Carole looked hopeful. “Do you think that could be it?” she said. Before Stevie could respond, she answered her own question with a definite nod. “That’s got to be it!” she said. “There’s no other explanation.”
“Come on, let’s call the stable and find out,” Stevie said, jumping to her feet and digging in her pocket for a quarter.
Red O’Malley picked up the phone at Pine Hollow. He said he hadn’t heard a word from Lisa all day. Neither had Max or Mrs. Reg. Red even put Stevie on hold for a moment to call up to Max’s house and check with Deborah. Nobody had received a call from Lisa.
Next the girls tried their own houses. Their parents reported that there had been no messages from their friend. Then the girls dialed Lisa’s home number. There was no answer.
Stevie hung up and stared at Carole. “I don’t like this,” she said. “Where could she be?”
“We’d better try to call that girl, Marguerite,” Carole said. She was really starting to worry. She tried to tell herself that it was probably nothing, that Lisa must have just forgotten about their meeting. But that was so unlike Lisa that Carole couldn’t make herself believe it.
Stevie picked up the phone again. It didn’t take long to get the Millses’ home number from directory assistance.
“Thank goodness they’re listed,” Carole commented. “A lot of times those rich, snooty people aren’t.”
Stevie just nodded and pressed the phone closer to her ear as it rang in the Millses’ house. Two rings, three, four …
“Thank you for calling. Jeffrey, Roberta, and Marguerite aren’t available to take your call right now, but …”
Stevie slammed the phone down in frustration before the recorded message could finish. “They’re not there,” she said. “I got the answering machine.”
“What are we going to do?” Carole asked. “Do you think something is wrong?” All kinds of terrible images crowded into her mind. Lisa in a car accident. Lisa in a riding accident. Lisa getting sick and being rushed to the hospital … It was scary to be so positive that something was wrong but not to know anything for certain.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Stevie said. “Her mom probably dragged her off to tea at the White House or something.”
But Carole could tell by the frown on Stevie’s face that she didn’t believe that any more than she did. “I’ve got it!” she said suddenly. “Why don’t we call that stable? The one where she was supposed to go riding.”
Stevie snapped her fingers, and her face brightened slightly. “Brilliant!” she said. “That should tell us something. Now, what was the name of it again?”
“Fox Crest Farms,” Carole said promptly. “I remember it, because I’d never heard of it before.” She smiled a little. “Also because it sounded like the kind of name that someone snobby like one of Lisa’s mother’s friends would think was classy.”
Stevie was already dialing the number for directory assistance again. Soon she was waiting for someone to pick up at the stable.
“Hello?” said a bored-sounding male voice after several rings.
“Hello!” Stevie said. “Um, is this Fox Crest Farms?”
“Yeah,” the voice replied. “Who’re you calling for?”
“My name is Stevie Lake, and I—” Stevie cut herself off. This was no time for niceties like proper introductions. She started again. “I’m looking for a girl named Lisa Atwood.”
“Sorry, never heard of her,” the voice said. “You must have the wrong stable.”
“Wait!” Stevie cried before the person could hang up. “You don’t understand. She doesn’t usually ride there. She was there this afternoon as the guest of someone named Marguerite Mills.”
“Oh, Marguerite!” For the first time the voice sounded a little livelier. “Sure, she’s a friend of mine. Hold on, she’s just down the hall. I’ll get her.”
Stevie let out a sigh of relief as she heard the phone clatter down on the other end. She quickly filled Carole in on what was happening, then waited.
Finally she heard someone pick up. “Hello?” chirped a perky voice. “This is Marguerite. Who’s this?”
“Hi there,” Stevie said. “I’m a friend of Lisa’s. Lisa Atwood.”
“Oh.” Marguerite didn’t sound very impressed. “Yeah? She’s not here anymore.”
Stevie’s heart sank. She realized that she had been hoping with all her might that Lisa would still be with Marguerite. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Marguerite said impatiently. “My friends and I have been hanging out here for hours now, and I haven’t seen her. Besides, she said something about catching a bus back to Willow Creek.”
