She still had a task to do, though. Gently she took off the mare’s halter, winding the lead shank around it. To her surprise, the mare didn’t run away. She stood by Carole. She seemed to be waiting for some cue. “I don’t know what to say, girl,” Carole said. “Mission accomplished, I guess.” The mare tossed her head up and down. Still she didn’t move from Carole’s side.
There was one thing Carole wanted to do before she shooed the horses away and started on the long, long walk back. She wanted to talk to the stallion. Slowly she went toward him with her hand out. With every step she waited for him to dash off, but he stood his ground. Carole whispered to him and he almost seemed to whisper back. His nostrils fluttered. She touched his silky nose. He butted his head against her. The black mare joined them. Pretty soon the other mares began to amble over, curious, their ears pricked. Carole laughed aloud. They were accepting her! Even though she was a part of the human world, they trusted her. Carole went around to each of the horses, stroking them and talking to them. She played with the foals. She praised the mares for being good mothers. In the midst of getting to know the herd, something dawned on her: This was the only chance she would have in her life to be like this with wild horses. Soon she would be back with people, back in school, back having to explain all the time. “I guess I wanted to be set free, too,” she murmured to the nearest horse, a hardy-looking pinto. In response, he snorted loudly. Carole laughed. “I agree!” she said.
All too soon the afternoon sun began to wane. Carole had forgotten that it got dark so early. She turned to the black mare. It was time to say good-bye. A lump had formed in her throat and stuck there.
Carole knew she had done the right thing, but it didn’t make leaving any easier. And she was very, very tired. She had barely slept at all in the mare’s stall. She’d been too busy plotting their escape. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t eaten anything all day except a candy bar that she had found in her pocket. She was hungry and thirsty. Her throat felt a little scratchy, too. She was probably coming down with the flu Phyllis had.
It was also hard to leave knowing she had to walk about five hours through the snow. She reached down to grab a handful of snow. At least that would wet her whistle. As she bent down, Carole lost her balance. “Whoops!” She sat hard in the snow. She made a halfhearted move to get up, but it was actually very comfortable sitting on the ground. The snow was soft and warm. The black mare came over and nudged her gently.
Carole smiled. She put her head back for a moment. Then she put it all the way back. She lay down in the snow. It was pure bliss. “I’ll just sleep for ten minutes,” she said aloud. She closed her eyes. Dimly she sensed the mare nudging her … and nudging her again …
CAROLE WAS HAVING the strangest dreams. First she dreamed she was riding the black mare. It was nighttime. The stars were very bright. She was more tired than she had ever been in her life. Then she dreamed that all her friends were coming in to see her. First Stevie and Lisa came, then Christine and Kate. Frank and Phyllis came, then John and Walter. And all around her was the herd of wild horses. Carole could talk to them, just like before. She knew what they were thinking, and they understood her. Sighing in her sleep, Carole rolled over.
But then her dream became a nightmare. Someone was taking the black mare from her. They put her in a stall and clanged the door shut. They bolted it with five bolts. Carole had to help her! She had to help her escape again! “Let her go!” Carole cried. She sat up with a start. Her heart was racing. She was utterly disoriented. Then she made out a trophy by the bed. The name on it was Kate Devine. So she was in Kate’s room? “Why am I in here?” Carole said aloud.
A familiar voice answered, “Kate gave up her room for you till you get better. She’s staying in the bunkhouse with us.”
“Oh, I see.” Carole leaned back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
“Darn, I thought she was waking up,” the voice said.
Carole’s eyes flew open again. Lisa was sitting on a chair beside the bed. John was with her. “Lisa? John? Wait, what? Till I get better? Am I sick?”
“Yay! You are awake!” Lisa exclaimed. “We were so worried about you, Carole, but you’re going to be fine. Your fever’s nearly gone, and—”
“And you’ll be back in the saddle in no time,” John supplied.
Startled, Carole looked from Lisa to John. She was sick! Other than that, she knew nothing. She had no idea what time it was, what day it was. The last thing she remembered was saying good-bye to the black mare!
