Spirit Riding Free--The Adventure Begins

by Suzanne Selfors

Lucky tried her best to focus on the schoolwork and to listen to Miss Flores’s lessons. It was killing her how much fun Pru and Abigail seemed to have together, brushing their horses at lunch and laughing. But each time she tried to approach them, Maricela got there first, to fill their heads with more lies. Lucky tried to stay positive, but it was getting more and more difficult.

  At the end of the day, she didn’t wait around for Miss Flores to offer advice. It was too painful to have her rejection acknowledged. So she scooted out, just behind the rest of the students. She’d go see the stallion again. Maybe he was feeling better. But just before she reached the blacksmith’s shop, she heard two familiar voices.

  “Can you please fix the strap on my stirrup, Turo? It came loose again.” That was Pru’s voice.

  “Sure.” That was Turo’s.

  Lucky stopped walking. The voices drifted from the other side of the building. She pressed against the wall. Yes, she was eavesdropping, but only to gather more information in her attempt to make new friends. She peeked around the corner. Yes, she was spying, but stop telling me what to do, Aunt Cora, she said to the voice in her head. I don’t care if it’s rude; I need to see what’s going on.

  Pru sat on Chica Linda while Turo worked on the strap. While waiting, Abigail was weaving a ribbon into Boomerang’s mane.

  “We’re going to look for arrowheads tomorrow, so I need the strap good and tight,” Pru told Turo. “Abigail, what are you doing?”

  “I’m putting a ribbon on Boomerang, like the one Lucky wears.”

  Lucky reached back and felt her ribbon. She smiled. Abigail had noticed.

  “I met Lucky this morning,” Turo said. “She seems nice. Are you friends?”

  Lucky leaned farther, hoping to see smiles on their faces. But Pru frowned. “Maricela is her friend.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Abigail said. “Maricela wasn’t talking to her at school today. And she was saying all sorts of mean things.”

  “Maricela always says mean things,” Turo pointed out. “Why don’t you invite Lucky to go look for arrowheads?”

  “That’s a good idea.” Abigail kissed Boomerang’s cheek. Then she climbed into her saddle. “Maybe Lucky isn’t as bad as Maricela says.”

  “You’ve forgotten that she doesn’t ride,” Pru said. “She’s a lady.” Lucky cringed. She was really starting to hate that word.

  “Whatcha doin’?”

  Lucky whipped around. Snips, Abigail’s little brother, stood just a few feet away, looking up at her with a goofy grin. He was a cute kid, with a mop of dark-red hair and freckles all over his face.

  “Wanna see my new bug?” He opened his little pudgy hand to reveal a shiny black beetle.

  “That’s very nice,” Lucky whispered. She peeked around the side of the blacksmith shop to make sure Pru and Abigail hadn’t caught her spying. But they were riding away together, and Turo had gone back inside.

  Snips tugged happily on Lucky’s pant leg. “Wanna play with me?”

  Hanging out with a six-year-old wouldn’t normally be on Lucky’s to-do list, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “I’ve got an… appointment,” she said, intending to visit the stallion. “How come you didn’t ride home with your sister?”

  He stuck the beetle on his head and giggled as it climbed through his hair. “She’s goin’ somewhere with Pru. Like always.” Just as he reached up to reclaim his prize, the beetle wisely flew away. Snips picked up a rock and threw it at a tree. “Where’s your horse?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “You don’t got a horse?” He threw another rock, then ran around a large barrel that was filled with water. “I got a horse.” He puffed out his chest. “His name is Señor Carrots. I ride him all by myself.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” Lucky said, starting across the road toward the corral. “See you later.”

  Snips didn’t take the hint. He stumbled after her, his little legs working hard to keep up. “You can come ride Señor Carrots anytime you want.”

  Lucky stopped walking. Snips bumped right into her. “Did you just say I can ride your horse?” she asked.

  “Yup. That’s what I said.”

  This was an interesting turn of events. Lucky knew that in order to fit in with the local kids, she’d have to learn to ride. And there was no doubt Aunt Cora wouldn’t allow such an activity. Therefore, finding someone to give her riding lessons would require stealth. Had opportunity appeared in the form of a hyper, redheaded six-year-old? Surely if Snips could ride Señor Carrots, then Lucky could ride him. He had to be a very gentle horse to be given to such a young boy.

