Saddlebags

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Where exactly will the cattle drive take us?” Stevie asked.

  “Dad made it sound farther than it is,” Kate told her. “It’ll take us only a few hours to ride to the pasture northwest of here, where the herd is. Then we’ll sleep out. Next morning we’ll bring the herd to the back pasture near the ranch. It’s a cinch of a ride, and the herd’s not that big this time.”

  “So it’s really a one-day drive that Walter and John could handle without any help from any of us dudes, young or old,” Stevie remarked.

  “Well, that’s how we run the ranch,” answered Kate. “Guests come on a simple drive and get the feel and the thrill of riding the herd, sleeping under the stars, cooking out. You know. This same drive has been done by guests with less experience than the Saddlebags. What could possibly go wrong?”

  “Nothing, I guess,” said Lisa.

  “I’ll never forget what went wrong for me on my first drive,” said Stevie. “Remember the rattlesnake, and poor Tomahawk?”

  “Do I ever,” Carole answered with a shudder. She would never forget the day Stevie had fallen off a horse and come face-to-face with a rattler. Now it was a grim reminder of how dangerous riding without experience could be. “Our parents are definitely not prepared for the worst that could happen.”

  “I guess we just have to hope for the best,” said Stevie, “an uneventful ride, clear skies—”

  “And Saddlebags who understand how much hard work is involved,” Lisa interrupted.

  THE NEXT MORNING the girls led their parents to the corral just as John Brightstar was swinging into the saddle.

  “What he’s training for is something called reining,” Kate explained, “and it’s good for developing a superior wrangling horse, but also for shows.” She hiked herself on top of the fence. “Now watch John carefully,” she continued, “he’s going to warm up by practicing all four gaits with Tex: walk, trot, lope—which is like a canter in English riding—and gallop, or run. This is to make sure that Tex and he are perfectly balanced at all speeds, because balance is going to matter a lot later.”

  Lisa glanced at her mother. Her eyes were glazed over, as if she were still half asleep or just not interested in what Kate was saying.

  John trotted to the center of the ring, halted, and started backing up.

  “That’s harder than it looks,” said Kate, “and making it look easy is one of the most important things John’s teaching Tex. John has to lean forward a bit in the saddle, and still press his seat down. He also must pull with the reins just enough to give the signal to back up, but not so much that the horse starts to have what they call a yawning mouth.”

  Stevie looked over and saw her father stifle a huge yawn. Lisa saw it too.

  “Take a look at that yawning mouth!” Stevie whispered to Lisa. They both covered their mouths to keep from laughing aloud.

  “Now, the reason why this is difficult,” Kate went on, oblivious to the lack of attention she was getting, “is that the rider uses neck reining to pivot the horse. He doesn’t pull on the mouth at all.”

  “Does Stewball know how to do this stuff?” Stevie asked Kate.

  “Sure,” Kate answered. “That’s why he’s such a good roping horse.”

  “Can I try?” Stevie asked.

  “Sure.”

  Stevie jumped down from the fence and walked into the barn.

  Lisa shook her head in admiration of her friend. Stevie was always ready to take on a new horseback-riding challenge, no matter how difficult it looked. She had mastered some tough dressage routines for events back home; now nothing could stop her from trying this new skill. Lisa hopped down from the fence and followed Stevie and Kate into the barn.

  Carole looked around at the parents. Mrs. Atwood had wandered over to the garden, and Mrs. Lake was busily drawing a tic-tac-toe board in the dirt with her toe. Meanwhile her father was looking at some all-terrain vehicles parked in the driveway. Only Mr. Atwood and Mr. Lake remained nearby. “We’re going to try our hands at some of this stuff,” Carole told the two fathers. “Any of you guys up for a turn?”

  “No, thanks,” said Mr. Atwood, “I think I’ll save my energy for the real thing.”

  Mr. Lake shook his head no.

  So much for Kate’s plan to impress the parents with our skills, thought Carole.

  Just then Stevie rode Stewball almost all the way down the corral. She tightened the reins and sat even deeper in her seat. Immediately the horse slid his rear haunches beneath him into sort of a half kneel, and let his front legs rise off the ground for about two seconds, before coming to a full balanced stance.

