A Summer Without Horses

by Bonnie Bryant

  “I’m not so sure about that. Not only is there magic, but it works!” Jessica said, siding completely with Reuben and Leslie and utterly confounding me.

  “And just what would lead you to believe that there is any such magic?” I asked.

  Leslie cocked her head and looked at me slyly. “Well, you’re riding, aren’t you?”

  For the first time since I’d gathered the young riders around me, I was speechless.

  BY THE TIME we got back to Pine Hollow, my mind was more of a mess than it had been when I’d left. In fact, the only good news I could think of was that except for Leslie’s knee, the kids were unharmed and the ponies were safe. For my own part, my legs were killing me from standing up in the saddle for so long and even worse, my sitting-down section had hit Topside’s saddle enough for me to know I’d put my own recovery back a couple of weeks. It wasn’t going to matter, though. When Max learned that I’d let the kids go on a trail ride without an instructor, he was never going to let me near a horse again, with or without a sore bottom.

  “Stevie?” It was Reuben interrupting my miserable thoughts.

  “Yup?”

  “We’ve just figured out that we’ve gotten you into big trouble, haven’t we?”

  “I think I did most of the work on that myself, Reuben. You kids aren’t responsible. I’m just irresponsible.”

  “Maybe, but isn’t Max going to be angry with you?”

  “I think we can count on that.”

  “And he ought to be angry with us.”

  “I think you can count on that, too,” I said. “Actually, he won’t be angry so much as worried, but sometimes worry comes out as anger. I bet each of you can count on your parents for both worry and anger, too.”

  “I don’t want my mother to be worried and angry,” Leslie said.

  “Me, neither,” added Mark.

  “That’s a lot of worry and anger,” said Reuben.

  “And a lot of upset adults,” I said. “Too much worry and anger isn’t good for them, but life is like that sometimes. It’s called facing the music.” Frankly I was tired of life lessons for the day, but there was another one staring me in the face.

  “Hmmmmm,” said Jessica.

  “Look! There’s Max! He’s waving at us!”

  He was, too. I could see him standing next to the paddock behind Pine Hollow, waving widely. We all waved back. I think the kids thought he was welcoming us home. I sort of thought it was more like, “Get yourselves in here before you’re grounded for life!” Since none of the kids could trot, we just walked slowly and carefully—me still standing tall in the saddle.

  When we arrived and dismounted, I told the kids to take their ponies to their stalls and said I’d be in in a minute to help them. I deserved the tongue-lashing; they didn’t.

  “Max, I’m sorry,” I began.

  He interrupted me as well he should. Nothing I was going to say was going to be anywhere near as bad as what he had to say, so he had to have a chance to say it and I had to listen to it.

  “Stevie, the minute I got back here and saw Topside and the ponies gone, I knew exactly what had happened.”

  “You did?” I mean, how could he have known about Merlin?

  “Of course it was only going to take you a couple of days to figure out that you could ride standing up and the minute you figured it, you were going to be in the saddle. I’m not dumb. I can’t say I’m happy about your taking the kids out without an adult, but I guess I can’t blame you for wanting to do it. It was awfully hard for you to watch us leave today. The look on your face this morning said it all.”

  “Max, I—”

  “Look, there’s really no excuse for doing what you did, but if there were one, it would be the one you have—”

  “Max, you don’t—”

  “But I really do, Stevie. I do understand how much horses and riding mean to you. I do understand how much you love it and how hard it is to not be able to do it. I do. I can’t condone your taking those young riders out on a trail ride without an adult, but I can understand it. Really. Even though I can see that Leslie’s had an accident.”

  “Max, you’re being too nice.”

  Can you believe I said that? It’s a sign of how upset I was by what I’d done and how astonished I was by what Max had assumed I’d done.

  “No, Stevie, I’m not going to be all that nice. Much as I understand it, I can’t let you get away with it free and clear. There have to be consequences for irresponsible behavior.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “So, even though you’ve figured out how to ride with a sore seat, I’m going to ground you for the rest of this session. No riding. Period. I still need you as a helper, but I can’t let you get on a horse.”

  The thing Max couldn’t know—and which I had no intention of discussing with him—was that my bottom was so sore from the little bit of sitting I’d had to do in the saddle that there was no way I could possibly have gotten into the saddle for the next two weeks.

  He had more to say and the news was just as good. “Moreover, I want you to know that in no way do I blame the kids for this. They are not going to hear one word of it from me. You can explain to them why you aren’t riding anymore.”

  “I’ll take care of it, Max,” I promised, realizing that I’d miraculously managed to take on one hundred percent of the blame and best of all, the kids wouldn’t be punished.

  “I want you to take care of Leslie’s knee, too. You know where the bandages are. I’ll talk with her mother and explain. Are we done?”

  Were we ever! “Yes, Max. And, uh, again, I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are. I really do understand.”

  He didn’t, of course, but that was okay. I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome and I was almost walking on air as I led Topside back to his stall and said good-bye to him for two weeks (except for grooming him and watering him and mucking out his stall and tacking him up for other riders, etc., etc.). Really, the only bad news was that Carole and Lisa weren’t there to share my triumph. They always say I have a way of getting away with murder and though this wasn’t exactly murder, it was the next closest thing in Pine Hollow terms—and I was getting away with it, practically scot-free!

