Stables S.O.S.

by Janet Rising

  “That feels so much better,” she said, her teeth chattering.

  “You’re bonkers,” I told her. “Why didn’t you wash it at home?”

  “Everyone had used all the hot water,” Bean said, running her fingers through her hair to get it to dry.

  “Do you want to think about that for a moment?” I asked her, unable to fathom her logic. “You really are bonkers, you know!”

  James walked by with Moth’s halter, headed for the field. Looking at Bean combing her wet hair, then at me, he shook his head. He’d given up trying to understand Bean.

  “Wait for me,” I said, running back to get Drummer’s halter. “I’ll come with you and get Drummer in.”

  We walked side-by-side to the field, going through the gate and past Pippin, who was grazing nearby, over to the far side of the field where the rest of the ponies were trying to make out they weren’t there.

  “Hey, Drummer!” I called.

  Drummer looked over to me and yawned. No way was he going to make an effort and meet me halfway. He was going to make me walk all the way over to catch him. Moth at least seemed willing, taking a step or two forward for James.

  Thanks for showing me up, Drum, I thought. You’re a pal. I threw my Brookdale sash in the fire for you, and you can’t even be bothered to wander over.

  “You know, Pia, I think what you are doing for Cat totally rocks,” James said.

  I suddenly felt a bit hot. “Er, how do you mean?” I asked.

  “Well, everybody knows how Cat has always been mean to you,” James continued. “She even tried to get Drummer stolen once, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah, well,” I mumbled, unwilling to revisit that episode.

  “The way you’re so determined to help Cat keep Bambi and got everyone to think up ideas as well—I’m a bit in awe of you, to tell the truth,” James went on, making it worse.

  “Um, well, I just know how I would feel if it was happening to Drummer and me,” I mumbled.

  “I think it’s noble,” said James, offering Moth a carrot and putting on her halter. “You’re bigger than I would be if I were in your shoes,” he continued. “Lend me you-know-who for a while, will you? I haven’t spoken to Moth for ages.”

  I dug Epona out of my pocket and handed her over. James borrowed her now and again to keep up to speed with his pony. She was the only pony who refused to talk to me, due to her mistrust of humans in general, but she did talk to James, via our goddess interpreter, of course. It seemed a fair trade for James’s silence about Epona. Who was I kidding? It was great to share a secret together. It was the only relationship we did have, after all.

  My feelings of elation following James’s glowing words were gradually replaced by the knowledge that I was a real phony. I was taking the credit for something that simply wasn’t true.

  “To tell the truth,” James had said. The phrase rattled around my brain. I had felt pretty giddy when James had complimented me—but for something I didn’t deserve and that he’d totally misinterpreted? I didn’t think so. Noble, he’d said. I didn’t feel noble. Luckily, without Epona, I was spared Drummer’s take on our conversation. He was bound to have something to say about it, and it wouldn’t be good.

  My conscience bothered me. I’d had an opportunity to come clean with James, but I’d passed that opportunity by. I’d let him think my motives for helping Cat keep Bambi were unselfish. I’d allowed him to give me credit for something that wasn’t true.

  I wasn’t helping Catriona for Catriona’s sake. I’d often thought about how I would feel if she and Bambi were no longer at Laurel Farm. How peaceful it would be for me, how I would no longer have to worry about her snide remarks and name-calling, and I had to admit, it had sounded like more than a good idea from my point of view. OK, she had been better since the activity ride, but who knew how long that would last? We weren’t exactly friends. Our relationship was one of mutual tolerance, rather than any real warmth.

  The real and only reason I was desperate to find a solution to Cat’s problem was because of Drummer’s love for Bambi.

  And now I had let James think it was because I was noble. I was anything but.

  I brushed Drummer over and saddled him up. We hadn’t had a schooling session in forever and now seemed as good a time as any. James gave me Epona back as I rode Drummer to the outdoor school. Immediately, I wished he hadn’t.

  “Boring!” moaned Drum, dragging his hooves.

  “Oh be fair!” I replied. “We haven’t been out here in absolutely forever!”

  “I’d hoped you’d given up schooling for the summer.”

  “No.”

  We walked and trotted around to warm up and then I asked Drum for some transitions, trying to get them absolutely perfect as we passed the markers. The first few were just OK, then we got a bit better, but then worse again, which was annoying. I decided to try some shallow loops and a few serpentines. These didn’t go so well, either.

  OK, I thought, I’ll work on perfecting our halts. It was something we weren’t very good at—Drummer always seemed to take another step or two and leave a hind leg behind rather than standing square, and I was horrible at correcting him.

  Steering Drummer down the centerline I asked him to halt at X, at the very center, concentrating on feeling my seat bones and hips. Were they level? My right hip felt slightly lower than my left, which meant Drummer had left his off hind behind. I nudged him with my right leg, but instead of bringing his off hind up underneath him, Drummer sighed and felt like a deflated balloon.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked him, leaning forward.

  Drummer’s ears went out sideways. “Oh, well, I think I’m depressed,” he mumbled.

  I jumped off and went to his head. “It’s only a bit of schooling,” I told him.