  “Can I try right now?”

  “Yay!” Snips jumped up and down. “Oh goody, I can’t wait for you to meet Señor Carrots.” He twirled around in a little happy dance.

  Okay, this was really happening. Lucky was in cahoots with a kid barely old enough to tie his own shoes. But a professional riding lesson would cost money and would be difficult to find without Cora’s permission. Lucky had to grab her chance while it wiggled in front of her, freckles and all. If she could learn on Señor Carrots, then she could show her father what a great rider she was, and he could help her change Cora’s mind.

  But she still wanted to see the stallion. She’d go as soon as the lesson was over.

  The Stone family’s house was white with blue shutters. It had a big wraparound front porch and a pretty backyard with a shade tree, a rope swing, and a little garden shed.

  “How come you call him Señor Carrots?” Lucky asked, even though she’d guessed the answer.

  “Because it’s his favorite food.” They stood in the backyard. Snips cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Señor Carrots!” This struck Lucky as odd because, first of all, there was no horse standing in the small, fenced backyard. Second, there was no barn, either. The only place Señor Carrots could be was behind the shed, but that was way too small to hide an entire horse. Snips stomped over to the shed, looked behind it, and said, “I see you, Señor Carrots.”

  A braying sound followed. Then a gray head appeared, followed by a gray body. It was the smallest horse Lucky had ever seen. “Is that a baby?” she asked with surprise.

  “He’s not a baby, silly. He’s a donkey!” As if in agreement, Señor Carrots made a loud hee-haw sound.

  This was not at all what Lucky had expected. She’d envisioned Señor Carrots as a dashing steed. He’d bow when he met her, allowing her to climb easily into the saddle. After a few minutes of riding, she’d stand on the saddle and balance on one leg, just like her mother. Then she’d hold that pose right down the main street and everyone would come out of the shops and applaud. Even Cora would be so overwhelmed with awe, she’d say, “I’m so proud. Prescott proud!” And there’d be no way Cora could refuse Lucky a horse of her own.

  But no dashing steed awaited Lucky. Señor Carrots was a funny-looking creature. His mane was short and stuck straight up, like perfectly trimmed grass. And he was swaybacked, with a very round belly. He began to chew on the suspenders that held Snips’s shorts. “Stop it,” Snips said, pushing him away. “Okay, I’ll show you how to ride him.” Snips went into the gardening shed and came out with a bucket and a couple of carrots. He turned the bucket over, set it on the ground, then climbed onto it. Holding out a carrot, he whistled for his donkey, who hurried over, grabbed the carrot with his buck teeth, then knocked Snips over. Snips tumbled off the bucket, landing in the grass. After a frustrated groan, Snips got to his feet and repeated the process, but this time, when the second carrot was snatched, Snips grabbed the donkey’s mane. “Come on, let me ride you,” Snips whined. But the donkey pulled away, and once again Snips landed in the grass. “Ooh, you bad donkey.” Señor Carrots brayed again and again. Was he laughing? Then, in a short-stepped and jerky way, he trotted right past Lucky. When she turned around, she realized she’d left the gate open.

  “Uh-oh,” she said as the donkey headed out of the yard. “Señor Carrots!”
At the sound of his name, the donkey picked up speed.

  As Lucky chased the donkey up the street, the scene from the train came to mind—the stallion galloping, the two mesteñeros in pursuit, ropes swinging. If they could catch the wildest, fastest horse in these parts, then surely catching a squat, ill-behaved donkey couldn’t be too hard. Fortunately, some flowers sprouting in front of Town Hall caught the donkey’s attention and he stopped to graze. “Gotcha,” Lucky declared as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The donkey wiggled free, then bumped Lucky aside, knocking her to the ground. “Ow,” she said as she landed on her rump in the dirt. The donkey brayed, exposing his buck teeth. Was he going to bite her? There wasn’t enough time to scramble away. Lucky quickly covered her face with her hands, expecting a sharp pain, but what she got instead was a lick.

  “Señor Carrots likes you,” Snips said. “He doesn’t like anyone. How come he likes you?”