  Once I secured the latch on Topside’s stall, I went to the section where the ponies were kept. It was all I could do to keep a grin off my face and when I found the kids, I gave them all one big hug.

  “What did Max say?” Leslie asked.

  “He thinks I took you out on the trail ride because I was so happy that I’d figured out how to ride again.”

  “Is that what you told him?” Reuben asked, sounding admiring. Clearly, he’d decided that was a pretty clever lie.

  “Actually, no. I was about to tell him what happened, but when Max assumed something different, well, I couldn’t honestly see any reason to make things look worse than they are. I know it’s sort of a lie.…”

  “But it doesn’t make us look as stupid as the truth does, does it?” That was Reuben.

  “If you want to put it that way,” I conceded.

  “So, what’s going to happen to us?”

  “To you, nothing. To me, well, I’m grounded for two weeks.”

  “You mean you have to stay home?” Leslie asked. I was touched by her concern.

  “No, it means I have to come here and work with the horses, but not ride.”

  “Oh, well, that’s not soooooo bad,” she said.

  “No, it’s not soooooo bad,” I agreed. “I can live with it. It seems like mild punishment for what I actually did. And the other thing I have to do is help you clean up that cut and bandage it.”

  I took her hand and led her to Mrs. Reg’s office to get the medicine and bandages and then to the big double sink where we could clean it.

  Leslie took off her boot and rolled up her pant leg very carefully. I could see that the cut hurt and I knew we’d both feel better when we got it covered.

  I ran the water and
got some clean cloths and soap. We rinsed it in warm water and then washed it very carefully.

  “Natalie and I did a good job in the creek,” she said. “That was smart of you to suggest it.”

  “All from experience,” I assured her. “When you’re out in the woods, you sometimes have to improvise.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Make up stuff.”

  “Like ghost stories?”

  “Not exactly. It means more like making do with what you’ve got. You had to wash the cut. There wasn’t any soap and warm water, but there was cool water and I know the creek is clean because it comes from hills where there isn’t any pollution, so it was only logical.”

  “That’s what you are, Stevie, you’re very logical.”

  It was a compliment and I appreciated it, but there was something about her use of the word “logical” that caused a tingle in my memory banks. I ignored it for a few minutes while I finished tending to the knee.

  Once the cut was washed, I dried it very carefully, then I put some ointment on the bandage and applied it to the knee, taping it in a way that wouldn’t cut off circulation, but that would stay on. It looked pretty professional and Leslie hadn’t grimaced once, so I must have done a good job.

  She brought her pant leg down again over the bandage, put her sock back on, and then tugged her boot back over it. Aside from the hole in her new riding pants, she looked very put-together. I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, a sweet innocent smile. Suddenly she seemed so young, even though she had on very grown-up-looking riding clothes: fawn-colored pants, shiny black boots, snowy white blouse, black riding jacket. All those brand-new clothes only made me think of one thing: Veronica diAngelo.

  I gasped and then I gagged as the full impact of what had happened that day hit me, smack in the face.

  I’d been on a horse. I’d ridden a horse. My friends and I had pledged that we wouldn’t ride. I, of all people, had violated the pledge.

  I had a good excuse, I knew, but no excuse was good enough in the face of a pledge to my two best friends. We’d made a promise to one another and nothing Max would ever know or not know about what had really happened was going to make a difference when it came to Carole and Lisa. Friends don’t lie to one another so I would have to tell them. But then, if I told them, it would mean we’d have to invite Veronica to join The Saddle Club. Correction, it would mean I would have to invite Veronica. If I did that, Carole and Lisa would never speak to me again and what would be the point of having The Saddle Club if they wouldn’t speak to me again.

  I had two choices: I could lie to my friends, which was unthinkable, or I could tell them and invite Veronica to join, which was unthinkable.

  “Oh, Stevie! My knee doesn’t hurt at all. I really believe there is magic. Everything’s worked out so well!”

  Leslie gave me a big hug and I had to hug back. It wasn’t her fault that she was all wrong. She couldn’t know that there wasn’t any magic at all, or if there was magic, it was just black magic—the kind witches use. But there I go again, and I was done telling tall tales.

  Or was I? I had two weeks to decide.

  PART III:

  Carole’s Summer

  I LOVE DRIVING places with my father. There’s something so nice about it’s being just the two of us alone, no phone, no television, no interruptions. We’ve had a lot of time together alone at home since Mom died, but being in the car is somehow special.

  Dad and I were on our way to New York. We live in Virginia, so it’s about a five-hour drive to New York City, where we were going to spend a couple of weeks. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have been thrilled about spending so much time away from Pine Hollow, the stable where I ride and board my horse, Starlight. But for once being far from horses actually appealed to me.

  Once we were on the Interstate, Dad asked me about it—right after he’d found the oldies station on the radio. He would have asked me sooner, but they were playing “There’s a Moon Out Tonight” and he had to sing along. He’s got a good voice. I didn’t mind at all. I even joined in on some of the falsetto parts. We’re good together.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  Then he reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back. That was one of his ways of saying that being in a car with me was as special for him as it was for me.