  “Oh, it’s not that,” Drummer replied, hanging his head. “It’s the Bambi thing. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose her.”

  “Oh, Drummer,” I said, shocked. This wasn’t like Drum. Usually he helped me whenever I was feeling down. Now I felt like I had nothing to say to him. No words of comfort. To make it worse, he lifted his head onto my shoulder and sighed again.

  “Don’t let her go,” I heard him whisper.

  I gulped and put my arms around his neck.

  “I won’t,” I whispered back. “I promise.” We stayed like that for a while, and I had never felt so close to my pony—or so helpless. I was saying the right thing, but could I fulfill my promise?

  “Can we go back in?” Drummer asked. “I really don’t feel up to this.”

  “You don’t usually let things get to you,” I said gently.

  “Yeah, well, I’m a look-on-the-bright-side sort of pony,” Drummer mumbled.

  Really? I thought, saying nothing.

  We walked back to the stables.

  “That was quick!” exclaimed Bean.

  I didn’t feel I could explain so I just shrugged my shoulders and unsaddled Drummer, washing his bit under the tap before putting it away. I felt a bit depressed, too. It was contagious, I thought, turning Drummer out again so he could be with Bambi. If he was feeling down, there was no point in doing anything else. I watched him canter over to her, and they nuzzled each other before settling down to graze side by side.

  I wandered back to the yard. I could see Katy rummaging around in the tack room, and Cat was in the barn. I decided I would weed the yard—it was looking a bit ratty.

  Suddenly, James burst on to the scene from around the corner like some kind of comic book hero—without the stupid costume, obviously.

  “Where is everyone?” he yelled, like we were hiding them.

  “Er, well, Katy’s grooming Bluey and…” Bean began.

  “I’ve got it!” shouted James, punching the air so that his slightly too long blo
nd hair fell over his eyes.

  “Got what?” I asked him, trying not to notice his hair. It always does things to me so I try not to think about it. It’s virtually impossible.

  “The Stables S.O.S.!” he said. “I know how we’re going to save Laurel Farm!”

  “It’s not about us!” explained James. “It’s about history!”

  Bean and I both looked at him blankly. I was beginning to think everyone was bonkers today. Except me, of course.

  “You said it would be a shame if these farm buildings were torn down,” James said to Bean.

  “Yeah, it would. Tiffany lives in one of them,” Bean agreed. “Although I’d get her out first, obviously.”

  “I thought you said they wouldn’t be?” said Katy. “You said they’d be turned into houses and garages.”

  “Are these buildings important, then?” I asked, looking at the stables. They didn’t look especially important. They were wooden, old, and a bit ramshackle.

  “Probably not,” James said. “Why is your hair wet, Bean?” he added abruptly.

  Bean, Katy, and I exchanged glances. James wasn’t making sense, and we didn’t just mean about Bean’s hair.

  “But what about the house?” asked James, waving his arms around and jumping up and down.

  “What, Mrs. Collins’s house?” asked Bean, frowning uncertainly as she glanced at the rather boring-looking brick house built next to the tack room.

  James looked as though he wanted to give Bean a shake. Usually, I know how he feels, but I didn’t think it was Bean who was being annoying this time.

  “No, the big house!” yelled James. “The big house that used to be next to Laurel Farm.”

  The light went on in my brain. Honestly, sometimes it takes a while. I’d remembered James talking about the big house before, a huge house to which the farm belonged.

  “But wasn’t that near the icehouse?” I asked him. I had always assumed it had been. The icehouse, where ice was taken from the lake to be stored all winter to be used in the summer at the big house, was over the other side of the bridle path, on the other side of the lake. That was nowhere near the stables.

  “Nah!” James said, all dismissive. “The icehouse had to be near the water, but the house was here, in the ponies’ field.”

  “I thought that was something you just made up,” said Bean. “Was there really a house here?”

  “Yep!” said James, nodding smugly.

  “But it’s not here anymore,” I said. “You told me there was no trace of it.”

  “But it’s probably still a site of historical interest,” James told us. “Some archaeological types would go crazy for the chance to find out about it. And if that’s so, the site is probably important, and planning permission would be refused.”

  “That sounds a bit, er, well, easy,” said Katy.

  “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” yelled James.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding my head, “it certainly is!”

  “What is?” asked Dee, appearing as if by magic. In a jumble of words, we all told her.

  Dee’s face lit up. “That totally is the way to go!” she said. “Good one, James. Now what do we do?”

  “Let’s go and take a look around and see if we can see anything,” James suggested, and we all galloped into the field, our eyes on the grass.

  “Where was it, exactly?” asked Dee. “Why is your hair damp, Bean? It hasn’t been raining, has it?”

  “Er, not really sure,” mumbled James, striding away from the gate. “Big houses were usually built to take advantage of a view.”

  “So we have to decide where we would build a house, if we were going to,” said Katy.

  “Brilliant, Katy!” said Bean, fluffing up her hair in the sun.

  “The highest ground is over here,” I said, running to the hill and looking down at the villages below. You certainly could see for miles.

