Western Star (5 page)

Stevie tried very hard not to look surprised. After all, there was nothing wrong with older people getting married and going on honeymoons. And what could be nicer than spending a honeymoon at the Bar None? She decided then that she liked the Katzes.

“And these are the Finnegans,” said Kate. “Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan and their son, Gary.”

Gary and his father stood up and shook hands while Kate finished the introductions. They were a good-looking African American family. Gary and his father were tall and slender. Mrs. Finnegan was picture-perfect. In fact, the whole family looked picture-perfect. Their clothes were expensive, and each outfit almost matched the others, blending colors and patterns. Stevie couldn’t help wondering if they’d all just stepped out of a wardrobe room somewhere.

“The Finnegans are staying in the Creek Suite
bunkhouse,” Kate said. The remark seemed casual, but Stevie knew it was meant to convey information. The Creek Suite was the Bar None’s premier accommodation. It was a separate house, much fancier than the bunkhouse the girls were occupying. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large sitting room with a fireplace. It also had its own den and kitchen. It meant the Finnegans were VIPs—very important people.

“Is anybody here hungry?” Phyllis asked brightly. The response was overwhelmingly enthusiastic.

One of the nice things about the Bar None was that when it wasn’t too crowded, the Devines and all the guests ate together at a long table in the dining room. It made everyone feel as if they were part of one big family.

“So you girls went on a ride this afternoon?” Gary asked while platters were being passed around the table.

“That’s what we came for!” Lisa said cheerfully.

“Where to?” Gary asked.

Stevie described their itinerary, explaining that they’d gone as far as the horse herd, a few miles out on the range.

“That was a pretty short ride,” Gary said.

“Well, we just got here,” Stevie said.

“Oh, then I guess when you get better you’ll be able to take longer rides,” he said smugly.

Stevie blinked, confused at first. Then she understood. Gary thought the fact that they’d just arrived meant
they were greenhorns who could handle only a short ride. Stevie had an urge to say something about how he’d probably been lazing in front of the fireplace while they were loping on the snowy range. Then she remembered that the Finnegans were staying in the expensive Creek Suite. They were VIPs. This was no time for her to indulge her famous sharp tongue. Instead she smiled politely.

“We’re going riding again tomorrow morning. Would you like to join us?” she asked.

“Uh, sure,” Gary said. “I don’t mind going out with you all.”

Stevie bit her tongue. She wasn’t certain whether Gary was saying it wouldn’t kill him to ride with amateurs or whether he was pleased to be invited. She chose to act as if it were the latter.

“What time do you ride?” Gary asked. “About ten-thirty?”

“Well, we might be
back
by then,” Stevie said, indulging herself just a little. Lisa and Christine stifled laughs.

“Actually, we go out before sunrise,” Kate explained. “It’s a tradition with us.”

“Oh, fine,” said Gary. “I myself like a long early-morning ride.”

“Bareback,” said Christine.

“Really?” said Gary.

“It’s the greatest,” Carole assured him. “You’re going to love it.”

“Well, it just happens that I’ve always enjoyed riding bareback,” Gary said. “A well-trained horse is a joy to ride when there’s no saddle to interfere. I try to ride bareback whenever I can, in fact.”

“It’ll be nice to have you with us,” Kate said. “We usually leave about six o’clock. Will you be ready?”

“Of course,” Gary said.

Stevie was glad she’d been polite to Gary. Apparently he was a good rider. It might even be fun to have him along in the morning.

“So, will you girls be here for Christmas?” Mrs. Finnegan asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, no ma’am,” Carole answered. “We’re leaving here on Wednesday morning. Frank will fly us back to Washington then.”

“But don’t worry, Mrs. Finnegan,” Frank said. “I’ll be back in time for the traditional Bar None Christmas.”

“What’s the traditional Bar None Christmas?” Kate asked. She seemed oddly surprised about her own family’s Christmas traditions.

