Wild Thing (13 page)

I stumbled toward the pond, grabbing overhanging limbs as I slid down. “Last one in’s a Spidell!” I called, tugging off my boots and wading into the cool water. Rocks at the bottom gave way to slime and mud as the water rose to my knees.

Wild Thing stood at the edge of the pond and took a long drink. Then she lifted her head and stared at me. Her reflection wavered back at her.

“You don’t want to be a Spidell the rest of your life,” I reasoned. “Come on in!”

Wild Thing pawed at the water. She gathered her muscles, then leaped into the pond, holding her head high like Lizzy does when she doesn’t want to get her hair wet. Wild Thing swam behind me, then set her feet down and nuzzled the water, splashing both of us.

I splashed her back. And she got into it, snorting water at me, dipping her nose in. She let me hang on to her neck as she swam to the middle of the pond.

I had no idea how long we’d spent in the pond when we finally climbed out. I leaned against a fallen log and soaked up the sunshine. Wild Thing shook, splashing me again, then grazed close to my log while the warm rays dried everything except my braid.

It was the most fun I’d had in two years.

“Winnie!” Lizzy was calling from the barn.

Wild Thing and I jogged in to find our audience waiting—Lizzy, Pat, Barker, Catman . . . and Dad. I couldn’t believe we’d spent the whole day playing.
Now what will I do?

“Well, girl,” I said, “I guess the show must go on—but only if it’s
fun.
”

“Popcorn for the show!” Lizzy announced, passing around a giant bowl that smelled heavenly.

“Far out!” Catman exclaimed.

Pat dug in for a handful of popcorn. She was wearing a cowboy hat and a smile as big as a Wyoming sunset. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a horse!” She glanced at Wild Thing. “No offense.”

“So,” Barker said, his mouth full, “on with the show!”

I snapped the lunge on Wild Thing’s halter. “I’m afraid I can’t guarantee much. My star horse and I goofed off all day.”

“Cool,” Catman said, leaning on the fence.

Wild Thing worked through her gaits limber and willing.

“Not bad,” Dad said, after watching us for several minutes.

But I wanted better than “not bad
.
” I wanted to try something new, a trick Mom had taught me.

God, I feel bad asking for your help again. I forgot to thank you for the great time playing with Wild Thing in the pond. But if you’re listening, would you help us out here?

I walked out to Wild Thing and scratched her chin while secretly unhooking the lunge line.

“Stay!” I said, walking back to the middle of our circle, wrapping the line like a lasso. From the center, I shouted, “Walk on!”

Wild Thing pranced around the circle as if I still held her by the line.

“Trot!” I called.

She trotted, keeping to our circle track.

“Canter!”

Wild Thing cantered in an invisible circle, legs pounding the dirt with musical rhythm. No horse could have looked more beautiful. She’d learned the
invisible trick
without any practice.

Thanks, God,
I said.

When we finished, the fans went wild, and Wild Thing didn’t even spook at the applause. In fact, I could tell she liked it.

Lizzy and I turned out the light and plopped into our beds exhausted. She’d spent her day combing the Ashland countryside in a big toad hunt, while I’d been playing with Wild Thing.

The moon shone through our window, and a beam of light landed on Lizzy’s needlework. I couldn’t read the verse from my bed, but my mind supplied the photo image:

God in his gracious kindness declares us not guilty.

I wondered if Dad ever read that verse, and if it ever made him think about forgiving me.

“Lizzy,” I said, staring at the way the light bounced off the picture frames, “has Dad said anything to you?”

“You mean about the sale tomorrow?” She yawned.

I hadn’t meant about the sale. I’d pushed it out of my mind so many times, I’d almost forgotten the Stable-Mart sale
was
tomorrow.

“
Did
he say something about the sale?” I asked, my chest tightening, the thought of Spidells’ fall sale refusing to be shoved down.

“Nah,” Lizzy said. “I think you’re right. He’s been so busy with back-bike orders. I’ll bet he forgot about the sale.” She yawned again. “Maybe Dad will make so much money from his inventions, he won’t need to sell. . . . Heavenly Father, . . .” Lizzy switched to talking to God, just like Mom used to. Her voice sounded as regular as when she talked to me or anybody else. “ . . . we want to keep Wild Thing, okay? Well, Winnie does. I’m still scared to death of the creature. But anyway, you know what I mean. So—”

“Knock! Knock!” Dad said as he tapped on our open door.

“Come in, Dad!” Lizzy called.

Dad almost never came in to say good night anymore.

“Night, Dad,” I said.

He came and sat on the foot of my bed. “Winnie, I’ve got to hand it to you.” He wiggled my foot the way he used to do when I was really little. “I never thought you could pull it off—I admit that.
And
I apologize for getting so upset last Saturday. But you’ve done it. I think we’ll make a lot of money on that horse after all.”

I couldn’t speak.

Lizzy could. “And by the time we’re ready to put her up for sale, Winnie will be able to ride her. I’ll bet—”

“No time for that,” Dad said.

I couldn’t breathe.

Lizzy bolted up in bed. “What do you mean, no time? Why won’t she have time?”