  The ponies wandered over, curious as to what we were doing. They had ulterior motives, of course.

  “Got any treats?” Drummer asked me, frisking my pockets. He seemed to have perked up a bit now that he was back with Bambi.

  I shook my head. “No, but I’ve got something much more exciting—we think we’ve found a way to save the stables!”

  All the ponies pricked up their ears. I explained that we were looking for the house that had been built so long ago.

  “You’re looking in the wrong place,” said Bambi, gazing over to the left of us and not even bothering to look up. “It was over there, where that patch of long grass is by the hedge.”

  I blinked. “What did you just say?”

  Bambi sighed impatiently. “It was over there!” she repeated, nodding her head in the direction.

  “She’s right,” Drummer said. “It was definitely over there. Come on, we’ll show you.”

  “Hold on!” I cried, holding up my hands. “How do you know?”

  James, Katy, Dee, and Bean all looked over. “What’s up?” asked James.

  “The ponies know where the house was,” I told them. I guessed their faces mirrored mine. I mean, how on earth…?

  “Not difficult,” explained Drummer, “if you’re a pony. The ground gives off all sorts of vibes we can feel—which you can’t. You’d be amazed at what the ground tells us that escapes you. To be honest, you’re pretty useless. I don’t know how you all get by.”

  “No wonder I’m of slightly nervous disposition,” murmured Tiffany.

  “Slightly?” I muttered.

  “So where was it?” asked James, who had learned not to question what I told him from the ponies’ mouths.

  We trailed behind the ponies to the far side of the field.

  Drummer stamped a front hoof and sniffed the ground. “Here, this is where the oldest one was built.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Katy. “There’s no view from here.” She turned accusingly to James. “I thought you said it would have been built where the owners would have had a view.”

  Far from being able to see down the hill from this part of the field, all we could see were trees. There was no view at all.

  “Excuse me,” said Bluey—he really was a polite pony, “but those trees probably weren’t there when the house was built.”

  Of course!

  “When was the house built, James?” I asked.

  “Originally? About four or five hundred years ago, according to Mrs. Collins,” James replied.

  “Oh, that one,” said Drummer, walking a bit to the left, “that’s here.”

  “What do you mean, that one?” I asked. “How many are there?”

  “Oh, tons!” he replied.

  “Tons? How many is tons?”

  “You’re looking for the four-hundred-year-old one—you did say that, didn’t you?” asked Drum.

  I nodded dumbly.

  “Then that’s here,” finished Drummer.

  “Drummer seems to think there’s more than one house,” I told the others.

  “Yeah,” nodded James. “I think another house was built when that one fell down, or something.”

  I was confused. I’ve never been very good with dates and things at school. “So which one are you talking about?” I asked Drummer.

  “Well, the four-hundred-year-old one, give or take a few years, that’s under here,” Drummer assured me.

  “But that makes it…” began Dee, counting on her fingers. “Elizabethan!”

  “That alone justifies those huge fees your parents pay for your fancy schooling, Dee—pretty amazing, huh?” said James.

  I pictured ladies from the age of Queen Elizabeth wearing long dresses and stiff white ruffs around their necks, walking where we were now with men sporting more ruffs and pointed beards. A shiver ran up
and down my spine. How strange to think of people all those years ago wandering over the same soil, looking at the same view.

  “No wonder there’s nothing left,” said Bean, interrupting my thoughts.

  “What’s going on?” said a voice. It was Cat. In our excitement we’d failed to notice her arrival. “Why are you all bouncing about in the field? Your hair looks nice, Bean.”

  “James has the most amazing plan to save the stables!” Katy told her, and explained all about the way the old house was going to be the answer to everyone’s prayers—everyone except Cat, that is.

  “The only problem is that there’s nothing left of it,” grumbled Bean, kicking a stone, her eyes cast downward as though an ancient house would suddenly appear from under her boots.

  “So how does that work, then?” Cat asked, not unreasonably. As I told you before, she was still a bit annoyed with James and so she wasn’t going to get too excited by any ideas he came up with.

  “It could be a site of historical interest,” James explained, talking unnecessarily slowly as though Cat was being dim. You can imagine how well that went down with Cat.

  “Historical interest to whom?” asked Cat.

  “The. Nation. Of. Course,” James said, even more slowly, just to annoy Cat. It worked.

  “How. Is. The. Nation. Going. To. Know. About. It?” Cat replied, pouting at James.

  “The National Heritage Organization!” said Katy. “They’ll love it. They save old buildings for the nation. My mom’s always dragging me around to them during vacations. Some of them look as though they’d have been happier left to rot. Some are OK though, and quite interesting,” she added.

  “We’ll get Sophie to tell them,” added Bean. “She’ll get them down here.”

  “Do you think Mrs. Collins would mind?” I asked.

  James dismissed my doubts. “Mind?” he said. “We’re saving the stables, of course she won’t mind.”

  We all whizzed back to the yard and found Sophie, told her breathlessly of our plans and left it in her hands. She was all for it, once we’d assured her that the house really had existed, according to Mrs. Collins.