Nightmare

by Bonnie Bryant

CAROLE WIPED THE final speck of dust off Starlight’s saddle and yawned. She looked at her watch. It was nearly five-thirty. They’d come in from their ride a half hour earlier, and although they’d meant to have a Saddle Club meeting after the ride, the girls had dispersed quickly.

  Stevie had given a hasty explanation about how she was responsible for making dinner that night because of a tiny little food fight she’d instigated with her brothers at breakfast. Carole was glad she wasn’t staying at the Lakes’. Stevie’s idea of a great snack included things like pistachio ice cream with licorice chips. Carole hated to think what Stevie would come up with for a whole meal.

  Lisa, on the other hand, wanted to rush home so that she could watch a program she’d seen advertised on the History Channel. Carole strongly suspected that the program had to do with Germany in the 1930s, and that was the kind of subject that made her uneasy today. Carole told her friends that she didn’t have any reason to rush anywhere. She just wanted to spend some more time at Pine Hollow, where everything was as it should be. She’d take her time cooling Starlight down, then check in on Nero, and then see how Delilah was doing. Carole told Lisa she’d be home soon.

  Carole had another nice visit with Starlight, giving him a complete grooming this time. His short summer coat was beginning to grow into a longer winter coat, and it took some attention. While she brushed him, he turned and sniffed at her neck, then nickered in her ear. It made her laugh. That felt very good and confirmed her suspicions that for her, horses were always the surest way to happiness.

  “You know,” she told Starlight, “when I groom you, I’m doing it because you need it and it’s my job, but it’s also a way to say thank you for all the wonderful times I’ve had with you and with other horses as well. No, don’t get jealous, you know I love you best of all, but before you came into my life, there were other horses. If there hadn’t been, how could I possibly have had anything to judge you by? How would I know you were the best? Anyway, horses have always been good to me, so it’s the least I can do to repay you and your, um”—she searched for a word—“colleagues.” She laughed at her own statement, but she knew, as she was laughing, that she meant every word of it. Horses had been more to her than she could expect anybody, even Starlight, to understand. She owed Starlight and every other horse more than she could ever repay. That was one of the reasons she was always willing to take on another chore for a horse.

  She ended the grooming when Starlight’s coat was shiny clean. She fetched his evening ration of hay and a fresh bucket of water.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said, giving him a final pat on his sweet, soft nose.

  Next stop was Nero. He seemed to be a completely different horse from the edgy, uncomfortable gelding she’d seen the night before. The medicine Judy had given him had worked like magic. His eyes were bright. His ears perked up when she approached. She peered over the edge of his stall to check for manure. There was plenty of it, a good sign that the colic was completely cleared up. As if to prove that he was his own usual feisty self, Nero nipped at her hair.

  “Enough, boy,” Carole said, pulling her head out of his naughty reach. “You’re supposed to be thanking me, not biting me.”

  Nero seemed unrepentant, but Carole still gave him a pat on his neck and then along his face. She’d much rather have him nip at her hair than be sick! She told him to get a good night’s sleep and she’d see him the next day.

  Delilah’s stall was around the corner from Nero’s. Delilah liked peace and quiet, so they’d always kept her away from the rush and bustle of the main aisle. Carole smiled to herself, thinking about all the little quirks horses had that people had to be aware of. People needed to make allowances for horses’ personalities. Carole was only too happy to do that.

  “How’re you doing, girl?” Carole asked.

  Delilah looked at her serenely. Carole gave the golden-colored mare a gentle pat and then ran her fingers through her silvery mane. Delilah didn’t move. She usually preened a bit when she sensed that someone was admiring her beauty. This time she seemed to remain aloof.

  Carole felt a tingle of excitement. Could it be? Was Delilah really pregnant? Would she be delivering a new foal next fall? If she was, Carole was the only one who knew yet. It would be her secret for a couple of weeks until the human world knew for sure. For now, the secret was all Delilah’s, but Carole thought she was trying to share it with her; Delilah seemed somehow changed.

