“The big man with the honking nose!”
“Leonard?” I asked, remembering what Pat had said about Lazy Lenny.
“He’s a horrible man, Winnie! He acted like I was crazy. Then he brought out this horse that was kind of the same color as Bandit, but it wasn’t Bandit. And my parents believed him! They couldn’t tell the difference.”
I didn’t like it that Leonard would lie about the horse and say the buckskin never existed. If he’d sold Bandit, why wouldn’t he have just said so?
“Winnie, I’m at Summer’s. For her party, you know. Will you come get me? I have to go back to Happy Trails and look for Bandit.”
“Winnie!” Dad shouted from the workshop.
“Kaylee, I don’t know if I can—”
“Please, Winnie!” She sounded so desperate.
“Hang on. I’ll be right there.”
It wasn’t easy to convince Dad to give me a break from inventing. I had to promise to work all night if he needed me.
Lizzy and Geri were feeding Annie Goat when I walked into the barn.
“Is this goat always so crabby?” Geri asked.
“Pretty much,” I answered. I took Nickers out, slipped on the hackamore, and swung up.
“Where are you going?” Lizzy asked. Her hair was in pigtails, and I don’t think I’d ever seen it look worse. It still looked better than my hair, though.
“Summer’s party. Thanks for helping out, you guys.”
It didn’t take long to reach Spidells’ Stable-Mart. Nickers trotted up the long gravel drive past the sterile white barn. From inside came a thud, thud. Probably Spidell’s Sophisticated Scarlet Lady, Summer’s million-dollar horse. Scar, my pet name for the exotic American Saddle Horse, wins every horse show Summer enters. But Summer and Scar will never be friends the way Nickers and I are.
I rode closer to the house, hoping Kaylee was watching for me.
Summer Spidell stepped outside, without letting go of the doorknob. “What do you want, Winifred?” she shouted. Her blonde hair looked like she’d just gotten out of the beauty salon. Her yellow dress matched her hair. “Well? You’re leaving hoofprints on the lawn!”
“Oops. Wouldn’t want to leave hoofprints at a stable.”
“Go!” She pointed toward my end of town, in case I’d forgotten which side of the tracks I lived on. “We’re trying to have a party here.”
“I know,” I said. “I heard the bulletin on CNN.”
She looked like she almost believed me.
“Summer!” Mrs. Spidell shouted. She stepped out of the house, carrying a cake the size of Tennessee. She smiled at me, then lowered her voice to Summer. “We’re cutting the cake, sweetheart.”
“Not yet, Mother!” Summer shot back.
“Winnie?” Hawk eased outside, as Summer and her mother disappeared into the house. Hawk’s long black hair caught the sinking sun and threw it back in sparkles. She was wearing a fringed skirt that might have been Native American. Hawk and I love her Native American heritage, although neither of her parents is into it.
“Are you coming in?” Hawk asked.
I shook my head. “I just came by to talk to Kaylee.”
“Victoria!” Summer called. She and her friends use Hawk’s real name, Victoria Hawkins.
“I will send Kaylee out,” Hawk said. She smiled, and I could see why her mother believed Hawk could make it as a model.
“Winnie!” Kaylee dashed out of the house, stumbling on the step. She ran up to Nickers. “I thought you’d never get here! My parents are picking me up in an hour, so that’s all the time we have.”
“Hop on behind me,” I said, riding Nickers close to the step so she could climb aboard. “Let’s get out of here.”
It took three tries, but she made it.
“Hang on!” I said, urging Nickers to cut through the Spidells’ yard.
The door slammed open behind us, and Summer Spidell let out a cry. Then she yelled after us, “Winifred! You come back here right now! Bring Kaylee back this minute!”
We could hear Summer hollering the whole time as we crossed the Spidell lawn and galloped out of town. It was the most fun I’d had all day.
On the ride over, Kaylee filled me in. “My parents and I were the first customers at Happy Trails.” She had to shout over the wind. “There were only five horses in the barn, and Leonard told us we could pick from those. I told him I wanted to ride the buckskin, and that’s when he brought out the wrong horse.”