“The mare. What happened to her?” she whispered urgently.
Lisa smiled, nudging John. “I knew that would be the first thing you asked. And don’t worry, she’s fine, too.”
“Absolutely fine,” John echoed.
At that moment there was a knock on the door and Frank entered the room. “I thought I heard voices in here.”
“Excellent timing, boss,” said John. “Carole just woke up, and she asked about the mare.”
Frank smiled broadly. “Then I guess you’ve heard that she’s fine and she misses you.”
“She misses me?” Carole repeated dumbly. How would Frank know that? The black mare should have been far away by now.
“Yes. Mick and the boys told me to tell you that she wants you to get better and get outside to see her just as soon as you can.”
Carole felt her stomach turn over. “Outside? But—”
“You know she saved your life, don’t you, Carole?” Lisa asked quietly, with a quick glance at her friend. “You would have frozen to death. Instead you came away with frostbite and strep throat.”
At Carole’s perplexed look, Frank said, “Maybe we’d better start from the beginning. John, why don’t you give it a go?”
“Sure, boss.” John cleared his throat and began.
Carole listened, mesmerized, as she heard her own story.
“We wouldn’t have known where you were if the black mare hadn’t come home and found us,” John began gravely. “I’ve heard of dogs leading people to their masters, but horses? Never. But that’s exactly what she did. Kate saw her wander in loose close to dinnertime. That’s when I knew something was wrong. The Devines organized a search party and we set out. I brought the mare with me, ponying her off Tex. I figured you’d be up by the mountain, where we went before. We got there and couldn’t see a thing.” John paused for a breath. Carole shifted nervously under her layers of blankets. She desperately wanted John to skip to the end of the story. She wanted to know the worst!
“All of a sudden, the mare started whinnying. The stallion whinnied back, and they kept it up, back and forth, till finally we found them two hundred yards up on the overlook.”
“Darnedest thing I ever saw,” Frank put in, shaking his head in wonder.
“The stallion had the herd gathered off in the distance,” John continued. “He was standing over you himself. At first I didn’t know why he was there. Then I got close enough that I could make out your coat. The stallion ran off a little ways, but he waited until Frank and the others and I were by your side. When we picked you up and put you on the mare, he rounded up the herd.” John’s voice sank to a murmur. “I—I guess he knew his job was done,” he said.
“And the mare?” Carole asked.
“She’s … here,” John said.
“She’s back at home, just as safe as can be. You can ride her again, the minute you’re well,” Frank added encouragingly. “Only this time, tell us if you’re going off on a long trail ride. Please!”
Carole felt the color drain from her face. She sat back against the pillows. Then she had failed! Frank didn’t even understand why she had ridden off! He thought she had taken a trail ride! A pleasure ride! The mare had lost her chance to go free.
Carole was so distracted, she barely heard Frank’s next words. “I think you’ll find the mare a changed horse,” he said. “Would you agree, John?”
John nodded but looked at Carole. “Yes, I would,” he said s
lowly. “And I mean that.”
“This past day and a half she’s been a lot quieter around the barn. It’s funny,” Frank mused. “She seems to have chosen us finally.”
Carole frowned. Maybe Frank had misinterpreted the mare’s behavior. But that would be odd—Frank was an excellent horseman. And it would be stranger still for John and Frank to be off. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Frank’s forehead wrinkled in concentration. “Well, it’s like I’ve seen with a lot of horses that come off the range. At a certain point, they realize that life ‘on the inside’ isn’t too bad.”
“Usually there’s a person who helps them come to that understanding,” John added. Carole had the feeling he was saying what he said for Frank’s benefit as much as for hers. “With the mare, it was you.”
“That’s right,” Frank said. “When you were out riding and fell off, she might have run off with the herd. But she didn’t. She came back to us—to get help for you. Anyway, the experience seems to have mellowed her somewhat.”
