by Suzanne Weyn
“He’s not so little anymore,” Taylor told her mother.
Claire put her arm around Jennifer’s shoulders. “Bad day at the diner is actually good news,” she said.
Jennifer pulled out of her friend’s embrace to gaze at her with a puzzled expression. “Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly there in the den,” she said. “I just lost my job.”
“Exactly!” Claire cried with enthusiasm. “This is your golden opportunity. Now you can work on your catering full time and really get it off the ground. And what perfect timing! It’s the holidays, and you know that means people are having luncheons and dinners and holiday parties.”
“I’ve probably missed the season by now,” Jennifer disagreed. “People have already booked their catering.”
Claire pushed Jennifer lightly on the shoulder. “That’s no attitude. You know there are always people who wait until the last minute.”
“Mrs. LeFleur has been thinking about having a winter carnival down at the stables,” Taylor said. Mrs. LeFleur had mentioned it just the day before. It would be a fund-raiser to help the animals.
Jennifer’s face brightened with interest. “Maybe I’ll give her a call.”
“Speaking of Mrs. LeFleur,” Claire said, turning back to Taylor, “I rescued a feral cat who had a litter of kittens two months ago.” Claire held up the flyers she’d just printed out in the den. “They’re ready to be adopted out, and I don’t want to keep them with my feral cats. Their mother is wild, but the kittens can be domesticated right away.”
“Does living in a barn make them wild or domesticated?” Taylor asked.
“If people feed them and interact with them, they’re considered domesticated,” Claire replied. “Do you think Wildwood would keep them as barn cats?”
“Mice have been getting into the feed and sleeping in the hay,” Taylor replied. “Mrs. LeFleur was saying she wanted to get some cats.”
“Excellent. I’ll go down there,” Claire said.
“I’ll go with you,” Jennifer agreed. “I can see if Mrs. LeFleur wants catering help for her carnival.”
Maybe her mother’s business would boom and there would be money for entering the hunter-jumper event, Taylor thought hopefully. If things went well enough, Taylor might even find the nerve to ask her mother for money to buy winter blankets for Pixie and Prince Albert.
Taylor puffed out a plume of hot breath into the cold air, watching it fade away in front of her. She didn’t recall it being cold enough to see her breath the day before, but it was December. The holiday season was starting to get into swing. As she walked up to Prince Albert’s stall, she wondered if he had ever received a Christmas gift.
“What do you want for Christmas, boy?” she asked, stroking the horse’s black muzzle with a gloved hand. “Some treats? I know how much you like the apple-flavored ones.”
Although it wasn’t one of Taylor’s assigned days to be at Wildwood, she had decided to take the bus after school with Travis, who was going over to help Eric fix a fence. She had made sure to finish her homework during her lunch period so that her mother would allow her to go. Well, at least she’d finished most of it.
Taylor had spent all day at school looking out the window at the bright azure of the sky, thinking how nice it would be to go on a trail ride. It would start snowing soon, and with no indoor ring at Wildwood, her riding time would be sharply reduced until next spring.
A sudden, loud banging noise made Prince Albert prick his ears and look in the direction the sound was coming from. Taylor followed his gaze to the top of the hill and saw Eric holding up a piece of fallen rail while Travis tried to hammer a nail into it. Bang, bang, bang. The noise echoed through the small valley, making the horses pick up their heads in response to the strange noise. Bang, bang —
“Ow!” Travis shouted, dropping the hammer and shaking his hand in pain. Taylor winced as she watched her friend proceed to shout and jump and give the rail a swift, angry kick. Eric winced as well, putting the rail down for a moment and descending the hill to lead Travis toward the office.
The noise made Mercedes, who was mucking stalls, come toward the front of the barn, plastic pitchfork in hand. Her eyes darted around as she asked, “Is everyone okay?”
Plum, who had been quietly cleaning her new jumping saddle on the mounting block, rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we’re fine.”
“Speak for yourself! I’m surprised my thumb isn’t as flat as a pancake!” Travis shouted from the bottom of the hill, still shaking his hand in pain. Plum shrugged in response, going back to polishing her saddle.
