Everyone came out to see them off, even Missus Julia, whose wheelchair had been pushed out onto the veranda, and Hy in his Indian blanket bathrobe. They all waved and Hy and Miss Hooper called last-minute reminders. Miss Hooper wanted Livy to remember to give their study list to the teacher and Hy hollered at Gib to be sure to remind Ernie to put the horses in the best box stalls at the back of the stables.
The first part of the ride, down the long Rocking M drive, was still pretty heavy going, but Livy had done it before. Except for a few squeals when lightning skidded a little, she stayed pretty calm. Out on the main road the ruts in the snow were wider and in better shape. At that point it became possible to ride side by side, and that was when the talking began. Only slowly at first, about tricky places on the road and how much longer it would take to get to Longford. But then, little by little, other kinds of comments began to sneak in.
There wasn’t much farther to go, only a mile or so, when Livy began standing up in the stirrups, trying to see the top of the school’s bell tower. When she noticed Gib laughing she said, “I can’t wait to see Alicia and all my other friends. I don’t suppose you can understand how much I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”
Remembering how much time Livy and her friends spent chattering and giggling together, Gib sobered up and said, “Oh, I think I might be able to understand that.”
A minute later Livy started fussing at Lightning, thumping him with her heels and jerking up on the reins, making the old roan toss his head and sidestep a little. “I can’t wait to have them see me come riding in on horseback,” she told Gib. “Especially Alicia.”
“Why’s that?” Gib asked. “Why especially Alicia?”
“Because she’s had her own pony ever since she was three years old. And she always teased me about being afraid of horses,” Livy said. Gib could understand that too, but he didn’t say so.
A few minutes later Livy started looking at Gib and Silky. Mostly at Silky. She looked for quite a spell at the elegant, high-stepping Thoroughbred mare, before she said, “I do wish I could be the one riding—”
But Gib cut her off on that one. “No, sir, Olivia Thornton!” he said. “No sirree. I’m not going to be the one to give you the say-so to ride Silky.” It must have sounded like he meant it because, after staring at him angry-eyed for a second, Livy smiled sweetly. “I know,” she said. “You’re right I can’t ride Silky. Not yet, anyway.” She sighed and stood up in the stirrups again. “We’re almost there,” she squealed when they made the last turn onto Schoolhouse Road. “I hope Alicia hasn’t gone in yet.”
Livy was in luck. Even though Alicia had gone in, some girls who were still on the steps ran in and brought her out. Standing on the top stair with some other special friends of Livy’s, she jumped up and down, pointing and waving frantically while Livy made Lightning parade back and forth across the school grounds. Gib kept Silky out on the road, and he went on waiting there quietly until he began to worry about getting to Appleton’s and back before school started. “Come on, Livy,” he called finally. “I’ve got to get going.”
After a final flourish, Livy got down off Lightning close to the schoolhouse and began to take her things out of the saddlebag. The old roan waited patiently while Livy’s friends crowded around, making a fuss over him. Riding over to get him, Gib was thinking that it was a good thing Lightning was trained to ground tie, and that he had enough horse sense to know better than to spook at giggling females.
Livy and her friends were just going in the schoolhouse door when the tall blond one named Matilda looked back, pointed at Silky, and squealed excitedly. As Gib picked up Lightning’s reins and headed Silky toward town, he caught a glimpse of Livy as she came out and herded Matilda back inside.
At Appleton’s Livery Gib turned the horses over to Ernie and reminded him about the box stalls. Ernie, who didn’t always pay attention, particularly when he’d been drinking, nodded vaguely until Gib said, “Hy Carter told me to tell you. You know, those nice dry stalls where you used to keep Mr. Thornton’s team.” That really seemed to get Ernie’s attention and he led Silky and Lightning away, muttering something about Mr. Thornton’s stalls.