Frank gave Carole’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hurry and get well,” he said.
Carole’s head was reeling. Could what Frank said be true? Could the mare have chose civilization of her own accord? Now Carole really couldn’t concentrate. She barely heard Lisa tell her to get some rest. She was asleep by the time Lisa said, “We’ll stay right here in case you need anything.”
STEVIE AND LISA were chopping, slicing, and dicing excitedly. Over the past two days, Phyllis had helped them choose a menu for their big dinner. She had helped them shop for it. She had given them a game plan. Now they were carrying out the plan.
“This dinner is more than your home ec dinner,” Stevie said, slicing a mushroom. “It’s Carole’s get-well dinner and our last-night-at-the-ranch dinner.”
“And don’t forget, it’s also our attempt-to-redeem-ourselves dinner,” Lisa added.
Both of them knew without saying it that Carole’s getting better was the most important. All reports had been good. Carole had been awake and talking for most of the day. She had even wandered into the kitchen to taste-test the soup stock.
John Brightstar popped his head into the kitchen. “Need any help? I’m all done outside.”
“Yeah, you can chop carrots,” Stevie said, handing him a bunch.
“I heard Carole’s been up,” said John.
“Yup, she’s doing a lot better,” Lisa answered. “How’s her favorite horse?”
“Good. She’s still a little standoffish with us, but she’s acting a lot happier. She ate all her dinner for the first time last night.”
“That’s great!” said Lisa, thrilled that they would have good news for Carole.
“You know,” John added tentatively, “the boss thinks Carole was out riding and fell off.”
There was a long, pregnant pause. The girls had worried that John would bring this up.
“And?” Lisa said finally.
John looked down. He shifted uncomfortably. “And I don’t think that’s exactly what happened.”
Stevie and Lisa exchanged glances. “We know it’s not,” Stevie said. The night before, Lisa had filled her in on what she’d seen and what Frank had said to Carole in Kate’s room. Both of them felt terrible. By worrying too much that there was going to be a problem, they had created a problem. Carole hadn’t felt comfortable sharing her plan with her closest friends. If she had, they could have tried to talk her out of it or, more likely, gone with her and made sure she was okay.
Lisa put down her paring knife. “Are you going to tell Frank the truth?”
“No,” John said without hesitation. “No way. What he doesn’t know—”
“—can’t hurt Carole,” Stevie finished. “That’s what we decided. And Frank might take it the wrong way if he found out The Saddle Club was trying to reduce his stock for him by letting one of his horses go free.”
John let out a sigh. “Phew. For a minute there I was afraid maybe I was breaking news. But you guys were right. There was something to worry about with Carole’s attachment to the black mare.”
“No, you were right,” said Stevie generously. “We should have been more understanding and less suspicious of Carole. Then she would have at least had allies. She wouldn’t have had to go off alone.” Stevie was not prone to displays of emotion. She prided herself on being cool and tough. But she felt herself choking up slightly at the idea of Carole’s worrying about the black mare all alone. “Boy, these onions will get you every time!” she said briskly. She grabbed one and hastily began to peel it.
Lisa looked over at John. A little shyly she asked, “Did you ever figure out what it was about Carole that you couldn’t figure out before?”
John nodded seriously. He was silent for a moment. Then he said slowly, “I think I did. I think the reason Carole was more upset about the black mare’s suffering was that she … she actually sensed it more than the rest of us.”
Stevie and Lisa were utterly still, listening. They had suspected something like this for months—years. But nobody had ever put it into words.
“Carole has a gift with horses, a very unusual gift. I’m not sure even she understands it. The only reason I picked up on it is that some of my ancestors were supposed to have had the same gift.” John paused with the carrots. “I think Carole is what they call a horse whisperer.”
The girls let the phrase sink in. It was the perfect way of describing how Carole communicated with horses.
“What exactly is a horse whisperer?” Lisa asked, even though she thought she knew.