Mercedes jerked a thumb toward the office and told Travis and Eric, “There’s a medical kit in there if you need a cold pack or something.”
Eric nodded. “Thanks. Come on, let’s get you bandaged up.”
“Stupid fence,” Travis muttered.
Taylor walked over and took Travis’s hand, examining his thumb. It was red and painful looking but not too bad. Before she could comment on it, a sight behind Travis’s shoulder caught her eye.
“Oh, my gosh!” Taylor shouted, pointing toward the paddock with Forest in it. “Spots, no!”
Everyone’s heads snapped up, looking in the direction Taylor was pointing. Spots, tail held high like a white flag, was racing toward the fence. With a spectacular leap, the small deer cleared the fence and took off in the opposite direction of the hill.
Taylor felt as if she must be in a dream. The whole sight had been so unreal. But that dreamlike feeling quickly left her as the group, except for Plum, bolted after Spots.
“Come back!” Mercedes called, but then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Maybe we shouldn’t shout. We might scare him more.”
“Yeah, let’s be quiet,” Taylor agreed.
“We can catch him when he reaches the upper pasture,” Eric suggested. “The fence gate is shut.”
Eric, Taylor, Travis, and Mercedes ran toward the upper pasture, where Spots raced back and forth along the split-rail fence. His path was obstructed, and he was looking for a way in. “We’ll catch up with him there,” Eric said confidently.
Taylor hoped he was right. She didn’t think the little deer would be so easy to catch. He was amazingly fast. And who knew he could jump like that? When had he developed that ability?
“Come on, Spots,” Eric crooned as they got closer. “Calm down. We’re here to bring you back home.”
Spots stopped his panicked race. The sound of Eric’s reassuring voice seemed to soothe him. His large ears rose high on top of his head. His white tail flicked alertly.
The group approached, slow and cautious. Instinctively, they fanned out into a semicircle around the little deer.
Suddenly, a cold wind blew, rattling the trees. Spots lifted his head higher, almost as if the wind had carried some scent to him.
Taylor jumped back, startled as Spots abruptly took a quick sprint. And then, lifting his front legs, he sailed over the pasture fence.
Instantly, Travis threw himself on the gate, yanking it open. The group ran into the pasture, but Spots dashed into the woods. Before they knew it, Spots was out of sight.
“We have to find him!” Taylor cried.
“But how?” Travis asked, still holding his thumb. “Deer are way faster than we are!”
Eric craned his neck, still looking around. “Well, maybe it was time for Spots to go, anyway. I mean, he was getting pretty big. He hardly even had spots anymore.”
It surprised Taylor that Eric was taking this so well. He had spent more time with Spots than any of the rest of them.
Taylor wished she could feel as accepting as Eric seemed to be, but her stomach was in a knot of worry. Recalling what Claire had said just made her all the more nervous. “But Spots can’t survive on his own! Claire told me that the other day. He’s never learned how. We’ve had him for too long.”
The group exchanged anxious looks as they began to make their way back to the barn. Mercedes chewed her lip for several minutes before spe
aking. “Let’s all tack up and go look for Spots. Travis, since you don’t ride, you can stay here in case Spots comes back.”
“But how will you catch him?” Travis asked.
There was a pause. How would they manage this?
“Did I ever tell you guys I know how to lasso?” Mercedes said.
Everyone stopped walking and stared at her incredulously.
“I spent a summer at my uncle’s ranch in Texas, helping him with the cattle,” she explained with a shrug, as if it was no big deal. “He taught me and I got pretty good.”
When the group reached the barn, they saw Mrs. LeFleur talking to Plum, who hadn’t moved from her tack-cleaning station. The barn’s owner was a short woman in her early sixties. She had a mop of short, curly brown hair and wore very thick eyeglasses. Today she’d thrown a heavy plaid scarf over her usual barn jacket and had on a pair of work gloves.
“Mrs. LeFleur!” Mercedes called as soon as they were within earshot. “Spots jumped the fence and is missing! We’re going to go ride after him and try to find him.”
