“Fanny is much improved about loading, isn’t she?” Kayla’s mom said to Sarah.
“Yeah, it’s hard to believe she’s the same horse.”
“Taking her places is so much easier, now that getting on the trailer isn’t a battle,” Mrs. Romano said, as she opened the pickup’s door and climbed in.
Kayla closed the trailer’s side door and called to Sarah, “See you in school tomorrow. I can’t believe it’s the last day!”
As the Romanos’ pickup and trailer moved slowly out of the parking area, Sarah walked over to Rita’s van. Rita was putting her saddle into the van’s dressing room as Sarah approached. “Do you need help loading Chancellor?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, Judson can do it. Or maybe I should say Chance can load himself.” Rita laughed. “He knows the drill.” She became serious. “You know, it’s a wonder Gray Fox didn’t break a leg running on that road, with all those ruts. It’s a real bumpy van ride for Chance, even with Judson creeping along. My father is thinking about writing a letter to Mr. DeWitt demanding the road be fixed. He says coming here is like driving through a minefield.”
“I was worried Gray Fox would stumble,” Sarah admitted. “But the road didn’t seem to slow him down any, and somehow he managed to miss the potholes. Would you like to hear some really good news?” Sarah paused a moment, enjoying the drama as Rita waited expectantly. “Are you ready for this? Mr. DeWitt said a construction company is coming next week to fix the road. They’re going to fill all the potholes and smooth it out.”
“That’s awesome!” Rita said. “My dad will sure be happy. But there’s no excuse for letting it go so long.” She placed her riding helmet in its box and hung up her protective riding vest. She leaned down to brush some dirt off her navy full-seat breeches before stepping outside the dressing room. Judson was bringing Chancellor around the side of the van, and the horse obediently followed him up the ramp to his roomy stall on board. After Judson closed the door and slid the ramp under the body of the van, he climbed into the cab. As the diesel engine came to life, Rita got in on the passenger side. Through the open window she waved to Sarah. “See you next week.”
Sarah watched as the van slowly pulled out of the parking area and inched along the farm’s roadway. How lucky can one girl be, she thought. Besides Chancellor, Rita still has her old pony, her first horse, two extra horses for house guests, and of course the horse that’s supposed to be her father’s. It doesn’t seem fair!
Looking at her watch, Sarah saw she’d have time to see Paige and Tim before her mother came to pick her up. She went to the barn and started down the aisle where the school horses and the two Thoroughbreds in training were stabled. All the horses had been brought in from the paddocks, and Gus was tossing down their evening hay from the loft. As expected, Gray Fox’s stall was empty.
Sarah came to the extra roomy end stall belonged to Mrs. DeWitt’s gray Arabian mare, Medina, who was nickering for the hay she knew was coming. Sarah whistled for Taco and Spin, and was disappointed when there was no sign of the terriers. After riding Medina, Mrs. DeWitt often stayed to chat with riders, but today she and her dogs must have already made their way up the hill to the farmhouse.
To the Brookmeade riders, Mrs. DeWitt seemed like a grandmother from central casting—a friendly woman with plump cheeks, twinkling blue eyes, and silver hair neatly done up in a bun. Her kind face and quick smile immediately warmed everyone she met, and she was well liked by everyone at the barn.
Passing by the lesson program’s tackroom, Sarah looked in on Wichita, who jumped back to avoid flakes of hay falling from above. Next to him the former polo pony, Max, circled his stall, and directly across the aisle a stall housed the bay Morgan gelding, McDuff, who was trained to both ride and drive. Last winter, when a storm dropped over a foot of snow on the farm, the DeWitts offered students and boarders rides in their antique sleigh, with McDuff between the shafts.
She stopped at Lady Tate’s stall. The mare left her hay when Sarah slid the door open enough to slip through. Lady Tate had come to expect a carrot or peppermint from Sarah, but Gray Fox had gotten all of them today. “Sorry, Lady.” She stroked the friendly mare while Lady Tate nuzzled her shirt and jeans’ pockets. “Next time, I promise.”
