Horse Talk

by Bonnie Bryant

Stevie wrinkled up her face, thinking. “Maybe. A young boy’s, anyway. And I could probably make my voice squeak, like Chad’s.” They laughed. Chad’s voice was starting to change. At dinner he’d asked Lisa to please pass the rolls. The please had started out very low and ended in a squeak that hurt their ears. Chad had looked awfully embarrassed.

  “Why do people ride horses, anyway?” Stevie asked in a rude and hysterically funny imitation of Chad.

  “That’s easy,” Carole said in a deep radio announcer’s voice. She grabbed a hairbrush to use as a microphone. “Cats are too small, sloths are too slow, and giraffes are too big.”

  “And what about the smell?” Stevie continued, still pretending to be Chad.

  “I admit it bothers us a little,” Carole said into the hairbrush, “but don’t worry, Chad, I don’t think the horses will mind.” Carole and Lisa shrieked with laughter.

  Stevie grinned. “Here’s another—see if you can guess who this is. Actshually, I dain’t laike Paine Haullow.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I understand the words, but sorry, I haven’t got a clue who you’re trying to be.”

  “Oh, come on!” Stevie said. “It’s Janey! Who else?”

  “I guess,” Lisa said. “I haven’t really talked to her much, but I don’t have a hard time understanding her. I don’t think her accent’s that strong.”

  “I probably just didn’t imitate it very well,” Stevie said. “That would be par for the course, as far as Janey and I are concerned.”

  “Is she still being difficult?” Carole asked, putting down the hairbrush.

  Stevie looked discouraged. “I’m supposed to be her big sister, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she said. “She’s really not very friendly. Yesterday after school I saw her at the stable, so I took her over to our good-luck horseshoe and told her all about the Pine Hollow tradition.”

  The others nodded. Every rider at Pine Hollow touched the good-luck horseshoe before beginning a ride. No rider at Pine Hollow had ever been seriously injured.

  Stevie shook her head. “All she did was look at me and say, ‘That’s barmy,’ and walk away! I don’t even know what barmy means!”

  “Nuts,” Lisa translated. “It means she thinks it’s a silly tradition.”

  “She’s like that all the time,” said Stevie. “Every time I tell her anything, she just gets this sullen look on her face and shrugs. The only thing she ever says is how Pine Hollow and Nickel aren’t fancy enough for her. She wants everything to be fancy. I call that rude. Pine Hollow’s not like one of those million-dollar show stables, but it’s a great place, and if she wanted a million-dollar show stable, she should have gone to one.”

  Lisa scooted over by the bed. Stevie seemed really upset. “She sure seemed bratty last Saturday,” she said. “It can’t be much fun to have to deal with her. I’m sorry.”

  Stevie sat next to her. “I’m sorry, too. I’m really trying. Every time I see her, I make myself go tell her something. I want to be a good big sister. Max will be disappointed if I’m not. But I can’t be one if Janey won’t let me. I don’t think she wants to be a little sister. Or maybe she just doesn’t like me. I don’t know what to do.”

  “I guess since you’re her big sister, you’ve got to keep trying,” Carole said. “Maybe a few months at Pine Hollow will be good for her—cure her attitude. Anyway, Lisa and I will try to help you think of something.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Lisa promised. “The Saddle Club never fails. Unless she really is like Veronica, in which case, of course, curing her would be hopeless. But even then we’ll try to help you endure her.”

  “Thanks,” Stevie said. “I’d really appreciate it. Right now I haven’t got a clue what to do.”

  “But I don’t think we should have a Janey voice for Horse Talk,” Carole said. “In the first place, I don’t think making fun of her would help your relationship with her, Stevie—”

  “Of course not!” Stevie said. “That was just for in here—”

  “—and in the second place, you don’t sound that much like her,” Carole said. “But I bet you could do a good little boy. Try for one about Michael’s age.”

  Stevie screwed up her face, thinking about her younger brother’s voice.

  Lisa lay back and looked at the ceiling. “I bet we sound just as strange to her as she does to us,” she commented.

  “Who?” said Stevie. “Janey? I doubt it.”

  “Sure,” said Lisa. “If we went down to New Zealand, we’d be the strange ones.”