Gib headed for the school then, hiking as fast as he could on the icy ground. When he ran up the schoolhouse steps and dashed in through the door he almost collided with the tall eighth-grade girl named Betsy who usually rang the bell. He was still begging her pardon when Betsy laughed and waved him on toward Miss Elders’s room. “Get going, cowboy,” she said. “I’ll give you ten seconds.” Gib arrived in the classroom out of breath and with muddy boots, but at least he was in his seat before the bell started to ring.
Nothing had changed much over Christmas vacation. Miss Elders had a fancy new blouse and a different hairdo, but her eyes and voice could still make everyone in the room, including Rodney Martin, sit up straight and come to attention. The schoolroom still smelled of chalk dust and wet wool, Livy and her friends were full of secrets, Graham had his nose in a big book, and Rodney Martin was watching everything Gib did. Watching and waiting for a chance to stare threateningly with squinted eyes while he stretched his lips in his angry-dog grin.
It was during the lunchtime recess that Rodney walked past Gib’s desk and whacked him on the back of the head with a big encyclopedia. Gib had been reading at the time and he was still staring after Rodney in shocked surprise when Graham Archer came over and asked Gib if he’d like to play catch.
Still robbing his head, Gib asked, “Play catch? Right now?” He shook his head gingerly to see if his brains were rattling around before he asked, “Did you see that? Did you see Rodney hit me with that book?”
“Yes,” Graham said. “I saw it. That’s why I think we ought to play catch, right now. I want to explain something to you.”
Out on the icy playground Gib and Graham threw a lopsided baseball back and forth while Graham explained what he called Rodney’s war game. “Oh, he doesn’t call it that.” Graham’s smile was mostly in his eyes. “Actually, no one does except me. But it occurred to me that you ought to learn something about the rules.”
Gib caught the ball and threw it back. “About whose rules?” he asked.
“Oh, I suppose you’d say they’re mostly Rodney’s.” Graham’s smile spread to one corner of his mouth. “Not that he puts them into words. Actually I don’t think Rodney has that many words in his vocabulary.” Graham dropped the ball and ran after it, slipping and sliding on the ice. When he came back he went on explaining. “The rules are that he has to attack his enemies when they’re not looking and—here’s the important part—when Miss Elders isn’t looking either.”
Gib quit throwing and walked up to Graham. “Yeah, but what happens then? Doesn’t anyone tell Miss Elders?”
Graham put on a horrified expression. “What? Tell on Rodney? No, of course not. Unheard of. Nobody tells on anyone, and especially not on Rodney. That’s one of the most important rules.”
On the way back into the building Gib said it all sounded pretty hard on Rodney’s enemies. Graham thought a moment before he said, “Yes, it is, I suppose. It would be even harder, except there is another rule, besides the one about not tattling. The other rule isn’t Rodney’s, and I’m not even sure he’s figured it out yet. But what that rule says is that other people can help the enemy. Rodney’s enemy, that is.”
“How do they do that if they can’t tell on him?” Gib asked.
“Different ways,” Graham said. “Sometimes it’s by warning the person who’s about to be attacked. Or by getting Miss Elders to look in the right direction at the right moment.” His turned-inward smile flashed and disappeared. “For instance, when I first started going to school here in Longford I was one of Rodney’s favorite head-thumping victims.” Graham’s lips twitched and his deep-set eyes flickered. “But then somebody must have decided it wasn’t fair.”
“What wasn’t fair?” Gib asked.
“Oh, it’s hard to say exactly. Maybe they just
got tired of watching Rodney sneak up on me. Or else they decided it wasn’t fair to let Rodney go on whacking me over the head when ... The inward smile flickered again. “When it was pretty clear that my brains were all I had going for me.” He took out his watch, stared at it, and put it back in his pocket before he added, “The thing is the other players have to want to play on your side.”
Right at first Gib wasn’t sure what Graham was talking about, but after a while it began to make sense. The “other players” were the rest of the class, and they sure enough did help Rodney’s enemies now and then. Like Graham, and little old Bertie too. Like that time the whole class started coughing to get Miss Elders’s attention when Rodney was about to steal Bertie’s lunch. Gib had just started to wonder if anyone had tried to warn him about the encyclopedia attack, when Miss Elders rapped on her desk and everyone quit socializing, and in Gib’s case wondering, and got down to work.
