No Horse Wanted

by Melange Books, LLC

  We pulled into our drive, and she tapped the horn. “Now your brother and dad will know we’re home.”

  Suddenly, I was nervous. What if Jack made fun of my horse? Twaziem looked awful. And Dad? Would he be disappointed in me? He never complained when I brought home stray cats or their kittens or dogs and puppies. A starving horse was different. He was going to eat more than the other horses, and he’d need a lot more care.

  Mom gave me a quick sideways glance before she focused on maneuvering up the driveway, past the house to the barn. “It’ll be fine, honey. We know how you are when it comes to animals.”

  “You always pick the ones who need you most,” Felicia said. “It’s heroic even if you are obnoxious about it.”

  “So, sue me.” I tossed my head. “They pick me too.”

  Mom laughed. “Either way, the result is the same. I always have a houseful of your critters. Bottom line, we’re all human, Robin, and you could learn to be patient with the rest of us when we don’t live up to your expectations.”

  “What’s that mean?” I stared past Felicia at my mother. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m proud of you.” Mom stopped in front of the barn. “It took a great deal of courage for you to stand up to your sister, me, and two other adults. You insisted we do what was right, not what was easy. Good job.”

  I felt warm all over. Mom rarely praised me, or anything I did. As the baby of the family, I came in third-best most of the time. No way I’d tell her that she’d made me feel good for once. Instead, I pushed open my door and slid out of the truck. I hurried around to the back of the trailer and opened the back end. Twaziem cocked his head around and looked at me, but kept eating. Despite the long driving time, he had plenty of hay left.

  “Are you getting him out?” Felicia asked.

  “I think he wants to finish the hay first,” I said.

  “He can finish it in the stall. I’ll bring it in for him,” Felicia told me. “Mom went to get Jack to put a bale of grass hay in the manger.”

  “You mean a couple of flakes, not a bale.”

  “No, she meant a bale, all right. She’s not going to have him open it, but if Jack stands it on end, your horse can pull it apart and eat twenty-four seven.”

  “Where did she come up with that? It’s a brilliant idea.”

  “Rocky suggested it when I called her from Mrs. Bartlett’s.”

  “Why did you get to call her?” I glared at my sister. “I wanted to tell her about Twaz.”

  “You still can,” Felicia said. “I wanted to settle Mrs. Bartlett’s concerns about the training. She needed to be sure that Rocky understood Twaziem was a good horse so she wouldn’t use whips or spurs on him.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” I asked, referring to Twaz’s previous owner, not the stable owner.

  “Well, she’s in remission, but there aren’t any guarantees. I got her email address so you can keep her posted on how Twaziem does. I think she’ll do better now that she doesn’t have to worry about him.”

  I eyed my sister. In jeans, a WSU sweatshirt and her never-removed Ropers, she didn’t look much like an angel, but she was really kind to people, even the ones I thought were totally stupid. “Thanks, Felicia. I’ll send her pictures every week. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

  “Hey, I’m your big sister.” She beamed a sunshine grin. “That’s what I do.”

  Chapter Six

  Saturday, September 14th, 6:45 p.m.

  I eased my way into the trailer next to Twaziem’s left side. There was a lot more room beside him than there was by the other horses that belonged to my family. When I reached the front, I untied the rope and tried to back Twaz out, but he didn’t budge. He pinned his ears flat against his head and stomped one foot, then kept eating, pulling hay from the manger. I reached around and pushed on his chest. He ignored me.

  “Come on, Twaziem. Mom promised a whole bale of hay in your stall.”

  He still wouldn’t move. I pulled on the rope, but he pulled back, and he was a lot bigger than me. When I pushed on his chest again, he simply leaned further toward the hay and continued chewing.

  Finally, I gave up. I petted him to show there weren’t any hard feelings. If he didn’t want to leave the food, it was okay. Sooner or later, he’d figure out that regular meals were part of his life now and starvation was over. I put the rope over his neck. Squishing past him, I went back out of the trailer.

  Jack and one of his good buddies, Bill, had joined Mom and Felicia.

