The spectators parted to make way for Kathleen’s car as it pulled up near them. Kathleen flung the door open and rushed to where Mr. DeWitt stood holding Grace. A few minutes later they walked to the car, the little girl still in tears. Kathleen must be taking Grace back to the bungalow, Sarah thought. She picked up Spin and hurried to Kathleen’s car as Mr. DeWitt carefully eased Grace into the front seat, giving her a kiss before heading back to his wife.
“Can you take Spin with you?” Sarah asked Kathleen.
“Of course,” Kathleen said. “Good idea.” Spin did not resist when Sarah placed him in Grace’s lap, and the little girl held him close. After Kathleen had driven away, Jack turned to the shaken onlookers.
“I think ’tis best if we all take leave,” he told them in a quiet voice. “There’s nothing to be done here. Let’s give the DeWitts a few minutes alone.” They all turned almost in unison and began to trudge back toward the barn or the parking area, talking in quiet groups. The ride on Crown Prince was all but forgotten. Kayla’s mother beckoned to her daughter as she headed to her car. Before hurrying to catch up with her mom, Kayla ran to Sarah and gave her a hug.
Sarah started back to the ring, her mind racing, a cutting sorrow overwhelming her. She was trying to deal with what had happened—she’d never lost a pet before, and she felt like Taco was almost her own dog and a part of her family. She would never see him again, never hear his paws skittering on the barn aisle as he raced to see her, and never again pet his beautiful face. And poor Mrs. DeWitt! How awful for someone so kind-hearted to lose her beloved dog in this way!
Ahead of Sarah, Gus was slowly walking Medina and Pretty Penny back to the barn, his head down, shoulders slumped. Sarah saw her father still dutifully leading Prince in a circle in the ring. Prince was animated, occasionally dancing beside him. He wasn’t being unruly, but he tugged against the reins, excited and unsure what all the commotion was about. For someone not accustomed to handling horses, her father was doing a good job. Sarah hurried to her horse.
Sarah took the reins. “Thanks, Dad,” she said, her voice breaking. Sarah’s mother was watching from a nearby vantage point on the rail. “Was it one of the dogs that Rita’s car hit?” her mother asked with concern. When Sarah nodded, Mrs. Wagner shook her head. “Mrs. DeWitt must be devastated, and you, too. I’m so sorry, Sarah. I know you had a special relationship with those dogs.” They turned to watch Jack drive by in the farm pickup and stop when he got to the DeWitts. When Sarah saw him lift Taco from Mrs. DeWitt’s arms, she turned away. She couldn’t bear to watch.
“I’m going to take Prince back to the barn now,” Sarah said to her parents, unable to meet their gazes. “I’ll be home later.” She led her horse to the gate and onto the roadway, holding the reins tightly as he pulled her toward the barn. “Easy, boy, easy,” she said, holding him back.
She was relieved when they got back to the barn. Inside, an unusual silence prevailed, surprising since a few people were still going about the business of caring for their horses. Most had witnessed the accident and bore their sadness privately. Usually there was a radio playing in the background, but not now. Sarah gave a half-hearted wave to Paige, who was grooming Quarry, but the girls didn’t exchange words.
As she passed by Medina’s stall, Sarah saw Gus inside with the mare, leaning against the wall with his hand on his forehead. His eyes were closed, and she could see the wet tracks of tears on the man’s craggy face. Sarah was astonished to see such emotion from the usually stone-faced man. She’d never seen him pay any attention to Mrs. DeWitt’s dogs. But he must have thought a lot of Taco, she thought. He just never showed it. I guess that’s just the way Gus is. He must care a lot about the DeWitt family, to run like he did to save Grace.
Sarah led Prince to the back of the barn, glad that the area was deserted. She decided to untack him in his stall, instead of the aisle. After removing the bridle, she looked down at the beautiful eggbutt snaffle bit balanced in her hand. Today her horse had discovered that it wasn’t painful to have a bit in his mouth, and free of pain, he’d been extremely well-behaved under saddle. This should be a day to celebrate another major turning point in her life, but she felt only sadness. They’d all lost a friend. Thinking of Mrs. DeWitt and how much she had loved her little Taco, Sarah’s eyes welled up. How lonely Spin would be without his brother! She brushed the tears away and pressed her face against her horse’s neck. Prince stood quietly, as if he understood.
