“I know,” Lisa said. “I’m checking to make sure—”
Stevie was shaking her head, still pointing. All at once, Lisa got her meaning. She turned the list over. There were at least another fifteen items on the back. Lisa groaned. Stevie beat her hand against her forehead. A couple of shoppers turned around to look at them. They didn’t care. Together they grabbed the cart—and ran.
CAROLE WOKE UP to the midday sun streaming through the bunkhouse window. She yawned and shifted groggily in her bed. Then she sat bolt upright. The clock on the wall said half past twelve! She had slept nearly fifteen hours! That meant that nobody had been there in the morning to let the black mare out of her stall or greet her or tell her it was going to be all right. Not wanting to lose another minute, Carole thrust the wool blankets back and slipped out of her sleeping bag.
As she brushed her teeth, Carole realized she was being a little unfair. Somebody would have greeted the mare and fed her and turned her out—whether it was John or Walter or Mick or one of the other wranglers of The Saddle Club or Frank himself. But Carole was sure the black mare would be afraid until she saw the only human she trusted. “I’m coming, girl,” she said aloud. “Don’t worry, I’m coming.”
On the way to the barn, Carole saw Phyllis heading to the main house. She put up a hand but didn’t stop. Phyllis, however, had other ideas. “You’ve got to eat something, Carole,” she insisted. “After yesterday’s ride? Absolutely, positively, no ifs, ands, or buts. Come on in the house. I’ll fix you some brunch.”
Carole wavered. She really had no choice but to do as Phyllis said. She noticed that Phyllis’s voice sounded odd.
“I think I’m coming down with something,” Phyllis admitted when Carole asked her about it in the kitchen. “Nothing big, just a winter cold. You be careful yourself or you’ll get it, too.”
“Can I do anything?” Carole asked.
Phyllis thought for a minute. “Would you mind running up to the attic and grabbing the hot-water bottle? I think I’ll fill it and take a nap.”
Anxiously Carole went to do the errand. She wanted to get out to the barn as soon as possible. But of course, anything she could do for Phyllis, she would. Up in the attic, it was hard to see. She couldn’t find the light switch, and it took her several minutes to locate the bottle.
“Thanks a million,” said Phyllis when she returned. “Now, here, eat your cereal and toast.”
Sick with worry, Carole gulped down a bowl of oatmeal and a piece of toast. She was about to excuse herself when she heard the gang clattering in.
“Oh, good,” Phyllis said. “Everybody’s back from town. They’ll keep you company. Gang! Carole’s up and she’s in here!”
As Phyllis left, explaining that she needed a nap, Stevie, Lisa, John, and Kate trooped in, carrying grocery bags. “Hey, Carole, you wanna help us unload?” Kate asked.
“I— Yeah, sure,” said Carole.
“Great. And then we’re going to make hot chocolate. We’re freezing!”
Carole ran out to the pickup truck. She gathered a bundle of groceries in her arms. She looked toward the barn. She had to get out there!
“Anything wrong, Carole?” Lisa inquired, coming out to take a final load.
“What? Oh. No! Of course not,” Carole replied. “I’m just taking in the scene. It’s so beautiful.” With that she averted her eyes and hurried into the house.
Lisa paused a moment to look, too. The Bar None was a glorious sight year-round. In winter it was starker. The ground was covered in snow and the mountains looked more forbidding. When it got dark—at five in the afternoon—and the coyotes started to howl, the vastness of the landscape was almost frightening. If a person ever stayed out there at night … Lisa shivered a little, thinking about it. For someone like John Brightstar, who had grown up out here, this territory was home. But Lisa knew in her heart that she would always feel more comfortable in suburban Willow Creek.
“Hurry up with that bag!” Kate called. “We’ve got the milk on for hot chocolate!”
“The milk?” Lisa asked, entering the kitchen a moment later. “I thought you used water for hot chocolate.”
“That’s the instant kind. But Christine’s mom showed me how to make the real stuff, from cocoa powder, sugar, and milk,” Kate replied.
“So I guess everyone has to learn cooking secrets from other people’s moms, huh?” Lisa said, glad that she wasn’t the only one.