  “So, where’s your new steed?” Bill demanded. He was as tall as my brother, but he had auburn hair and eyes. “We loaded up his stall for him.”

  “He wants to finish the hay in the trailer,” I said. “Then, he’ll come out.”

  Jack laughed. “Robin, you’ve got to start out the way you mean to go on. You can’t let your horse be the boss.”

  “Why not? Nitro is. You always say that he does all the work when you win at a gaming event and it’s your fault when you lose. Twaziem will come out when he’s ready.”

  “Did he tell you that?” Bill asked.

  Ever since I was little, Bill liked to pick on me. I always wondered why he and Jack were friends when Bill was such a jerk and my brother wasn’t.

  “He didn’t have to tell me,” I said. “I could see that he’s hungry. You’d need a big sign with pictures.”

  Jack laughed even harder and punched Bill in the arm. “She’s got your number.”

  “Not yet.” Bill rubbed his arm. “Do you want me to unload him for you?”

  Mom and Felicia looked at each other. Then, Mom said, “I will. I think you guys are too rowdy for him.” She stepped into the trailer, talking in a low voice so the horse wouldn’t be frightened.

  “I don’t remember seeing a horse named Twaziem,” Jack said. “What does he look like?”

  “He’s a bay paint with a blaze and three white ankle socks,” Felicia said. “I found an ad for him in the paper since Robin didn’t care for any of the ones that you and Mom selected.”

  “What was wrong with the ones I liked?” Jack asked me.

  “They all went too fast,” I said, “and nobody makes me ride a horse without brakes. Not anymore.” I saw my dad and Vicky coming from the house and went to meet them. “I did get a horse.”

  Dad smiled at me. “Is it what you wanted?”

  “Is it better than the car?” Vicky asked.

  I took the questions in order. “I didn’t particularly want him, but he was being starved, and then a guy showed up who planned to take him to slaughter so I had to bring Twaziem home. A horse is alive. It has feelings, and Twaz didn’t want to be dog food. To be honest, I’d still rather have my car. It’d be a lot more fun.”

  “I’m sure it would.” Dad put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. “Remember, it’s like what Sir Winston Churchill said, ‘We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.’ And I’m proud of you for giving this horse a home. You don’t have to worry about a car being butchered. Are you glad or sorry you saved him?”

  “Glad, I guess. He needed me. I was the only one who really cared about him.”

  “You’re the one who cared enough to save him,” Dad said, and hugged me again. “Let’s go see this wonder horse.”

  I nodded, grateful that he hadn’t said a word about what it would cost to bring a horse back from the brink of starvation. I smiled at Vicky. “Wait till you see him. I think he has a lot of potential.”

  Vicky pushed a strand of walnut-brown hair from her face. “I can’t believe you actually went through with it and got a horse after everything you said.”

  I stopped to think. She was right. I’d complained a lot about getting a horse instead of my beautiful car. Things had looked different when I watched Twaziem eat grain and dirt, then beg a guy who wanted to kill him for more food. “I did gripe a lot, but I was really mad.”

  “You sure were,” Vicky agreed.

  I
contemplated telling her to shut up, but it wouldn’t do any good. Vicky would keep talking until she wore out the topic. We arrived at the trailer, and she paused for breath. I counted my blessings. Mom had obviously succeeded in taking Twaziem away from the hay. He’d backed partway out of the trailer. His left hind foot hit the ground, then the right. Another step and he was half outside and half inside.

  Jack stood rock still. Fury filled his face, and I saw his jaw clench when he spotted Twaziem’s prominent hipbones. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Who did this? Why?”

  I walked up beside Twaziem, and Mom passed me the rope from inside the trailer. I encouraged him to back a couple more steps until he was totally out of the trailer. “It wasn’t his owner’s fault. She was in the hospital for cancer treatments and her grandkids stopped feeding him.”

  “He’s a walking skeleton,” Bill said. “Didn’t the cops do anything?”

  “I did something.” I petted Twaziem’s neck, calming him when he stamped a hoof. “I brought him home. Now, quit acting macho. He doesn’t like it.”

