Horseshoe

by Bonnie Bryant

  “He’s wonderful,” said Lisa, throwing her arms around him. The dog, overjoyed, licked her clear across her face and smeared muddy paw prints down the front of her shirt. Lisa, laughing, pushed him away. “Maybe too wonderful,” she said.

  “Exactly,” said Doc Tock. She refilled the dog’s water bowl and they stepped back outside the pen, but first they had to push the enthusiastic dog away several more times. Doc Tock sighed and gave the dog a final pat through the wire mesh of the fence.

  “His name is Trump,” she said. “His owner was a busy executive who never took the time to train him. When he was a puppy it didn’t matter, but now that he’s a grown dog the man says he can’t manage him. There isn’t an ounce of meanness in him though, and I’m sure we’ll be able to find him a good home. Someone will think he’s worth the trouble of training.”

  “Is he a golden retriever?” asked Lisa. “He looks like it.”

  “No, he’s a mixed breed, but he’s probably got a lot of retriever in him. If he were purebred I doubt he’d be here—the owner might have thought he was worth the expense of professional training.”

  “I’m sure someone will love him,” Lisa said. She stood watching Trump while Doc Tock checked another dog. For a moment she considered adopting him herself. Then she checked the idea—she already had a dog, a little Lhasa apso named Dolly. Lisa was reasonably sure that Dolly wouldn’t like Trump at all. Besides, Lisa wasn’t sure that she had time to train Trump either. He deserved a better owner the second time around.

  Doc Tock came back to Lisa. “I know you like horses,” she said.

  “Like them?” asked Lisa. “I love them.”

  Doc Tock smiled but didn’t look at all happy. “Then try not to be too upset with what I’ll show you next,” she said. “We don’t often have horses here, but we do have one now, and he’s not good. He was severely abused.”

  They turned the corner to face a small paddock. At one end, a tiny wooden stable held two stalls. The paddock was bright with good green grass, but the horse stood in the center as if he were unaware of the grass and everything else around him.

  Lisa gasped, and tears came to her eyes. She gripped the top rail of the paddock fence so tightly that later she found splinters in her palms, but she couldn’t feel anything right then except horror. Someone had done this to a horse.

  He was a bay—or would have been a bay, Lisa thought. His coat was dull and rough from bad food and no grooming, and in many places the hair had fallen out entirely, leaving raw patches of open skin. His scraggly tail was hunched between his back legs. His ears hung almost flat and his eyes were dull.

  “Look at his feet,” Doc Tock said quietly.

  Lisa stared. She knew that some horses, particularly those that weren’t ridden often, didn’t need to wear shoes, but she also knew that all horses needed their feet trimmed regularly. This horse’s feet had not been trimmed; they had been allowed to grow out like great curving sled runners and here and there big pieces of hoof wall had chipped away. Lisa winced, knowing how it must hurt him to walk and even to stand.

  “His name is Sal,” said Doc Tock.

  “Sal,” Lisa repeated. “Can I go up to him?”

  “If you walk quietly. But, Lisa—don’t pet him. He’s still covered with fleas and ticks. I don’t want you to catch any.”

  Lisa pulled a handful of tall grass and walked slowly up to Sal’s side. He stood unblinking, not trying to move away, or, even, thought Lisa, acting like he knew she was there. She held the grass under his nose. He inhaled slowly and moved his ears halfway forward. Slowly, very slowly, he reached out his top lip and took a few blades of grass. Then he sighed and dropped his head again.

  Lisa looked at him closely. His bones showed clearly beneath his skin. Along one side were some ragged scars—spur marks, or a whip? One hind leg hung slack, and Lisa could see that it was not because he was merely resting, but because he had a festering sore just above his hock.

  “He hardly even ate the grass, and he isn’t grazing,” Lisa said as she slipped back through the fence near Doc Tock.

  “I’m surprised that he paid as much attention to you as he did,” she replied. “Lisa, this poor horse is one of the worst cases I’ve seen in years. What you see is only part of the problem—he’s got raging parasite infestations. He’s so malnourished that I’m not sure he’s strong enough to withstand the treatment he has to have. Old Sal might not make it.”

