The Trail Home

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Do I say, ‘You’re welcome’?”

  “If you want to.” Emily laughed. “We’ve never really talked about this much and that’s okay, but I don’t mind talking about it. My handicap is part of me and I’m part of it. We are one, you see. Not everybody agrees with me, but the way I see it, I can do most of the things I want to do, and there are a lot of people without obvious handicaps who can’t do some of the things I do—like, for instance, ride horses. In my case, it seems to me that the most disabling handicap I can have is in my head. I mean, at a certain point, handicaps are more in your head than they are in your muscles or your neurons or wherever they happen to be physically. It’s important to know when to ask for help and when to take care of something yourself. When I can’t tell the difference, that’s when I’m really handicapped.”

  Carole didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected so much of an answer to her question.

  “Glad you asked?” Emily teased.

  “I guess so. I was just thinking about Callie …”

  “I guess I didn’t answer that part of the question. No, it doesn’t bother me at all that Callie will get better. It makes me very happy to know that we’ll be seeing progress there even if it takes a long time.”

  “All the more reason to work hard at helping her, I guess.”

  “I guess,” Emily said.

  Carole turned into the drive at Pine Hollow and parked her car. It was still early in the morning. A couple of the riders who liked to ride before work were out in the paddock. As the girls entered the stable, Carole saw that Ben and Red were working together to see that the horses were all fed and watered and the stalls given a quick morning cleanup.

  “Let’s go see our new patient,” Carole said. They walked along the aisle, as Carole had the night before with Judy, greeting the horses on the way. Because of their conversation, Carole found herself more aware of the regular thumps of Emily’s crutches than she remembered ever being before.

  Fez was standing when they reached him. He’d made the effort to get up to be fed and watered. As soon as he’d eaten and drunk, he let himself back down and laid his head on the fresh hay, clearly relieved.

  “There’s a lot of work to be done here, isn’t there?” Emily asked.

  “A lot,” Carole agreed. “Judy isn’t sure he’s going to make it. Ben seems convinced he can do it. I’m going to help all I can.”

  “We’ll all pitch in,” Emily said.

  “Thanks,” said Carole. “I’ve got to get to the office now. I’ll see you later.”

  Carole stowed her lunch in the refrigerator and sat down at the desk, ready to start her day with the usual task of assigning horses and ponies. Something else had to be done first, though, because the light was blinking on the answering machine. She took up a pencil and a pad of paper and pressed Play.

  “Max, it’s Justin Waller over at the Horsemen’s Association. We’ve received your reference letter, but we haven’t heard from that young man yet. He’s going to have to submit his application and project within the next two weeks. He knows about the deadline, doesn’t he?”

  Carole felt as though she’d heard something she wasn’t supposed to. On the other hand, it was her job to listen to messages and relay them to Max. She made a note about the call and left it on Max’s desk. But what was she going to do? What could she do?

  Ben only had two weeks to complete his project. Two weeks to save Fez. What if it didn’t work? It could mean the end of Ben’s college career before it even started. That would be horrible. Carole wished she could talk with Ben about this, but since Ben generally seemed reluctant to discuss anything—from what kind of sandwich he’d brought for lunch to why she couldn’t drive him home—it was going to be up to her to find out what she could on her own, in addition to helping him. For perhaps the hundredth time, she wished Ben were less secretive, more open, friendlier, easier to get along with—in sum, more like Scott. Or did she? That was something she’d take the time to consider at greater length when she didn’t have a stack of mail to open and three lists of classes, all of which needed horse assignments.

  She pulled the mail over first and picked up the sterling silver horse-head letter opener. Amused, she opened the first piece of mail. “You May Already Be a Winner!” boldly proclaimed the envelope. Inside, the letter began, “Dear Mr. Hollow, If the number appearing …”

  “… in the garbage,” Carole declared, and dropped it there.

  Next came a bill from the feed supplier, copies of blood test results that needed to be filed, and then a postcard. Carole examined the photograph—stunningly stark hills silhouetted against a clear blue sky. It looked like California. Curious, she turned the card over. It was California. The card was from Lisa, addressed to “All my friends at Pine Hollow.”

  Now, this was much more interesting than the possibility of winning ten million dollars.

  I’m having a great time out here in California and I wish you all could see what I’m up to. I’ve got a job—the best kind in the world, working with horses. My boss is much easier going than a lot of other stable owners (dig, dig!) … The horses are nice, too. It’s all Western riding, which is quite a change, but change is good sometimes.

  I think of you guys a lot and hope your summer is going well. For me, it’s nothing but blue skies and horses. Give hugs to Prancer, Belle, Starlight, Barq, Penny, Nickel, Comanche—oh, and some people, too.

