Pocket Pegasus

by Susan Stafford

  “I dunno. He goes to our school, but he’s a grade ahead. He was in my 7/8 math class. Calls himself Blood or Blade or something weird. Maybe he’s a stalker.”

  The pair soon forgot about their watcher and spent the rest of the trip home chatting about the show, Laura’s job and the prospects for avoiding boredom for the rest of the summer. As they stood by the back doors of the bus, waiting for it to slow to a stop, Laura said, “Hey, I nearly forgot. Mrs. Leeds asked me to work the horse show at the fairgrounds this Sunday. Do you wanna come? Banbury Cross is taking two horses. It’ll be fun.”

  Without taking his gaze off the floor, Blade smiled. The fairgrounds on Sunday, he thought. I’ll see you there, girls. Be sure to bring your little friend.

  CHAPTER 7

  Laura could not believe how much work went into attending a horse show. The bathing, grooming, clipping, braiding, leg and tail wrapping, packing and trailering were very time-consuming, but still fun. The jittery nerves of Phantom’s and Dudley’s owners were very apparent, even though they joked and laughed and tried to look cool and collected.

  The grey gelding was entered in the hunter classes, two on the flat and two over fences, while Dudley, the event horse, would be using the jumper classes as a tune-up for his first horse trial later in the season.

  The Banbury Cross crew arrived early at the fairgrounds. The grass was still heavy with dew and the air was cool, although fiercely high temperatures were forecast for later in the day.

  “Hopefully, we can get in and get out before the heat gets too brutal,” Mrs. Leeds said cheerfully as she applied a final coating of hoof polish to Phantom’s feet.

  Laura had argued with Flash for two days that it was too risky to let him come to the horse show. He had looked so pitiful and dejected that she had finally relented. “Well, as long as you really behave this time. No stunts like at the model fair. Promise?”

  Flash promised.

  And he did behave – at first. He hid behind a hay bale on the storage shelf in the front of the trailer, where he could safely look through one of the louvered vents on either side. But he quickly grew bored, and it became very warm in the enclosed space as the sun beat down on the open field which served as a parking lot.

  Once the entourage of girls and horses left for the show ring, Flash decided it was safe to come out of hiding. He peered out the back of the empty trailer, was satisfied that no one was watching, and fluttered to the limb of a nearby tree. The shade and slight breeze were a welcome respite from the muggy warmth of the trailer.

  Flash’s movement was witnessed, however, by the same pair of jealous dark eyes that had watched his antics at the convention centre. Blade, looking quite out of place in his long black coat, black jeans, piercings and clunky silver jewellery, had been wandering among the parked trucks and trailers, searching for some logo or lettering identifying Banbury Cross Stables. He had just spotted the bright red pickup when Flash’s departure caught his eye.

  From his perch in the elm tree, Flash spied some sweet feed which had been spilled in the grass beside the trailer. Folding his wings, he swooped down and began to devour the tasty treat, unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

  Blade slunk stealthily along the far side of the Banbury Cross trailer while Flash, totally engrossed in his snack, took no notice. He was startled when the fishnet Blade had concealed under his coat fell around him like a shroud. His first reaction was to flee upward, but the escape route was blocked by netting. He succeeded only in tangling the tips of his strong wings in the unyielding mesh.

  The net was flipped over, and Flash was now on his back, legs flailing, while Blade reached carefully inside, trying to avoid the kicking hooves and snapping teeth as the little horse fought for his life. The boy finally got a secure grip on his captive’s midsection, then hoisted him out of the net and into a waiting drawstring bag which he quickly sealed shut.

  Flash was in despair. Inside the bag it was pitch dark and smelled like feet. His wings were aching from trying to break free. Blade was moving now, and Flash was being bumped with every one of the boy’s long strides. The movement, the fear and the smell were making him nauseated, but he tried to keep his thoughts clear. He heard the voice of the announcer over the PA system getting louder and realized they were approaching the front gate. He was being kidnapped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “HELP!” he shrieked in his loudest voice. “HELP ME!!”