  Señor Carrots pushed Snips out of the way, then licked Lucky’s face again. She laughed.

  “Lucky!”

  Lucky looked up. Cora stood over her, holding a large basket that was brimming with groceries.

  Uh-oh.

  26

  “What in the world do you think you’re doing sitting in the dirt?”

  “Nothing,” Lucky grumbled.

  Señor Carrots turned his attention to the basket, which Cora yanked away. “Shoo, shoo,” she told the donkey. “Young man, is this your creature? You shouldn’t allow him to roam the streets. Have you no regard for public safety? He tried to take a bite out of me.”

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Snips said. “Señor Carrots bites everyone. Even me. But he loves Lucky.” Then he smiled at Lucky. “You still wanna ride him?”

  “What’s this?” Cora pursed her lips. “Ride him?”

  Lucky stood and wiped dirt off her backside. “Don’t worry, Aunt Cora. I wouldn’t ride this donkey. He’s way too small.”

  “That, and you’re not allowed to ride.” Cora wrapped her arms around the basket as the donkey tried to steal a head of lettuce. “Let’s go. I need your help setting up for tonight’s meeting of the Miradero Ladies’ Social Betterment Society.”

  “Bye, Lucky!” Snips called. Lucky waved. Snips gave the donkey a shove. The donkey gave Snips a head butt. Then the two of them headed home. So much for a riding lesson.

  To Lucky’s surprise, Cora didn’t launch into a lecture about breaking rules or safety or any such thing. Her cheeks pink with excitement and her blue eyes twinkling, she was focused on the evening’s event. Her smile made Lucky feel happy and sad at the same time. Both her father and her aunt seemed to be finding their places in Miradero, and here was Lucky, with only a six-year-old, a donkey, and a captive mustang to call her friends. “You can help me set up for the meeting, can’t you? You don’t have other plans, do you?”

  Other plans? Lucky fidgeted. Yes, she had other plans. She wanted to go see the stallion, but how could she tell her aunt that she’d befriended a wild horse? Cora would never understand. “Sure, I can help.” She took the basket from her aunt’s arms and they started walking home. I’ll go see him later, Lucky promised herself.

  Lucky helped dust and sweep the living room. She also picked thistles and dandelions and arranged them in a vase. Cora had bought two dozen cookies with dollops of raspberry jam in the center. She set them on a platter. Because Jim was working late, Cora and Lucky ate dinner at five o’clock so the dishes could be done before the six o’clock meeting.

  “What’s this?” Lucky asked, staring at a bowl of beans and meat.

  “It’s called chili,” Cora told her. “According to the man at the general store, it’s a specialty around here.”

  Lucky took a bite. It was spicy, but good. She ate a bit more, but was surprised to find she didn’t have much of an appetite.

  “Why aren’t you eating?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick.” Cora set her spoon down. “You’re not sick, are you?” She reached across the table and set her palm on Lucky’s forehead.

  Lucky sighed. “I’m not sick.” She stirred the chili round and round the bowl.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  She had to say it. She had to be brave and face her aunt. “Aunt Cora, if I’m going to fit in around here, I need to learn how to ride.”

  Cora wagged a finger at Lucky. “That is not happening.”

  Frustration welled, readying for its escape. “But everyone rides, Aunt Cora. Even Snips, and he’s only six years old.”

  “I said no. It’s not appropriate.” Cora continued eating the chili.

  “You don’t understand. Horses like me. They do. I don’t know how to explain it, but…” Her frustration reached a boiling point and burst out, like steam in a kettle. “This is totally unfair!” She pushed her food aside. “We’re not in the city anymore, so who cares about being appropriate? My mom rode horses, so why can’t I? I bet Dad will let me!”

  Cora dropped her spoon. A bit of chili splattered onto the tablecloth. “I am your aunt and I’m telling you no. Do not argue with me, young lady. Riding horses is dangerous. End of discussion.”

  There they were, once again, face-to-face, the stubborn Prescotts. Lucky pushed back her chair and stomped toward the front door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going for a walk!”

  “But, Lucky, my guests will be arriving soon. They’ll want to meet you. I need your help serving the cookies and coffee.”