When Kaylee had insisted she wanted to see the other cream-colored horse, Leonard said that these five were the only horses they had at Happy Trails.
“I knew he was lying,” Kaylee continued. “And when more customers drove up, he was caught in his lie. It was a family of four. And voila! Just like that, Leonard disappeared and came back with two more horses, so he could take money from all seven of us! But he still didn’t bring out Bandit. That’s why I’m sure my horse is still there.”
Happy Trails looked deserted as we rode up the lane. I started to holler for somebody, but Kaylee put her hand over my mouth. “Don’t!” she whispered. “Let’s find Bandit ourselves.”
I looped Nickers’ reins over the hitching post and followed Kaylee into the stable. It seemed smellier and smaller than it had the day before.
Kaylee ran the length of the barn, peering into each stall. “Bandit’s not here!” she shouted. “Maybe we should search the grounds for—”
I heard heavy footsteps, but I couldn’t warn Kaylee fast enough.
“Hey! What are you kids doing in here?”
I squinted toward the stable door and saw the black outline of a giant. The man must have stood seven feet tall and weighed 300 pounds—about the size of Maine. His hands went to his hips. I imagined six-shooters in holsters.
I watched, speechless, as the giant charged up the stallway, straight at us.
“Kaylee,” I whispered, “make a run for—”
But Kaylee barged past me and ran up the stallway, charging the giant. “Where’s that buckskin?” she demanded. “What have you done with him?”
The giant stopped. “You again?”
Kaylee marched all the way up to him. In the light, he might not have been a giant. But he was big. One look at his nose and I knew we were facing Lazy Lenny. I moved in beside Kaylee, figuring two were better than one. Plus, believe it or not, Leonard looked a little afraid of Kaylee.
Leonard hitched up his jeans, which would have made a perfect tent for the state of Rhode Island. Then he turned and glared at me. “If you got money for a ride, pay up. If you ain’t, go home.”
“We’re not going anywhere until I see Bandit!” Kaylee declared.
“Bandit?” he asked.
“The buckskin!” Kaylee shouted.
Leonard stormed down the stallway, with Kaylee at his heels. “He’s in the last stall. You want to ride him or not?” He sounded like his vote was not.
“This is the horse you pawned off on me this morning. This is not Buckskin Bandit!” Kaylee insisted.
I peered into the last stall. “This isn’t even a buckskin,” I said, hating the sound of my voice. I always sound a little hoarse, with a raspy voice Lizzy claims she wishes she had. But I think I just sound hoarse. And the more nervous I get, the worse it sounds.
I cleared my throat and went on. “A true buckskin wouldn’t have this much pigment in the hairs. Duns are duller colored than buckskins. See? This one has the dun factor, dark brown or black on the back and shoulder stripes, besides dark mane, tail, and legs.”
“Whatever,” the man said. “You want to ride or what?”
“Tell me where that horse is or I’m calling the ASPCA!” Kaylee roared.
I’d never seen this side of her. I liked it.
Leonard wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “That’s it. Happy Trails is closed!”
Kaylee and I tried arguing, but the guy shooed us out of the stable and locked the door.
Nickers and I gave Kaylee
a ride back to Summer’s.
“Try not to worry about Bandit, Kaylee,” I told her, as she slid off Nickers’ rump at Stable-Mart. “Those pastures are so overgrown, Leonard could hide a herd of elephants on the property.”
“I’ll call the authorities tonight, Winnie. I’ve got the name—American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They’ll have to send somebody out there.”
Dad was waiting for me at home. I got a lecture on priorities and an inventor’s single-mindedness. He didn’t want to hear about Kaylee and Bandit and Happy Trails. We invented the rest of the night, until I fell asleep with a power drill in my hands. Then even Dad had to admit it was time to go to bed.
Sunday morning was gray, with the threat of rain. I slept in as long as possible, skipping Lizzy’s peanut-butter pancakes and barely getting dressed before the Barker Bus came by for us.
The Barker Bus is really a yellow van, big enough to hold a big family, including the Barker dogs, Dad, Lizzy, and me. The dogs hadn’t come to church with us, so their little seat belts, invented by my dad, hung empty on the floor.
“Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Barker,” I said as Dad, Lizzy, and I climbed over the Barker brothers.
Mrs. Barker turned around from the driver’s seat. “Anytime.”
We exchanged hi’s with everybody, except Granny Barker, who had stayed home with a cold. Dad fastened his seat belt, then turned to talk to Mr. Barker, who was wedged in the far backseat between Johnny and Luke. Mr. Barker used to play football at Ashland University. And even though now he’s kind of this poet professor, he looks like he could still play football for them.
“How’s the invention business?” Barker asked.
“Don’t get Dad started,” I whispered.
Mark, age seven, and two-year-old William were fussing over who got to sit next to Lizzy. My sister settled the feud by moving Mark and sitting between the boys.
“So does anybody know who’s taking Ralph’s place this morning?” Lizzy asked, as Mrs. Barker turned the van around.
“Where’s Ralph?” Barker asked.
“Wedding. In Michigan, I think,” I answered.
We filed into church and took our spots in the Barker pew across the aisle from Pat. As usual, Catman and M made their entrance just as the organ started playing. M’s in eighth grade with Catman. As usual, M was dressed totally in black. He’s a pretty good friend of mine, even though I still don’t know what the M stands for. I don’t think anybody does, even Catman.
When it was time for the sermon, Mr. Barker walked to the front of the church. “I’ve never given a sermon before,” he began.
I glanced over at Barker, who looked as surprised as I was. Mrs. Barker was grinning, though.
“I better warn you that my students think I lecture too long,” Mr. Barker continued. “But I’ll try not to commit that sin here.”
We laughed. I was nervous for him, but he sounded like a natural pastor.
“When Ralph asked me to stand in for him, I had no idea what I’d say. But I finally decided to talk about joy. Being happy. Hey, who can get on my case for that, right?
“Tom Blake, a colleague at AU, was awarded a grant by the university last week. I was truly happy for Tom—” he paused and wrinkled his forehead—“until I started wondering, Why didn’t I get that grant? And you know what? For the rest of the week, even though I knew Tom deserved that grant, every time I saw him, I felt rotten inside.”
I liked Mr. Barker’s stories, but the last couple of nights with so little sleep started catching up with me. I yawned, then tried to hide it by covering my mouth.
“Last Tuesday,” he continued, “I ran into an old high school buddy I hadn’t seen in 20 years. He’d lost 40 pounds and looked better than he did in high school. ‘Way to go!’ I told him. But you know, I wasn’t all that happy for him if you want to know the honest truth. Why?” He patted his stomach. We chuckled.
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine being so old that I hadn’t seen somebody in 20 years.
Mr. Barker’s voice was low, like a bass drum. It made me want to drift off to sleep. With my eyes closed, I tried to listen.
“Ever watch a buddy hit a home run, but you strike out?” Mr. Barker asked us. “How did you feel? Real happy? Your buddy’s full of joy, right? Are you? See, what God’s been teaching me is that there’s a lot of joy in the world. But it may not all start and end in my backyard. I might have to be happy for someone else.”
I could have dozed off for the ending. When I opened my eyes, Catman and M had written their initials all over my bulletin.
On the ride home, the Barker boys gave their dad a hard time about keeping his sermon-giving a secret. Dad, Lizzy, and I kept telling him what a good job he did.
Kaylee was sitting on our front step when the Barker Bus pulled to our curb. “I didn’t know where else to go,” she said. “I didn’t sleep all night, worrying about Bandit. I left a message at the ASPCA, but who knows when they’ll send somebody to investigate.”
Suddenly thunder boomed, and the skies opened. We hurried inside as rain poured down in sheets.
“Sweet!” Lizzy exclaimed, taking Kaylee’s jacket. “Looks like you’ll have to stay for dinner.”
We didn’t get a chance to talk about Happy Trails over dinner because Dad wouldn’t stop talking about the Magnificent Multishower. But as soon as we finished our pistachio pudding, I hustled Kaylee out to the barn. She fussed over Buddy, and she even liked Annie Goat. We went around in circles, though, trying to figure out how we could make Leonard tell us what he’d done with Bandit.
