Buckskin Bandit

by Dandi Daley Mackall

  The next morning, Dad and I squeezed in 30 minutes on the shower-stall door, while Lizzy cleaned the barn for me. And I still got to duck out 15 minutes early to meet Kaylee before school. We agreed to bike to Bandit’s pasture as soon as school was out. Dad—and Madeline—was driving to Mansfield this afternoon. Dad wouldn’t be home until suppertime.

  School dragged through the day, with the worst hour passing in Ms. Brumby’s class. Some of the kids had already written their how-to speeches for the science fair. Ms. Brumby made all of us work on our introductions. Even though I got to partner with Barker, I got so nervous that I couldn’t remember the name of my own invention.

  At lunch, Sal and Hawk sat with Catman, M, Kaylee, and me to plan my horse birthday party.

  “Did you know I talked with Lizzy?” Sal asked. “She’s going to make cake and punch. So Hawk and I will just show up with our horses.”

  They talked about horse games they’d worked up. Sal had even invited Grant and Eager Star.

  “Summer said Scarlet Lady would hate the party, so she may not come,” Hawk said.

  Note to self: Scar isn’t all bad.

  I still felt weird about having a birthday party. But I had to admit it was starting to sound like fun.

  The weather couldn’t have been more perfect as Kaylee and I biked to Happy Trails after school. Trees had greened up overnight, sprouting buds like new spring clothes. Jonquils were popping in yards and along the roadside.

  We hid our bikes in a ditch and circled to the back pasture, where we found Bandit standing in the same spot as the night before.

  Kaylee discovered an empty water bucket tipped over into tall grass inside the fence. We took it to the pond in the main pasture, filled it, and brought it out to Bandit.

  The buckskin refused to investigate as long as we were in the pasture, so we climbed out. Immediately he walked up and took long drinks that nearly emptied the bucket.

  “I don’t think Leonard will bother with Bandit for a while,” I told Kaylee. “So our job is to let your horse know that from now on he can count on gentle handling from people who love him.”

  “Just tell me what to do,” Kaylee said.

  “Okay.” I grinned at her. “You start.” I pulled my paperback copy of Black Beauty out of my pocket and handed it to her. “You get the first chapter.”

  Kaylee didn’t even question my tactics. She followed me under the fence and took a seat next to me, a few yards from Bandit. Then she began reading.

  As Kaylee read, I watched Bandit out of the corner of my eye. At first he flattened his ears back, daring us to come any closer. After a few pages, his flank stopped twitching, and I saw him flick his tail. By the time Kaylee was done with the first chapter, Bandit’s ears were flicking to her voice. He was getting used to us. He was getting a glimpse of the friendlier world we were trying to draw him into.

  I read the next chapter, and let Kaylee watch her horse.

  When I finished, Kaylee whispered, “He looks more like the old Bandit, Winnie.”

  “He’s learning to trust you, Kaylee.” I stood up slowly.

  Bandit arched his neck, ready to flee.

  “That’s enough for one sitting,” I said. “Tomorrow we’ll get him to join our herd.” Mom had taught me the Advance and Retreat method of horse gentling, using a round fenced-in area. It was a technique horse handlers, like the famous Monty Roberts, had picked up by observing the way horses interact in herds. Bandit wouldn’t have a real round pen. But the fence and the hedge-apple trees formed a pretty small circle we could work in.

  I might have been wrong, but on Wednesday after school, when Kaylee and I got to the outpasture, it felt like Bandit was waiting for us. He even came up to drink while we stood next to the bucket.

  But when Kaylee reached out her hand to pat him, Bandit took off at a gallop. He raced around the pasture, his tail held high.

  “Think like a horse, Kaylee,” I said, trying to remember how Mom had explained horse gentling to me. “We want Bandit to join up with us and share the safety and happiness of our herd. Bandit wants it too, although he doesn’t realize it yet, because all he can see when he looks at us is Leonard. He can’t see us. Not yet.”

  “I’m not sure I get it,” Kaylee admitted.

  I tried again. “Every herd has a leader. You need to become the leader your horse is looking for. Bandit has to learn to trust again. Then he can discover what it’s like to share the joy and safety of a herd.”