  “But we’re not there, we’re here,” said Stevie.

  “And we’ve got to finish these Horse Talk questions,” Carole reminded them.

  “Okay,” Stevie asked in a Michael voice, “when can you first start training a horse?”

  “Well,” Carole said reflectively, “you can’t start until it’s born …”

  LISA REACHED FOR a fresh sheet of paper. The floor of Stevie’s bedroom was littered with lists of questions in Lisa’s neat handwriting. Carole was making notes for the answers. She didn’t write out exactly what she and Lisa would say, but she put down all the points they would need to make in their discussion.

  “We’ve got twenty-five questions,” Lisa said. “That should be enough, don’t you think?”

  Stevie and Carole thought about it. “Let’s do a few more,” Carole said. “We’re better off having too many than too few. I mean, what if we talk too fast? And we can save the extras for the week after.”

  Stevie thumbed through one of her dressage manuals. “Maybe a question about double bridles?” she suggested.

  Carole shook her head. “You don’t use a double bridle,” she said. “None of us does. If it’s too advanced for us, it’s definitely too advanced for Horse Talk.”

  Stevie sighed and smiled. “I guess so. How about piaffe and passage?” Stevie had a passion for dressage, an elegant kind of riding that was similar to ballet. Double bridles were special bridles used in very high-level dressage, and piaffe and passage were two of the highest-level dressage moves.

  “How about, ‘What does the word dressage mean?’ ” Carole said. “That’s a little closer to our audience’s level.”

  “That’s supposing we have an audience,” Stevie countered. “So far, it’s Mrs. Klemme, Max, and two people Lisa knows.”

  “Of those, only Max knows anything about dressage,” Lisa said. “Carole’s right.” She wrote the question down while Stevie grumbled.

  “Let me see the question list again,” Stevie said. Lisa handed it to her.

  The bedroom door flew open and Chad sauntered in.

  “Get out of here!” Stevie said to him. She grabbed at his leg. Chad dodged her. “We’re busy!”

  Chad snatched one of the lists out of Stevie’s hand. “What’s this?”

  “Give that back!” Stevie screeched. She grabbed his leg.

  “Chad!” Lisa shouted. “Give it back!”

  Carole jumped up and tried to get the list away from Chad. He held it away from her, kicked free of Stevie, and danced around to the other side of Stevie’s desk. “Let’s see,” he said teasingly. “Maybe it’s a love letter? No … it’s just more horse stuff. Oh, wait! I get it. It’s the Horse Talk talk!”

  “Put it down, Chad,” Carole pleaded. “It’s ours.”

  “You miserable slime-bellied toad,” Stevie added. She lunged toward Chad, but he held the list high in both hands.

  “Come any closer and I’ll tear it up,” he threatened. They froze. “ ‘Hello, Horse Talk. Why do I need to take lessons to learn how to ride? Doesn’t the horse do all the work?’ ” he read from the list. Chad’s eyes lit up. “You’re cheating!” he said.

  “We are not,” Lisa said indignantly. “We’re just being prepared.”

  “Awfully prepared,” Chad commented. “I’m sorry I missed the first show. I’ll have to tune in for the second. Question sixteen: ‘How much food do horses eat?’ ” He laughed. “What a stupid question! Her
e’s another—”

  “Give it back!” Stevie grabbed the list. Chad hung on to it, and the paper ripped in two. “Now you’ve done it!” Stevie shouted. Chad laughed again. He tossed his half of the list to Carole and ran out of the room.

  “Horse Talk!” he said over his shoulder. “How many horses can dance on the head of a pin? Why don’t horses play soccer? How many horses does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

  Lisa taped the pieces of the list back together. “Just ignore him,” she suggested. “The more we react to him, the happier he is.”

  Stevie shook her head. “I don’t like the look he just got in his eye,” she said. “I’ve seen it before. He’s not going to leave us alone.”

  Carole shut Stevie’s bedroom door. “What could he possibly do?”