A few minutes later Sarah took a deep breath and went back to the business at hand. She removed the saddle and put her tack outside the stall. After running a brush over her horse, she started for the tack room with her bridle and saddle, leaving Prince drinking from his water bucket.
Going by Chancellor’s stall, she paused to look at the grand horse, relaxed with one hind leg drawn under himself. He was beautiful, his black coat gleaming. How could someone with a horse as lovely as Chancellor begrudge another person having a horse? And then to act so stupidly that she’d killed one of Mrs. DeWitt’s Jack Russells! She felt anger boiling inside her.
Shaking her head, Sarah continued on her way to the tack room where she used her new saddle soap to clean her tack. As she worked, vivid images of the events of the afternoon flashed before her. Perhaps Rita would no longer be welcome there. Maybe the DeWitts would ask her to leave Brookmeade Farm. It was a thought she relished.
When she had finished, Sarah put her tack away before turning off the lights and walking back to Prince’s stall. As she was passing Chancellor, she stopped in her tracks. Rita was in the stall with her horse! She stood on his off side, so Sarah couldn’t see her clearly, but there was no doubt it was Rita. Her long dark hair fell over part of her face, and one arm was draped over Chancellor’s neck. Sarah stood still, watching. In her mind’s eye she could again picture Rita’s green Mustang convertible barreling down the hill, speeding dangerously toward them, going faster and faster.
Sarah’s voice was low and measured when she spoke. “Rita, I want to talk to you.”
Rita’s head snapped up in surprise. She glared out through the bars before stepping away from her horse and into the aisle, sliding the stall door shut behind her. She approached Sarah with deliberate steps, her face twisted in a sneer.
“I have a thing or two to say to you, too, little Miss Perfect, Miss Goody-Goody,” Rita began. Her voice was cold as ice, and her words came in short, clipped bursts. “Everything was fine until your horse came on the scene. You think Jack and everyone else should be catering to you every minute.”
But Sarah cut her off, her hands clenched into fists. “Shut up, Rita!” she snapped. “I think it’s time you did some listening for a change. You were an idiot today, driving way too fast on the farm road, and because of you, Taco is dead!” Rita looked surprised in the face of Sarah’s outburst. But Sarah hadn’t finished. For too long she had listened to this spoiled brat without speaking up. But no more. She strode toward Rita, pointing a finger in her face.
“You act as if you own the world, and you think everything should revolve around you! You can’t stand it when anyone pays attention to my horse. You can’t stand it that I even have a horse!”
Rita had backed up against the bars of Chancellor’s stall, and for perhaps the first time since Sarah had met her, she looked intimidated. Rita struck back. “You’ve got some nerve, freaking out and talking to me like this,” she hissed. “You still ride a bicycle. What do you know about driving a car? It was an accident. It’s not my fault that a dumb dog didn’t know enough to stay out of the road when a car was coming!” she said, glaring.
Sarah hadn’t thought she could get any angrier, but now she was so mad her hands were shaking. “You can’t even take responsibility for what you’ve done! You’re out of control. I know what you were planning today. You drove toward the riding ring with your pedal to the floor because you wanted my horse to explode in front of my parents, so I would lose him. Nothing would make you happier.” Sarah stopp
ed and breathed in audibly. She was close enough to see the green of Rita’s eyes flashing at her from beneath her thick dark brows.
Sarah’s words came again in clipped bursts. “Your father gives you everything you want. You could have a dozen horses if you wanted them. But you hate that I have just one. And now you’ve killed Taco! I don’t know how you’ll be able to look at yourself in the mirror.”
This time Rita had no reply. It was as if Sarah’s words had finally penetrated her stony expression, and the façade she had always managed to throw up was crumbling. Rita attempted to snap back at Sarah, but her voice broke. She turned to face the stall, and Sarah saw small tremors through the girl’s shoulders as she wept quietly. Rita had broken. Sarah stepped back, her arms limp at her sides. Her wrath was spent, and she suddenly felt incredibly tired, like she imagined a marathon runner must feel at the end of a race. Rita slowly turned to face her, as she brought her tears under control.