  “Whoowee!” Stevie shouted. She looked around for her parents. But they were just heading back into the ranch house, not the least bit interested in their daughter’s reining technique.

  “Way to go, Stevie,” Carole called.

  Oh, well, Stevie thought. At least my friends are impressed.

  LATER, AFTER THE GIRLS had practiced backing, pivots, and sliding stops, they unsaddled and watered their horses.

  “That was great backing, Lisa,” said Kate. “I’ve never seen Chocolate do so well.”

  “Thanks,” Lisa answered. “I learned a lot from watching John, but I’m not sure how much the Saddlebags learned.”

  “They didn’t pay the least bit attention,” said Carole. “It’s too bad. A lot of those skills are essential on a drive.”

  “I guess our plan didn’t exactly work,” said Kate.

  “Nope.” Stevie looked glum. “My mother didn’t even notice how much work John’s done with his horse. She was too busy playing tic-tac-toe.”

  “Well, at least we appreciate him,” Kate pointed out. “You have to remember that not everyone is as horse crazy as the members of The Saddle Club.”

  “That’s for sure,” Carole agreed. “Come on, let’s get some lunch before the cattle drive starts.”

  STEVIE POKED HER head into her parents’ bunkhouse. “How’s the packing coming?” she asked.

  Her mother was busy laying out her bedroll: sleeping bag, change of clothes, toiletries, and a big hardcover book.

  “Oh, Mom, don’t bring the book! It’s much too heavy!”

  Mr. and Mrs. Lake both started to chuckle.

  “Aw, c’mon, sweetie, we’ve been on camping trips before!” Mrs. Lake said, rolling her eyes.

  “But this one’s on a horse! You don’t do a bedroll like that.” Stevie went to her mother and took over the job. “Where’s your towel? It should be in here too. And tomorrow’s socks are missing!”

  “Whoa!” Mr. Lake exclaimed. “Since when did you get so darn organized?”

  Stevie made a face at her father. “It’s a trail ride, Dad! You don’t want your socks falling out on the trail while you’re loping along behind some steer. And you don’t need that super-duper heavy-duty flashlight!” She went over to his bedroll and took out the four-battery flashlight he was trying to roll up into it. “Just pack the small one you brought.”

  “Okay, okay. You’re the expert, little miss.”

  “Hmph!” said Stevie, and continued helping them with their rolls. “Give me your ponchos. These are essential. They go on the outside, for easy access.”

  Mrs. Lake stood with her hands on her hips, grinning at her daughter. “Stevie, you never fail to surprise me. Around home you’re not exactly organized, but when it comes to packing for a trail ride, you are truly an expert.” She went over and gave Stevie a quick hug. “Actually, I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  CAROLE WENT TO the main house to check on her father’s packing. “Have you remembered all the essentials?” she asked.

  Colonel Hanson looked up from his packing and put his hands on his hips. “My flaky daughter is trying to organize me? Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”

  “Well, Dad, when you’re going on a cattle drive, you can’t be forgetful,” Carole answered, blushing a little. “What about that toothbrush—did you remember it?”

&nbs
p; “Are you worried about me by any odd chance?” Colonel Hanson went over and gave his daughter a hug. “Don’t be.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll stop. But only after I make sure you’ve got your poncho.”

  LISA PULLED A blow-dryer out of her mother’s bedroll. “Mom,” she said, “first of all, we’re going to be sleeping outside, remember? There’s no electricity. Second, there are no showers where we’re going, just a creek.”

  Mrs. Atwood looked sheepish. “Oh, of course,” she said.

  Lisa put the blow-dryer back in the bathroom. “Let’s leave this here.”

  “I guess I’ll just bring a scarf for my hair for the second day,” said Mrs. Atwood.

  “Good idea,” answered Lisa, moving to check on her father’s bedroll. Who knew what he had packed?

  THAT AFTERNOON ALL the cattle-drive riders assembled outside the barn. Walter and John had already tacked up their own mounts and strapped on bedrolls and equipment.

  “Your horses have all been cut,” said Walter. “Time to saddle up and secure your bedrolls.”