  “I know you said you were getting the worst horse you could find, Robin, but this one is beyond it,” Vicky told me. “He’s awful.”

  A dreadful silence descended on everyone after Vicky’s comment, and I wished the ground would open up and swallow me, and Twaz. Of course, it didn’t. I’d have to save both of us. Why, oh, why, did Vicky choose now to repeat my childish promise? I glanced at Felicia. If she’d ratted me out, I’d have expected it. We’d sniped at each other a lot over the years, but we were sisters and we fought. Vicky was my best friend. She was supposed to stick up for me.

  For once, my parents had been proud of me. For once, I hadn’t been a washed out copy of Felicia or less than perfect Jack. For once, I’d been part of the family, not an outsider! I knew it wouldn’t last. It never did, but I could hope, couldn’t I?

  “I said it,” I admitted, “but I was really ticked off when I didn’t get my car and...”

  Support came from a surprising corner. Mom sighed as she stepped out of the trailer, shaking her head. “And here I figured Felicia and I were the only ones who vented first and thought later. We’ll have to be a lot more careful, Robin. It’s amazing how ‘boot in mouth’ comes back to haunt a person.”

  “And Grandma always says to keep ‘your words short and sweet, since you never know which ones you have to eat.’ Smart advice, huh?” Jack was next to Vicky, holding her hand, like she needed his support too.

  I forced myself to look past them to Felicia and my dad. She winked at me and he grinned. Tears stung my eyes. The last thing I’d expected was for them to understand why I’d been so mean about my birthday and the present they wanted to give me, the traditional present that Felicia and Jack got when they turned sixteen.

  Slowly, I realized the truth. My family was sticking up for me because Vicky and Bill were here. Nobody mentioned Jack’s art or poetry when the football guys were around. We didn’t talk about Felicia’s love for classical music when her rock band wanted to practice in the garage. Of course, they all were mad at me. They just wouldn’t tell me how disappointed and angry they were when we had an audience.

  I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat, unable to speak.

  Jack let go of Vicky and came up close to my horse, shaking his head. “A lousy bay and he’s not setting one hoof in my barn.”

  “Don’t be mean about Twaz,” I said. “And if I can put up with Nitro, you can deal with me having a horse.”

  “I said ‘lousy’ and I meant it.” Jack pointed to Twaziem’s right side. “Watch that patch. It’s moving. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not a paint. It’s not a usual coloration for Morabs. Breeders try real hard for it.”

  I stepped around to the other side and looked at the spot, a huge yellow stain on Twaziem’s barrel. It moved. The whole thing crawled toward his neck and face. And I’d been petting him. My stomach lurched. “Oh, my Gawd!”

  “Gross,” Bill said, but he sounded awestruck and horrified at the same time. “I so have to video this and put it online. Let me get my phone.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Mom told him. “I’m not having Animal Control out here beating on the door when your video goes viral.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see that,” Felicia said, moving closer to inspect Twaz. “I assumed he was a paint and needed a good grooming or a bath for his patches to be white and the proper color.”

  “Maybe you should send him to be dog food,” Vicky said. “It’s not that far to Stanwood, only twenty some miles.”

  “We’re not going there and neither is he,” Jack said. “The cows, pigs, and chickens get lice, and we treat for them twice a year. It’s a normal part of farm life. We’ll just dust him before he goes into the barn.”

  “Makes sense.” Dad came and took the lead from me, ignoring Twaziem’s snort, and issuing orders. “Jack, get the powder out of the vet cabinet. Robin, you ladies are headed for the showers. I’ll send the halter to be disinfected as soon as we take it off him. Bill, pull the truck around to the other side of the house and start fumigating the trailer.”

  “Come on, girls,” Mom said. “We’ll leave the messy business to the menfolk. I’m so up for that.”

