Starlight Christmas

by Bonnie Bryant

  Then the riders prepared for the return to Pine Hollow along the much shorter route, by the road. They checked their horses’ tack, mounted, and lined up. Carole raised her hand to signal a start. At the same time their horses began walking, the riders began singing. The strains of the riders singing “Silent Night” echoed through the town after them.

  All the riders were quiet on the return ride. Carole was sure everybody was sad that the wonderful, magical ride was almost over, although perhaps not quite as sad as she was.

  She leaned forward and patted Pretty Boy on his neck. They had traveled very far together in one short evening. They’d gone from a miraculous birth in Mr. Michaels’s stable, ridden across cold pastures, rounded up three horses turned out into a paddock for a prank, examined a very mysterious disease of a certain healthy mare, and ridden through more pastures, fields, and a make-believe stable. Pretty Boy had been her companion all night and Carole was glad he had. The horse seemed glad, too, although she suspected he’d be gladder once he got his tack off and could snuggle into a warm blanket with some fresh water and feed.

  “You know,” she told Pretty Boy. His ears perked up. She was sure he could understand. “I’m awfully grateful to my friends for that silly trick they played on Veronica. Not only did it work, but it also made it possible for me to be here tonight, riding you.”

  Pretty Boy snorted. Carole thought he agreed with her and was happy about it, too.

  “THAT WAS WONDERFUL, every minute of it,” Phil told Stevie.

  “Oh, the wonderful part isn’t over yet,” she replied, leading Topside to his stall.

  “Here, I’ll give you a hand, and then you can help me with Teddy,” Phil suggested. “He’ll probably behave better if you put him on the van. You really have a special way with him. I don’t know what it is, but he trusts you.”

  Stevie shrugged. “I don’t know either. I’ve only saved his life twice,” she added slyly.

  “Well, maybe that’s it,” Phil said, and laughed.

  Phil followed Stevie into Topside’s stall and took Topside’s tack as Stevie removed it. With Phil’s help, the work went very quickly. Topside was brushed down, blanketed, watered, and fed in a matter of minutes. Then it was Teddy’s turn.

  “We need to hurry a bit,” Stevie said.

  “Not too much, I hope,” Phil said. “I haven’t seen you alone for a minute all night.”

  Stevie smiled at him. It was true. They’d been so busy playing pranks that they hadn’t been together at all.

  “As long as we don’t embarrass Teddy …” Stevie said mischievously.

  “He’s unembarrassable where you’re concerned,” Phil said. He took Stevie’s hand and led her out to the trailer, where Teddy was waiting for them.

  A.J., they discovered, had already untacked his horse, Crystal, and loaded her on the van. Stevie and Phil could give both horses hay and water when Teddy was loaded.

  Phil removed Teddy’s tack and handed it to Stevie. She stored it in the van’s tack bin and then helped Phil brush the horse and put on his blanket.

  Phil handed Stevie Teddy’s lead rope. She took him to the rear of the van and walked him straight up the ramp. He didn’t once hesitate or balk. He just followed her.

  “You’re incredible!” Phil declared.

  “You just have to show the horse you know what you’re doing,” Stevie, said, coming down off the van. “I’ll show you how.”

  “That’s not all I meant,” he told her, catching her by her hands.

  “We’ve really got to go,” Stevie said. “I mean it. This night isn’t over yet.”

  “I mean it, too,” Phil said. Then he leaned down and kissed her sweetly on the lips. Stevie was in a hurry, but she wasn’t in such a hurry that she didn’t have time for a kiss like that!

  “Merry Christmas,” he said.

  “Happy Hanukkah,” she said.

  “Stevie! Is that you?” It was Lisa, calling out the door of the stable. “Come on!”

  “We’ll be right there,” Stevie called back. She took Phil’s hand. “Let’s go. It’s time.”

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For Christmas,” Stevie replied. “But just act natural, okay?”

  Phil gave her a very strange look, but he followed her willingly.