  Carole and Kate were the first to tack up. Once their horses were ready, they turned to help the parents.

  John smiled at Lisa as he helped her tighten the bedroll on the back of Chocolate’s saddle. “This’ll be a fun ride,” he said.

  “If my mom can learn how to do things for herself,” Lisa muttered under her breath as she watched her mother struggle to adjust her stirrups, then ask Kate for help.

  Finally all riders were ready, all horses saddled up, all bedrolls fastened on.

  “Let’s ride out,” said Walter.

  Lisa swung herself into the saddle and led the way beside John and Tex. Mr. and Mrs. Atwood followed.

  “Well, pa’dnah, looks lak wee’re finely off!” Mr. Atwood called out.

  Lisa cringed. “I’m not related to the man who said that,” she murmured.

  “They’re dudes—what do you expect?” John said softly.

  Lisa grinned in spite of herself. “You’re right,” she said. She was glad to be riding with John—even if her parents were dudes. If he didn’t mind, why should she?

  Stevie and Carole fell into line behind their parents, with Walter bringing up the rear behind them.

  “Wait till my father launches into his favorite cowboy—” Stevie began.

  “ ‘As I was out walking the streets of Laredo …,’ ” Mr. Lake started in at the top of his lungs as if on cue.

  When he finished the verse, he took off his hat, waved it in the air, and said, “Go west, young man! I mean, young woman! I mean, young people!”

  Colonel Hanson looked back at him and said, “Hey, what about this one, ‘Whoopee-ti-yi-yo, git along, little dogies …’ ”

  “Oh, well.” Carole sighed. “At least they’re all making fools of themselves.”

  “True,” said Stevie. There was no way she’d argue with that.

  SOON THE COWBOY songs tapered off, and the riders grew quiet. Lisa gazed at the scene spread out in front of her. In the distance rose the jagged, snow-covered peaks of the Rockies. Before her was an enormous stretch of flat grazing fields. How could pastures get this big? Lisa wondered. Back in Virginia, meadows and grazing fields seemed tiny compared to this.

  Suddenly Lisa remembered her parents, and felt glad to be sharing this scene with them. She turned around, and sure enough, her mother looked awed as she took in the incredible scenery and pointed out different things to Mr. Atwood.

  As the riders reached the end of one stretch of grazing land, the trail turned slightly to the north, following the base of a small hill. John and Lisa brought their horses to a trot as they rounded the hill, and the others followed.

  John and Tex slowed to a walk as the land started sloping downward. It became dry and rocky.

  “We have to cross this creek bed, or arroyo, as they call it,” John explained, “so that we can ride up on the herd at the right angle.”

  Lisa followed, motioning over her shoulder for the rest of the group to come along. The ground underfoot was covered with large rocks and small stones and pebbles. “Take it slow,” she called to those behind her.

  The horses carefully picked their way across the stony, dry creek bed.

  At the very bottom of the arroyo, a tiny stream of water flowed through. John stopped and let Tex stretch his head down to drink the cool water. “We’ll stop here tomorrow on the way back too, to water the cattle.”

  All the riders followed suit, stopping to let their horses have a drink. Then John and Lisa led the group in a trot to the far northwest grazing lands.

  Lisa felt much better about her parents’ riding than she had yesterday, or even that morning. That afternoon they’d seemed impressed by the landscape and followed John’s instructions without a single problem or joke. She looked back, and gave a thumbs-up to Stevie.

  Stevie returned the signal, flashing Lisa a huge grin. Obviously Stevie felt relieved too.

  So far so good, Lisa thought.

  JUST AS THE sun began lowering into the west, the group from the Bar None reached the top of a little ridge. Below them, the herd of cattle stood grazing peacefully in the late afternoon sun. The riders lined up at the edge of the hill and silently watched the scene.

  Mr. Lake broke the silence, crooning, “ ‘Oh give me a home, where the holsteins roam—’ ”

  “Dad,” Stevie interrupted, “you’re getting so predictable!”

  “Okay,” he said, “how about this one, ‘From this valley they say you are going—’ ”

  “All right, let’s start down,” John interrupted.