“You say I can have anything I want,” she said, her voice quavering, “but there’s one thing no one can give me. I’ll never have my mother back.” She bit her lip as she reached up to wipe her eyes. “You have your mother, but my mother died. I never knew her. Your mother survived her car accident. My mother didn’t make it. The only thing I have is her name. There are no memories.” She slumped as if all the air had gone out of her, leaning back heavily on Chancellor’s stall door. “It isn’t fair,” she choked out.
Rita’s words hit Sarah like a rushing wind. She was stunned. She had never even considered this vast difference between them. The girl who always seemed so confident was actually covering up a huge vulnerability, and all the material possessions she flaunted were an effort to fill a void. She’d never known her own mother. Sarah didn’t know what to say.
Rita flung her hair out of her face with a toss of her head and continued. “My dad tries to make it up to me, and you’re right—he gives me everything I ask for. He never says no.” She struggled as she began to break down again. “But sometimes I wish he would. He lets me do anything I want. And today….” Rita’s body shook, the tears coming anew. “I didn’t mean to hit Taco. I don’t know what came over me. When I saw you on your horse so close to the road, I just gunned it. I was going to lay on the horn when I got close to you.” She reached to again wipe the tears from her face. “You are right. I am a horrible person.”
For what seemed an eternity, the two girls stood in silence, staring at each other. Sarah’s voice was low when finally she spoke. “You need to talk to Mrs. DeWitt. You need to tell her you’re sorry.”
Rita shook her head. “She probably never wants to see me again.”
“It’s something you’ve got to do,” Sarah said. “It’s important. Wouldn’t your father want you to apologize?” As Rita looked unconvinced, Sarah stepped closer. “Rita—your mother would want you to.”
Rita hesitated. “I won’t know what to say to Mrs. DeWitt.”
“Tell her what you’ve told me. The DeWitts must be home by now. Come on. Do it now. I’ll go with you.”
Sarah took a few steps toward the side door, tugging on Rita’s arm until she reluctantly followed. Together they stepped outside and started up the gravel driveway toward the DeWitt’s farmhouse. A few minutes later, they turned the corner and the house came into full view. Only Mr. DeWitt’s Blazer was parked outside, and the place was quiet. There were no barking Jack Russells to rush toward them. When they reached the terrace and Mrs. DeWitt’s flower garden, Rita stopped. She looked ahead to the front door.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Sarah stepped closer to look into Rita’s eyes. “You have to. Come on.”
The house appeared deserted as they moved past the geranium-filled urns and started up the broad porch steps. When they got to the top, Sarah pointed to some wicker rocking chairs and a bench. “Wait here,” she said.
An eerie quiet hung over the place as Sarah approached the doorway, the stillness broken only by a lone nuthatch in the nearby woods. She pressed the bell on the door decorated with a large hydrangea wreath. A few moments later, Mr. DeWitt appeared. His face mirrored the sorrow they all felt, as he looked beyond Sarah to Rita sitting on the bench. His gaze came back to Sarah.
“Mr. DeWitt,” Sarah began. “I hope you don’t mind our coming here now.” She found herself fishing for the right words. “I mean, you and Mrs. DeWitt must feel so bad about what happened to Taco. But I wonder if Rita and I could speak with her for a minute. That is, if she feels like she can see us.”
“I really don’t know if she’s able to talk to anyone right now,” Mr. DeWitt said. He hesitated a moment. “But I’ll see.” He walked back down the hall and into a side room. Several minutes elapsed, and Sarah was about to retreat when Mrs. DeWitt came to the door. She had changed into a pink robe, and her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was uncharacteristically somber, with no trace of her usual warmth and smile.
“Hello, Sarah. It’s kind of you to come here in person to let Chandler and me know you share our sadness. I know you loved Taco, too.”
“He was such a special little dog. I’m going to miss him a lot, but of course not as much as you will.”