“Or dads,” John reminded them. “My dad makes the best pancakes this side of the Mississippi.”
“Oh, good,” said Lisa, “then we don’t have to argue. Because Carole’s dad makes the best on our side of the Mississippi! When we have slumber parties, he has to churn them out for hours!”
Carole made an effort to laugh with everyone else. She hoped it didn’t sound too fake. All she wanted to do was leave. She just had to get away, soon, but she didn’t know how to escape without answering a ton of questions. She gave a frustrated sigh. Sometimes The Saddle Club was almost too close. This was one of those times. If she said anything about the black mare, Stevie and Lisa would get those concerned looks. They didn’t understand the instant bond she had formed with the mare. It wasn’t that the mare resembled Cobalt, although that was what had initially drawn Carole to her. Now it was more the fact that she needed Carole, pure and simple. Stevie and Lisa thought they understood, but they didn’t.
After a mug or two of cocoa, Stevie wanted everyone to play board games. The temperature had dropped five degrees from the day before; it was bitterly cold and windy, a perfect inside day.
Kate went to the basement and came up with a pile of games. “Monopoly? Risk? Parcheesi? We’ve got all the old standards. Cards? Uno? Carole, what do you want to play?” she asked. Carole looked a little out of it, and Kate wanted to make sure she felt included.
“Uh, I don’t really care,” Carole said distractedly. “But um, whatever it is, why don’t you guys set it up and I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you off to, Car’?” Stevie asked.
Carole met her friend’s hazel eyes for a moment. “I’ve got to run back to the bunkhouse,” she said evenly. She didn’t explain further. Setting her mug down on the nearest table, she headed for the door.
Stevie went to the window and watched her go. She noticed that instead of heading for the bunkhouse, Carole went to the barn.
“She must be going out to see the mare,” Stevie mused aloud.
“Do you think so?” Lisa said anxiously. “I wonder why she didn’t tell us.”
The two of them watched Carole’s progress across the snow.
John spoke up tentatively. “If I were you, I’d cut her some slack,” he said. “The mare needs her.”
Lisa was a little annoyed. This was Saddle Club business. Why was John interfering?
“Look,” said John, as if he could read her mind, “I know I’m butting in here, but I’ve watched her with the horse, and Carole’s—she—I don’t know how to put this, but she’s really got a way with her.”
Something in John’s tone made Lisa glance up at him, despite her irritation. “What are you saying?”
“Yeah, I mean, we all know Carole’s great with horses,” said Stevie.
John looked uncomfortable. “I can’t explain it. It’s just a feeling I have. I’ll know more when I’ve seen them together more.”
Lisa’s and John’s eyes met. He seemed to be pleading with her to understand. Maybe he was right. Maybe she and Stevie were getting too worked up about a nonexistent problem. Clearly Carole felt hedged in by them. Maybe they ought to take a different tactic and not be so nosy. They all knew what it was like when The Saddle Club got so tight that there was no breathing room. Once in a while each one of them needed space from the other two. That was only natural.
“Well, tell us if you come to any conclusions,” she said lightly.
John looked relieved. He thanked Kate for the cocoa and excused himself. “I’ve been having so m
uch fun this morning, I kind of forgot I have a job to do,” he said on his way out.
“Maybe he’s right,” Stevie said when he had gone. “Maybe we should quit worrying about ‘what if.’ ”
“I was thinking that, too,” Lisa said. “I only wish I believed Carole was enjoying the present. This whole trip she’s been somewhere else.”
Eventually the three girls settled down to a game of gin rummy. Stevie was the dealer. When she started to hand out the first cards, she made three piles. She hesitated a moment, then went back to the first pile. They all knew there was no point in dealing a hand for Carole.
IT WAS CAROLE’S worst nightmare. The black mare was trotting along the corral fence, back and forth, back and forth. She was covered in sweat. Judging from the deep, muddy tracks, she’d been at it all morning. Every so often, she stopped and whinnied. The sound pierced Carole to the core. She ran blindly toward the fence. The mare was so agitated, she didn’t notice Carole at first. But when Carole slipped throught the fence, whispering to her, the mare listened immediately. She came up to Carole of her own accord. Carole felt herself smile inside. It was the first time the mare had come to her and not vice versa.