  The movement stopped abruptly and the bag dropped to the ground. The drawstring loosened, and as daylight flooded into the bag, Flash saw his chance. He burst upward through the small opening and past the awestruck Blade, who was in shock from the sound of the voice that had come from the sack.

  “It can talk?!” he yelped.

  Flash rocketed straight upwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the boy, while scanning the area for some sort of cover. Luckily, the incident had not drawn any attention, as most eyes were focused on the action in the show ring.

  Flash landed on the flat roof of a nearby utility shed and ducked behind the outer edge, heart beating so loudly he felt sure his would-be kidnapper could hear it. Blade paced back and forth wildly, looking upward, eyes squinting against the sun, and cursing loudly.

  The second of the over-fences hunter classes was finally wrapping up. Phantom had produced two spectacular rounds, winning the first class and appearing to have the second one well in hand. They had earned ribbons in both flat classes as well. The championship was within reach – a very successful day for his owner, Kerry-Lynn.

  Before the winners were pinned, Laura and Krissy headed for the trailers to make sure that fresh water and a full haynet were waiting for the gelding when he returned. Laura sensed that something wasn’t right as soon as they reached the parked rig. A single, silvery white feather lay in the grass. She wrenched open the man-door at the front of the trailer and peered inside. It took a second for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

  “Flash?” she said, voice wavering, and then, panicking. “Flash?”

  There was no reply.

  “Pssssst.” The soft, sibilant sound came from behind and above Laura.

  She spun, looking up. At first she could not see the small form standing precariously on a high tree limb. “Flash! What are you doing up there?”

  Flash glanced left and right, eyeing his surroundings nervously. “It was that boy. That awful boy. He tried to steal me, but I managed to escape.”

  “What boy?” Laura asked, chest tightening with fear. “What boy!?”

  Flash decided it was safe enough to come down from his high perch. He landed on the trailer fender. “I don’t know where he came from, but he trapped me in some sort of net and placed me in a dreadful, smelly bag.”

  Laura crouched down and inspected the little horse at eye level. He looked dishevelled, but otherwise uninjured – “Like he was rode hard and put away wet,” as her mother liked to say.

  “How did you escape, exactly?” Laura asked.

  Flash avoided her gaze. “I, uh, outsmarted him.”

  “Outsmarted him how?” Laura was getting annoyed at his evasiveness, but was equally sure she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  “I called for help, and I guess it startled him–”

  “You spoke in front of this person?” Laura was horrified. “Do you realize what this means?”

  Krissy stepped in to diffuse the tension. “What did this boy look like, the one who kidnapped you?”

  Flash fluffed his sore wings. “He was dark-haired and very pale, and had some sort of shiny ring through his eyebrow. He was dressed all in black and wore a long black coat.”

  The girls looked at each other. “The scary kid on the bus!” they said in unison.

  Approaching voices snapped the trio back to the present. Flash darted back to his hiding place in the trailer, while the girls scrambled to fill Phantom’s haynet. Gabrielle and Dudley walked in from the other direction, returning from
the warm-up ring.

  For the next forty-five minutes the girls were totally absorbed. Phantom had to be washed down and cooled out, while the big bay warmblood, prior to his trip to the jumper ring, needed a final wipe-down, coat of hoof polish and mouth de-slobbering, a task Krissy found particularly disgusting.

  Flash promised to stay hidden, and this time he was so frightened and frazzled that Laura actually believed him. She fetched a cupful of water for the little guy before she and Krissy went back to the show ring. She was certain he must be thirsty after his ordeal.

  Dudley did not fare quite as well as his stablemate in the jumper classes. He seemed strong and unruly in the three-foot class, pulling poor Gabrielle’s arms out of their sockets as he hauled her around the ring. In response, she schooled him mercilessly between classes. The result was a listless and sloppy second trip, with two rails down.

