Eager Star

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  “Get set! Go!”

  Eager Star lunged forward, galloping from a standstill. But he broke back to a trot as they neared the first barrel.

  “What’s he doing?” Mr. Baines barked.

  I knew Grant was about to kick his horse. Star knew it too. He lowered his head, arched his back.

  “Grant! Don’t!” I could see Star gather his muscles to buck. The horse wasn’t going to change his mind. His nose almost reached the dirt. “Grant, get your seat away from the saddle! Clamp your knees!” I was running toward them, with Grant’s dad shouting behind me.

  Grant ignored me and rode the saddle. Star uncurled into a giant buck that sent Grant flying over Star’s head. He landed in the grass, looking like he was sitting on an invisible saddle.

  “You okay?” I squatted down and took his arm, but he yanked it away.

  Grant’s dad ran up. Concern changed to disgust. “I must have been crazy to think you could beat Summer! I’ll call Spider and tell him he wins. No contest.” He turned and started off.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “It’s not fair! Let me show you what your horse can do! Please, Mr. Baines!” Not waiting for an answer, I swung into the saddle without using the stirrup. “Good boy, Star,” I murmured.

  Grant got to his feet and backed away, bumping into his dad.

  I put the humans out of my mind and reached down to scratch Star’s shoulder. “Show them what a great horse you really are!”

  Eager Star’s hooves pawed the starting line.

  “On your mark! Get set! Go!” I shouted, giving Star the cue, squeezing with my legs and leaning forward.

  Star exploded in a gallop and reined left to the first barrel, leaning into it and circling close, coming out at a gallop to the second barrel. We edged too close and bumped, but the barrel didn’t fall over. No penalty. Star changed leads on cue and headed for the top of the cloverleaf, the third barrel. I heard Hawk cheering.

  “You’re doing great!” I told Star. And he was.

  We circled the last barrel a bit wide, but Star leaned in at such a slant I could have touched the ground with my hand. We raced the homestretch, the wind tearing at my face so hard I couldn’t see. The finish line streaked beneath us as we slid to a cattle-pony stop.

  “Good, Eager Star,” I whispered.

  Hawk ran up and stroked Star’s neck. “You did it!” Peter Lory flapped his wings from his perch on Hawk’s shoulder. “Squawk! Did it!”

  Mr. Baines came running up and slapped my knee. “That was amazing! I wish I’d had the clock running. That horse was fast enough to give Spider the race of his life!”

  My head felt light. I glanced at Grant. He should have been so proud of his horse.

  “Nice ride,” he muttered with no enthusiasm.

  His dad wheeled around as if he’d forgotten Grant was there. “Nice ride? Is that all you can say? Not only did she stay on the horse, she raced him! I want you to ride like that!”

  He turned back to me. “How ’bout it, Winnie? Can you turn my boy into a winner by tomorrow noon?”

  “I don’t know.” It was too dark to ride any more tonight.

  Mr. Baines must have read my thoughts. “You make Grant win that race tomorrow, and I’ll double your money!”

  Double my money? Two months’ fee for a week’s work? Dad wouldn’t believe it! Besides, I wanted to beat Summer almost as bad as he wanted to beat Spider Spidell.

  “Deal!” I turned to Grant. “First thing tomorrow—”

  But Grant wasn’t there. He’d disappeared.

  “Grant better show at dawn tomorrow!” I told Hawk after Mr. Baines left. “We’re out of time, Hawk! I wish I could ride Star myself.”

  Hawk grabbed my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Focus! Your party, remember?”

  My party! “I have to change and—”

  “Hey! Is Summer out here?” Sal walked into the barn timidly as if she thought it might cave in. Even in jeans, she looked as out of place in a barn as Hawk’s fancy bird.

  “Hey, Sal!” I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her.

  “Lizzy said Summer hasn’t shown yet, but that I could check out here.” Sal scratched her arm as if something had bitten her.

  “Summer is not here yet,” Hawk said.

  “Who else is coming?” Sal asked.

  Hawk answered for me. “Just you and Summer. Let’s go back to the house.”

  Sal tiptoed out. “What’s with the stuff in the yard?”

  “Pizza!” Lizzy yelled from the house.