“Let’s get you out of here,” Carole said. She opened the gate and led the mare through. It didn’t even occur to her that she had no lead line or bridle or any kind of equipment for controlling the mare. Her one thought was to help the mare.
The mare followed, docile as a school horse. On the other side of the gate, she seemed to calm down even more. Soon she was rubbing her head against Carole. Carole glanced around. She wanted to take the mare away from the barn, even for a little while. But walking would take forever. Without stopping to think of the possible consequences, Carole climbed up on the fence. She placed her hands on the mare’s withers. In another second she had sprung up onto the jet-black back. The mare seemed slightly surprised to have her aboard, but she didn’t seem to mind. Carole laughed when the horse turned around to look at her rider, an inquisitive expression in her large eyes. “That’s right. We’re taking a little bareback excursion,” Carole said. In response, the mare opened her mouth and nibbled on the toe of Carole’s shoe.
Carole used her knees and seat to guide the mare toward the trailhead. It was as easy as if she’d had a bridle and saddle. The mare seemed to know where Carole wanted to go. She jogged along at a steady pace. As soon as they were a few hundred yards down the trail, Carole got off again. The mare nuzzled her.
“Come on, girl,” Carole murmured. She wanted to see if the mare would follow her. Sure enough, when she walked, the mare walked behind her. When she stopped, the mare stopped. It was almost like playing with a dog! Carole spent the better part of an hour playing tag. It made her heart fill with joy to see the mare relaxed and playful.
“Okay, you stand still now. Pretend you’re on the cross-ties,” Carole said. She gave the mare’s neck and back a massage, using techniques she had read about in her favorite magazine, Horse and Horseman. The massaging really seemed to work. By the time she was through, the mare was so loose she looked as if she might fall asleep. One hind hoof was cocked and her head was low, her lower lip hanging. “If only we could stay here,” Carole said aloud. In the woods she could sense her connection with the mare more powerfully than at the barn. She couldn’t explain it, but she understood the mare and felt the mare trusted her. It was quiet and peaceful away from the ranch.
But all too soon it was time to go back. If they stayed away too long, their absence would be noticed. Trying to swallow the lump in her throat, Carole found a log and swung herself aboard. She rode back at a snail’s pace, letting the mare meander back up the trail.
When she came into view of the ranch, Carole tried giving the mare a few cues to see how she would respond. She asked her to halt, jog, halt, walk, and turn. Every time, the mare obeyed. But it was strange. Carole knew she was obeying because she wanted to, not because she had to. She was letting Carole direct her. Carole leaned down to pat the mare’s neck. When she sat back up, her heart skipped a beat. There, standing in front of the barn, were Frank and his crew of wranglers. They were all staring at Carole.
“Amazing!” somebody called.
Somebody else started clapping.
Carole was dismayed that everyone had seen. She had only meant to help the mare. Now she was yet again the center of attention. Nervously she continued forward. She coaxed the mare toward the group of people. What could she say to Frank now? Would he be angry that she had ridden off without telling him? Without saddling up first? Without trying the mare in an enclosed area?
“I—I’m sorry. I know it was stupid, but—”
The expression on Frank’s face was one of respect, not disapproval. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. How on earth did you get her to settle down enough to get on?”
“Yeah, and how’d you get her to go in the direction you wanted?” Mick asked. “And to stop like that?”
Carole was embarrassed by the attention. She couldn’t think of a thing to say. She searched the crowd of stable hands until she saw John Brightstar. He was looking at her steadily, wisely. He understood! She wasn’t sure she understood, herself, whatever it was that made the mare trust her. But if John understood, it seemed okay.
The wranglers pressed Carole for an explanation, so she gave a response that was becoming almost automatic. “I don’t know,” she said.