“Yes,” Stevie said, “but she’s not here.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. “Um, do you happen to know which bus she was taking? What time, I mean?” She could see that Carole was listening breathlessly to her side of the conversation, fingers crossed on both her hands.
“I have no idea,” Marguerite replied. “I think it was probably around three o’clock or so when we split up out in the woods, so—”
“Split up?” Stevie interrupted. Her mouth was dry all of a sudden. “What do you mean, split up? You left her out on the trail alone?” All of Max’s lectures over the years about riding safety flashed into her mind. Never ride alone. Always tell someone where you’re going. Never ride alone.…
“It’s no big deal.” Marguerite sounded irritated. “It was still broad daylight, you know. And it was only raining a little.”
Stevie gulped. “Wait a minute, Marguerite. I need you to do something. Go and see if Lisa’s horse is back.”
“Oh, really,” Marguerite said irritably. “Of course her horse is back. Look, I’m sure Lisa’s on her way home. Just give it some time.”
“Go and check on her horse,” Stevie said firmly.
“I have things to do,” Marguerite protested. “And anyway, my friends and I were just getting ready to leave.”
“Go and look for the horse Lisa was riding,” Stevie said again. “Do it now.”
Marguerite sighed loudly and was silent for a moment. “Wait,” she said at last. “Let me go check with one of the grooms first. Maybe someone else saw her come in, and then you can get off my back, okay?”
“Fine,” Stevie said. She heard Marguerite drop the phone and hurry off. “You’d just better come back,” she muttered.
“What’s going on?” Carole demanded anxiously. When Stevie told her what Marguerite had said, her eyes widened. “Oh no,” she breathed. She looked at her watch. “She could have been out there for hours. Hurt, or …” She didn’t finish the sentence.
Marguerite returned. “I just talked to the head groom,” she said, sounding breathless and, for the first time, a little bit worried. “He hasn’t seen Lisa. Plus, he said that Tiny—that’s the horse she was riding—seems to be missing.”
Now Stevie was really scared. “Listen, Marguerite,” she said firmly. “We’re coming over there right now. Stay put until we get there.”
“What?” Marguerite started to protest.
Stevie didn’t let her finish. “Lisa could be in trouble,” she barked. “And it’s your fault. Now we need you to stick around and help us out. We’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
This time Marguerite didn’t argue. “Okay,” she said in a small voice. “Um, let me give you directions.…”
Stevie dug a pen out of her jacket pocket and scribbled a few notes on a napkin. Then she cut the connection and started dialing a new number.
“Who are you calling now?” Carole asked.
“Red,” Stevie replied grimly. “We need a ride to Colesford.”
LISA CLUNG TO Tiny’s neck with all the strength she had left. It wasn’t much. She was wet and cold, and the woods around her were dark and empty. There was no telling how long she’d been out here. It felt like a life-time. By now the pain in her back and leg was so familiar that she hardly bothered to think about it anymore.
“I�
�m so glad you’re here, Prancer,” she murmured, burying her face in the horse’s warm neck. “You’re the only friend I have left.”
The horse snorted, and Lisa looked up. Her mind felt hazy, with deep, thick darkness creeping in at the corners. But she realized her mistake.
“Um, sorry,” she mumbled. “Tiny. Your name’s Tiny. I’m sorry.” Tears started to drip down her face along with the raindrops that were still falling. Lisa shook her head violently. It sent a sharp spasm of fresh pain down her spine, but for once she didn’t mind. The pain woke her up a little, jolted her brain back into shape, and sent the darkness scurrying further back into the recesses of her mind.
She had to stay alert, had to concentrate on listening for rescuers or passersby. Was it ten o’clock yet? Had her parents realized she was missing? Or were they still dancing the night away at some fancy party?
Lisa didn’t know, but she had to keep herself focused. She had to make sure her brain kept working so that the darkness wouldn’t take it over entirely.
“Okay, Tiny,” she said. “Listen up. I’m going to tell you everything you need to know about stable management. Here goes.…” She took a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts. Her logical, well-trained brain had never let her down before.