  “How could someone do this to a horse?” Lisa cried.

  Doc Tock put a comforting hand on her arm. “The owner is being brought up on criminal charges,” she said with a voice of grim satisfaction. “He left this horse in a tiny pen with not enough grass to survive and only the rainwater that pooled in one corner to drink. He left town for a few months, and forgot him. I don’t know how people do it, Lisa, but once in a while they do.”

  Lisa swallowed hard. “I just can’t believe he’s going to die,” she whispered. “He seems like such a nice animal.” Tears trickled slowly down her cheeks.

  “He is. He’s been willing and cooperative about everything we’ve done. That might not be enough.” She steered Lisa away from the paddock. “Come inside and let’s have something to drink. I can see you’re upset. Lisa, you shouldn’t be.”

  Over a glass of cold fruit juice Doc Tock tried to reassure Lisa some more. “After all, our job here at CARL is the good side. We’re doing good work. We’re saving many animals. Lisa, this is a place of joy—even if we don’t accomplish everything we want to.

  “Think of it this way. This little horse, Sal, might die here. But if he does, at least his last days will be spent in comfort, with kind people caring for him. The love he gets here may be the first love he’s ever received.”

  Lisa agreed. That much at least made sense to her. “If he lives, maybe I can help you find him a good home,” she offered. “Max Regnery, our instructor at Pine Hollow, knows a lot of people who work with horses.”

  “That’d be great,” Doc Tock said. “We’d like your help. I’ll let you know how Sal does.”

  Riding home, Lisa thought she could hardly bear to hear it if Sal died. She wanted him to live—she wanted to see him grow healthy and strong, and play in his paddock and graze like the horses at Pine Hollow. But she understood all Doc Tock had said, and she was more convinced than ever that CARL needed support. The Saddle Club would have to think of something.

  WHEN LISA GOT home, she had only one thought on her mind. They had to have a Saddle Club meeting. Now. She called Stevie.

  “They tightenedth all the wireth on my teeth,” Stevie said. “I can’th talk.”

  “We need to have a meeting,” Lisa insisted. “Suck on a Popsicle, your mouth will feel better. I’ll be over in five minutes and we can walk to Pine Hollow. I know that’s where Carole is.”

  “Where elth would thee be?” agreed Stevie.

  At Pine Hollow they found that Carole had just finished Starlight’s workout. She greeted them gladly. “We just had the best ride,” she said enthusiastically. “You should have seen him! I set up a jump course in the ring, and he just flew!” She patted Starlight’s sweating flank.

  “Wonderful!” said Stevie. “Not that he ever isn’th—I mean isn’t.” Carole looked at her quizzically. “Orthodontith,” Stevie explained.

  “We came to have a Saddle Club meeting with you,” Lisa said. “I’ve got something I need to tell you two about right away.”

  “Can it wait until I get Starlight cooled out?”

  “Of course!”

  Carole walked Starlight for several minutes and then got a bucket of warm water and sponged his sweaty coat. Lisa helped scrape him dry while Stevie put Carole’s tack away. Once they had Starlight settled, they headed for the hillside overlooking the ring.

  “I just went to CARL,” Lisa said. “You wouldn’t believe all the stuff I saw.”

  “Champ?” asked Stevie, who remembered Doc Tock’s talk. She grimaced and ran her finger over her br
aces. “They’re not hurting so much now,” she admitted. “That Popsicle idea was a good one.”

  “I saw Champ, but I also saw a lot of animals who were hurting,” Lisa said. “Some of them were wild animals, and some were just neglected. There was this perfectly beautiful dog named Trump—his only problem was that no one had taken the time to train him.”

  “That’s terrible,” said Carole. “I know how important it is to train animals properly—horses are so strong that they can be really dangerous if they aren’t well trained.”

  “This dog is almost as big as a pony. But that wasn’t the bad part,” Lisa said, resolutely bringing them back to her story. “They had a horse.”

  “A horse?” Carole and Stevie leaned forward.

  Lisa’s eyes filled with tears as she recalled the horse in CARL’s paddock. “I can’t help it,” she said. “He was the saddest thing I ever saw. His name is Sal.” She covered her face with her hands.

