May Goes to England (Pony Tails Book 11)

by Bonnie Bryant

  Mrs. Neill appeared. “Hullo, Corey. Hullo, Jasmine,” she said. Corey thought she seemed a lot more friendly now.

  Will appeared behind her.

  “Alexander the Goat is missing,” Corey said. “We can’t find him anywhere.”

  “Maybe we should ask Macaroni,” Will said.

  “Good idea,” Corey said.

  They walked into the Grovers’ barn and there was Alexander, sound asleep in Macaroni’s stall.

  “Macaroni’s stall door is fastened,” Jasmine said. “How did he get in?”

  “And my barn door was closed. How did he get out?” asked Corey.

  “It must be magic,” said Will with a smile.

  6 Piskies Await

  May blinked and rubbed her eyes.

  From a shadow behind the beam of light came a whisper. “Piskies await. Come and meet your direful fate.”

  There was something familiar about this whisper.

  “Piskies will try you in a green pisky ring,” came the whisper.

  “And you’ll be guilty of everything,” came another whisper.

  May realized that it was Dottie and Ellie trying to scare the wits out of her.

  May yawned and said, “Hey, I’ve always wanted to meet my doom.” She swung her legs out of bed. “Lead me to it.”

  A small part of May’s brain said that maybe it was better to stay in bed. But then she decided there was no way she was going to let Dottie and Ellie scare her. She put on her jeans and sneakers and her purple windbreaker and said, “Lead me to those pesky piskies.”

  As May walked into the hall, she looked toward her parents’ room. She half expected to hear her father’s sleepy voice asking what was going on. But no voice came.

  They walked down the stairs. Dottie opened the front door.

  “Green ring, pisky thing,” Dottie said. “Soon May will be No-Thing.”

  “You guys have been watching too many cartoons,” May said.

  A full moon hung over the stable roof. The courtyard was filled with long, creepy shadows. May heard Cheddar snort behind the stable door. She would have given anything to put her arms around him and smell his warm pony smell right then. But Dottie and Ellie were walking toward the road that led up to the moor.

  May trudged behind them to the top of the hill, feeling the damp night wind brushing against her skin. She looked back toward the farmhouse. No lights were on.

  The moor looked as dark as waves in the ocean. Far off, May thought she saw a green ring.

  “Scared?” Ellie asked.

  “Totally terrified,” May said casually.

  “Piskies await. Can’t be late,” said Dottie.

  May squinted, trying to see if there really was a green ring, but Dottie and Ellie were moving away. She had to follow them.

  The trail was full of odd lumps and bumps. May knew they were just rocks, but she had to watch her feet to keep from tripping.

  “This way,” said Ellie, pointing into the dark, tangled heather.

  Are we really going to walk through that stuff? May wondered. Even during the day it was hard to manage.

  “Nervous?” Dottie said.

  “Oh, totally,” May said calmly.

  She walked into the heather. It caught at her legs and ankles. It scratched her hands. May thought about her bed. She could have been asleep right that minute if Dottie and Ellie hadn’t been such idiots.

  She followed her sisters to a hilltop. Below them was a valley of dark heather.

  They plunged down a trail. May wondered where Dottie and Ellie got the nerve to wander around the moor at night. Then she realized that they were so eager to tease her that they were temporarily brave.

  They walked through a squishy bog. They fought their way through a patch of prickly gorse. May bumped against something and almost fell.

  Over her shoulder Dottie said, “I told you to look out for those giant’s toothpicks.”

  May looked at what she’d bumped into. It was one of those tall, skinny rocks that her father had pointed out to her—a monolith, a giant’s toothpick. There are no giants, she told herself. Absolutely no giants at all.

  “Pisky doom, pisky gloom,” Dottie whispered.

  “Don’t you wish you’d picked up your room?” Ellie whispered.

  “That’s just a stupid story,” May said.

  And then she saw it. An actual green ring. It couldn’t be a pisky ring because there was no such thing as piskies.

  “She’s here. Piskies draw near,” Dottie called out to the dark heather.

