Crown Prince

by Linda Snow McLoon

  Rita broke in. “My dad says he might get one of those huge trailers that have living quarters included. That would be totally cool! Dad will have to get a new truck to pull it.” Sarah wished Rita would just shut up.

  As an afterthought Rita said, “The van can hold four horses.” She turned to Kayla. “Maybe we could travel to a show together, and stay in the van.”

  Kayla didn’t answer, but Sarah could tell she found the invitation interesting.

  “So what are your plans for showing, Kayla?” Rita asked.

  “We’re going to the Riverbend show this Sunday. It’s for Quarter Horses only, but it’s still pretty big.”

  “What classes are you going in?” Rita asked.

  “The Novice Hunter division, and this year I’ll do both the flat and over-fences classes. This will be the first time I’ve ever jumped Fanny anywhere except here at Brookmeade, so I don’t know what to expect.”

  “Well,” Rita scoffed, “you’ll be up against just Quarter Horses, so don’t worry. You’ll do great. I’ll have all kinds of Warmbloods and Thoroughbreds in my classes, but I know Chance can beat them all. That’s why my dad bought him.”

  Rita was starting to really irritate Sarah. “You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Sarah said. “There will be some tough competition at the shows you go to.”

  “I’m not worried,” Rita said confidently. As they approached the side door, she looked at her watch. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. It’s later than I thought. I’m supposed to be at Atlantic Saddlery in fifteen minutes to be fitted for new custom boots. Can I give you a lift home, Kayla?”

  “My mom’s picking me up later. But thanks.”

  Sarah and Kayla walked to Prince’s stall, where he was nosing through his bedding for bits of hay. The girls both knew what the other was thinking. Finally, with no one else around, they could talk.

  “I’d be freaking out if I were you,” Kayla said. “First everyone was afraid your horse might be dangerous. Then you were worried he might not pass the vet exam. Now Mr. Bolton wants to take him back, and he’s offering you so much money your parents might make you give him up. When are you going to tell them?”

  Sarah looked over at Prince, who was drinking from his water bucket. She turned back to Kayla. “As soon as I can,” she said, a lump forming in her throat. Tonight.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The Decision

  JACK DIDN’T MENTION Hank Bolton’s visit to Brookmeade Farm when he arrived at Crown Prince’s stall promptly at two o’clock. “This horse has been in limbo long enough,” he said. “‘Tis time he went to work.” Sarah and Kayla watched as he entered the stall with a longeing cavesson and a coiled longe line draped over his arm. Prince noticed the equipment and began backing away.

  “‘Tis like a bitless bridle, Prince,” Jack said, moving with him and stroking his long neck. “You’ll not be minding it.” He deftly slid the cavesson around the horse’s nose and over his ears before Prince knew what was happening. In many ways it seemed like a bridle, something he’d come to hate, and he tossed his head in annoyance. But with no bit to bring jarring pain to his mouth, after a few minutes he quieted down. Jack buckled the straps and attached the longe line to the ring on the front of the noseband. “Let’s go, son,” he said, leading Prince out of the stall and picking up the longe whip with its long lash.

  Sarah and Kayla fell into step with Jack as they walked toward the outside ring on the opposite side of the barn from the indoor. The weather had cleared, and the gray clouds of earlier in the day had been replaced with sunshine. Prince’s coat gleamed as he moved eagerly beside Jack. This was the first time he had been to this part of the farm, and he held his head high, looking around.

  “‘Tis always an advantage to longe a horse before you ride him,” Jack explained. “‘Twill get rid of any pent-up energy, and he’ll be forming the habit of listening to you.”

  “How soon can he be bridled after the tooth is out?” Sarah asked.

  “We’ll see what Dr. Reynolds has to say about that. But in the meantime, much good can come from longeing. It will help him become better balanced while he learns to work with you.”

  The two small riders Lindsay had been instructing on Pretty Penny and Snippet were just leaving the ring. “It’s all yours,” Lindsay called out. Sarah waved a greeting to the DeWitts’ granddaughter, Grace, riding Pretty Penny. Grace smiled back, and then with the heels of her laced paddock boots she prodded her pony to keep up with Snippet.