Outside the stall, Sarah looked for Paige and Quarry. There was no sign of the gray Thoroughbred, but Rhodes was cross-tied in the aisle. He rested one hind leg in an easy relaxed position while Tim went over him with a dandy brush. Tim’s tanned face spoke to the amount of time he spent outside, much of it in the saddle. Standing a little over six feet tall, with intelligent brown eyes, dark hair, and a cool personality, it was easy to understand why Paige liked him so much. Sarah walked up to Tim, and while he continued to groom Rhodes, she told him the story of the runaway.
“Wow!” he said when she finished. “So you stopped him with a pulley rein. Awesome. I remember Jack talking about it. I think I might try it some time when Rhodes is moving out, especially in the big field where I let him gallop. He never wants to slow down.”
Sarah reached up to stroke the bay gelding as Tim ran the brush over his rump. “He’s really nice, Tim. You’re lucky to have such a super horse. Where did you get him?”
“In Canada.” Sarah waited for Tim to continue his story. “Last year, when my parents could see their way clear to buy me a horse, Rhodes was advertised on Dreamhorse.com. A man who liked to foxhunt decided he was too busy to ride much. We requested a sales video, and my dad thought it would be worth a trip to Toronto.” Tim grinned. “With a name like Rhodes Scholar, we knew he must be smart. Anyway, the next weekend we piled in the van and headed for Canada. He was supposed to be a large framed horse with good bone, and he was. And just like he was advertised, he’s quiet under saddle with three good gaits, although he’s stronger on his right lead canter.” He paused. “I should say quiet under saddle most of the time!”
Tim began to brush the tangles out of Rhodes’s tail with a wide comb. “I thought he was just what I wanted, and my parents were also impressed. We had a vet do the pre-purchase exam while we were in Toronto. The only concern was a slightly capped hock, but the vet didn’t think it would ever bother him. Dad wrote a check on the spot.”
“He must be pretty smart,” Sarah said, impressed. “But Toronto is a long way from here. How did you get him to Brookmeade?”
“We didn’t have a trailer then, so he was trucked by a commercial van. It was a long ride for Rhodes.”
“If I ever have a horse, I hope he’s as nice as yours,” Sarah said.
Tim laughed. “If he hears you say that, he’ll be getting a swelled head.”
Sarah saw Paige leading Quarry from the lower wash rack back to his stall and went to meet her. The dappled gray’s coat was wet from his bath, but on this warm afternoon he didn’t need a cooler. Paige waved when she saw Sarah, and together they walked Quarry to his freshly bedded stall. Once inside, Quarry tugged against the lead shank, impatient to be free.
“I think he wants to roll,” Paige said. She unsnapped the shank and removed his halter before quickly stepping out of the stall. Quarry circled once before dropping to his knees and rolling onto his back. He swung his body energetically from side to side, and when he scrambled to his feet, wood shavings were sticking to his wet coat.
“You look like a Frosted Flake, Quarry!” Paige said. She and Sarah laughed as Quarry shook himself and then turned to his hay.
“I guess I cut the lesson short for everyone,” Sarah said.
“Oh, not to worry. It wasn’t your fault. We were just about finished anyway. Before Jack left to find you, he told the rest of us to walk our horses up to the old orchard to cool them out. It was awesome! What a view from up there. You can even see Cobb’s Cove and a few of the cottages at the beach.”
Paige picked up a body brush from her tack caddy and went back into the stall. She began to brush the shavings off Quarry. “Gray Fox was a real pain for me last week,” Paige said, “but nothing like he
was today! I hope Quarry stays sound so I never have to ride Gray Fox again.”
“You’re right about that,” Sarah said. “Gray Fox is not an easy ride. I was glad I wore spurs and carried a crop.”
At the sound of her cell phone ringing, Sarah stepped away and fished it out of her pocket. It was her mother. “I’m starting down the farm road. I hope you’ll be ready when we get there.”
Closing her cell, Sarah waved to Paige and hurried down the aisle to the front of the barn. Jack must have returned by now, and she wanted to check on Gray Fox before leaving. Passing the wash rack, she saw Lindsay hosing Gray Fox down to remove the dried lather from his coat. He stood compliantly as the cool water streamed over his back, ran down his legs, and washed soap suds down the floor drain. Then Lindsay used long strokes with a sweat scraper to remove water from his coat.