THERE WAS A PAUSE. Then so much happened all at once that Carole couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Frank turned to go inside and tend to business. Everybody else wanted to see the black mare that had run away the day before, that Carole had ridden bareback without a bridle. One of the stable hands came up with a lead line and halter. Another helped Carole to the ground. Nobody seemed to notice that the mare was beginning to toss her head nervously. It was as if they thought that because she trusted Carole, she now trusted all humans. Carole knew she had better explain—and fast.
“We’ll groom her for you,” Mick volunteered.
“Yeah, she’ll look great when she’s all shined up,” said someone else.
Only John objected. “Maybe we should let Carole—”
But before he could finish, and before Carole could open her mouth to protest, the mare had been led off to be cross-tied. Carole ran behind, struggling to cut through the group. It was too late! The mare panicked. The minute the cross-ties were snapped to her halter, she started backing up. She backed up so hard that the snaps quick-released from the wall. Lines flapping, the mare bolted wildly down the aisle.
“Somebody get her!”
Carole stood there paralyzed. Run, she prayed silently. Run as fast as you can.
This time the wranglers were on their toes. One put up his hands to stop her. She ducked left—right toward Mick. Mick put up his hand lightning fast. He caught her.
Carole flinched when she heard the command: “Better put her in a stall till she quiets down.”
Helplessly Carole watched as the mare was led away down the aisle, dancing nervously at the end of the lead shank. As she turned the corner of the aisle, she let out a loud, plaintive whinny. Carole blocked her ears with her hands. She couldn’t bear the sound. If only there were something, anything, she could do!
PHYLLIS WAS LAUGHING so hard, tears were running down her cheeks. “Mom, what is it?” Kate demanded testily.
Stevie and Lisa had an inkling of what was so funny. Phyllis had just examined the groceries they’d bought. Then she had asked them to explain their purchases. Stevie and Lisa were attempting this when Kate walked in. “Allspice! You thought I meant ‘all spices.’ That’s great! It’s a classic!”
“Oh,” Kate said, a grin breaking over her features. “Oh, that is funny.”
Stevie and Lisa waited. And they waited. Eventually the Devines would have to stop laughing and explain.
Finally Phyllis managed to breathe in and out. “There’s a spice called allspice,” she said. “It’s like cinnamon or nu
tmeg, only its name is allspice.”
“Oh,” said Stevie.
“I see,” said Lisa.
“Now, where’s that pastry flour?” Kate’s mother inquired.
Lisa gulped “Um, we got some pastry and some flour. What’s pastry flour?”
Phyllis smothered her laughter. “I think we’d better start at the beginning,” she said.
A half hour later the girls had sorted through the list. Their faces were bright crimson. Crushed tomatoes were canned tomatoes crushed for making sauces. Condensed milk was a sweetened, canned milk product used for baking. And chicken meant a whole chicken, plain and simple.
“I have to admit, that did cross my mind,” Stevie said about the last mistake.
“Are you going to have the right ingredients for dinner?” Lisa asked. Even though Phyllis didn’t seem to care, she felt like a total idiot.
“Yes,” Phyllis said. “Because I’ve decided that dinner is going to be leftovers. I don’t feel the greatest, and I don’t feel like making a big meal, anyway.”
Stevie, Lisa, and Kate were concerned, but Phyllis brushed them off. “No, no, please—it’s only a cold. But I thought you guys could heat up the leftovers and I could go to bed early.”
Lisa looked at Stevie. Stevie looked at Lisa. This time they both had a mischievous glint in their eyes. Stevie raised her eyebrows. Lisa nodded imperceptibly. “We’ll make dinner!” they practically shouted.
“It’s the least we can do,” Stevie said.
“And we’ll have fun doing it,” Lisa added.
To their surprise, Phyllis looked doubtful. “Are you sure you’re up to it? I mean, baking a few pies is one thing, but a full dinner for the four guests, plus six of us—you’ll have to plan on dinner for ten, more if you invite Walter and John.”
“No problem,” Stevie assured her. After the success of the pies, she felt more confident than ever. “I’ve cooked for my three brothers before, and the way they eat, it’s pretty much the same as cooking for ten. I’m sure we can handle it.”
Horse Whispers Page 7