  Gabrielle was discouraged, but still managed to smile and pat Dudley’s sweaty brown neck. “Oh well,” she sighed. “My bad. Cross-country’s always been his best phase anyway.”

  Worried that the goth kid would return to cause more trouble, Laura and Krissy constantly scanned the crowd at ringside and for anyone wandering near the trailers, until they were satisfied he had fled the showgrounds.

  It was an exhausted and grimy troupe that pulled into the stableyard at Banbury Cross. Laura had never felt so bone-weary in her life. She desperately needed a shower to rinse off the layer of sticky show dust that seemed to cling to every square inch of her body.

  Once the horses were all squared away in their stalls with fresh hay and their tendons tingling with astringent wash, Laura placed a call to her mother to come and retrieve her and Krissy.

  “Well, you’ve really done it this time,” Laura admonished Flash. They were waiting under a tree near the end of the driveway, enjoying the shade and what little breeze stirred. “What if this kid tells someone about the Amazing Flying Talking Horse?”

  “Pardon me,” Flash replied calmly, “but what makes you think that anyone would believe a far-fetched story like that?”

  Laura considered this. Perhaps Flash was right. Trying to convince someone you had witnessed something so completely incredible, without a stitch of actual proof, would be very difficult indeed.

  Krissy agreed. “If anyone ever asks, we have to deny everything, even if it means, well, stretching the truth.”

  Laura winced. She hated lying, yet seemed to be doing a lot of it lately.

  “But in the meantime,” Krissy continued brightly, “you’ve got to stay out of trouble, you little monkey.”

  Flash looked petulant, but wisely remained silent.

  That evening found Laura watching television with her parents, while upstairs Flash stretched out comfortably on a makeshift nest of old baby blankets in her closet between the running shoes and abandoned Barbies. Neither was aware of the shadowy figure across the street watching the house intently with bitter, narrowed eyes.

  CHAPTER 8

  Partway through the week Mrs. Leeds suggested that, if she was interested, Laura could saddle up Glory and give her a little light exercise in the outdoor arena after chores. Laura was excited – and a bit apprehensive. Her riding experience was quite limited, and she didn’t want to look clumsy or inept in front of her employer.

  Mrs. Leeds sensed her hesitation. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll be here to help you and give you some pointers, if you like.”

  Laura liked very much.

  Although Morning Glory was retired from the breeding shed, her owner still liked to ride her occasionally. “Keeps her from getting pudgy and bored,” she said. “Besides, I think she likes the attention.”

  Glory was pretty much the only horse at the farm that Laura could ride. Smidge, although he was a sweetheart, was too short even for Laura’s small frame. Alba was in foal, and Psycho was, well, too psycho for an unskilled novice.

  “One day I’m certain you’ll even be able to take Bates Motel out for a spin,” Mrs. Leeds said encouragingly.

  Laura thought that spin was the operative word in that sentence, as she watched the chestnut gelding bucking and squealing in his field.

  The session on Glory was nearly perfect. The old mare started out a bit stiffly, but soon her old joints warmed up and she began to move with fluid ease. Laura was delighted at the smoothness of her gaits and the responsiveness to her timid aids. They worked at the walk, trot and easy canter both ways around the ring, and by the end of the half hour Laura felt more confident and capable than she had in her life.

  Laura and Krissy were now in the habit of taking a walk just before sunset in order to let Flash have an airborne romp in the park under the cover of approaching darkness. The evening air was pleasantly cool on this particular evening as the girls strolled down the boulevard, the ever-present pink backpack slung over Laura’s shoulder. They settled into swings in the deserted playground and chattered idly until it was dark enough to free Flash. He exploded from the bag with a swoosh and careered through the trees to the end of the park, then slalomed back through the line of lamp posts. They were more decorative than illuminating, casting only a minimal light. The girls figured that, even if he was spotted by a passerby, he would likely be mistaken for an owl or a mockingbird.

  Laura let Flash stretch his wings and enjoy himself until it was time to head home. She uttered a quick, sharp whistle, and he responded immediately, alighting on her outstretched arm like a hunting falcon, then stepping carefully into the zippered abyss.