  Sarah and Kayla found a good vantage point outside the white board fence to watch. Just as they got comfortable, a low rumble announced a vehicle’s approach, and the girls turned to see the Romanos’ pickup coming down the hill.

  “I hope Mom isn’t in a hurry,” Kayla said. “I want to watch this.”

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Romano joined Sarah and Kayla by the rail. Wearing jeans and a straw hat, she was an athletic-looking woman in her forties with short hair a deeper auburn shade than her daughter’s. Like Kayla, her face was splashed with freckles. Mrs. Romano seemed as interested as the girls in what was happening.

  “I came at just the right time,” she said softly.

  Jack brought Prince to the center of the ring, and after asking him to halt, began to slowly rub the longe whip over his body. “Why is he doing that?” Sarah whispered.

  Kayla’s mother leaned over to the girls and replied in a hushed tone, “Jack’s making sure that Prince has no fear of the whip. He’ll be using it to urge him forward and keep him out on the circle. Prince should respect it but not fear it.”

  At first Prince tried to move away as Jack slowly rubbed the whip lightly against his hindquarters and sides. Jack moved with him, all the while talking reassuringly. When Prince seemed more relaxed, Jack led him forward. While pointing the whip at the horse’s hip, Jack slowly uncoiled the longe line and moved away from him. Now with a gentle flip of the lash he asked the horse to continue walking around him, keeping his distance on the circle.

  “Before I ask him to trot, ’tis important he learns to halt on command,” Jack called out to them. “It’s a break you’ll be needing.” Jack then distinctly said “halt,” as he gave a few soft tugs with the line and pointed the longe whip in front of the horse. Prince stopped and looked toward Jack, not quite sure what was being asked of him. Jack repeated it a few more times until Prince seemed to understand the voice commands.

  Then Jack used a new word. “Trot!” he said crisply, as he gently flipped the lash toward the horse’s hindquarters. As Jack clucked, Prince somewhat hesitatingly broke into trot and continued moving on a circle, gradually going forward more confidently. He’s so beautiful! Sarah thought, watching her horse trot smartly around Jack. He moved with an air of nobility, his long strides floating above the ground. He was the horse of her dreams!

  Mrs. Romano leaned toward Sarah and whispered, “Your horse seems pretty easy-going. He’s gorgeous, and what a nice mover! You got lucky, Sarah, and I certainly hope he works out for you.”

  Sarah nodded without taking her eyes off Prince and the man in the center. “Thanks,” she said.

  After doing a number of transitions, Jack asked Prince to halt and went to his head. “It’s your turn, Sarah,” Jack said, beckoning her into the ring. Sarah hadn’t been expecting this, and she froze momentarily. She knew nothing about longeing. Did Jack expect her to start right now, training a green horse right off the racetrack?

  “Come, come,” Jack insisted. Sarah reluctantly ducked through the fence boards and went to him. “You need to learn to do this. Now follow the same routine.” With that he showed her how to hold the longe line and whip before he retreated to the outside rail. Sarah tried to keep the contact with her horse through the longe line while pointing the longe whip toward his hip.

  “That’s good, Sarah,” Jack said. “Now gently use the longe whip and your voice to ask him to walk.”

  Sarah spoke the word distinctly, as she’d heard Jack do. “Walk!” When P
rince didn’t move forward right away, she clucked and slowly swished the longe whip behind him. The horse turned to look at her for reassurance as he began walking forward. “Good boy,” she instinctively called to him.

  With Jack making helpful comments from the rail, soon Prince was doing all the things he’d learned from Jack. After a number of transitions from walk to trot and back, Jack said, “He’s not ready to canter on a small circle, so I think that’s enough for one session. Ask him to halt and immediately go to his head. Don’t allow him to come to the center—always go to him.”

  After Sarah had followed Jack’s suggestion, he said, “This is also the way you will change rein on the longe, by asking Prince to halt and then going to him and moving him out in the opposite direction. Next time you’ll work him equally in both directions.”

  Mrs. Romano clapped her hands. “A wonderful start,” she called. “But I have to drag Kayla away now. I’m glad I came at a good time to see your new horse, Sarah.”