The rest of the day was English and arithmetic, and then came the hike back to the stable to pick up the horses. Gib was almost there when a motorcar went by and there were Rodney and Alvin hanging out of the backseat. As they went by they waved and thumbed their noses but they didn’t yell anything, which probably meant that they didn’t want to attract the attention of the driver, who was probably Rodney’s father.
At Appleton’s Livery, Ernie staggered out with Lightning and Silky all saddled up and ready to go and, after he’d checked the cinches, Gib headed back to pick up Livy. The ride back to the Rocking M was okay. The horses were eager to get home and Livy was eager to talk about being back at school. It wasn’t until after the evening chores, dinner, and homework in the library that Gib had time to ask himself how the day had really been. How going back to Longford School had been for Gibson Whittaker.
It had been, he decided, both good and bad. The worst part had been the whack on the head and the warning it had given him about Rodney and his plans for the future. And the best part? Well, along with the long rides on Silky, it just might be the fact that the eighth-grade bell ringer had called him cowboy. Not orphan or farm-out, but cowboy.
Chapter 23
THE NEXT FEW WEEKS were more of the same. More wintry weather, spells of heavy snow, and more riding to Longford School five days a week. One thing that was definitely changing for the better, however, was Hy’s health. The next time Dr. Whelan came to see Missus Julia, he pronounced Hy well on the road to recovery. Hy was out of bed now and, except in the very worst weather, out of the house, and even doing the morning milking. Which made getting to school on time a lot easier. But one thing Hy wasn’t doing much of was riding Lightning. Hy did take his cow pony out a few times on weekends, but only for a very short ride around the barnyard. “Old ponies like Lightnin’ need a couple of days off now and agin’,” was the way Hy put it.
But he also said he wasn’t complaining. When Gib asked him how he felt about Livy riding Lightning to Longford every day, he just grinned and said, “ ’Bout time that old uneducated critter started goin’ to school.” Later on, Gib heard him tell Missus Julia, “I got to take gettin’ back into the saddle slow-like, myself. Give my old bones time to git used to it. So don’t you worry none about Miss Livy ridin’ Lightnin’ to school, Missus Julia. She’s mighty welcome. Leastways till the school year’s over.”
But then, one night after supper, Gib overheard another conversation between the two of them on the subject. He’d fallen asleep on the library sofa and when he woke up he heard Missus Julia saying, “I know, Hy. But Lightning is your horse and it’s just not right that he’s in Longford every day when you could be using him.”
Gib rolled over to let them know he was awake but they didn’t seem to take notice. Instead Hy went on talking, a deep rumble that Gib couldn’t quite make out, but then it was Missus Julia again. “I agree. Black Silk is still too much horse for her, and besides the mare is pretty much ... The rest of it trailed off but Gib thought she might have said that Silky was pretty much his. Gibson Whittaker’s. It was a thought that really woke him up, but before he could decide whether that was what he’d actually heard, they went on talking. He couldn’t make out all of what was being said, but it seemed to be about Livy. Something about Livy and a good-natured Welsh pony.
Gib didn’t say anything to Livy about the pony. For one thing, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard it just right, and besides he had no idea what she thought of Welsh ponies. If it turned out that she hated them he didn’t want to be the one to tell her she was going to get one. But a few days later, during a streak of almost springlike weather, Mr. Appleton showed up at the Rocking M riding his jug-headed sorrel and leading a pretty little pinto gelding. The pinto was small but not as short-legged as most ponies, with a head and neck that hinted at a touch of Arabian blood. Gib guessed right off that Livy wouldn’t be able to resist him, and he was right.
Gib had just gone out to take the two horses, Mr. Appleton’s sorrel and the pinto, to the barn, when suddenly Livy was right behind him. Behind him and then running past him saying, “Oh, oh, oh.” When she was just a couple of feet from the pinto’s nose she stopped and stared for a moment before she said, “He’s mine, isn’t he? Isn’t he, Mr. Appleton?”