  “LORRAINE, REMEMBER THAT you’ve got to untack Patch before you give him water and food,” Carole said. “It’s removing the tack that will make him comfortable. Patch deserves that, doesn’t he?”

  “I’m sorry, Carole. I just always forget the order I’m supposed to do things. Maybe it’s because I’m hungrier than I am uncomfortable.”

  Carole smiled. “Here, I’ll give you a hand. I think your parents are outside and I bet there’s a good Christmas Eve dinner waiting for you at home.”

  “Thanks,” Lorraine said gratefully, accepting Carole’s help.

  When Carole was sure Lorraine could finish the job herself, she took Patch’s tack to the tack room. She thought about Pretty Boy. As soon as she’d gotten inside and dismounted, she’d cross-tied him in the hallway and loosened his girth, but she’d been so busy helping the less-experienced riders that she hadn’t had a minute to attend to him other than that. He deserved better treatment.

  “Carole, I can’t get this buckle!” Meg Durham complained, asking Carole for help. Pretty Boy would have to wait. Meg did need assistance. One of the things that Carole loved about Pine Hollow was that all the riders learned to take care of the horses they rode, and the way they learned was by getting help from other riders. Most of the time, it was wonderful. Tonight, though, Carole wished she could just look after her own horse.

  “Here’s a fresh bale.” Red O’Malley, Pine Hollow’s chief stablehand, appeared, dropping fifty pounds of hay on the floor outside the stall where she and Meg were working. That was something else she had to do. Carole took the tack from Meg, stowed it in the tack room, and returned to break the bale into flakes. At this rate, she’d never talk to Max to find out where she could stable Pretty Boy for the night.

  “You need a hand?” Lisa asked.

  “I sure do,” Carole said. “All of a sudden, it seems like nobody here knows how to do anything by themselves. Or else there’s some kind of conspiracy going on to make me the last person finished here tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Lisa said. “Well, maybe not the last, exactly …” Carole knew her friend was teasing, but she wasn’t really in the mood for it. Her day with Judy was over, the Starlight Ride was finished. Now, Christmas, the day she hadn’t been looking forward to, was looming in front of her.

  “Can I give you a hand, Carole?” Stevie asked, now approaching from the other side with Phil and A.J. in tow.

  “Yes!” Carole said. “Could you go ask Max where he wants me to stable Pretty Boy for the night? Mr. Michaels will come over tomorrow or the next day to pick him up. Find out where we can keep him until then, okay?”

  Lisa was about to answer when Stevie interrupted. “Why don’t you go do that yourself?” she asked.

  Carole couldn’t believe her ears. Her perfectly healthy, unbusy friend stood around offering help, and the minute she asked for the teeniest favor, this same friend, one of her two best friends in the world, flat-out refused!

  “Thanks a heap, Stevie,” Carole said, now extremely annoyed. “Is it too much to ask you to break this bale into flakes for me while I track Max down?”

  “I can probably manage,” Stevie said calmly.

  Carole stormed off. She’d about had it. If everybody in the world needed help from her, they could just go without it for a while. She had something she had to do for the horse she’d been riding. What did she need with their trouble and their silliness and forgetfulness? So what if Lorraine was hungry? What about Carole? So what if Meg couldn’t handle the buckle on her horse’s saddle? What about Pretty Boy’s saddle? She was tired of being the stable slave! And when her own friend treated her like that, well—

  “Hi, C
arole,” her father said.

  “Dad! What are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought I was meeting you at the Lakes’—although the way Stevie’s acting, I’m just as glad we don’t have to go there.”

  “I think the way they say it in the movies is, ‘I just happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.’ ”

  “I’m glad,” Carole said, and hugged him. He hugged her back. It was hard to be angry at anybody when her father was there.

  “Did you have a good time on the Starlight Ride?” Colonel Hanson asked.

  “Oh, yes! It was great. And I have so much to tell you about everything—about my day with Judy, about the ride, about all these funny pranks my friends were pulling, about this horse I got to use—oh, the horse.” Suddenly, Carole remembered that she had something more important to do than to chat with her father. “Can you wait a few minutes? Then I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Sure I can wait, hon,” Colonel Hanson said. “I’ve got all the time in the world just to hear about your day and this horse.”