  “Don’t worry, girl. I won’t tell anyone yet. For now it will be our secret, and I promise I’ll take good care of you. Remember how Lisa and Stevie and I took care of you last time?”

  Delilah watched and listened. Carole was sure she understood. At the very least, Carole knew that the mare understood her tone of voice, that she was being affectionate and reassuring.

  “Well, I know you did most of the work, but we did help, and look what a beautiful young colt you brought into the world—Samson! Your next foal will be just as wonderful, and we’ll be just as caring. You don’t have a thing to worry about. The Saddle Club will take care of you, now and forever!”

  Carole gave the mare a hug. The horse seemed to welcome her affection and didn’t pull away as she sometimes did when someone tried to hold her. Carole loved the feel and smell of the big palomino. Her coat was almost as smooth as Starlight’s. Delilah felt warm, too. It must be the glow of excitement about her secret, thought Carole.

  “Oh, I almost forgot something,” Carole said, fishing in her jacket pocket. “If you’re going to have a foal, or even if you’re not, we’ve got to look after your diet and health very carefully. You’ll need plenty of vitamins. We want the strongest, healthiest foal in the whole county. So we’ll start you off with a nice dose of beta-carotene, vitamin A, calcium, and phosphate, if I remember my last nutrition lesson properly.” Carole pulled out a handful of carrot sticks and offered them to Delilah. The horse looked curious, sniffed, and then stepped back.

  That was unlike her. In fact, that was unlike almost any horse. Horses generally loved carrots.

  “Are you sure?” Carole asked, holding the carrots out again. Delilah didn’t show any more interest the second time than she had the first. It was odd, but it was also quite possible that someone else at the stable had just fed her a snack. A lot of people had missed Delilah while she was at Hedgerow. She was one of Pine Hollow’s favorite horses, and now, possibly carrying a foal, she was a prized tenant. She’d probably been stuffed with carrots all day long!

  “Oh, I know what it is!” Carole said. “I’ve heard about how women who are pregnant develop weird food cravings. Next thing you know, you’ll be demanding pickles and ice cream! Well, all I can say is, if that’s what you want, you can go to the ice cream shop with Stevie. She eats the most amazing things—though I don’t ever recall her actually putting pickles on ice cream. Probably just because she never thought of it, and I don’t think I’ll suggest it, because I couldn’t watch her eating it—and she would.

  “Okay, so if what you want is weird stuff, I’ll try to get it for you, but, believe me, it’ll have carrots tucked somewhere in it, because those are really good for you!”

  Delilah took in a deep breath and sighed. Carole interpreted that as a sign that she’d understood every word and was now awaiting some pretty exotic food. It made Carole laugh. She gave Delilah a final pat and left her for the evening. Delilah would need good, nutritious food, but she’d also need plenty of rest so that she could deliver a strong, healthy foal early next fall.

  All the same, it was a little odd that Delilah didn’t want any carrots. Carole thought it might be a good idea to check with someone to be sure she was right about dozens of people already giving Delilah carrots that day.

  Max would know. Carole made sure that Delilah’s stall was properly locked and then went looking for him. It wasn’t hard to find him. It was just almost impossible to talk to him. He was still working with Betty Johnson, who was making a lot of progress in this lesson. When Max wa
s giving a lesson, a herd of wild buffalo could stampede by, and if it didn’t happen in the ring where he was working with his student, he’d never notice. Carole waved to Mrs. Johnson, who waved back (no student ever concentrated as well as Max), and then Carole went in search of someone else for information.

  Her next choice was Red O’Malley. Red was Pine Hollow’s stable hand, generally responsible for seeing to the care and feeding of the horses. He’d want to know if somebody had been giving too many snacks to any horse, especially a horse that might be in a delicate condition.

  Red was also easy to find. He was being mobbed by three very young, very eager new riders.

  “Let me go first!”

  “I want to ride the brown pony! Please, please, puh-leeeeeze!”

  “You didn’t want to ride the brown pony until I said I wanted to ride the brown pony!”