  “Just how long do you plan to keep that thing a secret?”

  The sudden, unexpected voice behind them caused the girls to gasp and whirl around. A figure stepped out of the shadows by the boundary hedge.

  “You!” Laura cried accusingly. “You’re the one who stole Flash!” She instinctively, foolishly, moved toward the boy, fists clenched and raised.

  For all his cool detachment and hostile demeanor, Blade looked uncertain – even frightened – for a moment.

  Laura saw the look in his eyes and stopped, lowering her hands. “Why did you do that? You could have hurt him!”

  Blade had regained some of his bravado. “You shouldn’t keep that thing all to yourself, you know. You could make a lot of money selling it or putting it in a zoo or something.”

  Laura again looked as though she would be quite happy to strike the smirking boy. “Flash is not a thing, he’s a him and he’s made of flesh and bone… and feathers. And he’s not for sale. He’ll never be for sale and if you ever come near him again you’ll be really sorry.” She stared at Blade coldly.

  Blade shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot. “I’ll tell people about him–”

  “Go ahead!” Laura shouted. “Nobody’ll believe you anyway, you freak!” She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She had never said an unkind word to anyone, but this dark and forbidding boy needed to be set straight. She spun on her heel and stalked across the park.

  Krissy gawked at her friend’s outburst, then trotted to catch up, casting nervous glances over her shoulder at Blade, who remained motionless near the swings.

  “Holy cow!” she exclaimed when they were back on the boulevard. “You really kicked his butt!”

  The colour in Laura’s flushed cheeks was fading and she looked as though she was about to cry. “He’s right, you know,” she said sadly. “Someone, someday, is going to find out about Flash and everything will change.”

  Laura had trouble sleeping that night. Flash sensed her despair and fluttered to her side on the bed. He nuzzled her hand with his soft muzzle, his warm breath leaving little moist patches on her skin.

  “May I say something?” Flash asked quietly.

  “Sure, and sorry I’ve been so bummed.”

  “This is the conclusion I have reached. I think that awful boy has a point. You could become quite wealthy by displaying me around the country, or perhaps on the television machine. Maybe even Animal Planet. You say your parents are strugg
ling to make ends meet. I could be the answer to your family’s financial problems.”

  “Oh, Flash.” Laura hugged him to her chest. “That is so sweet, but I could never do that. Not ever. It’s not about money. It would be a terrible life for you, always being stared at and forced to perform.”

  “And travelling and meeting people and being able to fly in the sunlight in the middle of the day. Yes, that would be terrible.” He looked at her sideways, a twinkle in his eye.

  Laura placed him gently on the covers in front of her. “Seriously, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Go to sleep.”

  They slept.

  CHAPTER 9

  Laura rode Morning Glory three times that week. She absorbed as much information as possible from Mrs. Leeds during each session, paying close attention to every pointer and quickly learning that when something felt right, it usually was right. She was exhilarated after each lesson and couldn’t wait for the next opportunity to ride the chestnut mare. Glory may not have been very exciting, but she was perfect for Laura, and the young girl was growing to love and trust her.

  After Friday’s lesson, Laura was allowed to take Glory out of the ring and into one of the large hayfields behind the barn.

  “Stay to the edge where the grass is worn and keep her to a walk or slow trot. Twice around will be fine – poor old Glory doesn’t get out much anymore, so this will be fun for her, too,” Mrs. Leeds said.

  Laura decided it would be best only to trot while heading away from the barn and walk once she’d passed the halfway point in the field. Much safer, she thought.

  With the warm sun on their backs, the pair trotted off through the lush alfalfa and clover. It smelled wonderful, and Laura couldn’t imagine a day more perfect. She posted to the smooth rise and fall of the mare’s trotting stride, concentrating on soft, following hands and a long, secure leg. Head up, heels down, straight line from bit to elbow, she recited in her head.