mattie's shoulder. Although it was a gentle nudge, it nearly knocked her off her feet. Jan scolded him, but Mattie seemed delighted by his acknowledgment of her.

"He likes me!" she cried. "There, big fella. You like me, don't you?" And she reached up to stroke his cheek. "Next
time I'm gonna ask Stella for a carrot to bring you," she told Dove, nose to nose with him.

Jan smiled down at Mattie. The woman was so small that she made Jan feel like a giant string puppet, all legs and arms. "How's your friend, the tall one who can't see so well?" Jan asked.

"Amelia? She's fine. But you know, she's not really my friend. We room together because I've got to be economical and share.
She's
got money, but she needs someone with her because of her eyes."

Jan was confused. "You mean, you don't like her?"

"Oh, I like her. I like everybody. But Amelia—she's kind of
sour
about things, you know?"

Jan didn't know, but she was shy about prying. Dad had never hesitated to ask people personal questions, and they'd never seemed to mind his asking. Too bad she wasn't more like her father, she thought. He might have been a spendthrift like Mom claimed, but everybody had loved him. And
he'd
known how to enjoy life.

"Well, now, when are you coming to visit?" Mattie asked. "I want to show you a picture of my old horse."

"Oh, I don't know. Soon, I guess," Jan said evasively.

"Why not right now? You can't ride this fellow, can you?"

"No. But I think I'd better—"

"It won't take long. I'll just show you the picture and you can leave. We're not going to lock you in or anything." Mattie's smile was mischievous. Jan was embarrassed that
Mattie had somehow sensed her reluctance to enter her old home.

"Okay," Jan said, because she couldn't think of a polite way out of it.

"Good," Mattie said enthusiastically. "Come on, then." She took Jan's arm as if it belonged to her now. Her small hand went tap-tap, tap-tap against Jan's lean, tanned forearm as they walked through the dry weeds toward the back of the main house.

A wall had been constructed around the patio, which had been lined with a neat row of desert cactus and succulents. A small square of grass had been planted outside the brick patio area. A wide-bodied, white-haired lady sat slumped in a plastic garden chair in the sun there. At her knees was a metal framework with wheels and handles that Jan guessed was to help her walk.

"Hi, there, sugar. You ought to get yourself into the shade before you get heatstroke," Mattie told the lady, who looked up with a vague smile.

Apprehension made Jan's heart pound loudly in her ears when she suddenly found herself in her old house. The sun porch, where she had done her homework sprawled on a daybed, was now neatly decked out as a dining room with handsome carved-wood tables and chairs—two sets of them.

"Here's where we eat," Mattie said unnecessarily. "And this is Stella. She's the manager. She takes the
best
care of us."

Stella was setting the tables. Dressed in a white uniform and sensible white shoes, with her hair slicked back in a ponytail, she looked about Jan's mother's age. It pleased Jan to see Stella reach out and hug Mattie. She wasn't the only one to find the curly-haired lady lovable, it seemed.

"So you finally corralled your young friend, Mattie," Stella said. "I figured you'd persuade her once you put your mind to it."

"She and her family used to own this house," Mattie said.

"You told me. Well, you better show her around and see if she approves of how we fixed it up," Stella said amiably. "Nice to meet you—"

"Jan," Jan provided, since Mattie hadn't introduced her by name.

"Nice to meet you, Jan. Don't you be a stranger, now."

Mattie continued towing Jan into the living room. Jan stiffened herself for the shock of change in what had been so comfortably familiar. The stone fireplace wall was still the same, but the tacky odds and ends of furniture were gone. Instead, there were matching couches and chairs upholstered in a pale gray Southwestern design set soothingly against white-painted walls.

"This room looks a whole lot better than when we lived here," Jan said honestly.

"Oh, now, you don't have to say that." Mattie looked around appreciatively. "But I must say it does look nice.
When my daughter first talked about me moving in here, I didn't like it. I'd lived in my own home my whole life, and sharing a room, well—But since the car accident, my head's not right and I get these spells. My daughter says she's afraid to leave me by my lonesome for long. So—" Mattie shrugged and continued cheerily, "Do you have your own room, honey?"

Jan shook her head. "I share with my mother. I had my own room when we lived here."

"Then you know how it is. But you get used to having someone around, don't you? And it's nice to have company." Mattie nodded as if to convince herself. Then she said, "I'd better go see if Amelia's decent before I march you into our bedroom. You wait here a second. Sit down anywhere you like. You can watch TV."

Jan sat on one of the two big sofas across from the giant TV in the corner. It was running without sound, although no one was in the room to watch it besides her. In the casita, Mom often fell asleep watching TV late at night. Then it would sometimes be left on for days until one or the other of them thought to turn it off.

Mattie was back in a minute with a framed picture in her hands. "I'd like you to see what's become of your old bedroom, but Amelia's napping. She spends as much time as she can asleep. Says that's when she's best off. Anyway, we won't bother her. Here." She handed over what was obviously her prize possession, an eight-by-ten picture of a
handsome brown quarter horse with a small girl in a cowboy hat atop it.

"That's you?" Jan asked, pointing to the girl.

"Me when I was about seven, and my darling Laddie-lee."

"He looks just like Dove, except for the white on his forehead."

"He does, doesn't he? They both have that proud way of standing with their head up and that sweet look in the eyes."

Jan handed the photo back to Mattie. "Thanks," she said. "I mean, for showing it to me."