  Red was holding three saddles and three bridles and was surrounded by utter confusion. He could have used some help, for sure, but Carole knew that if he spotted her, she’d be hooked into helping the little girls, and sorting out which one got to ride “the brown pony” was low on her priority list at the moment. She felt like a skunk, but it was getting late and she’d be due back at the Atwoods’ for dinner long before this tiny threesome was ready to call it quits.

  Carole ducked behind one of the many poles in the stable and slunk away in search of Mrs. Reg.

  “We are very proud of how well we look after our boarders, Mr. Terban. If you decide to board Columbia here, I’m sure you’ll be pleased with her care.”

  That meant Mrs. Reg was giving the grand tour of the stable to a prospective customer. Since Pine Hollow relied on the income from boarding horses, this was important. Carole could interrupt, especially if she was showing the kind of concern Pine Hollow gave to all its horses, but she’d have to pick her moment carefully.

  Mr. Terban was not going to be easy to convince. “Mrs. Regnery,” he said, “I’d like to see where the horses are turned out. The other stable I visited had a large area where the horses were allowed to run free for at least half an hour every day if they weren’t being ridden.”

  “We don’t have one exercise area as you describe, Mr. Terban. We have a series of them, plus the larger fields beyond our own rings and paddocks. Come this way and I’ll show you.”

  This was definitely not the right time to interrupt. Mrs. Reg led the potential client toward the schooling ring and explained one of Pine Hollow’s traditions as they went.

  “We call this the good-luck horseshoe,” she said. “Every rider who leaves the stable is asked to touch this before beginning his or her ride. And that will include you, too, if you decide to ride here. Among the things we’re proud of is our safety record. No rider here has ever been seriously hurt.”

  Carole smiled. She was as willing as anybody to believe in the magic of a U-shaped chunk of iron, but she also knew that touching the horseshoe on the way out was a simple reminder to every rider that horses were big animals and safety was important—for both the horse and the rider. She watched as Mr. Terban reached up and touched the horseshoe. He smiled at Mrs. Reg.

  Carole nodded. That was it. He’d bring Columbia here—partly because of the horseshoe, partly because the exercise area was so much larger than the other stable he’d visited, and mostly because Pine Hollow was a wonderful stable and only a fool wouldn’t recognize that.

  Well, that was good news for Pine Hollow, but it left Carole without anybody to ask about Delilah and carrots. She wasn’t really in a hurry (except for not wanting to get embroiled in the “brown pony” melee with Red). She could sit in Mrs. Reg’s office for a few minutes and see if either Max or Mrs. Reg came by and had a few minutes for her.

  Carole went into the office and picked a book from the reading shelf. It was A Horse Around the House by Patricia Jacobson and Marcia Hayes, and it was the most useful general reference book about horses and horse care that Carole knew. She flipped it open randomly and began reading. It didn’t matter what section she’d opened to; she’d learn something useful. This time she found herself learning something she hadn’t known about braiding.

  She was reminding herself how to sew mane braids to keep them tidy when the phone rang, startling her. It didn’t surprise her that she’d gotten so deeply into what she was reading that she’d lost all track of where she was, to the point that the phone made her jump. After all, she’d been reading about horses!

  She ignored the phone for two rings. Pine Hollow had strict rules about who was supposed to answer the phone. Number one was Mrs. Reg. It was her phone and her job to answer it. But it wasn’t ringing in the field or the paddock where Carole knew Mrs. Reg was with Mr. Terban.

  Number two was Max. Max was in the schooling ring with Mrs. Johnson. He would have no idea that the phone was ringing at all, nor would he consider leaving a student, even a good one like Mrs. Johnson, for a minute to do something as mundane as answer the telephone.

  That left Red—now probably totally tangled in the reins of three sets of tack, trying to get the ponies ready before three little girls killed one another.

  And then there was Carole. She was in the office, she wasn’t busy, and she knew she could be responsible. She picked up the phone on its fourth ring.

  “Pine Hollow Stables, this is Carole Hanson speaking,” she said, trying to sound adult and professional.

  “Uh, this is Elaine Thomas from Hedgerow,” the woman began. She seemed a little upset.

