“I will, thank you.”
“You know about mucking out a stall and laying down fresh straw, don’t you? You can do that when he’s outside in the afternoon. Groom him in the afternoon, too. Do you remember how?”
“I remember from last time I was here. With Summer Glory,” Rose said.
“He’s nothing like Summer Glory, Rose. Oh, he’ll stand still for you, but only because he’s frozen. He survived this far by controlling his emotions. He was smart enough to know he had no choice. If he misbehaved or tried to run, he’d be beaten.”
Midnight Star seemed so alone. Motionless, quiet, afraid. Rose wanted to cry for him.
“You chose a horse with big problems, honey. You can change your mind.”
Rose shook her head. “No. No, I won’t let him go to slaughter!”
Aunt Norma looked at her sideways. “You know Ned is a good man, don’t you, Rose? He told me about your agreement.”
“You mean about waiting to sell Star at the horse fair?”
“I love Clayton Stables, but horses do have to be sold off. That’s the nature of the business. Mostly it’s to good homes, but sometimes it’s heartbreaking,” Aunt Norma said.
“I always thought I’d want to do what you do when I grow up. Run a stable or something like that,” Rose said. “But not anymore. I don’t think horses should be a business.”
“Don’t be so hard on us,” Aunt Norma said. “Ned is honestly hoping with all his heart that you can make Star seem more desirable at the auction in North Menasha. It’s Star’s best chance.”
“Aunt Norma, do you think it’s hopeless?”
“Probably.” Aunt Norma glanced at Rose’s downcast face. “But it’s possible that Star might be more comfortable with a girl. I’d think his abuse was at the hands of men; the world of horses and of racing is all run by men. Except for me, of course.” Aunt Norma grinned. “Though I stay quietly behind the scenes.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Rose. Sometimes love can find a way.”
I’ll love him enough, Rose thought. “I guess I should get started.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you after school.”
“Thank you.” She watched Aunt Norma leave the stable, patting one horse’s head and then another as she passed them in their stalls.
Rose took a deep breath. Now she was on her own. She opened the latch and entered the stall. She was dismayed by the way Star immediately shifted away from her. His only sign of emotion was the nervous flaring of his nostrils.
“My beautiful Star,” she whispered. “You’ll see. You’ll be fine, we’ll be a team, you and me, Star.”
She raised her hand to stroke his shoulder—and suddenly Star reared up! Rose’s heart thumped wildly. He was towering over her. She was alone in a tight space with a nine-hundred-pound animal!
She gasped as she scrambled out of the stall and latched the door. Star’s front hoofs came thundering down upon the stall floor, the place where she had just been standing. Her hand went to her throat. It was a while before she could breathe normally again.
Rose peeked over the stall door. Star’s eyes, surrounded by their whites, showed his terror. She must have raised her arm too quickly. If a raised arm meant nothing but a beating to him—what had this horse been through?
“I only wanted to pet you,” she whispered. How would she ever let him know that? He was too afraid. And now she was afraid, too. Could she make herself go back into that stall? But she had to, if she was going to feed and care for him. She had to!
She waited for Star to settle down. “It’s all right,” she said softly, over and over again. Finally, he seemed calmer. Now she knew never to raise her arm suddenly again. But if Uncle Ned had seen what had just happened, he would say Star was too dangerous and he’d make her stay away from him. Was there danger under Star’s tense, too-quiet exterior? She didn’t know. She only knew that this horse broke her heart and she wouldn’t give up on him.
She couldn’t be afraid! What had Uncle Ned told her when he taught her to ride? Horses pick up the subtlest gestures. You have to appear calm and confident. You have to be in charge.
Dear God, Rose prayed, please help me to be brave. Please help me do this one thing.
Rose straightened her shoulders and reentered the stall. Star turned his rump toward her and put his head into a far corner as though he hoped to disappear. He couldn’t have made it more obvious that he didn’t want her there.
She checked the feed bucket. It was empty and clean. Someone must have scrubbed it out earlier. She picked it up, careful to move slowly and quietly, and closed the stall door behind her.