  “I really don’t see the necessity.” Felicia took on her know-it-all persona, with its irritating, authoritative tone. “Horses normally have a 101.5 degree temperature and healthy humans are at 98.7 degrees, so the likelihood that Twaziem’s lice migrated to us is extremely rare—”

  “Except that he’s debilitated,” Dad said. “I’m not taking his temperature now. I’m just treating the symptoms, and you don’t want me throwing you into the utility shower, clothes, and all, Felicia Joyce. Move it. And wash your hair too!”

  Vicky wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I’ll help with the horse trailer. I’m not hanging out while you shower, Robin.”

  “You don’t have to help,” I said. “You can watch TV in my room if you want or use my computer to cruise the Internet.”

  “Later,” Vicky told me with a toss of her hair. “It may be yucky around here, but it’s a lot better than my sister’s diapers. Hey, can we order in pizzas?”

  I had to laugh. Only my best friend could jump from lice to junk food in less than a heartbeat. “Sure. You’re the greatest, Vick.”

  I got a funny look from her and another from my sister who waited to walk with me toward the house. “What?”

  “She’s acting like such a twit,” Felicia whispered. “And you’re actually being pretty nice to her. What’s up?”

  “Same old, same old,” I said, with a shrug. “Vicky’s still picking up all the slack around the house since her parents’ divorce. And this is the only place where she’s allowed to be a kid and complain. But, if she stays on my case, I will nail her. You don’t get to. She’s been my best friend forever.”

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday, September 14th, 10:15 p.m.

  Showers, doctoring Twaziem and moving him into his stall, then pizzas, sodas, a horror movie—it’d been a good night. I just wanted to check on Twaz one last time before I climbed into my jammies. Then Vicky and I would go watch TV in my room and talk. Okay, I’d tell her all about Harry, and she’d tell me how wonderful my older brother was, but at least we were finally having some real best buddy time. Whenever I called, I had to wait for her to deal with one of her sibs, and that wasn’t much fun.

  I hurried into the barn, ignoring the thunder of the kittens playing overhead and went straight to Twaziem’s stall. Instead of peacefully eating, he was down on his side. For a moment, I thought he wanted to sleep. Then, he tried to roll over.

  No, no, no! I grabbed the extra halter Dad hung on the peg in the aisle way and unlatched the door. I skirted the flailing hooves. Once I got to his head, I put on the halter. “No, Twaziem. You need that powder to kill the lice. You can’t rub off the medicine.”

  He stood still for a moment, shaking. Then his knees buckled
. Down he went. I tugged hard on the cheek strap. “Get up!”

  He did. Now, he kicked at his belly.

  Colic, I thought.

  Memories of the way that Cobbie died flashed into my mind. He’d had colic, something brought on by a variety of causes. Felicia could list them all, but I knew too. Stress from overwork. No, all Twaziem had done was eat since he arrived. Moldy hay—not here. Water right after grain—no, we’d waited two hours. Rich food—oh my Gawd. Why hadn’t I thought? Twaziem had gone from nothing in his stomach to alfalfa/grass hay in the trailer. No wonder his system rebelled.

  I backed toward the door, pulled him with me to the hallway. I grabbed a lead rope, snapped it onto the halter. “Come on, bubba. Let’s take a walk.”

  While he stumbled after me toward the indoor arena, I dug out my cell phone. My parents were the best. If I’d been Vicky, I would have a serious problem since they refused to pay for her cell anymore. It was one more casualty in the divorce wars. Now at least, I didn’t have to leave him to go for help. I could call the house from the barn.

  Felicia answered. Once she heard my diagnosis, she said, “Okay, I’m getting the vet. Colic is the leading cause of death in horses next to old age.”

  “Thanks a lot. I needed to hear that.” I kept walking and talking at the same time. I could multi-task. I was a teenage girl. “How about some help? Muscle relaxants, mineral oil and people to keep him up and moving?”

  “Dad’s on the way,” Felicia said. “Jack’s hitting the vet cabinet. Bill’s got the fridge, and Mom’s making up the drench as we speak.”

  Twaziem stopped. He sagged in place. He was going down.

  “Gotta go.” I hung up, pushed the phone in my pocket, and yanked hard on the lead. “Come on. We’re walking here. If you tear up your guts, you’re dead.”