“How’s he doing?” Sarah asked. “Does Jack think he’s okay?”
“Jack said he’s fine. We’ll give him a bran mash with some oats tonight, and he should be his old self in the morning. But he’ll have the day off tomorrow. It’s too bad he was passing the tractor just when it backfired.”
At the sound of a car coming into the parking lot, Sarah looked out the window and saw their SUV pulling up. Her mother gave the horn a soft tap.
“Gotta go, Lindsay,” Sarah said, as she headed for the door. Seeing the SUV idling in the lot, she suddenly felt apprehensive about facing her mother and Abby. They’d want to hear how her lesson went, and that was one subject she really didn’t want to talk about.
CHAPTER 4
The Proposition
“HOW DID YOUR TEAM DO today, Abby?” Martin Wagner asked, as the family gathered around the table in their country kitchen for dinner that evening. “Did you get any hits?”
Abby swallowed a mouthful of chili before beginning her account of the softball game. She was proud of the outcome and had monopolized the conversation on the ride home from Brookmeade Farm. Now she wanted to share the win with her father.
“I struck out twice, but in the last inning I hit a double that scored two runs! We won eight to five.” She paused to help herself to a slice of French bread.
Sarah was glad the discussion revolved around something other than her riding lesson. Unable to shake the feeling she should have been able to stop Gray Fox before he ran away with her, she was reluctant to bring up the subject. She listened quietly, content to have her sister bask in the limelight. After Abby had given a complete rundown of the game, there was silence at the table, except for the sound of the occasional spoon scraping the side of a chili bowl.
“Sarah, you’re on the quiet side tonight,” her father said, as he added some dressing to his salad. When she didn’t respond, he persisted. “How did your lesson go this afternoon?”
Sarah looked up to see three faces staring at her expectantly. Could she pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened, that it was just another routine riding lesson? She decided she couldn’t postpone telling them any longer. They would hear about it eventually.
“I rode Gray Fox today.” Sarah hesitated for a moment as her family waited for more. “We went outside to jump on the hunt course.” She took a deep breath. “Gray Fox got spooked when the tractor backfired right next to him, and he ran away with me. He was going at a full gallop, and I couldn’t stop him.”
Alison Wagner gasped while her husband and Abby stared in disbelief. This was far different from Sarah’s usual account of her lessons.
“Where did he go?” Abby blurted out. “What stopped him?”
“He was running down the farm road when I remembered Jack telling us about a way to pull on the reins that will slow down a galloping horse—it’s called the pulley rein. I tried it, and it worked. We were almost to Ridge Road when Gray Fox finally stopped.”
Her father stared at her intently. “Sarah, can you start at the beginning, and tell us everything?”
Mrs. Wagner had inched to the front of her chair, leaning toward Sarah. “Yes, this sounds like a dangerous situation,” she said. “We’d like to know exactly what happened.”
Sarah reluctantly filled them in, from the ill-timed tractor backfire, to when she finally halted Gray Fox, to the ride back to the barn with Mr. DeWitt.
“How fast do you think he was going?” Abby asked. “Like in the Kentucky Derby?”
Sarah shot Abby a look of disdain. “Yeah, right, Abby. As if Gray Fox could ever run like a Thoroughbred. But it was the fastest I’ve ever gone on a horse.”
The telephone interrupted them, and Abby jumped up to answer it. She picked up the kitchen wall phone, and after a moment beckoned to Sarah. “It’s for you.”
Sarah recognized Jack O’Brien’s voice. “Hi, Sarah. I thought you’d like to know Gray Fox appears to be fine after his escapade this afternoon. He was sound on the ride back to the barn, but to be on the safe side Lindsay rubbed his legs with a brace and put on support bandages for the night. Gus gave him a bran mash with his grain. I expect he’ll be fine in the morning.”
“That’s good news,” Sarah replied, relieved to have Jack confirm what Lindsay had told her was likely the case. “I guess it wasn’t his fault the tractor backfired right beside him. Probably most horses would have done the same thing. But even when he was a long way from the tractor, he still wouldn’t slow down. To tell you the truth, I think he liked running away with me.”