  “HERE’S MY SAMANTHA voice,” Stevie said to Lisa. “Tell me what you think. ‘I’m afraid my horse was not treated well by his previous owner. Whenever I try to bridle him, he acts like I’m going to hit him. What should I do?’ ”

  “Sounds fine,” Lisa said briefly. She plugged in the last piece of radio equipment. It was Wednesday afternoon, ten minutes before Horse Talk was to begin, and she had butterflies in her stomach the size of pelicans. She could hardly think, much less listen to Stevie, who’d been doing voices for days. Where was that second set of headphones? For the third time, Lisa went through her mental checklist of radio and talk-show equipment. Music tapes, equitation books, microphones …

  “I think it sounds a little too close to the Augusta voice,” Stevie said. She looked through her list of questions worriedly. “Of course, Augusta and Janet are supposed to be close to the same age, but Janet’s from the South, so shouldn’t she speak—”

  “Ask Carole,” Lisa said. “She’s in the locker room.”

  “Okay.” Stevie wandered away, still muttering, and Lisa breathed a sigh of relief. Now, where was that dictionary?

  Stevie nearly tripped in the doorway to the locker room. All her attention was focused on her paper. Trying to be twenty different people wasn’t easy. In fact, it was impossible! She was sure she was going to sound the same no matter what. She didn’t have Lisa’s gift for acting. But she would certainly do her best.

  “ ‘Whenever I try to bridle him,’ ” she repeated in a slightly different tone. “No, that’s not right. ‘Whenever I try to bridle him—’ ”

  “Why don’t you just ask Red to do it?” a snotty voice said. Stevie looked up from her paper to find Veronica looking down her long nose.

  “What?” Stevie asked. She was so distracted she hadn’t even heard what Veronica had said.

  “I said, ‘Why don’t you just ask Red to do it?’ ” When Stevie still looked confused, Veronica added, “To bridle your horse. Never mind. It was a joke, but clearly some people are so wrapped up in themselves that they can’t see humor when it smacks them in the face.”

  Stevie stared at Veronica. Could the girl actually be trying to make a joke? And what was she talking about? Bridles? Red? “Huh?” Stevie asked, in her Patricia voice.

  “You guys are getting way too involved in your little radio show,” Veronica said, and huffed off.

  “Carole,” Stevie said, “listen to this. I think my Patricia voice is sliding into my Betty Sue voice. And the Janet voice is all messed up. What’s wrong?”

  Carole was searching through the pile of old clothes on the floor of her cubby. “I’ve lost my sixth sheet of answers,” she said frantically. “I can’t find it anywhere.”

  “I didn’t think you were going to write out the answers,” Stevie said. “I thought you and Lisa just had a short list of stuff to say back.”

  “Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and wrote the answers out for real,” Carole explained. “I mean, what if I get nervous and totally blank?”

  Stevie understood. “We weren’t this nervous about the first show,” she said. She helped Carole search through the pile.

  “Here it is! Good.” Carole wadded the sheet of paper into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. “We weren’t this nervous because we were too clueless to realize what could go wrong,” she told Stevie.

  Stevie knew that that was true. “Let’s go,” she said. “By my watch, I ought to be heading for Max’s home phone already. Look—I brought my boom box today. I’ll be listening to the show from Max’s living room, so I’ll know what’s happening even when I’m not on the phone.”

  They found Lisa hurrying Max out of the tack room. “I just need to find Barq’s bridle—” Max was saying.

  “Do it later!” Lisa said firmly. “Shoo!”

  Carole felt her stomach flop and wondered how Lisa could be so calm.

  “Two minutes,” Lisa said. Carole nodded, and they took their places behind the table. Lisa took a deep breath and flipped the switch that would start the broadcast.

  “Good afternoon, Willow Creek!” Carole said. “We’re coming to you live from Pine Hollow. We’re Horse Talk!” She recited the phone number. Exactly on cue, the phone rang.

  “Horse Talk,” said Lisa. “You’re on the air.”

  “My name is Janet,” said Stevie.

  “Hello, Janet,” Carole said. “How may we help you?”

  “Well, I’m afraid my horse might have been mistreated by his previous owner …”

  THE FIRST QUESTION went smoothly. Best of all, Lisa thought as she hung up the phone, it took nearly six minutes to answer. At that rate, leaving time for advertisements and station identification, they would only need eight questions an hour. Lisa read a short script about the school’s radio project and played the first set of advertisements. Just as the tape finished, the phone rang again. It was Stevie, as Patricia, with prepared question number two. Carole answered it smoothly, and Lisa cut in with a short joke. All three of them laughed on cue.