Gib didn’t know if she was just guessing or if she’d overheard something. He knew how good Livy was at overhearing. Or if it really was, as Livy told him later, that she took one look at the pinto and knew she’d been waiting for him all her life, even way back when she’d thought she hated horses. And she also knew his name was Dandy, after the pinto pony her mother once had.
Livy was kind of bouncing around on the tips of her toes and her face was lit up like a Christmas tree. For a moment Gib was afraid she was going to start waving her arms around and maybe even throw them around the pinto’s neck, which might have spooked even a good-natured Welsh pony.
“Livy,” Gib said, using the tone of voice he’d have used if he’d been trying to quiet an excited Thoroughbred. Before long she glanced his way, giggled, and stopped bouncing. She reached out then quiet and slow, like he’d taught her, and let the pony sniff her hand before she began to pat his face and neck.
It was the very next day that Livy started riding Dandy to school and Lightning went back to being Hy’s and nobody else’s. And before long Livy was out there in Dandy’s stall every spare minute, before school while Gib was doing the morning chores, and even in the evening when they were supposed to be doing their homework.
Dandy turned out to be a great little horse. He was gentle and biddable, but not a bit lazy. He was good to look at too, with that delicate Arabian head and a splatter of sharp-edged black spots on his mostly white hide. Livy said he was just as beautiful as Black Silk, and he’d be even more beautiful once she got him the expensive black saddle and bridle she’d picked out in the Sears, Roebuck catalog.
The weather stayed pretty predictable through February and March and Gibson Whittaker’s life at Longford School was downright predictable too. Some of the people in Miss Elders’s fifth and sixth grade still called him orphan or farm-out, and even when they didn’t, Gib could tell that was what they were thinking.
Most of the time he’d managed to stay one jump ahead of Rodney and Alvin’s ambushes. Every now and then he jumped over a foot that was meant to trip him, and once he’d ducked a baseball that got pitched at his head instead of his bat. But there were a couple of times when he did sit down on a tack that someone had put on his seat. Rodney, it seemed, owned a lot of thumbtacks.
And one rainy day Gib opened his lunch pail right there on his desk and found a very dead rat on top of his sandwiches. So Rodney’s war game was still going on, and as far as Gib could tell, not many of what Graham called “the other players” were lining up on Gibson Whittaker’s side. Nobody warned him about the tacks, for instance, or smelled a rat in time to keep him from opening that lunch pail right there in front of the whole giggling and snickering class.
His grades were more or less predictable too, good ones in English a
nd history and fair to middling in just about everything else. But if there’d been letter grades for “civilized socializing” his probably wouldn’t have been much better than D minus.
Miss Elders talked to him about it once. It was at the end of a school day and Gib was heading for the door when she called him up to her desk. For a minute he thought he was in trouble but it turned out she only wanted to suggest that it might be a good idea if he “made an effort to enlarge his circle of friends.” After she’d finished Gib told her he’d try, but what he was thinking was that he’d already tried about every way he knew how. He wanted to tell her that he’d spread his socializing loop every place he could think of, and nobody so much as put a hind foot in it. Except for Bertie and Graham, of course. And now and then Livy. Livy, usually, when he least expected it.
The thing with Livy was that she was one part of Gib’s life that never had been predictable and probably never would be. She could be mean as sin one minute and sweet as maple sugar the next. Like one day she hadn’t been speaking to Gib for most of the morning, but when Clyde Binghampton called him orphan, Livy told Clyde to shut his big mouth. She also said, “You’re a fine one to talk, Clyde Binghampton. You’re probably an orphan too, and your folks just aren’t telling you.”
“What you talking about?” Clyde said. “What call you got to say a thing like that?”
Livy had turned her back on him, but she looked over her shoulder to say, “Because all the rest of the Binghamptons are smart and good-looking. Isn’t that the truth, Alicia?” Alicia giggled and said she thought so too.
Gib and the Gray Ghost Page 13