  “You’ve been in New York before, haven’t you?”

  “Sure, with Max, Mrs. Reg, and Stevie and Lisa.” I was talking about my riding instructor and his mother, and of course my two best friends in The Saddle Club. “We went to the horse show.”

  “And you rode in Central Park, didn’t you?”

  “Yup. And that’s where we met Skye Ransom. We taught him to ride, you know.” Skye Ransom is this incredibly cute movie star, but you know that already, don’t you?

  “That’s right,” Dad commented. “Well, I’m glad you’re coming with me this time, but I am wondering what changed your mind. Two days ago, you said there was no way you could leave Pine Hollow Stable and your wonderful horse Starlight for a couple of weeks. Is Starlight all right? I mean he’s not lame or anything, is he? You’d tell me, wouldn’t you?”

  “Starlight’s fine, Dad; it’s Stevie who’s got a problem.”

  Dad gave me a quizzical look that indicated the statement I’d just made didn’t make any sense. If you think about it, it probably doesn’t, but any sentence with the name “Stevie” in it is likely to be confused. She’s that kind of girl. I explained to Dad about Stevie’s sitting area and how it got hurt falling out of a tree house.

  Dad started laughing by the time I described Stevie crouching outside the window of the house high up in the tree. Honestly, I never thought it was all that funny, but then Stevie’s a really good friend of mine. What am I saying? She’s a really good friend of Dad’s, too. The two of them both adore stuff from the fifties and sixties. Last year, Dad threw his back out trying to play with a Hula-Hoop Stevie gave him for his birthday. They both love awful jokes, too. So, why was Dad laughing?

  “I can just see her!” he said between snorts. “I bet she was madder than a hornet that her brothers tried to keep her out of the tree house. I mean, I’m glad she didn’t get hurt worse, but sliding all the way down the branch!”

  “But, Dad, she did get hurt worse! She got a bone bruise on her coccyx. Do you know where that is?”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “It’s where you sit down.”

  “Like in a saddle,” I said, emphasizing the word.

  “Oh, no.” He understood.

  The radio then played “Heartbreak Hotel,” which seemed quite appropriate to me. Dad had to sing it, too. I let him do a solo. When it was over, I went on.

  “So, Lisa and I pledged that we wouldn’t ride horses until Stevie could. It made her feel a lot better. And I don’t mind, really.”

  “As long as you can come to New York with me?”

  “Well, the timing did seem good,” I admitted.

  “And who’s going to exercise Starlight while you’re gone?”

  “Red O’Malley. Max has the first session of summer camp going on and Red will be riding a lot while he instructs the young kids. He can use Starlight whenever he wants. It’ll free up the rest of the stable horses for other riders. It seemed like a good deal.”

  “Hmmmmm.” That’s a phrase my father uses occasionally when he’s got something on his mind that he has to think about, but he’s not ready to talk about. I knew I’d have to wait.

  I waited through two Motown hits and a Sam Cooke ballad. We then sang along with “Purple People Eater.” Dad was ready to talk after that.

  “If you can’t ride, how come you brought all your riding clothes?”

  “I did?”

  “Unless you’ve got something other than your high boots that would make all those lumps in your suitcase, I’m pretty sure you did.”

  I looked at him in astonishment. Had I actually done that? “It
was pure reflex, Dad,” I said. “People always remember what’s really important to them, so I never forget to bring my riding clothes. I just forget when I can’t use them!”

  “So, how did you do on items that other people don’t forget, like toothbrush, comb, and clean underwear?”

  I cast my mind back to the packing process. I could remember putting in my riding clothes. I’d included some summer dresses, shorts, even a bathing suit. Then I recalled the rest of it. “No, no, and yes,” I said.

  “We’ll pick up a toothbrush and comb when we get to the city,” he said. “Toothpaste?”

  I am a flake about everything but horses. “We’d better get some toothpaste, too,” I said. “I don’t like that stuff you use. It’s too good for you.”

  “If you can’t ride, does that mean you can’t be around horses?”

  I had to think for a second. I’d done what I could to get myself as far from Starlight as possible so I wouldn’t be tempted to ride. I wasn’t so sure about other horses. Then I remembered that Stevie was planning to spend all her time at Pine Hollow. That was about as close to horses as you could get.

  “Nope. I can be around them. I just can’t ride them.”

  “Good,” he said. “Because there are two days during this meeting when I’ll have to go on a retreat. I wasn’t sure what you’d do then, so I called Dorothy DeSoto. She and Nigel are going to be home and would love to have you come out to Long Island to visit them at their stable. Will that be okay?”

  Okay wasn’t the right word. Fabulous was closer to it.

  I LOVE NEW YORK. There’s so much happening. I mean it’s confusing and all, but there are those millions of people, all of whom seem to know where they are going—and they’re in such a hurry to get there! It inspires me to want to know where I’m going, too.

  Dad planned to have a couple of days just with me before his conference began. Walking around New York with my father, doing one thing and another, is just as wonderful as riding in a car alone with him. He really is a terrific guy—even if he teases more than he really ought to.