  Kayla gave Sarah a thumbs-up. “He was awesome, kid!”

  “Thanks,” Sarah said. “And good luck at the show. I wish I could come with you.”

  “Call me later!” Kayla called out as she and her mother headed for the parking area. Sarah knew what Kayla would want to know. She’d be anxious to learn how Sarah’s parents reacted to Mr. Bolton’s offer.

  Sarah reached up to stroke her horse. “You were a star, Prince.” She led him to the gate that Jack opened for them.

  “By the way, Sarah,” Jack said, “don’t forget we have an appointment tomorrow morning at the vet clinic. It won’t take us long to get there. You’ll have him ready to load at nine?”

  She nodded. “Of course. I’ll be here before seven to feed.”

  “Good. And don’t forget his shipping boots.”

  Sarah led Prince back to the barn, where she saw Gus cleaning stalls. He stepped into the aisle as they approached and held up his hand to stop her. It was unusual for him to seek her out, and Sarah immediately became uneasy. Had she done something wrong?

  “The carpenter says he’s just about finished with the new stalls in the ell,” Gus said. “Your horse is going to have the outside one with the window. It’s bigger. I’ll tell you when to move him.”

  “Thanks, Gus!” Sarah said enthusiastically. To think, he actually started a conversation with me! she thought. Gus paused to scrutinize Crown Prince as the horse walked by, but he had seen many handsome horses before this one and seemed to see no need to comment.

  Once back in the stall, Sarah looked her horse over before removing the longeing cavesson. Despite the warm afternoon, he hadn’t broken into a sweat. Prince went immediately to his water bucket, drinking deeply. He’s happy here, she thought. Brookmeade Farm is the best place for Prince, not the racetrack. But it was getting late. Her dad would be home soon, and while she didn’t look forward to the conversation she had ahead of her, she needed to get it over with.

  After giving Prince a final pat, she scooped up Jack’s longeing equipment and headed to the office. Lindsay was talking with a student and her parents in the hallway, but the office was empty. Sarah coiled the longe line and hung it along with the cavesson on a hook on the wall where Jack kept it before going to get her bicycle.

  On the ride home her mind raced. She braced herself for the confrontation that was sure to come. Mr. Bolton’s letter was in her jeans pocket, ready for her to give to her parents. She steeled herself for their reaction, determined to stand her ground. Could she make them understand how much her horse meant to her? Would they recognize that no amount of money would tempt her to part with him? It should be her decision and no one else’s. It was her life. And her horse.

  Soon she was turning into the driveway by their white shuttered Cape-style house. Both garage doors were down, which meant her father was already home, and her mother was probably in the kitchen preparing dinner. Abby would be there too, most likely talking on her phone or texting friends.

  Sarah put her bike away and walked toward the house. Before starting up the back steps, she paused a moment. So much rested on her parents’ reaction to the deal Hank Bolton was proposing. When she stepped into the mudroom, she was struck with how quiet the house was. No music was playing, no noise from the television, and no voices.

  Sarah was sitting on the deacon’s bench removing her barn shoes when Abby appeared. Even her sister was uncharacteristically quiet, as she bent over to whisper in her ear. “They know,” was all Abby said. She cast a knowing look before retreating back into the kitchen. Abby had to be speaking about Mr. Bolton’s offer—what else could she mean? Sarah stepped into the half-bath off the mudroom to wash her hands, her thoughts whirling. How had they learned about it? She walked into the kitchen where her mother was slicing tomatoes for a salad.

  “Hi, Sarah. Did you have a good day?”

  “Yes, Mom, it was a great day. I actually longed Prince for the first time. But there’s something important I need to talk to you and Dad about. Do you have time now?”

  Her mother put the knife down and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel. Her face was noncommittal. “Yes, Sarah, of course we have time. Your dad’s in the den.”

  Martin Wagner was working on some papers at his desk, but he swiveled his chair to face them. He looked equally serious. Sarah sat down on the loveseat in front of the Franklin stove while her mother settled in a nearby chair.

  “Sarah,” her mother began, “an unusual letter was left in our mailbox. It had no postmark, so it must have been hand delivered. It’s from Hank Bolton. Do you know anything about it?”