  Stevie and Carole put their arms around her. “CARL will take care of him,” Stevie reassured her.

  Carole remembered some of the horses she had seen when she went on rounds with Dr. Judy Barker. One had caught tetanus from a filthy stall, and died. Carole thought she knew exactly how Lisa was feeling. “I’ve seen some awful things too,” she said.

  “But this poor horse has everything wrong,” Lisa said. “Nothing’s right with him. And they’re doing everything they can to save him, but it might not be enough. Doc Tock said he might die.” She described Sal’s condition to them—his coat, his sores, his feet. “Worst of all, he just looked so hopeless. Like he didn’t expect anything good ever to happen to him. Even when I gave him grass, he didn’t look happy. He could barely eat it.”

  Carole sucked in her breath. Stevie pulled up a clump of grass and angrily threw it into the air. “It isn’t right,” she said.

  “That’s why we have to think of a good Saddle Club project,” Lisa said. “Not just some wild idea to raise money. We need an idea that will really work. It’s critical—without our help, animals like Sal don’t have a future!”

  They sat silently for a moment, thinking hard. “That’s it,” Lisa said softly.

  “What?” asked Carole.

  “The future. We can set up a fortune-telling booth on Founders’ Day. Everyone wants to know their future!”

  “Not if it’s bad news,” objected Stevie.

  “It won’t be bad news,” Lisa countered. “How could it be? We’ll be making the stuff up—we can make it only good news. We can even call the booth Horseshoe. What’s better luck than the Pine Hollow horseshoe?” She grinned at her friends.

  “I like it,” Carole said slowly. “I really like it!”

  Stevie nodded. “Me too. You know, Chad’s got an old tent from Boy Scouts that we could use for the booth. We can get some silver stars and whaddyacallems—zodiac signs—and decorate the outside.”

  “And a giant horseshoe,” said Lisa. “And a sign.”

  “I’ve got this great purple scarf that looks just like a Gypsy scarf,” Carole said. “And I think my mom had some big dangling hoop earrings—like people wore in the seventies. They’d be perfect!”

  “And my dad has a paperweight in his office that looks just like a crystal ball,” said Stevie. “I’m sure he won’t care if we use it—especially if we don’t tell him about it until after we’re done.”

  “What else do fortune-tellers do?” asked Carole.

  “They read tea leaves. We could get some tea,” suggested Lisa. “Not instant, or the stuff in bags—it needs to be loose tea, like I had in England. You get clumps of leaves left over in your cup, and you swirl them around—the swirls are supposed to mean something.”

  “Like what?” asked Stevie.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Lisa replied impatiently. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “We could get some books and try to find out. There must be books somewhere that explain this stuff.” Carole looked thoughtful.

  “Not on your life,” replied Stevie. “Between getting Belle ready for the drill and getting all of this Gypsy stuff together, I’m going to have quite enough to do this week. I certainly won’t have time to go to the library.”

  “Anyway,” interjected Lisa before Carole could begin to argue, “if we needed any sort of books, they’d be on acting, not on fortune-telling. Everyone knows that fortune-telling is just for fun. What we need to do is make our fortunes sound believable, so everyone feels satisfied and we draw a big crowd. The important thing is raising money for CARL.”

  Carole thought about this. “We’ll need cards,” she said finally.

  “You mean tarot cards?” asked Lisa.

  Carole grinned. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “since none of us can read them anyway.”

  “OHH-HH, MICHAEL! I didn’t know I was going to be lucky enough to see you today! Have you joined my riding class?”

  There were times, Lisa thought disgustedly, when Veronica diAngelo positively purred. She watched Veronica sidle Garnet up to Michael Grant’s side. Across the ring, Stevie took one hand from the reins and made gagging motions. Lisa nodded and made Delilah trot across the ring, away from the revolting pair.

  As she passed them she could hear Michael say in a perfectly ordinary tone, “No, I haven’t joined your class. This is an extra Horse Wise practice.”

  “You mean you’re doing that stupid drill—I mean, you’re practicing your drill exercise?” Veronica asked him, fluttering her eyelashes alluringly.