  Lucky pretended she didn’t hear her aunt’s pleas. The door slammed behind her. She knew she was being rude, but she had a right to be angry. Moving to the frontier and not riding horses was like moving to a tropical island and not swimming. Aunt Cora was being ridiculous!

  She ran down the hill. The setting sun had lit the surrounding mountains on fire. A red-tailed hawk flew overhead, and a dog barked in the distance. A pair of round eyes blinked at her from atop Mr. Granger’s barn. It was an old owl, readying himself for the twilight hunt. Since it was dinnertime, the ranch hands were in their bunkhouse, lamplight glowing in the windows. From inside came the sounds of utensils scraping plates and laughter as a meal was shared. Mr. Granger’s horses were in their barn, closed up for the night.

  But in the corral, the stallion stood, his head hanging, his eyes closed. Was he asleep? Lucky tiptoed, not wanting to wake him. But when she reached the fence his eyes popped open, and he turned toward her. “Hello,” she whispered. There was sadness in his eyes. She could feel it, as if someone had broken her own heart.

  His trough was full of oats, untouched. Why wasn’t he eating?

  He’s stubborn, she realized. He was having a standoff with Mr. Granger, just as she’d had with Cora. Even though Mr. Granger had warned no one to get near, Lucky climbed over the fence and dropped gracefully to the dirt. The stallion’s head rose. She scooped the oats into her hands and held them out—an offering, for what more could she do for him than to coax him to eat? “If you don’t eat, you’ll get sick,” she said. She took a step toward him.

  “You shouldn’t approach a horse like that.”

  Startled, Lucky dropped the oats. Pru stood outside the fence. Lucky gulped. She was in huge trouble. Surely Pru would go tell her father that the city girl had been trespassing.

  “I was just—”

  “Yeah, I can see you’re trying to feed him. But you’re walking toward him from the front. Horses can’t see well directly ahead. You should always come up to them from the side. That makes them less nervous.”

  “Uh, okay.” Lucky didn’t tell Pru that she and the stallion had already met. She scooped more oats and tried again. He set his muzzle into her palms and ate.

  “That’s impressive,” Pru said, leaning on the fence. “Dad says he’s been refusing most of the food. He’s the wildest horse ever caught.”

  Lucky knew why he was refusing. He didn’t like Mr. Granger or this place, but he clearl
y liked her. She grabbed more oats and coaxed the stallion toward the trough until he stuck his nose in and ate.

  “Better not let my dad catch you in there,” Pru said.

  She was right. Lucky climbed back outside the fence. “You’re not going to tell?”

  “Why would I tell?” Pru gave her a long, measuring look. “Who knew a city girl like you could tame a wild horse? I’m impressed.”

  “How come your dad is keeping him? Why won’t he let him go?” Lucky asked.

  “My dad makes his living taming horses. He thinks this stallion will bring in more money than any other horse he’s ever broken. He’s really special.” Pru stuck her hands into her pockets and looked at Lucky. “You seem like a natural with horses. I know you don’t ride, but tomorrow Abigail and I are…” She hesitated.

  Was Pru going to invite Lucky along? This was a hugely important moment! Lucky waited, fingers crossed behind her back.

  Pru kicked a small rock. “Never mind. I gotta go.” She walked away, her braid swaying. Lucky’s shoulders sagged. She leaned against the fence. I’m not what you think I am.

  Something bumped against her shoulder. The stallion put his face right up to hers. His breath was warm. He nudged her again.

  “Hello, fellow.” Lucky pressed her face against his neck. She could feel his heart beating. His musky scent filled her nostrils. It was a mixture of grass and dirt. It made her feel peaceful.

  Why did that horse smell feel like home?

  “We have so much in common,” she told him. “We’re both outcasts.” She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed his muzzle. And he let her.

  “I’m gonna figure this out, for both of us. I promise.”

  27

  Jim was sitting on the porch when Lucky returned, his legs stretched out and resting on the railing. “Where ya been, sweet pea?”

  “Just taking a walk.”

  “Nice night for a walk. Saw some gorgeous country today. We rode deep into the canyons, down to the river.” His smile was big and authentic. He clearly loved everything about Miradero.