Mrs. DeWitt brought a handkerchief to her nose and blew loudly. “You’re very sweet, dear, to be so considerate.” She looked beyond Sarah and noticed Rita sitting on the bench. “Rita, is that you?” she asked, her voice registering surprise.
Rita hung her head, not able to meet the woman’s gaze. Mrs. DeWitt paused a moment before pushing the screen door open and stepping onto the porch. She walked slowly to one of the wicker rockers and sat down, motioning for Sarah to sit as well. There was an awkward silence until Rita raised her head to look directly at Mrs. DeWitt.
“I know I acted like a total jerk today, Mrs. DeWitt. There’s no excuse for my driving so fast on the farm road. It’s my fault that Taco got hit, and I want you to know that I’m really, really sorry.” Rita lowered her head and covered her face with her hands.
“What was going on, Rita?” Mrs. DeWitt asked in a low even voice. “Why were you driving so recklessly? If Gus hadn’t gotten there in time, this accident could have been far worse, with consequences that would have changed our lives forever. I can only be thankful my granddaughter is okay. But you put her—us—in very real danger.”
Rita looked directly at Mrs. DeWitt and slowly, her own sadness stumbled out. When she had finished, she again lowered her head. Mrs. DeWitt turned away to gaze over the sweeping lawn into the woodlands. Finally she rose from her chair and went to sit beside Rita. She looked at her pointedly. “If it hadn’t been for Gus’s fast and calculated action, we might be mourning Grace and Pretty Penny right now as well as Taco. Gus is the hero who saved them both. I realize you have your own pain to overcome, but causing others pain is not the answer.”
Rita looked into Mrs. DeWitt’s sad blue eyes. In a broken voice, she said, “I don’t know if you can understand. My father lets me off the hook all the time. With him, anything goes. I boss Judson and our housekeeper around, and I even got into trouble at school for arguing with the teachers. My dad’s the greatest, but sometimes I wish he’d draw the line. I sometimes feel so out of control.”
Mrs. DeWitt shook her head. “Rita, you can’t blame your behavior on your father. You were driving that car today, no one else.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Have you learned anything from what happened today?”
Rita took a deep breath as she looked up at the porch ceiling and then back at Mrs. DeWitt. “I guess when you do something stupid like I did, bad stuff can go down.”
“Ah, yes,” Mrs. DeWitt said. “Those unintended consequences when you break the rules. There’s a reason why Chandler put up those speed limit signs on the road.”
Sarah sat quietly, her eyes glued to the porch floor. She felt uncomfortable being there, listening to such a private conversation. But she was rooted to her chair.
Mrs. DeWitt continued. “It’s obvious you’
re carrying a lot of anger, Rita, and that anger makes you act irresponsibly. Losing your mother when you were just a baby was a terrible thing. Life can be so unfair. But now you need to find a way to deal with your anger. Lashing out at others never solves anything.” Rita didn’t answer, but sat looking off into the distance.
“This needs to be addressed, Rita,” Mrs. DeWitt continued. “I feel you would benefit greatly from sessions with a trained counselor. But first your father needs to know that your unsafe driving caused a dreadful accident, and he needs to know why.”
Mrs. DeWitt rose from the bench. “I’m going back in the house now,” she said. “But before I do, I need to be open with you, Rita. Up until a few minutes ago, I was considering asking you to sever your ties with Brookmeade Farm. The way you drove your car today makes you a menace. But I’m glad you made this visit and offered an apology and an explanation. Will you promise me you’ll be open and honest with your father?”
Rita looked serious. “Yes, I promise,” she said, “even though this may be one time when he lays down the law. He’ll probably take my keys away, and I’ll be totally grounded. But I’ll tell him everything.”
“Good. And there’s something else that needs to change—your attitude. We need to see a different Rita at Brookmeade Farm, one who doesn’t need to be better than her friends, and a Rita who is considerate of others.”
Both girls stood up, preparing to leave. Mrs. DeWitt walked over to Sarah and gave her a hug. “I suspect you had a role in this meeting,” she said quietly in her ear, “and I appreciate it.” Then she returned to Rita and hugged her as well before going back into the house. Rita looked surprised.
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