  Sal picked up the pace. “I’m starved!”

  Inside, I looked around our living room through Sal’s eyes. Pale green walls badly in need of paint, no pictures, a gold shag carpet worn flat by the door and the television, Dad’s reading chair covered with newspapers, and a couch that never should have left Goodwill. But the musty smell was disguised by the scent of fresh-baked bread and mozzarella cheese.

  “Where should I put my pack?” Sal asked. She didn’t seem to trust any place she’d seen so far.

  I led her to the bedroom, snatching up clothes off my half of the room. Lizzy’s half looked perfect. “Throw your stuff over there.”

  Sal plopped her pack on Lizzy’s bed and herself next to it. “Small room, but at least you’ve got the extra bed for company.”

  “Lizzy’s company. That’s her bed, but she and Hawk will sleep on the floor with me tonight. You and Summer can have the beds.”

  “You share a room?” Sal glanced at the walls. My half was covered with horse pictures torn from magazines.

  I showed Sal where to wash up, explaining that the hot faucet is really the cold. “And the door doesn’t lock. You can hang a washcloth over the outside knob so people know somebody’s in there.”

  The phone rang.

  “Maybe it’s Summer!” Sal almost knocked me down on her way out of the room.

  Lizzy answered, then put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Winnie! For you!”

  “Is it Summer?” Sal asked.

  I dried my hands and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Winnie?” It was Summer. “I’m not going to be able to spend the night at your house.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “Why not what?” Sal asked, crowding in to hear.

  “Mother doesn’t feel comfortable having me stay there without another mother to chaperone,” Summer answered. “You understand.”

  I understood. Like it was my fault my mother was dead? I rubbed the scar on my elbow. The one I’d gotten in the car accident that had killed my mother. I didn’t think there were any new ways left for me to miss my mother, but Summer had found one.

  Sal kept trying to press her ear to the receiver.

  Summer was still talking. “Dad doesn’t really know Odd-Job Willis that well. You know how it is.”

  I knew how it was.

  “Summer?” Sal shouted toward the receiver.

  I handed Sal the phone and walked over to Lizzy and Hawk, who looked at me as if I were an old mare just assigned to the glue factory.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” Sal whined into the receiver. “I know!” She turned her back to us, listened silently for a full minute, then whispered, “Okay!” and hung up.

  “Let’s eat!” Lizzy produced the most beautiful pizza, oozing with cheese and pepperoni and sausage. We sat at the table and held out our plates.

  Dad strolled in, still wearing the one-piece work suit that makes me think of astronauts. “Smells great, Lizzy!”

  I introduced him to Sal. “Dad, aren’t you going to that business luncheon tomorrow?” I glanced at Sal, but she just bit into her pizza.

  Lizzy looked like she wanted to stop her and bless the pizza first. Quickly she said, “Thanks for this food, God! Amen!”

  Sal gave Lizzy a sideways glance as if my sister had just spoken to little green men.

  Uncrumpling a list from his pocket, Dad dialed the phone. “Just pretend I’m not here,” he told us. He stiffene
d when he said into the receiver, “Hello there! How are you?” Silence. “Well, I hope it’s a fine dinner! The reason I’m calling is that you’ve been selected to receive—” he frowned at the phone—“hello?”

  Lizzy served seconds as Dad dialed another number. “Hello there! How are you? Could I have just three minutes of your time that could change the rest of your life?” Silence.

  “I know that voice!” Sal whispered. “Cell phones! He called our house at dinner!”

  “Oh, dinner won’t cool in three short—” Dad hung up and sighed.

  Lizzy’s pizza stuck in my throat. “Dad, could you hold off until we finish eating?”

  “What?” Dad narrowed his eyes at me, then glanced at Sal. “Oh . . . sure. No problem.”

  I sighed and finished my pizza. Lizzy did most of the talking, with Hawk chiming in now and then.

  The minute Sal finished her fourth piece of pizza, she stood up. “Delicious, Lizzy! My brother was right about you.” She smiled at me. “I had a nice time, Winnie. Thanks for asking me.”

  “Had?” I asked, feeling tears swell in the back of my head and press against my eyeballs.