“Our tradition is to make the holiday as traditional as possible,” Phyllis said, shooting her daughter a meaningful look.

“Oh, right,” Kate said, as if suddenly remembering.

“It’s hard to say what’s traditional,” Stevie remarked.
“It seems to me that everybody’s traditions are very different from one another.”

“Well, what’s important to you about Christmas?” Carole asked. “I mean, aside from getting lots and lots of wonderful presents.”

“Hmmm,” Stevie said thoughtfully. “I think it’s what we have for breakfast Christmas morning.”

“What’s that, Stevie?” Phyllis asked.

“Eggs Benedict,” Stevie said. “I don’t know why. We just always have. Every Christmas. And I’ve got to say, it’s not Christmas without eggs Benedict. The funny part is that I don’t really like eggs Benedict. I mean, I like the eggs and the muffins and the ham, but I don’t actually like the hollandaise. I always scrape it off my eggs. But if I don’t have the chance to scrape the sauce off my eggs, I don’t feel like it’s Christmas.”

“Stevie, did anybody ever tell you you’re weird?” Kate asked.

“Often,” Stevie assured her. “So, what’s everybody else’s idea of Christmas?”

“My mother’s stollen,” said Kate, smiling at Phyllis. “That’s a sweet bread from Germany. It’s got wonderful things in it, like cinnamon and raisins. We have it every Christmas morning.”

“I’ve got to have pot roast on Christmas Eve,” said Lisa. “My mother makes it the best, with a rich, thick gravy. No mesquite flavor, but it’s still delicious!”

“In my family we mingle traditional Native American Indian customs with Christmas,” said Christine. “When my grandmother was alive, she always made us wait to open our presents until she told us the story of the origin of our people. She wanted us to have pride in our past as well as our present and future. After Grandmother died, my mother took on the job. We joke that the tradition in our family is ‘past before presents.’ ”

Everybody at the table laughed. Then Ellen Katz spoke. “Well, we’re newlyweds, so we don’t have any traditions yet. But they won’t be Christmas traditions, because we’re Jewish.”

“But Hanukkah’s already started,” Stevie said. “Do you have a menorah?”

Ellen smiled. “Yes, we do. We brought it with us. And each night after dinner, we’ve recited the prayers and lit the candles. Do you know about this?”

“I sure do,” said Stevie. “My boyfriend’s mother is Jewish, so they celebrate both holidays. I like the biblical story about the oil in the temple lasting for eight days, although Phil says I’m just jealous because he gets presents for eight days, not one! Actually, though, I like the candles.”

“We light candles, too,” Carole said. “But not for Christmas or Hanukkah. My father and I celebrate Kwanzaa.”

“What’s that?” Phyllis asked.

“It’s a celebration of African cultures,” said Carole. “It’s not a religious holiday, but it sort of reminds African Americans where we came from. In a way, I suppose it’s a little like Christine’s grandmother’s story. Anyway, Dad and I have a candelabra called a
kinara
that holds seven candles. Each of them represents one of the seven principals of Kwanzaa. The most important one is the black candle called
umoja
, which means unity.” Carole looked over at the Finnegans. “Do you do anything for Kwanzaa?” she asked.

Mrs. Finnegan shook her head. “Oh dear, no,” she said. “We’re usually much too busy at this time of year to do any celebrating at all. It’s just that this year, we all knew we had to take some time off.”

“Time off?” Stevie asked. “From what?”

“Don’t you know us?” Gary asked. “We’re
the
Finnegans.”

Stevie bit her tongue again. Of course she knew they were the Finnegans, she just didn’t think that was so special except for the fact that they had enough money to rent the Creek—

“Of course!”
Carole said. “You’re the
Finnegans
!”

Stevie was about to ask Carole why on earth she and Gary were babbling such nonsense, since anybody could figure out that people named Finnegan were the Finnegans, but Carole answered the question for her.

“I have all your albums! I love your music! I sing every
song along with you—though not nearly as well, of course. Don’t mind my friends. They don’t know anything about country-and-western music, but I’ll set them straight because, well, because you’re
the Finnegans
!”