  “Enter the ring, you guilty thing,” said Ellie to May.

  The heather rustled, looking like evil fingers reaching up from the ground. A cloud blew over the moon, throwing everything into darkness. The green ring was twice as bright now. May clutched her elbows. She wanted to run, but she wasn’t going to run.

  She was going to step right into that ring.

  She half closed her eyes and moved forward.

  No such thing as piskies, she whispered to herself. No such thing as piskies.

  The ring was right ahead. She raised her foot. And stepped in.

  Nothing happened. May looked down. There was something familiar about this ring. It looked like plastic.

  May realized that the ring was made of the green glow-in-the-dark “fairy wands” sold in toy stores. Dottie and Ellie must have bought them while May and their parents were having tea. Then they must have come out earlier, while May was sleeping, to make the ring.

  “Oh, piskies, yoo-hoo, I’m waiting,” May said, crossing her arms. “I’m practically dying of terror.”

  Behind her, May heard Dottie mutter, “You and your big ideas. We didn’t even scare her.”

  “It wasn’t my big idea, it was your big idea,” Ellie muttered back.

  There was a sound behind May. She turned.

  Coming over the top of the hill were wild ponies, their dark manes and tails glinting in the moonlight. Their heads were up, nostrils wide, eyes flashing.

  “Run!” Dottie yelled.

  “They won’t hurt you,” May said. But her voice was lost in the sounds of the ponies’ hooves and her sisters’ shrieks.

  Ellie and Dottie ran wildly through the heather.

  Then Ellie screamed—and disappeared.

  7 Alone on the Moor!

  May ran toward the spot where she had last seen Ellie.

  Ellie was lying in a patch of flowers, her eyes closed, her breath coming fast.

  May bent down. In the moonlight Ellie’s lips looked blue. Her face was white. May touched Ellie’s hand. Her skin felt clammy and cold. One of her feet was at a funny angle. For a second, May wanted to reach down and move Ellie’s foot so that it wouldn’t look so strange, but then she remembered that Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow Stables, said that when someone had a fall they shouldn’t be moved because that could make things even worse.

  Dottie came running up, her eyes wild. “What happened?” she said.

  “Ellie twisted her ankle,” May said, talking slowly and softly. She remembered how Max always stayed calm in an emergency.

  Ellie whimpered. “It’s broken,” she said. “I can feel it.” Tears ran out of the corners of her eyes and into her hair.

  “We’ve got to do something,” Dottie said. “Right now.” Dottie looked around as if she expected to see a telephone.

  “It’s hopeless,” Dottie said. “No one will ever find us. Ellie will go into shock. She’ll die.”

  Ellie moaned.

  May realized that this was something Ellie didn’t need to hear. “Everything is going to be fine,” she said to Ellie. “I’ll go and get help.”

  “How?” Dottie said. “We’re alone. We’re helpless.”

  “Dottie!” May said.

  Dottie stopped talking.

  “Sit down next to her. Hold her hand,” May said. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Obediently Dottie sat down.

  That was almost funny. Both Dottie and Ellie were
doing exactly what May had told them to do. Did that make her an older sister? It made her feel like an older sister. She had to act like one, too. Ellie needed help, and May was the one who could get it for her.

  “Don’t move,” she told her sisters. They weren’t going anywhere.

  May turned to the moor. It seemed vast and silent and empty, but she knew the answer was there, perhaps over the rise. Would piskies help a girl who needed to help a sister? She crossed her fingers and set out.

  May climbed to the top of the hill and peered over. The sight beneath her took her breath away. The herd of ponies grazed in the valley below, moonlight shining on their backs. Her eyes searched the herd. Then she saw him—the pony with the halter. He’d been tamed once. Would he remember?

  Here goes nothing, she thought as she walked toward them. The ponies raised their heads and looked at her curiously. They were alert and ready to take off. If they did, they’d be gone for good.

  May thought of Stevie Lake, one of the best riders at Pine Hollow Stables. When Stevie wanted to calm a horse, she’d tell it a knock-knock joke.