Dad and I drove Kaylee home in our cattle truck when the rain let up. We bounced up the curved driveway and squealed to a stop in front of her house. Before I knew Kaylee lived there, I’d passed the Hsu three-story, brick house dozens of times. And each time I’d wondered why anybody who could afford a home like that would live in a small town like Ashland.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Hsu stepped out to greet their daughter. They must have been shocked to see her climb out of a cattle truck, but they didn’t let on. Instead they walked up to the truck and introduced themselves to Dad.
Dad and I drove back home. And in honor of Sunday, he only made us work on the shower until a little after 10. Then I remembered the invention outline was due in the morning. It took me another two hours to write it up.
Monday morning I raced to first period and slid into my seat as the bell rang.
Barker was already at his desk next to mine. “Made it,” he whispered.
Ms. Brumby, our English teacher, was dressed as spring. Her silky shirt was the green of an oak tree in May. Her skirt, jacket, scarf, and shoes were light green, like spring buds on a poplar.
I still can’t look at our English teacher without thinking of a real Brumby—the bony, Roman-nosed, Australian scrub horse that most people have given up on training.
I watched Ms. Brumby write on the chalkboard in perfect block letters: Title, Introduction, Thesis, How-to paragraphs, Conclusion. I felt an essay—or even worse, a speech—coming on.
Kaylee, in the back row, was wearing khakis and a short-sleeved, red sweater that made her shiny hair look even darker. She whispered something to me, but I couldn’t understand. Summer and her herd were making too much noise.
“What did you say?” I whispered back.
“Winifred? Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Ms. Brumby roared.
I faced front. “Um . . . no, ma’am.”
Behind me, I heard Summer’s annoying laugh, followed by the giggles of her followers.
“Then let’s begin.” Ms. Brumby’s spring green high heels clicked when she crossed to the stuff she’d written on the board. You would have thought the words had been typed by a giant typewriter. “These are the parts of the speech you will prepare for your science-fair projects.”
Speech? I raised my hand for probably the third time all year in this class.
Ms. Brumby nodded at me. T
he toe of her pointy green shoe tapped, as if to hurry me.
“Do we—” I cleared my throat—“I mean . . . a speech? I thought we just had to do an invention for extra credit.”
“Well, you do have to prepare a speech, regardless of your participation in the science fair.” She smiled at the rest of the class. “For those of you who will be showing your projects, you will be asked by the judges to explain your invention.” She tapped the board. “This is how you will answer.”
My most hated thing in all of school is giving a speech. I get so nervous, my voice sounds like geese honking.
Even my inventor dad couldn’t help me with this one.
Pat Haven was shuffling through her desk drawer when Kaylee and I walked in. We only had a minute, but we told her about going to Happy Trails and getting run off by Leonard.
“You girls listen here. Stay clear of Lazy Lenny. I mean it. I’ll look in on Mrs. Pulaski and see what I can find out. Don’t you worry.”
The bell had rung, and kids were throwing paper wads and pencils.
Kaylee and I took our seats. It makes me mad when kids in Pat’s class are obnoxious and loud just because they know how nice Pat is.
It took a couple of minutes for her to get everybody’s attention. “Let’s hear about some of these grand inventions. Barker, you lead off.”
Barker did a great job explaining his dog greeting cards, even though he couldn’t have had time to write a real speech already. He showed us one card, made out of rawhide chews, with Slim Jim beef jerky spelling out Happy birthday to my best friend!
Other kids had pretty cool inventions too. Sal stood up. She and I had become friends when I gentled her Miniature Falabella, Amigo. Sal was wearing hoop earrings the size of Virginia and West Virginia. “This is so tight, you guys! I’m inventing earrings—”
“Hey, there’s an original idea,” Brian interrupted.
Sal hit him over the head with her notebook. “Earrings that are also earplugs! Like in case someone, like Brian, is talking, and you want to shut him out.”
Buckskin Bandit Page 4