Mrs. LeFleur nodded. “Plum told me. You have my permission; just be careful. Bring phones with you. The last thing I need is for Spots and you all to go missing.”
“You should come with us,” Eric suggested to the ranch owner. “You know the area better than we do.” He was right. Taylor remembered that Mrs. LeFleur had spent her childhood right here where the ranch was.
Mrs. LeFleur shook her head quickly back and forth, making her thick-framed glasses wiggle on her face. “No, no, that’s all right. I’ll stay here and see if Spots comes back. I have paperwork to do.”
Taylor was about to press her to come with them but remembered that Mrs. LeFleur didn’t ride anymore, despite the fact that she loved horses. Taylor had suspected for a while that it had something to do with Jim LeFleur’s accident.
Taylor’s father, who had known Mrs. LeFleur and Jim, her son, when he was a boy, told Taylor that he’d never seen Mrs. LeFleur — who had once been a prize-winning jumper — on a horse again after that day.
“Plum, what about you? Could you get Shafir ready and come with us?” Eric asked, looking down at his cousin.
Plum just kept polishing her saddle, not looking up as she shook her blonde head. “No, thanks.”
“But Spots can’t survive on his own. We could use an extra set of eyes,” Taylor said. Her worry about Spots overruled her dislike of asking Plum for anything.
“I said no, thanks,” Plum sneered, looking up at the group with a glare. She began polishing her stirrup leathers and added, “I have work to do here. And you’re never going to find that deer.”
“Whatever, that’s fine,” Mercedes said, taking charge of the group once again. “We’re wasting time. Come on, let’s go.”
Mercedes, Taylor, and Eric hurried to get their horses, quickly grooming and tacking them. Within ten minutes they were mounted and ready.
Mercedes, on Monty, was the first one outside the stable. When Taylor rode Prince Albert out, Mercedes was already practicing lassoing a fence post. She would raise the lasso above her head, twirl it around a few times, and then send the rope flying through the air to land with the post in its center.
“I’ll lead, since I have the lasso,” she said, walking Monty forward, lifting up the lasso and freeing the post. Eric, mounted on Jojo, and Taylor nodded.
“Be careful, you three!” Mrs. LeFleur called after them. “Don’t do anything foolish!”
“We won’t!” Taylor called back, watching for a moment as Mrs. LeFleur pursed her lips and straightened her glasses, then headed back into the office.
The three riders cut through the upper pasture and into the woods in the direction they had last seen Spots. The cold, fallen leaves crunched beneath the horses’ hooves as they made their way along the winding trails. Taylor zipped up her jacket — it was even colder in the woods since the sun couldn’t shine through the thick trees. She squinted through the slanting shadows, trying to look for signs of Spots. Deer blended in almost seamlessly into the woods, which was perfect to protect them from predators, making it hard to find their tan hides among the brush.
After more than an hour of squinting, straining, and huffing and puffing up and down the wooded hills, Taylor was beginning to lose hope.
Eric looked around and sighed. “Hey, guys, it’s getting dark. We should probably turn ba —”
“Shh! Look!” Mercedes hissed, and pointed to a small clump of brown fur about fifty feet away from them.
The group stopped walking and fell silent, not wanting to scare Spots off. Mercedes pressed her finger to her lips and looked back at Taylor and Eric, who kept quiet and still on their mounts. Mercedes silently readied the lasso in her hand, focusing her eyes on Spots.
Mercedes crept forward with Monty, trying to be as stealthy as possible. The horse let out a low exhale of breath, a stream of white air spluttering from his nostrils. With that, Spots jumped to his feet and stared at the horse, eyes wide and white tail held high. Mercedes and Monty were only about twenty feet from Spots now, and all three of them froze. Mercedes and Spots locked eyes.
“Hyah!” Mercedes shouted suddenly, breaking the standoff, kicking Monty into a canter, and raising the lasso above her head.
Spots turned and leaped off into the deeper woods. Mercedes and Monty galloped after the deer, Mercedes twirling the lasso above her head.
Taylor watched, holding her breath, as Mercedes and Monty thundered down the trail, coming closer and closer to Spots.