  “Have you seen Max?”

  “I’m right here, Carole. What’s up?” Max asked, stepping out of Mrs. Reg’s office.

  “Where can I put Pretty Boy for the night?”

  “Why don’t you put him in his own stall?” Max said.

  “No, I mean Pretty Boy, the horse I borrowed from Mr. Michaels. He’ll come for him tomorrow or the next day.”

  Max shook his head. “I don’t think Mr. Michaels will come for him at all,” he said. “So put him in his own stall.”

  “What?” Carole said, and then she understood. She remembered that Mr. Michaels was selling Pretty Boy. He must have been sold to somebody who would keep him at Pine Hollow. That meant that maybe, just maybe, the new owner would let Carole ride him sometime.

  “He’s being boarded here?” she asked.

  “Yep,” Max said. “His new stall is the third one down this hallway. Show him to his room.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Carole told her father.

  She got Pretty Boy from the other end of the hall, unclipped his lead, and took him to his new home.

  There, standing by the doorway to Pretty Boy’s stall, were Stevie, Lisa, Phil, A.J., her father, Max, Mrs. Reg, Red, Lorraine, Meg, and other riders.

  “Are you all planning to study my untacking techniques?” Carole asked. She still felt a little annoyed that she was the only one working when there was so much to do.

  Carole took Pretty Boy into his stall. It was sparkling clean and very welcoming.

  “Hey, this place is all set up, isn’t it?” Carole said, noticing the new buckets and fresh grooming gear. She looked at the sea of faces staring over the half door to the stall.

  “What is going on here?” she said, now more confused than annoyed.

  “Merry Christmas, my darling daughter,” Colonel Hanson said.

  “MINE? YOU MEAN Pretty Boy is mine, to own, to keep, to take care of, to ride? Mine?”

  “That’s what the papers say, Carole,” Max said.

  Carole didn’t know who to hug first, so she started with her horse. He liked it a lot. He nuzzled her neck, and she hugged him some more as she cried with joy.

  Next, still crying, she hugged her father.

  “Oh, Daddy!” Carole said. “How could—I didn’t—I mean—”

  “You’re not making any sense, girl, so stop talking,” he said gently, returning her hug. “If you’re wondering how I knew you wanted a horse, you’re really not making any sense. All you have ever wanted was a horse. This is the time I decided you were old enough and grown-up enough to own one. If you’re wondering how I found this horse for you, well, just ask your friends. They were in on it. They’ll tell you the story. And then, if you’re wondering how you ended up riding this horse tonight, well, I have no idea. I think it’s some kind of miraculous coincidence.”

  “It was a coincidence, all right,” Max said. “But I don’t know about the miracle part. Both Judy and Mr. Michaels knew your father had bought Pretty Boy for you, so when you needed a way to get here, well, you can see what their thinking was.”

  Carole heard these words and understood them, but just barely. She had to ask, one more time.

  “Is he really mine, Dad? Really?”

  “Absolutely, one hundred percent. Your mother left me a little bit of money earmarked for you when she died. Actually, it was money she’d inherited from her own mother that she felt you should have. That’s enough to pay for your horse, to take care of him, and to board him here for a few years. In a very real sense, Carole, this is a Christmas gift to you from both Mom and me.”

  The whole thing was like a dream come true. She was happier than she could ever remember being in her whole life. She got ahold of herself and stopped crying. There was something she needed to ask Max.

  “About his name,” she said. “Would it be okay if I change it? I mean, is it registered anyplace or anything? Does it matter what I call him?”

  “His full legal name is Pretty Boy Floyd, and that’s what’s on his registration papers. That’s hard to change. However, you can call him anything you want. Horses are often called names other than their registered names and, in fact, it’s not unusual for a new owner of a horse to pick a new name. Do you have something special in mind?”

  “Well, not really,” Carole said. “It’s just that Pretty Boy seems so silly, kind of vain. It doesn’t fit him. I’d like to have a name that’s more like him—”

  “Floyd?” A.J. suggested.