  Riders and horses reached the campsite as the sun met the western horizon.

  Everyone dismounted, unsaddled their horses, and followed John and Walter’s lead, laying the saddles out in a line.

  John and Lisa took the food and equipment packs over to the open fireplace. Carole, Kate, and Stevie stayed to help Walter water and feed the horses.

  Carole pulled a hoof pick out of her pocket and started checking all the horses’ hooves for stones, one by one. She looked up from her work and noticed the parents milling around near the campsite.

  “It’s a good thing for these tired horses that someone knows horse care around here,” she said, digging dirt and stones out of Yellowbird’s hoof.

  Stevie set down the two water buckets she was carrying. “And I’m sure all this work would go a lot faster if everyone helped out,” she put in with a pointed look in the parents’ direction.

  When Stevie was returning from the creek with her eighth serving of water, she looked up to see her father coming their way. True to form, he was whistling a cowboy tune.

  “Did you ever think of a career in country music instead of law?” she asked.

  “How about as a cowpoke?” was his answer. “Whatchou pardners doin’ over heyar?”

  “C’mon, Dad, every cowboy knows horse care is no joke,” answered his daughter. “No rest until these horses are completely taken care of. That’s Max’s rule too. Horse care before people care.”

  “Need any help?”

  “Sure,” Stevie answered, handing him two buckets. “Works better if you fill them two at a time,” she said.

  “Got it, pardner,” he replied.

  After the horses were watered and fed, Carole picked up a brush and handed it to Stevie’s father. “The last thing to do is brush some of this trail dust off the horses.”

  “Brush with the hairline,” instructed Stevie, “and, most important, the saddle area and the legs. Here’s a sponge and scraper for the really sweaty places.”

  “What about water?” asked Mr. Lake.

  “There’s a bucket,” Stevie said, pointing. “And there’s the stream.”

  Mr. Lake helped the girls until the last horse was watered, fed, cleaned up, and content. Then he took Stevie’s hand and they walked over to the campsite together. She was happy he’d realized it was time for everyone to pitch in, no matter how tired the riders were.
In fact, she was so pleased, she almost started whistling “The Streets of Laredo” herself.

  OVER BY THE fireplace, which was actually a small circle of rocks on the ground, Lisa and John were hard at work.

  Together they had gathered wood, laid the fire, and lit it. John pulled a folded metal grill from one of the packs. Then they moved stones around so the grill would fit securely on top of the fire.

  John stood up and surveyed their handiwork. “Looks like it’ll be hot enough soon.”

  “I didn’t realize how starving I was till just now,” Lisa answered. As she turned to get the food out of the pack, her mother walked up.

  “How’s everything coming along?” she asked.

  “The fire’s almost ready for grilling,” answered Lisa. “Would you like to help make supper?”

  “Sure,” said Mrs. Atwood, “just put me to work.”

  The three of them formed a cookout assembly line. Lisa took out hot dogs and prepared hamburgers for the grill, while John stood over the fire, cooking the meat. Mrs. Atwood prepared plates with buns and rolls, then took the food when it was ready and added relish and ketchup.

  “Chow time!” Mrs. Atwood called. Then she passed around the first few plates of freshly grilled supper.

  Lisa was the last one to sit down and eat. Hungrily, she took a bite of hamburger. Mmm, she thought. Nothing tastes better than campfire food.

  It was also nice to see that her mother had figured out there was more to ranch life than kick-and-yank riding, and always being waited on.

  After she finished eating, Lisa checked the food pack again. “Save room for dessert!” she called. And she took out of the pack a box of chocolate bars, a box of graham crackers, and some rather crushed marshmallows.

  “S’mores!” Stevie shouted. “Everybody get a roasting stick!”

  This time even the parents moved quickly. No one wanted to miss out on the delicious campfire treats.

  AFTER S’MORES THE group began telling ghost stories. Lisa watched John as he got up and silently started clearing the tin plates and cups. She wondered if he had volunteered for cleanup so he wouldn’t have to take a turn at storytelling. But she knew he was a good storyteller—she’d heard him before. Maybe he felt a little shy around the grown-ups. She stood and began picking up the remaining dishes.