She filled the bucket from the big metal bin at the far end of the aisle. She nodded to a stablehand who was crisscrossing from one stall to another. Horses’ heads reached eagerly over their doors. Hooves stamped and pawed. “Easy, boy, breakfast coming up.” She heard welcoming whinnies, the scrape of buckets and the soft sounds of munching. She took the deepest breath she could hold and filled her nostrils with the thrilling stable smells of sweet hay, ammonia, rich leather, and—horses! The morning sounds and scents of Clayton Stables coming to life. There was no place on earth she’d rather be.
Rose came back into Star’s stall and again there was that that disheartening shift away from her.
The contented noises of other horses were all around her. Star gazed at the bucket. He moved his head sideways, keeping a wary eye on her. Rose thought, he’s waiting for me to leave before he’ll even eat! No wonder the stablehands and grooms didn’t enjoy dealing with him.
She’d prepared herself not to expect twinkling eyes and sweet, warm nuzzling from him, not right away. But her entire body sagged with disappointment. She fought against feeling hopeless. It had to get better, though she had no idea of how to make it so. She remembered what Uncle Ned had said to her once: Horses don’t forget but they forgive.
Again, Rose squared her shoulders. “You don’t know it yet, Star, but you’re my horse,” she whispered. “I’ll help you forgive.”
Rose rushed to school from the stables and just missed the first bell. She dusted bits of straw from her dress and hurried into the classroom. Kat and Lizabeth waved, and Amanda smiled at her. Miss Cotter and Miss Harding ran a strict classroom—no talking out of turn. Miss Harding was in a bad mood and, left and right, knuckles were rapped with her ruler. Rose was kept busy with catch-up arithmetic exercises.
At recess most of the girls jumped rope. Mabel and Amanda turned the rope on either end and everyone chanted the words of a rhyme while girls jumped in one by one. Rose, waiting her turn, was alert for signs of a change in Kat, Amanda, and Lizabeth’s attitude toward her, but everything seemed the same. Maybe they hadn’t noticed how abruptly she’d rushed into her house yesterday. It was probably better not to bring it up or make excuses. She didn’t have a good one, anyway.
Rose moved back in line to stand next to Lizabeth, and asked her, “Did your mother go to the Ladies’ Quilting Society last night?”
“Yes, they meet every other Monday.”
“Did anyone else go?”
Lizabeth looked at her strangely. “Well, of course. She’s not the whole Society all by herself!”
“I meant…for instance, Kat’s mother?”
“No, Aunt Jean’s too busy with the lighthouse and all.” Whew, one less person to worry about!
“Did your mother say anything?” Rose asked.
“About what?”
“About meeting my mother.”
“Oh, that’s right, they met in the afternoon and again at the Society.”
“What did she say?” Rose asked.
“That your mother’s very stylish.” Lizabeth’s tone was definitely approving!
“Anything else?” Rose asked carefully.
“And…what else…oh, that your house is going to look lovely when—Oops, my turn!” And Lizabeth, with petticoats flying, jumped into the turning ropes.
It sounded like Momma hadn’t said anything
to offend anyone.
Rose felt a burst of optimism. Maybe Momma had finally realized, after all, that Cape Light was not the right place to push for the vote.
seven
When Rose and Kat arrived at the stables that afternoon, Star was out in the paddock. He was as sleek and magnificent a sight as the first time she saw him, but now Rose recognized his pained stillness in a field of carefree horses, and it squeezed her heart.
“Should we go to him and say hello?” Kat asked. “And pet him and—he’s so beautiful!”
“I know, I want to. But I’d better get his stall done first,” Rose said.
Rose used a pitchfork to muck out the stall and put the soiled straw into a lined wheelbarrow. Kat swept spiderwebs from the ceiling. Together, they covered the floor with a new, thick layer of clean straw and wood shavings for bedding.
It was awfully hard work, Rose thought, but there was something very satisfying about getting everything set up all clean and comfortable for Star.
Then there were the buckets to scrub out and refill. The two girls carried water from the well behind the stable.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” Rose said. “It’s heavy.”