“Knowing old Fox, I suspect you’re right,” Jack said with a short laugh. “But that’s not all I’m calling about. Mr. DeWitt was here a few minutes ago. He asked if I could arrange a meeting tomorrow night at seven with you and your folks. He’d like you to come to the stable lounge by the office. Will that work for everyone?”
Sarah’s grip on the receiver tightened. Something must be wrong. Why would the DeWitts want to talk to her parents? Whenever this happened at school, it meant someone was in trouble. She turned and spoke in a voice so low her parents strained to hear. “It’s Jack. He’s wondering if we can come to the farm tomorrow night at seven. Mr. DeWitt wants to talk to us.”
Sarah’s parents saw the worried look on her face and heard the strain in her voice. Was there more to her story than she was telling them? What on earth could Chandler DeWitt want to see all three of them about?
“Gee, I guess so,” her father said. He turned to his wife. “How about you, Alison?” She nodded slowly, a puzzled expression on her face. “It looks like we can make it,” Mr. Wagner said. “But what’s the reason for the meeting? Try to find out what Mr. DeWitt wants to talk to us about.”
Sarah turned back to the telephone. After a moment she found her voice. “We can be there. But what’s this all about, Jack?”
“Mr. DeWitt didn’t say any more, so I can’t help you. He wants me there too, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Sarah frowned as she hung up the phone, rooted to the floor. Her parents and Abby waited for an explanation. “He doesn’t know why,” was all she could say.
It was quiet while they considered what this could mean. Finally Sarah spoke. “Maybe the meeting has something to do with the runaway today. Maybe he thinks I should have stopped Gray Fox sooner. Maybe he blames me that Fox was able to run away in the first place.” Her voice faltered. “Maybe he’s worried that having one of his horses run away with someone during a lesson will give the farm a bad name.”
“Sarah, honey,” her mother said, “I can’t imagine that Mr. DeWitt doesn’t know the runaway was an unfortunate accident. It certainly wasn’t your fault the farm tractor backfired just as your horse was going by it. I’m sure you did a fine job of riding to rein that horse in from a full gallop.”
Her mother’s words failed to reassure her. Sarah sat back down at the table, but no longer had any appetite. She pushed her bowl of chili away. “Maybe he doesn’t think I should be in the Young Riders class—everyone else has been riding a lot longer. They all have their own horses, and they plan to go to shows this summer.”
; “That doesn’t make sense, Sarah,” her father said. “Don’t overreact. The other riders can’t be that far ahead of you.”
“Oh really? Tim and Paige went to a two-phase event in the spring, and they’re entered to ride in the Fair Pines Horse Trials. Rita’s father is going to take her to lots of hunter/jumper shows. Kayla will compete with Fanny at the Quarter Horse shows. And then there’s me. Where do I fit in?”
Sarah fought the tears that welled up and threatened to spill out. The events of the day had left her stressed and exhausted. Now this meeting with Mr. DeWitt seemed more than she could deal with.
“Look, Sarah,” her father said, “Chandler DeWitt’s farm is a business, and a business has got to make enough money to cover its expenses. I doubt that Mr. DeWitt makes a practice of discouraging steady customers like you. I think you’re jumping to conclusions. Why don’t we simply wait until tomorrow night to find out what’s on Mr. DeWitt’s mind?”
“You and Abby have both had pretty exhausting days,” her mother added, as she got up from the table. “You’ll feel much better after a good night’s sleep. I’m just relieved you didn’t get hurt, Sarah, and I hope Jack will put you on more reliable horses from now on. But you need to shower and hit the hay early, both of you.”
The overwhelming sense of foreboding that had stayed with Sarah all day intensified when she and her parents arrived at Brookmeade Farm the next evening. She’d thought about little else except the meeting since she’d awoken that morning. She had come up with a number of possible reasons why Mr. DeWitt wanted to see them—none were good. When she told Kayla about the call from Jack, her friend was as baffled as she was. Both of Sarah’s parents were quieter than usual during their early dinner, and even Abby didn’t have much to say. Well, here we are. We’ll soon hear the worst, Sarah thought.
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