  It can’t hurt, May thought.

  “Knock knock,” May said.

  The ponies looked at her with dark, serious eyes.

  “Wilfred,” she said.

  The lead pony, the one that was wearing a halter, stared at her curiously.

  “Will fried eggs be okay for breakfast?” May said. As soon as she said it, she knew it was probably one of the worst knock-knock jokes ever told.

  The pony shook his head. May had the feeling he was asking if she couldn’t do better than that.

  “Hey, it was all I could think of,” she said.

  The pony switched his tail.

  “So you tell one,” she said. She put her hands in her pockets and took a step forward.

  “Come on,” she said in a soft voice.

  The pony sighed.

  “You wouldn’t believe this,” May said, taking another slow step, “but there are times I have trouble thinking of knock-knock jokes myself.”

  The pony nickered. Very gently May touched his neck. He felt like Macaroni—with the same soft pony coat.

  “I bet you know a million jokes,” she said, looking for his favorite spot. All ponies have a favorite spot.

  May moved her hand to a place behind his ears and scratched it gently. The pony looked at her with his big dark eyes as if to say, How did you know?

  May ran her hand down his neck to his back. This was the scary part. If the pony didn’t want to be ridden, he would take off. He turned and looked at her. May could tell he remembered being ridden.

  “We’re going to have a good time,” she said. “We’ll have a great ride.” She unfastened her belt and slipped it through the halter rings to make a temporary rein. The pony looked at her curiously.

  “I’m going to mount you now,” she said, running her hand along his back. She took a deep breath and climbed onto the pony’s back. The pony shivered, every muscle alert, ready to run.

  “We’ve got to go back to the farmhouse,” May said, looking out over the moor. “But where is it?” When she’d come out here with Dottie and Ellie, she’d been so busy being brave that she hadn’t looked where she was going. Now she didn’t know how to get back.

  “Home,” she said. “Wherever that is.”

  The pony stood there, waiting for her to give him a signal. She sat there wondering what to do. There was a rustling in the heather. What is that? thought May. But she stopped wondering, because suddenly the pony seemed to know which way to go. He nickered and set off over a low hill. He trotted over the hill and down into a bog. He picked his way through the muck and struggled onto dry ground.

  With each step he seemed to go faster. May clutched his mane. Something brushed her face. The moonlight was shattered like broken glass. Dark birds rose past her head, up into the moonlit air.

  “Just birds,” she said to the pony with a wobble in her voice. “I bet they were as scared as we were.” Her heart was pounding so hard that her chest hurt.

  The pony stopped suddenly and stood still as if the birds had confused him.

  “Keep going,” May said, trying to keep her voice casual.

  The pony shook his head as if he’d lost the way.

  “You can do it,” May said.

  May saw the heather tremble. It must be the wind, she thought. The pony nodded and headed off again.

  May’s hair blew back, lifted by the wind. Tears streamed out of her eyes. A rock loomed ahead. The pony jumped the rock. May thought of Max Regnery. If he could see her jumping on the moor in the moonlight, he’d be furious. May knew it was dangerous, but she also knew Ellie was counting on her and the wild pony.

  The pony was running downhill. He stumbled and lurched. With no saddle or stirrups, May couldn’t hold on. She started to fall. Suddenly the pony slowed. It was as if he knew that May would fall if he kept cantering. May grabbed his mane and pulled herself back into position.

  “Okay, boy,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  The pony galloped along a creekbed and up a hill.

  May looked down and saw the farmhouse shining in the moonlight.

  “We made it,” she said to the pony. She shook the makeshift rein, and he trotted downhill and through the farmhouse gate.

  “Mom!” May shouted. “Dad!”

  A light went on. Her mother’s head appeared at a window.

  “Ellie’s hurt,” May said. “We’ve got to get her right away.”

  A second later Mrs. Grover ran out of the farmhouse. “What happened?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

  “We went for a walk on the moor,” May said.

  “At this hour?” Mrs. Grover said. “Without telling us?”

  Mr. Grover ran out of the house.