Carole’s voice trailed off. She couldn’t say anything else. She was simply overwhelmed.

A
S SOON AS
the bunkhouse door shut behind the girls, they all started asking Carole questions.

“What do you mean,
the
Finnegans?” Stevie demanded.

“
The
Finnegans,” Carole answered. “Don’t you know
anything
?”

“Not about country-and-western music,” Lisa said. “Are these guys a big deal?”

“Just the biggest, that’s all,” said Carole. “The last time they had an awards ceremony, the Finnegans wore a hole in the carpet going up to the podium to accept little gold statues. They’re great! You don’t know how lucky we are to have them here. And then there’s
Gary.
”

Stevie had been wondering about him. So she asked. “What about
Gary
?”

“Well, he’s their son,” Carole began.

“We figured that one out,” Stevie said. “But what about him?”

“He’s just joined their act. I think his parents were waiting for his voice to change or something, but now he performs with them all the time. And all the reviewers say he may be the best part of the act. You should
hear
how he sings.”

Lisa put her hands on her hips and regarded her friend carefully. “If I didn’t know you better, Carole Hanson, I’d swear you just swooned!”

“I think I did,” Carole confessed. “I know you guys don’t care about certain kinds of music, but, trust me, what the Finnegans do is really great. Maybe we can talk them into performing for us.”

“No way,” said Kate. “They are VIP guests. If they want to do something,
they
decide to do it. We don’t
ask
them to do anything.”

“Oh, well,” Carole said. “At least we get to ride with Gary tomorrow. That’s going to have to do.”

Kate stoked the fire in the stove while the girls put on their pajamas. As she changed, Stevie thought about the conversation they’d had at the dinner table.

“You know, we forgot the most important Christmas tradition of all,” she said.

“What’s that?” Lisa asked sleepily.

“The Starlight Ride,” Stevie said. “I suppose you just wanted to ignore it because
I’m
going to lead it this year?” she teased.

Two pillows hit her simultaneously.

“What’s the Starlight Ride?” Christine asked.

Lisa explained it to her. Christine and Kate thought it sounded like a tradition they ought to start at the Bar None.

“You’re going to love it,” Stevie assured them. She climbed into her bunk.

Normally a night in the bunkhouse meant hours of talk for The Saddle Club. Tonight, however, the time change had caught up with the Virginia girls. They were tired.

Carole pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. Time to sleep meant she’d have time to dream about the Finnegans … and tomorrow morning’s ride … She was asleep before she could even think the final words of the sentence:… 
with Gary.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Carole was the first one out of bed and dressed. She was also the first one out the door. She had a very important assignment. She’d been chosen by her friends to knock on the Finnegans’ door and ask if Gary really wanted to join them on their ride.

Her hands were shaking when she raised her knuckles
to the door. She hadn’t had any problem talking to Gary before she knew he was Gary
Finnegan
, so she couldn’t think of a reason why she should have a problem now. Still, she did. She meant to knock only twice, but her hand was shaking so hard, she hit the door five or six times.

Gary opened it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Carole said, blushing.

“For what?” Gary asked. “I was waiting for you to come get me.”

“And here I am,” she said finally. “The others have already gone to the stable. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” he said, smiling at her.

Carole thought Gary Finnegan’s smile was going to make her knees melt. That thought kept her from being able to say anything else until they arrived at the stable. There were six horses waiting for them. Carole was relieved to see Berry. As long as she was anywhere near a horse, she knew what she was supposed to do. She took Berry’s reins from Kate and climbed onto the strawberry roan’s back.

“Your horse is named Spot,” Kate said, handing the reins to Gary. Carole was pleased that Kate had chosen Spot for Gary. Spot was an Appaloosa that Kate had ridden often until she got her own mare, Moonglow. Spot was an excellent horse, well trained, quick, and smart. Any rider would be happy on him.