“That’s all right.” Kat smiled. “I like being here.”
Rose smiled back. “I bet you’ll love riding Star, and I’ll teach you everything I know. When he settles down and relaxes.”
But when they led him from the paddock to the stall, Rose wondered if Star would ever relax. He followed her lead obediently enough, but his body was rigid and Rose could sense his resistance.
The girls looked through the leather bag of grooming supplies and found a rubber currycomb, a stiff brush, a soft brush, a hoof pick, a mane-and-tail comb, sponges, and towels.
Rose started by standing at Star’s left side, at his shoulder facing his tail. Picking out the hooves was the most important thing to do, but would Star let her? What if he reared up again? She mustn’t let him know how anxious she was. Her heart pounded. If he lashed out at her, the sharp edge of a hoof could do real damage….
With the hoof pick in her hand, she gently ran her hands down his left foreleg and pinched the back of the leg lightly. Good, he’d been trained for this. He picked up his foot and she dug out all the packed-in dirt.
“Whew, he’s letting me do it,” Rose said.
“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Kat asked.
“Just his training. I guess he was given no choice.” Rose checked the sole of the foot, the shoe, and its nails. She placed the foot back on the floor and, more confidently, did the same with his other feet.
“There’s something so sad about him,” Kat said. “Sad and lonely.”
Rose went over his body with the currycomb, moving it in circles. “Maybe he’ll get used to me.” She remembered how Summer Glory had enjoyed being groomed. She could feel Star’s tension whenever she was near him.
With a damp rag, Kat picked up the hair and dirt from Star’s coat that had been loosened by the comb. “Don’t you worry that his problems are too big?”
Rose nodded. “But I have to try to undo what was done to him.” She bit her lip. “If I can save this one beautiful horse, maybe I’ll stop feeling so bad for all the others.”
“What others? What do you mean?” Kat asked.
Rose started with the body brush behind Star’s ears and took long sweeping strokes in the direction of his hair. “I was on my way to a piano lesson and I passed a hill going up Broadway. It was just before Christmas and it had snowed the day before. At first, I just thought of how pretty everything looked, with icicles hanging from the fire escapes. And then I saw that the street was blocked with a traffic jam of carriages. The paving was covered with a hard coat of ice under a layer of snow.”
Rose put the brush down and turned to face Kat. “The horses were floundering, straining up the hill, twisting and turning, doing their best to unclog the wheels. They were foaming at the mouth. And the drivers were furious and impatient. They were cursing and whipping the horses something terrible!”
“That’s the worst thing, isn’t it? When drivers are cruel,” Kat said.
“Kat, I saw one horse slip. The cart overturned and his legs were splayed out to either side. He was helpless; he couldn’t get up. And his driver was lashing and lashing him.” Rose’s eyes widened with remembered horror. “The snow around him was turning red! I cried out, ‘Stop!’ but no one paid any attention to me. Finally, I just turned away and went to my piano lesson. But I can’t forget it. I should have done something to stop it.”
“There was really nothing you could have done,” Kat said.
“I don’t know. Maybe not. But I wish I’d at least tried to do something.”
“It hurts to be so soft-hearted,” Kat said. “You feel everything double. But that’s what I like most about you.”
“Horses give and give. They’re so willing and they try so hard,” Rose continued. She ran her hand along Star’s hide. She felt the hard, protruding ridges of the scars under his hair. “Kat, they’re sensitive enough to feel the exact inch of skin that a fly has landed on.” There was no doubt that Star had been viciously beaten. “I think the best thing that could happen for horses,” Rose said, “is if automobiles spread everywhere and take over all the pulling and the carrying.”
“That won’t ever happen,” Kat said. “Papa says automobiles are far too expensive and they always break down. Unreliable and noisy, too. They’re just rich men’s toys.”
“But if I can save Star from slaughter, I’m afraid he’ll become a carriage horse. He needs someone to appreciate and care for him.”
“Now your story about the carriage horses is going to haunt me, too,” Kat said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Kat put her hand on Rose’s shoulder. “It makes me want to do more for Star.”