  We moved to the center of the circle as Bandit cantered around us. Eventually he slowed to a walk.

  “You have to use your body to talk to him,” I explained. “Walk toward him. Hold out your arms and look him in the eye. Scuffle your feet a little until he speeds up again.”

  Kaylee did exactly what I wanted her to. Bandit took off, galloping in the circle.

  “Good! Facing Bandit and looking in his eyes means ‘go away.’ ”

  “But I don’t want him to go away,” she complained.

  “No. But you want Bandit to make the decision to join us. Look for his language.”

  “What am I looking for?” she asked.

  “A rotating ear, a droopy neck. He might lick his mouth or lower his head.” I remembered seeing those signs with Mom’s Mustangs time after time.

  “There!” Kaylee whispered. “He’s lowering his head, right?”

  Bandit did more than that. He slowed down and peeked at Kaylee.

  “He’s thinking about you,” I whispered. “He’s looking past that memory of Leonard and wondering what kind of a leader you’d be. Now when he turns to you again, back away from him. Drop your arms, and look down. Moving away is like a reward, and it draws him to you.”

  It happened again. This time Bandit slowed to a walk and stared at Kaylee. Kaylee saw it and did exactly as I’d told her to do.

  Bandit took a few steps toward Kaylee. Then he changed his mind and walked the other way.

  “Step toward him again!” I shouted. “Look right at him. Square your body.”

  This sent the buckskin cantering in a circle again. But it didn’t last long. After a couple of laps, Bandit stopped and eyed Kaylee. He licked his lips.

  On my cue Kaylee slanted her shoulder away from him and looked away.

  Bandit walked straight toward us.

  “That’s perfect, Kaylee!” I whispered. “You’re showing him you want to be friends, but you’ll wait on him to decide if he wants to follow you. This is your friendly position, arms and eyes down, turned a little from him. He’s thinking of you and how much he’d like to share what we’ve got going in this herd.”

  Suddenly Bandit turned away and started to walk off.

  “Okay. Back to unfriendly position, Kaylee!” I called. “Arms out at your sides. Look at him and walk toward him.”

  Kaylee did, and Bandit took off, running in the circle. But after one lap, he slowed to a walk and eyed Kaylee. Again he licked his lips.

  “Now!” I whispered. “Back to friendly. Talk to him in a low voice.”

  Kaylee dropped her arms, looked down, and backed away from Bandit. “Hey, Bandit. You can trust me. Come on, boy.”

  Bandit stepped toward her. Then his head lowered, and he followed her all the way to the center of our circle.

  Kaylee kept up a steady stream of talk.

  “Now slowly move toward him,” I whispered. “If he doesn’t run off, reward him by backing away again.”

  Kaylee did it exactly right, and Bandit wasn’t spooked at all. He followed her, moving closer and closer.

  “Hold out your hand and let him smell you,” I instructed. “No, the back of your hand.”

  Just like I’d hoped, Bandit stretched out his neck and sniffed Kaylee’s hand.

  “Now walk toward me,” I called.

  Wherever Kaylee walked, Bandit followed.

  “This is so amazing,” Kaylee whispered. “Winnie, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  I’d seen it quite a few times b
efore, but I felt the same awe Kaylee did. Bandit had joined up. I could already see him getting a piece of the joy that comes from identifying with the herd.

  On the ride back Kaylee couldn’t stop talking about Leonard and what he might have done to Bandit to make the buckskin so angry at humans. “It’s driving me crazy that I haven’t heard back from the animal-protection people,” she complained. “Do you know when that animal-shelter friend of yours gets back?”

  “Ralph? Not until next week.”

  “I left the address of Happy Trails and a long message on the ASPCA voice mail,” she explained. “They have to send somebody out to investigate sooner or later. I just want it to be sooner.”

  “Me too.” A picture flashed into my mind. My brain had snapped a photo of Bandit and Leonard in the barn. Leonard was yanking on the leadrope, as Bandit, tense and terrified, tried to pull away.

  “Until the animal-protection people get here, Kaylee, it’s up to us. And you and I won’t let Leonard near that horse. We won’t let anything bad happen to Buckskin Bandit. He’s part of our herd now.”