“Okay,” she said again. “First of all, we can talk about all the different breeds of horses. I don’t know what breed you are, Tiny. But here are some of the breeds I know about. Let’s see. There’s Thoroughbreds, and Arabians, and quarter horses. And American Saddlebreds, and Morgans, and Shetland ponies, and Tennessee walking horses. Um, and Trakehners, Westphalians. Appaloosas. Lipizzaners.” Lisa searched her mind. “Then there are palominos— oh, wait. I’m not sure if that’s a breed or a color. Um, there’s Arabians. Did I say that one already?”
Lisa wiped the rain out of her eyes and decided it was time to change to a new topic.
“All right, how about this,” she told Tiny. “Did you know there are lots of different materials that can be used as bedding in stalls? Well, there are. There’s straw, of course. Actually, there are different kinds of straw, like wheat straw and oat straw and a few other kinds. Then there are wood shavings—those are a good thing to use if your horse likes to eat his bedding, because most of them don’t like it. Some people use shredded newspaper, or hemp, or even sand. Um, then there’s sawdust, and, let’s see … peat moss. Oh, and I heard that some people use peanut shells. Isn’t that funny?” She paused, wondering whether it was funny or not. It was too hard to decide, so she let it go.
“Okay, what were we talking about again?” she murmured. She wiggled her sore foot a little. It was starting to go numb from the cold. But when she moved it, the pain woke it up again. “I have an idea,” she said. “I’ll tell you what color all the ribbons are at a horse show. Let’s see.…”
This time it took her quite a few minutes to think of what she wanted to say. The darkness was coming back, and it was claiming more and more of her mind. Besides that, she was starting to wonder if she had ever been quite this sleepy. Suddenly nothing seemed more important than closing her eyes, resting her head on the nice big soft thing in front of her—what was it again? Oh yes, a horse.
“No!” Lisa said out loud. The sudden noise startled Tiny, who had dozed off. The horse let out a loud, harrumphing snort that brought Lisa back to full consciousness.
She couldn’t let herself sleep. She had to stay alert or she might never get out of this.
“Ribbons,” she said firmly. “Um, okay. First place is blue. Second is red. Third place is yellow. Fourth is—um—white.”
Lisa paused to smother a yawn. She was so tired. So tired.
“Fifth place,” she went on slowly. “Fifth is green, I think—no, wait, it’s pink. Definitely pink. Green is for sixth. Seventh, um, purple, and then …”
She had trouble retrieving the next number. Her head swam with the effort.
“Oh, Tiny,” she murmured. “I think you’d better take over now. I’m too tired.… But it’s a brown ribbon. I’m sure it’s brown.…”
She couldn’t keep her head up anymore. It dropped forward onto Tiny’s shoulder. Lisa’s eyes closed. Tiny woke up again and snorted quizzically, but there was no answer except the sound of the steadily falling rain.
* * *
LATER—HOW MUCH LATER? There was no telling. Lisa’s mind started to come back to her. Where was she? She was cold, she knew that. And sleepy. Very sleepy. Why wasn’t she still sleeping?
A noise came. A loud noise, very close. A horse, snorting and grunting loudly.
The earth shifted beneath her. It moved, and she started to slide.
She caught herself just in time. It wasn’t the earth moving—it was the horse. She had been sleeping against the horse, and now the horse was moving and making a lot of noise. Why was she making so much noise? It made it hard to sleep.
The horse quieted down again, and that was when Lisa became aware of another kind of noise. It was coming from farther away. Could it be … voices?
It was! Human voices. Was she dreaming? Or did she hear one of the voices calling her name?
“Stevie?” Lisa whispered. Her voice came out in a hoarse croak. She tried to make it louder. “Hello?” she said. But she could hardly hear herself above the noise of the rain and the stream.
The voices came again. They were in the woods, not far, but not near, either. Not near enough. Lisa knew that they could move on and never notice her lying there.
She still wasn’t sure if this was a dream or real life, but she had to find out. She had to get the people’s attention.