  Lisa hung up and repeated the phone number for the listening audience. The phone rang again, and Carole answered it. “Horse Talk! How may we help you?”

  “My name is Augusta,” said Stevie.

  “Hello, Augusta!” said Carole and Lisa.

  “I was wondering …”

  THE SHOW PROGRESSED to the final fifteen minutes. Lisa eyed the clock with relief. Horse Talk was going fine, just as they had planned, but it had taken an awful lot of preparation, and she was tired. Carole looked strained. Only two questions left to go, Lisa wrote on a piece of paper. Carole nodded and smiled.

  The phone rang again. “Horse Talk! How may we help you?”

  “This is Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third,” announced an unfamiliar voice that was certainly not Stevie’s.

  Lisa waited for the caller to say more, but he didn’t. “Uhh—Roosevelt Franklin what?”

  “Godfreys the Third,” replied the voice. “You can call me Rosie.”

  Carole recovered enough to say, “How can we help you, Rosie?” Lisa slapped her hand over her mouth to stop a giggle. Rosie?

  “Well,” drawled the caller, “you see, I have a horse. It’s a very nice horse, but it’s had several owners in the past. First when it was a baby it was owned by some very nice folks in Ohio. Then they sold it to a woman in Kentucky, and then I believe—but I’m not positive—that it came to Virginia, but not around here. I think it lived in Roanoke first, then Manassas, and finally it ended up with me. Or so I believe.”

  Lisa looked at Carole, who looked back. What was this about? “Go ahead,” Lisa said into the microphone.

  “Well,” said Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third, “the problem is, each owner messed up a different part of the horse. The first person made it inclined to kick with its back left foot only, but never from farther away than six feet. The second owner made it kick with the front right foot as well; the third owner made it tend to shimmy its hips; and the fourth cut my horse’s tail off way too short. As a result of all this, my horse looks like a buzz-cut jitterbugging clog dancer, and I want to do dressage. What do you think I should do?”

  “Uh,” said Carole. She
was pretty sure this was a joke, not a serious question, but what could she do? She was on the air. “Let its tail grow long,” she said at last. “Don’t cut it again.” She looked at Lisa, who opened her eyes wider as if to say, “Don’t ask me.” “I think you’ll find the ability to jitterbug an advantage in dressage,” Carole added. “Any horse that can use its back end that well—”

  “Thank you, caller!” Lisa said, and hung up the phone. Carole gave her a look of pure relief. Lisa looked at the clock, but all that silliness had hardly taken a minute of their time. The phone rang again.

  “This is Julie,” Stevie said, in a much more hurried voice than usual. “I want to learn to jump, but I’m worried about falling off. Do you have any advice?”

  “Well, certainly,” Lisa said, while Carole flipped through her papers to find the answer. “First of all, fear is something we all have to cope with …”

  The question didn’t last long enough. The very second that Lisa hung up the phone, it rang again. “This is Stonewall Pepperpot Maxwell the Second,” another deep voice said. “I’m a friend of Roosevelt Franklin Godfreys the Third. You were so helpful with his question that I hoped you might answer mine.”

  “Sure,” Lisa said. No matter what, it couldn’t be more ridiculous than Rosie’s question.

  “My friends claim that when I’m riding my horse, it does all the work,” the caller said. “But since I get hot and sweaty and, I might add, extremely stinky whenever I ride, I’m pretty sure that I must be doing some work, too.”

  “Well, of course,” Carole responded quickly. “Riding is excellent exercise—”

  “What I’d like to know is this,” the caller cut in. “Is there any way I can get the horse to do all the work? Because really, the stinkiness is gagging my whole family. It’s so gross, you wouldn’t believe. The way my riding boots smell—”

  Lisa and Carole stared at each other. Lisa leaned closer to the microphone. “Buy some Odor-Eaters,” she said.

  “Next caller!” said Carole, hanging up the phone.

  It rang again immediately. “Horse Talk!” Lisa said, hoping fervently that it was Stevie.