  If anything, Thursday’s gentling session with Bandit went even better than Wednesday’s. By the time I got back from Happy Trails and sat down to a big Lizzy dinner, I was feeling pretty good about everything. Bandit had definitely joined up and would be ready to ride in a day or two. Dad and I had installed the last showerhead on the Magnificent Multishower. And nobody at school had laughed at me when Ms. Brumby made me give my how-to introduction in English class.

  Geri was eating dinner with us, so Lizzy dished out four plates of pizza burgers and mozzarella sticks. “Thanks for always seeing that we have enough to make dinner and eat with friends in our home,” Lizzy said. Anybody listening in would have thought Lizzy was talking to Dad. But we knew she was talking to God. Lizzy prays as naturally as a Tennessee Walking Horse walks. “Thanks that Kaylee and Winnie are helping that poor horse. Oh, and look out for everybody tomorrow at the science fair. Amen.”

  “Tomorrow’s the big day!” Dad exclaimed as he dished up applesauce. “Winnie, we’ll need to set up bright and early. I have it all arranged with the janitor.”

  “Will you stay for the judging, Dad?” I asked. I still dreaded the speech part of the fair. I was counting on the Multishower speaking for itself.

  “Are you kidding? Would I miss the debut of Willis and Willis Inventors?”

  “Willis and Willis and Willis, you mean,” Geri said, helping herself to another burger.

  “What’s that, Geri?” Dad asked.

  “Didn’t Lizzy tell you?” Geri took a gulp of milk. “She’s entered in the science fair too.”

  Dad nearly choked on his grape drink. “Lizzy? You entered the science fair? But I thought it was just for middle schools.”

  “That’s what we thought too,” Geri explained. “Only our science teacher said other schools counted sixth grade in their middle schools, and it wasn’t fair that we didn’t get to participate with the seventh and eighth graders just because Ashland sticks sixth graders with lower grades. And the science fair gives an award for each class. So we get to do it.”

  “Well, good for you!” Dad exclaimed.

  “What can you guys invent on such short notice?” I asked.

  “Oh, we’ve known about it all week,” Geri answered. “I’m inventing frog spray. Only it’s not working so well.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us you were inventing something, Lizzy?” Dad asked.

  “It’s not a big deal,” Lizzy said, getting up to clear her dishes. “I’m just using something I already had.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Lizzy’s entering the sleeping-bag tent!” Geri announced.

  “I love that invention, Lizzy,” Dad said. “Good for you.” He got up and threw his dishes into the sink. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, girls, Winnie and I have a few finishing touches to put on the Magnificent Multishower.”

  As it turned out, the “few finishing touches” took us until midnight. Then I had to wash my hair and go over what I’d say to the judges. I could hear Dad whistling from the workshop for another hour. I just hoped I wouldn’t let him down.

  When I finally crawled into bed, I remembered. Tomorrow was Lizzy’s birthday. At the Ashland Public Library sale, I’d managed to pick up six books on lizards. I sneaked them out of the closet and wrapped the books in Sunday’s comics.

  “Winnie? What time is it?” Lizzy sounded like she was underwater.

  “Really late,” I whispered. “Or really early, depending on how you look at it. Happy birthday, Lizzy.”

  Lizzy rolled over and leaned on one elbow. “Sweet! We’re the same age.”

  “Want your presents?” I asked, feeling like we were two instead of 12.

  Lizzy grinned. She reminded me of our mom so much it hurt. “Presents? As in plural? I like the sound of that! Bring ’em on.”

  I handed the books to her one by one, and she squealed like a little kid as she ripped off the paper.

  “I can’t believe you found Lizards I Have Known!” she screamed. “I love that book!” She stretched out her arms, and I came closer so she could hug me. “Thanks, Winnie.”

  “Lizzy, I’m sorry . . . about birthdays, I mean.”

  “We’re past that. Right? Sal and Hawk are putting together quite a party for you, you know. And I’m going over to Geri’s tomorrow night to celebrate my birthday—I mean, tonight.”

  “That’s great, Lizzy.” I was glad she’d have something special to do on her birthday. Maybe next year I’d have a huge birthday party for my sister.