  “Give me a break,” Stevie said.

  Then, for a few minutes, everybody had a suggestion. But nothing seemed quite right. Carole stood back in his stall and looked at her horse. His coat was a deep, rich brown and his black mane and tail were the velvety color of the night sky they had seen only a few minutes before on the Starlight Ride. The colors were beautiful, but they weren’t all that distinctive. What was distinctive was his marking. There, on his forehead, was the lopsided six-pointed star. Carole had her answer.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet my new horse, Starlight.”

  “Perfect!” Stevie announced.

  “Just right!” Lisa agreed.

  “Welcome to our family,” her father said.

  “Maybe that is better than Floyd,” A.J. joked.

  Carole had a lot of work to do to see that Starlight was properly groomed and bedded down for the night. It was cold out and he’d had an active evening, to say the least! She found that she loved doing everything for him just as much as she had known she would, maybe more. Starlight seemed to love it, too.

  When she was finished and her friends had completed their chores, it was time to go home. Carole hugged Stevie and Lisa and wished them Merry Christmases. She hugged Phil and A.J. and whispered thanks to them for making Garnet “sick.” She hugged Max and Mrs. Reg and thanked them for everything. But most of all, she hugged her father.

  On the way home, she told him about her day and all the wonderful things that had happened. “This is the most incredible Christmas of my whole life,” she said.

  Her father squeezed her hand. “That’s all I wanted, honey. You’ve made me happy just by being happy yourself. I don’t want to get corny or anything, but you can’t imagine the joy I felt, knowing that your mother and I had a hand in this Christmas for you. I don’t want anything else for Christmas at all.”

  Carole sat up in her seat in the car. “You’re not going to get off that easy,” she said. “You’ve got a present or two coming from me, too, you know.”

  “I do?” he said. “I didn’t see anything under the tree for me.”

  “Well, your presents aren’t under the tree,” she told him.

  “Then where are they? I’ve looked over every single inch of the house and I couldn’t find a thing!”

  Carole laughed. “If I’ve actually found a hiding place out of your snoopy reach, I have no intention of telling you where it is. After all, I may�
�repeat may—want to give you something next year, too!”

  “Drat! Foiled again!” he teased.

  Carole realized then, sitting next to her father, that she had never really had any reason to worry about Christmas. She was filled with joy because of Starlight, but she’d have had a wonderful Christmas with her father no matter what. They missed her mother, but they did have each other, and that was very special and very precious to both of them. In a way, Carole thought, that was her very best Christmas present of all.

  “HOW DID YOUR father like his socks?” Lisa asked Carole. The three girls were standing outside of Starlight’s stall, having a Saddle Club meeting on the day after Christmas.

  “He just loved them,” Carole said. “He put them on right away and didn’t take them off all day. He also liked the book and the record I gave him. The book was a history of rock from the fifties and the record went with it. He’ll be hogging the stereo all the time now. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to hear any real music after this.”

  Carole wasn’t really complaining. She didn’t mind her father’s music and, besides, she had a horse of her own so it seemed impossible that there could be anything to complain about ever again! “But enough about that. Here are your presents from me,” Carole said, handing each of her friends two boxes. “Merry belated Christmas!”

  Stevie opened the small box first. It was a pair of kid riding gloves. “You remembered!” she said, slipping them onto her hands.

  “Of course I did. I ruined your last pair rescuing Samson out of the briar patch. I had to replace them in case I ever needed to borrow them again!”

  Lisa opened the small box Carole had given her. Her present was also a pair of riding gloves, but these were string gloves, meant for warm weather. “They’re beautiful!” Lisa said. “I guess you knew, didn’t you?”

  Carole nodded. “So did Stevie,” she said. Mrs. Atwood had told both of them that Lisa’s Christmas present was a one-week trip with her parents to a Caribbean island where, among other things, there was horseback riding. The Atwoods would be leaving in two days. Carole had wanted to help outfit Lisa for the trip.