  “I’m sorry.” Sal wiped her mouth with the thin napkin. “I have to leave. I’ve . . . had a change of plans.”

  “You can’t!” Lizzy cried. “I made brownies!”

  “They smell great! Can I take one with? Two?”

  I knew the second one was for Summer. If I could have slipped a dozen laxatives into those brownies, I would have.

  Sal scooped the brownies into her napkin. Then she dashed into my room as if rescuing her backpack from a blazing fire.

  “Victoria,” she called, backing toward the front door. Did she think we’d jump her the minute her back was turned? “See you at school? You too, Winnie?” Sal stumbled, reached behind her for the screen door, and got away.

  I was an idiot to think I could be part of their herd! Hawk’s head was bowed so I couldn’t see her face. “You have a change of plans too, Hawk?”

  Hawk lifted her chin. Peter zoomed to the fridge. “Squawk! Change of plans! Change of plans!”

  Lizzy chuckled. Hawk grinned. It was just what we needed to break the tension. The fight went out of me.

  The rest of the night we just hung out. We visited the horses. Hawk taught Lizzy and me about the markings Native American warriors used to paint on their warhorses.

  I fell asleep on the floor next to Lizzy’s whistling snore, with the sound of a whippoorwill so close it could have been in the room with us.

  In my dream, someone was knocking. I woke up to the tat, tat, tat of woodpeckers and Peter perched on the windowsill. I was in mid-yawn when I came to my senses. Saturday! The barrel race is today!

  I wanted to ride, needed to ride. It took two minutes for me to wake Hawk, get dressed, and tiptoe out.

  We rode into the sunrise, with Hawk naming every bird by its song: “Flutest wren, oriole, purple martin.”

  Towaco behaved perfectly for Hawk. All my hard work was paying off.

  We’d turned around on a country road and skirted back through the sleeping town when I heard my name called.

  “Winnie!” Mr. Baines drove up beside me. “I’ve been looking all over for you! Lizzy said you were riding.”

  I flashed back to the day I’d lost Towaco. “Is something wrong?”

  “Something’s right!” He looked like he’d already won the race. “I want you to race Grant’s horse!”

  “You do?”

  “Spidell admitted the race determines which of us got the better horse—nothing to do with the rider. Besides, I could tell he thinks I’m making a big mistake putting you in.” He chuckled. “We’ll show him!”

  I’m riding Eager Star in the barrel race!

  Hawk rode Towaco closer. “Winnie, this is what you wanted! I’ll ride Towaco home and bring him back in time to watch you race!”

  “Thanks, Hawk!” Catman would be there. And Barker and Lizzy. I’d have my own cheering section. “What’s Grant say?” I asked Mr. Baines.

  He revved his engine. Nickers reared a couple of inches. “Who knows? He left the house before I got up. I haven’t seen him. Don’t worry about Grant. What he wants is a win—any way he can get it. And you’re it!”

  I hoped he was right. I couldn’t imagine not wanting to ride my own horse. But his dad knew Grant better than I did.

  On the ride home I pictured myself on Star, crossing the finishing line, flashbulbs popping, people cheering . . . Summer whining.

  I turned Nickers out and was running to the house to tell Lizzy the good news when I stopped cold. Grant Baines was sitting on the steps eating Lizzy’s cold pizza.

  I sat beside him. “Grant, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be!” he snapped. “I suppose you’ve told everybody how I got bucked off yesterday.” He wouldn’t look at me.

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  He got to his feet. “Can we just practice?”

  He strode ahead of me to the barn. Grant’s dad doesn’t know him as well he thinks he does. On the other hand, Grant couldn’t be too upset or he wouldn’t have come over to help me with Star.

  That thought made me feel better, even though Grant stormed through the barn, banging the lid on the tack box as he pulled out Star’s saddle and bridle.

  I felt bad for the way our only practice had gone. I’d been too tough on him. I thought back to how many things I’d criticized: Don’t talk loud, don’t pat, don’t tighten the reins, don’t . . . It may not have been punishment, but it sure hadn’t been praise.

  Think of people as horses. At church Ralph had said, “All God’s creatures need praise.” Watching Grant slam the saddle down, I wondered if I’d ever seen anybody who needed praise more than he did. I wished I could have that practice back.