  We lay in bed for a while, talking and remembering birthdays when we were little kids. Finally, we both dropped off to sleep.

  “Rise and shine, young inventors!” Dad shouted.

  I felt as if I’d just gotten to sleep. It wasn’t even light outside.

  “Winnie, we have to get to school early and set up the Magnificent Multishower. After today, America will be a cleaner place to live!”

  I rolled over to tell Lizzy happy birthday again, but she was already up.

  “Lizzy loved her gecko home,” Dad said. “Made it myself, according to all the specifications. Built the lighting myself too. Madeline gave Lizzy a gift certificate to Pat’s Pets for one gecko.”

  “Great gift, Dad,” I said, wondering why Dad couldn’t have gotten Lizzy the gecko gift certificate himself. We’re not that poor.

  “We should have made a birthday cake,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “Well, hurry up! And don’t forget to wear something nice.”

  I was just glad Dad didn’t expect me to wear a one-piece work suit like he wears when he’s inventing. I groped around for a clean pair of jeans and a shirt that wasn’t too wrinkled.

  Before leaving to meet Geri at school, Lizzy had made bacon and scrambled eggs with olives and cheese. But I barely had time to take a bite before Dad was honking the horn.

  Dad and I were the first people in the gym except for Mr. Jay, our school janitor. We rolled the shower stall close to the exit, then ran the hose outside to the spigot. All I’d have to do was turn on the faucet, and we’d be in business. We tried it out, and it worked just like it had at home.

  Other parents and kids filed in and set up their booths all around the gym. I practiced my speech in my head, while Dad polished the showerheads.

  “Dad, I hope I don’t mess up.”

  Dad stopped polishing and frowned over at me. “What do you mean, Winnie?”

  “I’m not the greatest talker in the world, Dad, in case you haven’t noticed. No matter how great the invention is, if I can’t tell the judges about it, they won’t choose me.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll do just fine.” Dad went back to the showerhead. Then he reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “I’ll . . . I’ll be praying for you, Winnie.”

  I felt like I’d swallowed something too big for my throat. Dad had never said anything like that to me. When we’d lived in Wyo
ming, Mom was the one who made all four of us go to church every Sunday. But when Mom died, Dad stopped going to church. Lizzy still went with friends, but I’d stayed home with Dad.

  Even when we moved to Ashland, for a long time Lizzy was the only one who went to church. Then I started going. And then Dad. He’d been going with us since last fall, but he still didn’t talk about God much.

  “Thanks, Dad.” It’s all I was able to squeeze past whatever was stuck in my throat.

  Dad seemed to be looking at my feet. He reminded me of Kaylee, right before Bandit joined up with her. I reached over and gave my dad a short, awkward hug.

  “Think I’ll check out the competition,” he said. And he strolled off.

  I read over my notes, stopping to wave at the Barkers. M’s parents, both dressed totally in black like M, came by to wish me luck. So did Mr. and Mrs. Coolidge. Mrs. Coolidge was carrying Churchill, Catman’s biggest cat, a gray shorthair, with a face as flat as a silver dollar. Mr. Coolidge had the squirmy Bumby, a small black cat with huge white paws and six toes in front, seven in back. I figured the cats would be demonstrating Catman’s cat bunks.

  “Winnie!”

  I looked up to see Lizzy and Geri trekking through the crowd. Lizzy had her sleeping bag slung over her shoulder. “You guys better get set up!” I called.

  Lizzy looked so cute. She’d french-braided her hair and was wearing khakis with a red, flowered shirt I hadn’t seen before. Geri, of course, was dressed in frog green.

  “Do you think this smells like frog?” Geri asked, shoving a bottle of slime-green liquid under my nose.

  I tried not to gag. It smelled like pond scum. “Sure reminds me of frogs, Geri.”

  “Sweet!” Geri exclaimed.

  Lizzy had to run and say hi to some kids in her class. Geri hung back with me. “Winnie, where’s your dad? I’ve been planning a surprise party for Lizzy after the science fair.”

  “That’s great, Geri!” And I meant it.

  “But both of my parents pulled the night shift. So I can’t have it at our house. Can I have it at yours, do you think?”