  Sarah’s throat felt tight and dry. She sat up straight and took a deep breath before answering. “If it’s from Mr. Bolton, then yes, I do. He was at Brookmeade today and gave one to me, too.”

  Her parents exchanged glances before Mrs. Wagner continued. “Well, then we don’t have to go over the contents of the letter. We all know that Mr. Bolton is prepared to reward you with a lot of money if you return Crown Prince to him.” She paused again, looking at her husband before continuing. “We can appreciate what a difficult position this puts you in. It forces all of us to consider some tough questions and think about our priorities.”

  “I know what’s most important to me,” Sarah shot back defiantly. “Sure, I want to go to college someday, but not if it means giving up the horse I’ve been waiting for all my life. It makes me mad that Mr. Bolton is trying to use his money to force me to give up Crown Prince. It makes me even madder that he’s trying to get you on his side.”

  She wasn’t surprised when her father’s response was calm and considered, and she struggled to remain patient while he spoke. “We know how much you’ve always loved horses,” he said, “and now you have one of your own, a horse that everyone seems to think is pretty special. But Hank Bolton has come up with a lucrative offer for the return of Crown Prince, a plan that includes a replacement horse. You say you’re angry he made this proposal, and you don’t want to accept it. But are you being reasonable? Can keeping Crown Prince really be worth sacrificing a gift card for your college education?”

  It was so like her father to want her “to be rational,” as he always phrased it. Sarah’s back stiffened, and her dark eyes remained resolute and determined. “I won’t give Prince back for a hundred college educations!” she blurted.

  Her mother’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Do you know what’s at stake here? You’re a smart girl who should go to college. An education will open up a whole new world for you. Do you think you can spend the rest of your life doing barn work at Brookmeade Farm to support a horse?” It was clear from her mother’s rising voice and flushed face that she was upset by Sarah’s response. Mrs. Wagner rose from her chair and walked as quickly as she could to the bay window, her back to them.

  Sarah’s father stepped in. “Hank Bolton isn’t offering you a paltry sum, Sarah,” he said. “We’re talking serious money here. Do you know what that could do for you?”

  Her
mother turned around to face Sarah. “We won’t let you ignore your future!” she said, her words terse and clipped. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We don’t want you to make a terrible mistake you’ll someday regret.”

  When Sarah didn’t respond, her father spoke up. “Think about all the things you could do with the amount of money Hank Bolton is offering. Pick one of the top colleges. With your grades, you’ll be able to get into any of them, and the money to make it happen has just fallen out of the sky. Your mother and I want to be sure you fully understand the big picture. Don’t make a bad choice in haste.”

  Sarah clenched her jaw. For a moment she pictured what would happen if she went along with Mr. Bolton’s plan. A van would show up to take Prince back to the racetrack. A stranger would lead him up the ramp, and off he would go, out of her life. She’d probably never see him again. He’d forget her and his time at Brookmeade. She squeezed her eyes shut against the image. It must not happen!

  “I know you want what’s best for me,” Sarah said, her voice cracking. “But even if I keep Prince, I’ll still be able to go to college. After I graduate, I can go to Bromont Community for free, because you teach there, Dad. I’ll study to be a teacher like I’ve always planned. And I can get a part-time job while I’m in school.” Her voice failed completely, and she whispered, “Somehow I’ll find a way to keep Prince.” And then a tear started down her cheek. “Please don’t make me give him back.”

  Mrs. Wagner started for the door. “My casserole is ready to come out of the oven. I think we could all use a hot dinner.” She looked back at Sarah. “But we haven’t finished discussing this.”

  Sarah got up to leave, but her father motioned her back. “Sarah” he said, “please don’t dig in your heels. Think this through carefully and keep an open mind.”

  There was little conversation during the evening meal; a cloud of tension hung over the table. Abby tried to make small talk without much success. Sarah’s stomach was in knots. She poked at the food on her plate before finally asking to be excused before the others had finished. She went to the welcoming quiet of the den and tried to get comfortable in the wing chair. She picked up the new issue of Practical Horseman that had come in the mail and leafed through the pages, but it was hard to concentrate.