  “What’s that?” he said, looking at May’s pony.

  “A wild pony,” May said. “He brought me home.”

  Mr. Grover noticed the belt that May had been using for a rein. “You did a great job, May,” he said. “But now you need to ride Cheddar.” He held the pony’s halter while May slid off his back. Then Mr. Grover led the wild pony into the paddock.

  May flew into the barn. Cheddar, who had missed all the excitement, yawned. “This is the biggest job you’ll ever have to do,” she said to him. “I’m counting on you.”

  She saddled Cheddar and led him out of the barn. Mr. Grover had saddled Spock, and now he was saddling a pony for Ellie to ride.

  Mrs. Grover ran out of the house with a flashlight. She handed it to Mr. Grover.

  “The moon has gone behind a cloud,” she said worriedly. “How are you going to find her?”

  “We’ll find a way,” May said.

  But when May and Mr. Grover had ridden out the farm gate and were on the road up to the moor, May turned to him and said, “Finding your way around the moor in the dark is tough. I’m not sure I can find Dottie and Ellie.”

  “You’ll do it,” Mr. Grover said.

  They walked Spock, Cheddar, and the pony to the top of the hill. When they got there, the moor was covered with white, wispy mist.

  May pressed her knees into Cheddar’s sides. “Do your best,” she said. Reluctantly Cheddar stepped into the cold mist.

  “Dad,” May said.

  “I’m here,” her father said.

  But she couldn’t see him.

  “I’ll follow the sound of Cheddar’s hoofbeats. You lead,” Mr. Grover said.

  May leaned low over Cheddar’s neck and said, “They’re near a giant’s toothpick.”

  Cheddar shook his head. He didn’t like walking in the mist. He wanted to go home.

  “It’s important,” May said to the pony. “Really, really, really.”

  Something jolted Cheddar from behind. It was almost as if someone had given him a kick in the rump. Cheddar looked over his shoulder. May looked over her shoulder. But there was no one there. Cheddar took a quick step forward, and then he began to trot.

&nbs
p; Mist blew around May’s face. It wet her hair. Her windbreaker streamed with water. May thought of Ellie lying on the wet ground. They had to get there fast.

  “Go,” she said to Cheddar.

  The pony went faster.

  They seemed to trot forever. And then they trotted more. May was beginning to give up when she heard a faint cry.

  “Dad,” she called over her shoulder. “I hear them.”

  “Lead on, May,” he said. “You’re doing a great job.”

  “Help!” came a voice.

  “We’d better get off our horses and go the rest of the way on foot,” Mr. Grover said.

  May slid off Cheddar. The ground beneath her feet was like a sponge. She couldn’t believe that Cheddar had been able to trot on it. “Good work,” she said to him. “You are a champ.”

  Carefully May and her father walked forward.

  Suddenly there was a gust of wind. The fog rose. Ellie was lying in the grass, her face dead white. Mr. Grover ran the last few steps and knelt next to Ellie. He gently felt her ankle. Ellie moaned again. “It’s broken,” he said. He looked up at May. “It’s a good thing we got here so fast.”

  He helped Ellie onto the pony. Then he gave Dottie a leg up so that she could ride double, behind May. Slowly they walked back to the farmhouse, unable to go quickly because Ellie was in so much pain.

  May wanted to help Ellie think about something besides her broken ankle, so she said, “You know, you may be right about piskies.”

  “Unh,” Ellie said. “What?”

  “Someone led the wild pony to the farmhouse. It could have been piskies,” May said.

  “Give me a break,” said Dottie.

  “Cheddar didn’t want to go onto the moor, but then something made him go anyway,” May said.

  “Your imagination,” said Dottie.

  “Piskies aren’t real,” Mr. Grover said gently. “They’re imaginary.”

  May sighed. Her father was right, of course. There was no such thing as piskies.

  When they came to the top of the road, the farmhouse looked bright and inviting. It seemed as if every window was lighted. When they got to the courtyard, Mrs. Grover was waiting with a blanket to wrap around Ellie.