Her own voice was no good at all. She had to go to them. She had to stand up.
She tried. She pushed her feet under her and shoved off the horse’s side. For a second, she thought it had worked. She was standing!
Then she tried to take a step, and the pain shot through her again, so strong that it almost overwhelmed her completely. She let out a croaking cry as her back spasmed and her legs collapsed under her, sending her crashing to the ground.
Tiny let out a neigh. With a great effort of will, Lisa looked up at her. The horse was staring at her, seemingly agitated. As Lisa watched in exhaustion, Tiny clambered awkwardly to her feet and came toward her, neighing loudly and anxiously.
Then Lisa heard answering shouts. The voices had heard Tiny! They had heard her! They were coming.…
Seconds later, half a dozen riders on horseback burst out of the darkness toward her.
“Lisa!” cried one of them. It was Stevie.
Another was already dismounting and running toward her. “Here she is!” the figure cried.
“C-Carole?” Lisa murmured. It seemed too good to be true. She looked up at the others. All the riders had dismounted by now. One of them—could it really be Max?—was talking into a portable phone. Lisa thought she also saw Red and Marguerite.…
Carole and Stevie were kneeling at her side. Carole was unrolling a blanket, which she tucked around Lisa carefully. It felt warm and dry and very, very good.
“Lisa, what happened?” Stevie asked. Her worried face swam in Lisa’s vision. “Can you tell us what’s wrong?”
“Um, my leg hurts,” Lisa said. But suddenly that didn’t seem so important anymore. She looked over toward Red, who was holding Tiny by the bridle, calming her down. “Tiny saved me,” Lisa said. “She was … um …”
Max joined the others at her side. “Don’t try to talk now, Lisa,” he said soothingly. He unfurled an umbrella and held it above her head to keep the rain off. “The paramedics are coming. Everything is going to be all right now. Just rest.”
Lisa opened her mouth again. She wanted to tell them about Tiny, about how brave and wonderful the horse had been. But somehow the words just wouldn’t come. Maybe Max was right. Her friends were here now. They would take care of everything. It was time to rest.
“ISN’T SHE ADORABLE?” Carole whispered.
Stevie and Lisa nodded. It was a Tuesday afte
rnoon about two weeks later, and the three girls were leaning on the half door of Calypso’s stall, watching the mare and her new baby filly. The foal had been born several days earlier. And as it turned out, Calypso hadn’t had any problems foaling. She had done it all by herself, in the middle of the night, with no one there.
“I still can’t believe Max slept through the whole thing,” Lisa said.
Stevie grinned. “Me neither,” she said. “I guess having a baby of his own taught him how to sleep through just about anything.”
A week before the foal was born, Red and Max had set up a cot in the next stall and started taking turns sleeping there in order to keep a close eye on Calypso. But Max had ended up sleeping soundly through the whole thing, waking up after it was all over and the foal was already nursing.
Carole smiled down at the tiny, long-legged foal sleeping in the straw at Calypso’s feet. “I guess that just goes to show that you really can’t predict these things,” she said. “We thought Calypso was going to have trouble, but she had it all well in hand. Or is it well in hoof?”
Lisa laughed and leaned farther across the half door to give Calypso a pat on the rump. She felt light and free without the back brace she had been wearing since the night of her fall.
Her friends noticed, too. “You look good, Lisa,” Carole said. “Does your back hurt?”
“Not really,” Lisa said. She swung her arms and twisted gently from side to side at the waist to prove it. “I’m glad my doctor finally said I could stop wearing that brace yesterday. It helped my back a lot, but as the weather got warmer it was starting to make me itch. And the best part is, she said I could probably start riding again in a week or two if I take it easy at first.”
“Does that mean your ankle’s better, too?” Stevie asked. “And your wrist?”
Lisa shrugged. “Almost as good as new,” she said, flexing both joints for her friends. “My doctor said they really weren’t that badly hurt—not even sprained, just twisted and strained.”
“Wait a minute,” Carole said. “I thought that was what was wrong with your back.”
Horse Care Page 10