“Maybe helping just one horse doesn’t make a big difference. But it does to me.” Tears glistened on Rose’s eyelashes. “It’s the very best I can do.”
“You’ll get through to him, Rose, if anyone can,” Kat said. “Amanda and Lizabeth will help, too. Between the four of us, we’ll turn him around somehow!”
In the last two weeks of March, the grand old trees around the village square were pale green with new tender growth. Pussy willows lined the road that Rose took to the stables every morning before school.
Kat came most afternoons. She often brought her sketchbook and charcoals with her. Sometimes Kat sat on the top rail of the paddock fence and made quick drawings of the horses in motion. She was so talented! It made Rose wish she had as clear a direction for her life. Sometimes Kat sketched Star. She captured both his elegant conformation and his stiff, tense posture. Kat understands perfectly, Rose thought, and she liked her more than ever.
Amanda’s little sister, Hannah, was enrolled in Uncle Ned’s riding class for Thursday afternoons. That left Amanda free to join Rose and Kat at Star’s stall. Amanda pitched in with the work whenever she could. She spoke to Star so kindly; how could he fail to respond to her, Rose wondered.
Lizabeth came, too. She didn’t pretend to help muck out the stall or carry water buckets. Mostly, she posed prettily against the white fence of the paddock, wearing a smart new scarlet jacket and black velvet riding cap, along with shiny black boots and a long black skirt. She was the picture of what a fashionable horse-woman should wear.
“Are you going to take lessons?” Rose asked.
“No, I don’t plan to actually ride,” Lizabeth said. But she petted Star and talked to him, too.
Kat took time off to ride American Eagle and she came back to Star’s stall with her face glowing. “It was so much fun! Your uncle was so nice to let me do that. As soon as I pay Todd back, I’m going to save for lessons. I want to be good at this!”
Rose grinned. “Now you’ve got horse fever, too!”
“Hmmm, I suppose riding could become popular for women,” Lizabeth said. “Sidesaddle looks feminine, doesn’t
it? It doesn’t seem that hard, and you don’t have to get all sweaty and dirty, do you?”
“Hannah likes it a lot,” Amanda said. “Maybe I’ll try.” “The more you learn about riding,” Rose said, “the more you realize how much more there is to learn.”
“If you want to see some fancy riding, well, that horse fair in North Menasha isn’t only about buying and selling,” Lizabeth said. “I went last year. There are lots of riding events. Dressage and jumps and all kinds of demonstrations. You’ll love it, Rose.”
“No I won’t,” Rose said. “Not if Star is auctioned there.”
“We can’t let that happen!” Kat said.
“Not to Star!” Amanda looked distressed.
“We’ll just have to think of something,” Lizabeth said.
Rose was especially close to Kat but she felt lucky to have three such good friends. They all care about Star, Rose thought, and they’re all encouraging me. But Star still glanced anxiously left and right, lifting his head up as high as possible to try to keep out of reach.
Rose couldn’t wait anymore to ride Star. He had to be at least a little used to her by now. When she saddled him, she could feel his muscles tense up, but he stayed still. So far, so good. She walked him out of the stall and dragged over the mounting block. It was a nuisance, but she couldn’t mount on her own unless she wore her riding skirt and she wasn’t about to do that in Cape Light.
She put her feet in the stirrups and adjusted her position in the saddle. Riding sidesaddle made it harder to balance, but the worst part was that it made her too dependent on the reins. She couldn’t use her legs to direct the horse, but she was careful to hold the reins with a gentle hand. Though Star instantly followed her directions, his body was rigid and his ears were pulled back. It was clear that he was unhappy to have her on his back.
They trotted around the paddock and Rose became as uncomfortable as Star seemed to be. She had done everything right. She had checked the girth strap to make sure that it wasn’t too tight. She had placed the saddle blanket carefully under the saddle and smoothed away all the wrinkles. She was using the reins so gently—she knew she wasn’t hurting his tender mouth. His stiff posture had to be simply because he wanted her gone. She took another turn around the paddock. There was no pleasure in it.
Rose's Story Page 5