“Well,” said John slowly, “a horse whisperer is someone who communicates with a horse almost as if she were another horse; as if she and the horse share the same language. It’s a kind of natural horsemanship, teaching a horse without breaking its spirit and letting the horse decide when to join you. I can’t really explain it, but once you’ve seen it, you never forget it. Have you ever seen Carole display unusual abilities with animals, like being able to approach wild horses and ‘talk’ to them?”
Stevie grinned. “There aren’t too many mustangs in Willow Creek,” she joked, breaking the spell. But she and Lisa both knew what John meant. Carole communicated with horses on a different level than normal people. The black mare was a perfect example of that. She had been wild, and Carole had tamed her. She had “spoken” to her, and somehow the mare had known she would be all right, at least when Carole was nearby.
“Say, did we ever find out the black mare’s name?” Lisa asked suddenly.
Stevie shook her head. “Nope. Kate asked her dad and he said he didn’t know, either.”
“I tried thinking of some,” John volunteered, “but none of them seemed to suit her.”
“Hmmm,” Lisa said, her eyes far away. “Interesting …”
CAROLE WALKED INTO the barn a little shakily. She felt okay, really, just a little tired. She was more worried about how she would react to seeing the mare.
Mick and John met her at the door. John gave Carole a big hug. Mick went to shake her hand. Then he said, “Aw, heck, I’ll hug you, too,” and enveloped her in a bear hug. “Bet I know who you came to see,” the wrangler guessed. “I’ve got some carrots for her right here.” He patted his jacket pocket.
“Great,” Carole said. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that the mare probably wouldn’t take the treats.
Carole let herself be led down the aisle. She expected Mick to stop at the mare’s stall. Instead he continued on to the grooming area. The mare was standing there cross-tied!
Carole did a double take. The horse that a few days earlier wouldn’t put up with the ties seemed to have gotten used to them overnight. She pushed her nose out toward Carole. Incredulous, Carole rubbed the black forehead.
“Now, that’s one thing she won’t let us do,” Mick commented. “She won’t let us go near her face. I hope it’s only a matter of time, but I don’t know.”
On further examination, the mare was a little jittery, a little
high-strung. But lots of horses were that way. Obviously she wasn’t going to metamorphose into a dull school horse—and anyway, nobody wanted her to.
Mick put his hand out toward the mare. She raised her head suspiciously and backed up a step. “See? Oh, well, what can you do?”
“Here, wait,” said Carole. “Where are those carrots?”
Mick handed her a bunch.
Carole fed two to the mare. “Come here,” she said to Mick.
“By you?”
“Yes.”
Carole slipped the stable hand a carrot. “Okay, feed it to her.”
Mick put out his hand. The mare laid her ears back. “Aw, forget it, I—”
“No, wait!” said Carole. She was aware of John watching her. She rubbed the mare’s neck soothingly and said to her, “You know Mick. He’s your friend, the way we all are here. So you can act nice to everyone, okay?” Carole went on murmuring, her voice barely a whisper. Eventually the mare blew through her nostrils.
Bingo! Carole thought. “Try again,” she said to Mick.
Mick sidled up close to the mare and again proffered the carrot. After a moment’s hesitation, the mare put her head down and plucked it from his hand. Mick grinned from ear to ear. “She took it!” he exclaimed. Carole urged John over, then another wrangler who was watching the scene. Slowly, one by one, and with the help of carrots, each of them made friends with the black mare.
When the carrots were gone, the mare looked around. Carole was scratching her withers. John was standing at her head. The mare turned and rubbed her forehead against John.
“Well, how do you like that?” John murmured.
“It’s … It’s great,” Carole said. She felt her throat getting tight. This was the sign she had been waiting for, ever since Frank had told her of the mare’s change. It meant, simply, that the mare wasn’t going to be a one-woman horse forever. It was Carole’s dream come true that the mare was starting to like it, as Frank had said, “on the inside.” But it didn’t change the fact that Carole was going home tomorrow, and that she was losing the mare to the Bar None.
Horse Whispers Page 9