  “Oh, I was just visiting Delilah,” Carole said, glad of the opportunity to thank Mrs. Thomas for taking good care of the horse during her stay. “She seems just great. She got back here safe and sound. I can’t wait until we learn if she’s carrying a foal. I’m just sure—”

  “No, hold on. That’s not what I’m calling about.”

  “I’m sorry,” Carole said. She picked up a pencil and a clean pad of paper so that she could take a message. She promised herself to write neatly. She wanted to be sure the message was complete and legible.

  “It’s about King Perry,” said Mrs. Thomas. Carole wrote King Perry on the pad.

  “Isn’t that the stallion that Delilah was mated to?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Mrs. Thomas. “But … But—”

  “He’s okay, isn’t he?” Carole asked.

  “No,” said Mrs. Thomas. “He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Carole wrote the word on the pad as she spoke, but it looked odd to her. How could the stallion that had so recently been mated with Delilah be dead? “Was there an accident or something?” she asked, though she thought it was a dumb question. Of course there had been. How awful it must have been!

  “No,” said Mrs. Thomas. “He was sick. The vet was just here. She says it was swamp fever. Tell Mrs. Reg to call me, will you?”

  “Sure,” Carole said. The phone went dead in her hand. She hung up, made a note on the pad that Mrs. Reg should call Mrs. Thomas, and then scratched her head as she often did when she was trying to remember something.

  Swamp fever. It didn’t sound good, but there were so many fevers and infections horses could get that she couldn’t always remember which was which. She turned to the book she’d been reading, checked the index, and opened to the section on infectious diseases.

  There it was—swamp fever. Her eyes scanned the page, and then she gasped. Swamp fever was the common name of a disease called equine infectious anemia, or EIA. It was incurable, it was fatal, and, worst of all, it was infectious. If King Perry had it, what about Delilah?

  Carole picked up the phone to call Judy Barker and tell her to get there right away. It wasn’t necessary, though. Before she could even dial the number, a familiar truck pulled into the Pine Hollow driveway. Judy knew this was an emergency. She had come already.

  IT SEEMED AS IF everything happened at once then. Judy arrived, Max finished his lesson with Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Reg returned to her office with Mr. Terban, and Red sent a gleeful trio of little girls back to their
parents, all promising they would never fight over a pony again.

  The look on Judy’s face told Max, Mrs. Reg, and Red that this was not a casual visit. Carole handed Mrs. Reg the phone message from Mrs. Thomas.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “King Perry just died of swamp fever.” While Max and Red took in the horrible news, Mrs. Reg turned to her newest customer. “Mr. Terban, I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time. We can’t take any new boarders now. We’re about to be quarantined.”

  “Oh?” he said, perturbed. “Then I guess I should go back to Hedgerow Farms.”

  “No, you’re going to have to go elsewhere,” Judy said. “They’ll be quarantined, too. Okay, let’s get to work,” she said to the others, dismissing Mr. Terban. Carole suspected that Mr. Terban would think they were being rude, but that wasn’t the case at all. It was simply that there wasn’t a minute to waste!

  “My first job is to check on Delilah,” said Judy. “Carole, come with me. You can help with the checkup. Max, Red, here are some vials and needles. We need to draw a blood sample from every horse in the stable. Please label them carefully. Now, first of all, is there a place where we can isolate Delilah?”

  “How about the extra stall in the feed shed?” Carole suggested. Max nodded in agreement.

  “Let’s go,” said Judy. She left Mrs. Reg’s office so quickly that Carole found herself running to catch up. Without pause, Judy opened Delilah’s stall, clipped on a lead rope, and cast a practiced eye over the mare.

  “No obvious symptoms,” Judy said. Carole found herself sighing with relief, though she recognized that it might not mean anything. Obvious symptoms would indicate an advanced stage of the disease. It couldn’t move that quickly, could it?

  Carole took the lead rope from Judy and tugged gently to make Delilah follow her to the feed shed. Words kept tumbling through her mind. Incurable, infectious, and fatal. She knew what they all meant. What she didn’t know was how they applied in the case of this disease. Was it certain that Delilah had it? How would they know?