"Oh, that's nothing," Mattie said. "I'm just so glad you came to visit. It's good to have a friend close by, isn't it?"

Jan was startled. Was Mattie claiming her as a friend now? The possibility of friendship with this ancient lady hadn't occurred to her. She swallowed. "Well, I guess I'd better—" she began.

"Oh, do you have to go so soon? I could tell you the story of how Laddie-lee saved my life if you've got another minute," Mattie said.

"You'd better watch out," Stella stuck her head in to say. "That Mattie won't let go once she gets an audience."

"You think I talk too much, Stella?" Mattie asked, cocking her head inquiringly.

"Oh, not too much for me, Mattie. But you
are
a good talker."

"I like listening to you," Jan said, quickly before Mattie could feel hurt.

"There, you see. This child doesn't mind me."

"I don't mind you, either," Stella said. "But you'd better tell your story fast. I'm serving supper in five minutes."

It was only five o'clock. "You eat early," Jan said to Mattie.

"That's 'cause most of the ladies here go to bed so early. They sleep all day and go to bed around eight or nine at the latest."

Mattie didn't belong in this place, Jan thought. She had entirely too much energy.

The story, when Jan finally sat down next to Mattie and listened to it, was a good one. It seemed Mattie had been riding her horse along the bank of a creek in Mississippi and had dismounted to poke around in the water when a copperhead dropped out of the tree under which she was standing. It landed at her feet. The snake would have bitten and maybe killed her, except that Laddie-lee screamed, the terrible way only a horse can scream. He immediately attacked the reptile, pounding it to a mush with his hooves.

"Now, he could have just run off, Laddie-lee could have. But he stayed and protected me because he loved me. Isn't that something?" Mattie asked.

"It's great," Jan said.

"Yes, I always thought so. I loved Laddie-lee like he was my family. Well, he
was
my family." Mattie's eyes filled. "I still miss him. I had other horses later, but none like him."

Nothing Mattie had said touched Jan as much as the way
she'd expressed her attachment to her horse. Clearly, despite the difference in their ages, they did have a lot in common.

"Supper, Mattie," Stella said.

Jan got up to leave. "Thanks for the story," she said.

"Plenty more where that came from," Mattie said. "You come back soon, hear?"

Stella followed Jan out the back door to the patio while the women began to take their places at the tables in the dining room.

"You did a good deed stopping by here today," Stella said in a low voice. "She's a sweetheart and lately she's been so lonely."

"But she has a daughter."

Stella sniffed and raised an eyebrow. "Mattie's daughter's been making more promises than she keeps. She hasn't been by here in a month. And when she does come—well, it's hard to believe she could be Mattie's daughter. Anyway, you take care, now." And Stella waved and smiled and backed into the house where the white heads were assembled around the tables and waiting to be served.

The sun was turning the craggy Catalina Mountains red to the north of the ranch. It was getting dark earlier every day. Jan went into the casita and dug her savings-account passbook from the bottom drawer of the small dresser she shared with her mother. There were several years of birthday money in the account, plus what Dad had paid her for doing odd jobs around the ranch. She took the passbook back to
the barn and held it out to her mother, who was leading one of the boarders into his stall.

"Would you cash this for me to pay for the x-rays if I sign the withdrawal slip?" Jan asked.

"I can take you to the bank tomorrow after school," Mom said. "Maybe you'll be lucky. Maybe the x-rays'll show that Dove
doesn't
need an operation."

"Maybe," Jan said. But somehow she didn't feel very lucky.

Dove was standing under his mesquite tree waiting for her when Jan got home from school the next day. He swished his tail and ducked his head a couple of times to greet her, but he maintained his tripod position.

"Are you trying to turn into a statue, Dove?" Jan asked. She went to the barn for the knotted rope that he loved to play with and wagged it under his nose. Dove sniffed it, but he didn't grab an end of it for an impromptu game of tug-of-war.

"Don't you even want to chew a knot loose?" Jan asked him. Dove used to love to untie knots. He had to be hurting bad if he didn't want to play. To comfort him, she scratched under his chin and smiled at how funny he looked when he wrinkled his muzzle lifting his head for her to reach under it.

"So," she said, "looks like I'm going to buy you some x-rays instead of a new saddle blanket. Well, we can make do with
your raggedy old blanket. I'll just fold it so the holes don't bother your back. Luckily, you and I aren't fussy about what we wear, are we?"

He sighed for answer. She combed his mane back with her fingers and told him how handsome he was.

When she finally went in search of her mother, Jan didn't find her in the barn or working in the rings. Most likely, Mom had taken their prime boarder out for a trail ride, Jan told herself. That horse didn't get much attention from his owners, but at least they could afford to pay Mom to exercise and groom him. If all Mom's owners were as rich as the prime boarder's, the ranch would be making a profit. But most people could barely afford the boarding costs, plus the incidentals of shoeing and vet fees. According to Mom, people usually underestimated the expense of horse ownership and didn't realize that buying the horse was the least of it.

Horses were neighing and stomping, impatient to be fed. Jan went to the shed where the bales of alfalfa hay were stacked higher than her head. She swung herself up to the top rank by the rope hanging from a roof beam. From there she rolled a bale down, heaved it into a wheelbarrow, and set off with a pitchfork to shake a flake of hay into each of the hungry horses' feeders. As usual, the Appaloosa grabbed for the hay and dropped most of it before Jan could get it into his feeder. "Piggy," she told him. "Now you'll have to eat it from the ground."