Dad laughed. “Lizzy, didn’t you know that sale’s tomorrow? We’re all registered to go early too. Should be buyers from all over the state.”

Darkness swept over the room as the moon hid behind clouds. The verses disappeared.

Dad stood up. “Get some sleep, girls. Tomorrow we get our investment back on that horse.”

Saturday morning Catman and Lizzy came out to the barn to see me off. I’d told Dad I’d lead Wild Thing to the sale in case she gave us trouble loading. I didn’t think she’d act up, but I needed time. I had a plan—a plan I hadn’t told anybody about, not even Lizzy. Especially not Lizzy. She’d never understand.

“Wanna hug?” Catman asked.

Surprised, I looked up to see him holding out Nelson. Embarrassed, I pet the kitty.

“It will all be okay,” Lizzy said in that cheery voice of hers.

Right. All okay.

“I know how you feel,” Lizzy went on. “I understand—”

“
You
understand?” Lizzy didn’t even like horses. She had her stupid bugs and lizards. Nobody was selling
them.
“You have no idea how I feel, Lizzy!”

Anger started in my chest and bubbled up with a force that frightened me.
“Mom
would have understood!”

Lizzy’s eyes pooled with tears. “I miss Mom too,” she said quietly.

“It’s not the same!” I shouted. Wild Thing sidestepped nervously. “She was the only one who understood me! Everybody understands you, Lizzy!”

The kitten mewed and hopped out of Catman’s hands.

Lizzy didn’t flinch. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t understand you, Winnie.”

I turned to Wild Thing. “Big surprise,” I muttered.

“But God
does
understand, Winnie,” Lizzy said.

That did it. I dropped the leadrope and wheeled on my sister. “No! He doesn’t understand either!”

Catman stared at his canvas shoes.

Lizzy’s voice was a whisper. “Jesus lived inside skin like ours so he’d understand. He knows, Winnie. And he loves you. You have to believe God loves you.”

“Not anymore!” I shouted. My hand went automatically to the horseshoe scar above my elbow. I fought back the photos that pushed their way into my brain—the car turning over and over, Mom not moving.

“Nobody blames you, Winnie,” Lizzy said.

“You don’t know!” I shouted, grabbing the leadrope and pulling Wild Thing after me. “Just leave me alone!”

Wild Thing was the sweetest she’d ever been as we walked to Stable-Mart, taking the shortcut through pastures. She nuzzled me from behind whenever I got a step ahead.

“Don’t be so nice, girl,” I said. That was my plan. I had to show them the worst possible side of her. Spidells wanted to believe the horse was wild. If everybody believed it, then nobody would buy her.

I couldn’t think beyond that. All I knew was that I couldn’t let her go.

Taking the Stable-Mart driveway, we passed a dozen cars, some of them out-of-state. Richard drove by and rolled down the window of his red sports car.
“That’s
Wild Thing?” he asked.

The mare was following me in a flat-footed walk, not shying at cars.

“Yeah,” I said. “She refused to load. I’m afraid she’s still horribly wild.”

He drove off, not looking convinced.

I shook Wild Thing’s leadrope, trying to get her excited, but she thought I was playing. She tossed her head. I faked jumping out of the way, in case anyone was watching. We moved to the far side of the stable while buyers filtered through the barn to the arena.

Victoria Hawkins appeared out of nowhere. “How’s your horse?”

“Awful! Just terrible!” I exclaimed.

“She looks good,” Victoria said.

“So I’m lying?” I shouted at her.

She held up her palm. “Easy. Sor-ry.”

Dad drove up in our truck, with Lizzy and Catman in the cab. Pat Haven and Barker followed them in Pat’s blue Neon. I ducked behind the stable, where I could listen to the action without seeing it.

Spidells ran the sale like the Kentucky Derby, with fanfare and loudspeakers. Wild Thing didn’t even jump when the speakers came on.

The first two horses up for sale were shown off by Summer Spidell. I heard the catalog details—show horses, in their prime, champion sires, winning records. But the bidding didn’t come over the loudspeakers.

I didn’t have a clue how much the horses had gone for until Dad came running up to me. “Winnie, I can’t believe those horses sold for $4,500 and $7,750! Of course, we can’t expect a price like those. But with so many bidders out there, who knows?”

“Wild Thing’s pretty wild today,” I said, wishing she would do something besides graze peacefully.

Dad reached over and petted her for the first time. “Winnie, you’ve done an amazing job on this horse. You should feel good about it no matter what we get.”

I didn’t feel good about anything as Dad left. I felt awful for Wild Thing and awful for Dad. My head buzzed, and I couldn’t think straight. But I kept coming back to the one thing I did know—I couldn’t let Wild Thing go.

“Next up—Willis’s Arabian!” Mr. Spidell’s voice over the loudspeakers startled me. But the mare stayed calm.

I jiggled Wild Thing’s leadrope and clapped my hands. “Come on!” I whispered. “Act up!”

Wild Thing stared at me.

“I’m not playing!” I shouted. Her eyes widened as I jerked her into the arena.

Two men stood at the gate, one with a clipboard. “Nice conformation,” he said. “She’d bring a good resell price in Pennsylvania.”