  “Looks like she’s got a twitch,” Stevie said to Lisa.

  “Well!” Everyone could hear Veronica’s reply to Michael’s murmured assent. “I’m not sure why I wasn’t told! After all, this is supposed to be my riding lesson!”

  Lisa knew exactly why Veronica hadn’t been told—because of her earlier tantrum, she’d left Horse Wise too soon to hear Max announce the extra drill practice. Max, however, was conciliatory.

  “I should have called to tell you the schedule changed,” he said to Veronica. “Since you’re already in the saddle, why don’t you just ride around the ring? You know the drill well enough to stay out of everyone’s way. Afterward, I’ll set up some cavalletti for you and Garnet to work through.”

  That, thought Lisa, was more than fair. Veronica, however, didn’t seem to agree. With her nose held high, she began riding Garnet in circles around the ring—regardless of where the other Pony Clubbers were riding.

  “Hey!” shouted May, pulling Macaroni to a halt as Veronica cut directly in front of her. “You’re in my way!”

  “Sorry,” Veronica said sarcastically. “Max, this just isn’t fair. I don’t have room.”

  “You need to make room for the drill, Veronica, not the other way around.” Max sounded measurably less agreeable than he had the first time, Lisa thought.

  “Excuse me, Stevie.” Veronica next swung Garnet’s hindquarters around in front of Belle.

  “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” Stevie warned her. She transferred her crop from her outside to her inside hand and gave Veronica a meaningful glare. A crop was a mild type of whip used to get a horse’s attention when it misbehaved or wasn’t listening. Crops were short, but long enough, Lisa guessed, for Stevie to whack Veronica with hers if she tried. Lisa grinned in admiration. Sometimes she wished she could be as bold as Stevie.

  She had her chance a few minutes later, when Veronica cut in front of her. Imitating Stevie, she said not a word in reply to Veronica’s insincere apology—she merely held her crop up, and glared. After that Veronica left The Saddle Club alone, but she continued to get in the way of the other riders.

  The worst part was that every time someone had to yank their horse to a halt to avoid hitting Veronica, it messed up the precise patterns of the drill. Several times they had to start over, and they hadn’t tried to set it to music yet. Lisa could feel the frustration mounting among the members of Horse Wise. If they didn’t relax and concentrate, they’d never be able to get it ri
ght.

  Finally, with only a few minor interruptions, they managed to get to the part where they crossed through the center. Carole, remembering her earlier conversations with Jessica Adler, felt very concerned that Jessica get it right. Jessica needed to feel that she could do it, Carole thought. As soon as she herself had crossed the center and changed directions, she turned in the saddle to watch Jessica cross.

  Penny was feeling more cooperative, and Jessica was trying hard. Carole saw her use her legs to urge, not kick, Penny, and at the same time loosen her hold on Penny’s mouth. She’s learning fast, Carole thought in admiration. She’s really getting it. Penny began to respond just as she should, lengthening her strides and covering more ground without really picking up speed—when Veronica cut through the center.

  Jessica, panicked, hauled Penny to an abrupt halt. Veronica looked down at her coolly, trotting past with perfect ease. “Haven’t you gotten this figured out yet?” she asked the little girl. Jessica, her face white, began to cry. Veronica, Carole saw with utter fury, didn’t even notice—she just swept Garnet around the corner of the ring and looked for more riders to annoy.

  Carole broke out of the drill pattern and rode Starlight to Jessica’s side. “I’ve had enough of Veronica,” she whispered fiercely. “I can’t believe what she just did to you. I’m going to ask Max to make her leave right now.”

  Jessica looked horror-struck. “No!” she cried.

  “It’s not your fault. She’s being ridiculous, and she shouldn’t be allowed to upset everyone like this.”

  “No,” Jessica begged. “Please, Carole, I don’t want Veronica to leave.” She looked even more upset.

  “Okay,” Carole said unwillingly. “If you really want her to stay, I won’t say anything to Max.” Not that Max needs me to say something, she thought. He has eyes, and surely he can see what a distraction Veronica is being.