  Eager Star walked in, and that’s when I got an idea. I didn’t need to practice on Grant’s horse. Maybe we’d have time for a do-over after all. “Grant, why don’t you start working out with your horse? I’d like to try something.”

  “You’re the boss.” He didn’t sound too happy about that.

  I led Star to the pasture, then handed the rope to Grant. “Drop the leadrope and walk away.”

  He did, and his horse stayed while he brought out the tack.

  “Well, praise him! He stood still for you.”

  “I don’t know how to praise him!” He said it like I’d asked him to slow dance with me.

  “Good boy, Star!” I nodded for Grant to say it.

  “Good boy, Star,” he said, with one-tenth my enthusiasm.

  “That wasn’t so bad!”

  I made him praise Star five times as we tacked up. By the fifth time, he sounded like he meant it. “He’s not a bad-looking horse, is he?” He reached up to pet the bay, but Star jerked his head back, remembering the slap.

  “Tell him,” I urged.

  Grant almost grinned. “You’re kind of handsome.” This time the bay stood still and let himself be scratched.

  “You’re good with him,” I said. “Star likes you.”

  “You think?” He scratched Star’s withers. “You like that, don’t you?” I had a feeling he’d never talked to a horse before, except to scold him.

  Grant’s mount didn’t go much better than the night before, but he kept his cool and didn’t raise his voice.

  “You two are doing fine!” I called as he settled in the saddle. Star had the jitters, and I thought about taking over. I had the race to worry about. But instead, I taught Grant a calm-down cue that had worked for me with the bay. “When Star tenses up like that, lift one rein. Pull back, but not too much. Good job, Grant!”

  As soon as I said it, Grant seemed to relax too.

  “Now, when Star drops his head to get out of the pressure, relax your rein.”

  Almost on command, Star dropped his head. Grant released the rein at exactly the right moment. Star calmed down instantly.

  “Way to go, Grant! Praise Star, and do it ag
ain whenever you feel him tense.”

  “If you say so.” Grant didn’t sound convinced, but he repeated the cue a dozen times in the next hour until Star stopped fighting him. “Good boy, Star!” He reached down and scratched his horse’s neck.

  Lizzy brought out granola bars, which we scarfed down so we could get back to Star.

  We worked our way over to the barrels. Still mounted, Grant walked Star through the pattern, then trotted, making wide loops. It was hard to believe that this horse and rider were the same ones who’d struggled against each other less than 24 hours ago. Grant praised Star at every turn, and Star obeyed every cue. They took the pattern in a canter. Then Grant galloped Star through the whole thing.

  “You two are great!” I screamed as they crossed the finish line, Star not even sweating.

  Grant leaned forward to stroke his horse. “Good boy, Eager Star!” It was the first time he’d called his horse that.

  Thank you, God! I felt full of praise for the whole world. No way could Star and I lose after this!

  “My turn,” I said, taking the reins, expecting him to dismount. He’d had his own victory in a way really. Now it was my time.

  Grant frowned. “I don’t think so, Winnie.”

  I checked my watch. Spidells would be arriving any minute. “Why not?”

  Grant looked puzzled. “Too close to race time. Star and I have to get ready. We could keep him here over the weekend maybe. You could ride him tomorrow?”

  I stared up at him, my legs feeling like limp carrots. “What about the race?”

  “I know. I have to change boots. Dad would flip if I didn’t wear spurs. But don’t worry. I won’t use them or the whip.” He smiled down at me. He wasn’t fighting me for the ride. He wasn’t trying to get his position back for the race.

  “Grant?” My voice cracked, hoarser than normal. “Did you see your dad this morning? Did he . . . talk to you?”

  He shook his head. “I guess I avoided him.” He stared out to the road, where cars were pulling in. Spidells’ trailer stopped in front of the house. “There’s Dad now! Winnie, I don’t want to let him down.” He reached back and scratched his horse’s rump. “Star and I won’t let him down.”

  I watched him walk Eager Star to the barn. I ran through all our morning conversations. I’d thought he was helping me! He thought I was helping him. He’d figured our training was for the race he was running. How could I have been so wrong? Grant had no idea his dad had replaced him!