Soon Mercedes was right behind the racing deer. With a flick of her wrist she let the lasso fly toward him.
“Darn!” Mercedes shouted, bringing Monty to a halt. Spots had darted off the trail and up a nearby hill at the last moment. Taylor and Eric loped up behind Mercedes. Taylor craned her neck to see what Mercedes had caught.
“No one panic,” Mercedes said flatly, with dry humor. “This pine tree is totally under control now.”
Taylor looked down to see the lasso firmly holding on to a small evergreen. “We were looking for Spots, not a sapling!” Taylor cried.
“I know!” Mercedes spat back, and then hung her head in disappointment. “I tried,” she added weakly.
“Oh, hey, you tried your best,” Taylor assured her sincerely. “Really, you were awesome.” She’d known Mercedes was an amazing rider, but this display had been more than she’d thought even Mercedes was capable of.
“Maybe Spots will come back to the barn when he gets hungry,” Eric suggested, turning Jojo back down the trail.
Taylor nodded in agreement, following after Eric. “I guess that’s why no one ever goes deer hunting with a lasso. Too hard.”
“No kidding,” Mercedes said, coiling her lasso back up and putting it around the horn of her Western saddle. “Steers are a lot bigger, slower, and not usually surrounded by trees.”
The search party wound their way through the woods and back to Wildwood Stables. As they got back to the barn, they heard the steady rhythm of a horse being worked at a canter. Taylor noted the three-beat sound of the gait and wondered who would be riding this late into the evening. She turned a corner to see Plum riding Shafir over a jump course of verticals, cross rails, and oxers. The chestnut horse was whizzing around turns and rollbacks, sweating and breathing hard despite the frosty air.
The lights in the ring cast their glow on Plum’s determined face as she set her sights on the next jump. Shafir went sailing over an oxer as Plum leaned forward, into two-point, reaching her arms up the horse’s neck. As Shafir cleared the jump, she returned to her former position.
Taylor looked at Eric for an explanation. “Why is she working Shafir so hard? It’s pretty cold and late for this.”
“Plum is determined to win the next competition at Ross River Ranch,” Eric said, dismounting Jojo and loosening the cinch. Taylor did the same, bringing Prince Albert’s reins over his head.
Taylor’s jaw dropped. This was such unexpected news
. “But the beginner level is full, I thought,” she said, patting Prince Albert on the neck absentmindedly.
“I guess she decided that she’s ready to try some of the higher levels, then,” Eric replied with a shrug.
“What? Really? But she knows I’m trying the harder levels!” Taylor exclaimed, suddenly much more nervous about the tougher competition.
Eric turned and looked at Taylor. “You know Plum shouldn’t have even been in that lower level during the last show, right? And you beat her then, so why are you worried? Really, though, I don’t think Plum even cares that you’ll be there.”
Or does she? Taylor thought. Maybe she does care … about not letting me win again.
On Friday, after school, Taylor rode her bike down Wildwood Lane and for the first time noticed that the evergreen trees seemed more prominent than before. The towering pines now stood out among the other leafless trees and kept the area from looking too barren. But they were a reminder that the official start of winter was only a few weeks away.
Taylor came to the sign that marked the entrance to Wildwood Stables. Someone — probably Mrs. LeFleur — had wrapped a spray of holly around the chain that held the sign that announced:
WILDWOOD STABLES
HOME OF HAPPY HORSES AND PONIES
ALL EQUINE LOVERS WELCOME!
Horses Boarded * Riding Lessons * Trail Rides Available
Taylor fought the urge she felt each time she read this sign, which was often. She always wanted to take a permanent marker and add on a last line that said: The Best Place on Earth.
It was what she truly felt about Wildwood. The ranch was a special place where only good things happened. Where else could a homeless horse and pony like Prince Albert and Pixie be taken in and treated so well? And at what other horse ranch could a girl like Taylor, whose family didn’t have a lot of money, have her own horse and learn to ride and jump for free? Wildwood had even made it possible for her to win the lessons with the renowned Keith Hobbes.
Wildwood Stables was really a magical spot.