  Love,

  Lisa

  Carole read the card three times and then dutifully got up and walked down the aisle of the stable, greeting all the horses Lisa had named and wondering how her summer was really going. Well, what could be wrong with being in California and being around horses and blue—Oh, of course, Lisa meant she was working with Skye!

  Carole returned to her desk and set the postcard out prominently so that she wouldn’t forget to show it to everyone who came in. Lisa knew everybody at the stable, and everybody would want to know how things were going—and if she wished they were there.

  Lisa’s parents had divorced several years before, and her father had moved to California and remarried. Most of the time since then, Lisa had lived with her mother, though she visited her father on school vacations. This year she was spending the entire summer out West. Carole and Stevie missed her terribly, and Stevie’s twin brother missed her even more. Alex and Lisa had been going together for almost a year. While Carole and Stevie were, at some level, convinced that Lisa was going to decide she liked it better in California and would never want to come back, Alex had added to that the notion that she was going to fall in love with someone else out there and would never want to see him again. Nothing Lisa had been able to say before she’d left had allayed his fears, and nothing in this postcard would help, either.

  Carole guessed that the reference to blue skies in the postcard was a code of sorts. Years earlier the three girls had met and made friends with Skye Ransom. A lot of people were surprised that they claimed friendship with such a famous actor—heartthrob of American girls and of quite a few girls elsewhere throughout the world—but it was true. Over the years, the four of them had managed to get together occasionally and had maintained their friendship. Sometimes it was by phone, sometimes by e-mail or fax. More than a few times, the girls had gotten messages from Skye via production assistants. Skye did most of his work on the West Coast, but when his filming schedule brought him to the East, he always managed to meet up with The Saddle Club.

  He was friends with all three of them, but there was a special bond between Skye and Lisa, and this was the basis for Alex’s case of nerves about Lisa’s summer away. His fears were heightened by the fact that Lisa had managed to get a job on the set of the television show Skye starred in. The show involved horses, and Lisa was an assistant stable hand.

  “Hey, what’s up?” asked a familiar voice from the office doorway.

  Carole smiled and looked up from the card, which she was rereading. Stevie stood there, amused by Carole�
�s total concentration.

  “Lisa’s up,” Carole answered, waving the card. “She’s written to all of us—well, everyone here at Pine Hollow. She’s having fun.”

  Stevie stepped forward and took the proffered postcard. She read it quickly, shaking her head.

  “Oh, no. She’s never going to come back,” she said.

  Carole frowned. “Where’d you get that?”

  “It’s clear as can be. Look, she’s having a wonderful time with the horses. You know what the blue skies are, right?”

  “I got that,” Carole said.

  “And she likes her boss better than she likes Max.”

  “I don’t think she really meant that,” said Carole.

  “Sure, she’s being funny about it now, but we won’t be laughing when the end of August comes and there’s no sign of her. She’ll be in Hollywood High School before you can say boo.”

  “I don’t think so. Her father’s house is fifty miles from Hollywood!” Carole said.

  “Well, whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “Look, Lisa left here without any intention of staying there. She’ll be back.” Carole said that very definitely, but she didn’t really feel definite. Lisa was having a good time. She was probably haying a better time than Carole was, and she was definitely having a better time than Stevie was. Why would she want to come home?

  “Good morning!” Callie greeted the girls cheerfully. They had been so deep in thought that they hadn’t heard her at all. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “A postcard from Lisa,” Stevie said, passing it to her.

  Callie glanced at the message and then turned the card over. She sighed.

  “Sounds like she’s having fun, doesn’t it?” Carole asked.

  “I guess so. I was looking at the picture, though. It reminds me of home. It’s so beautiful there.”

  “It’s beautiful here, too,” Stevie said defensively.

  “Yes, but it’s a different beautiful there, and I miss it.”

  “Lisa’s really something,” said Stevie. “With one cheery postcard, she’s managed to upset almost everybody at Pine Hollow.”

  “Absence can be powerful,” Callie observed. There was a moment of silence while Stevie and Carole absorbed that thought. “And speaking of absence, I’m going to go say hello to Fez before my session. How’s he doing this morning?”

  “He seemed about the same when I looked in on him earlier. Oh, Emily is here. She’s all set to work with you whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” said Callie. She made her way out of the office and down the aisle toward Fez’s stall. The uneven thump of her crutches seemed to echo off the high ceilings.

  Carole opened her desk drawer, found a pushpin, and handed it to Stevie to post Lisa’s card on the bulletin board in the locker area.

  Stevie worked her way through the milling crowd of eight-year-olds who were waiting for their pony assignments. She welcomed the noise, even the whining. Absence was powerful, and distraction was good.

  SIX

  Stevie looked around her at the melee in the locker area. Eager young riders were trying to sort out socks, jackets, hats, riding crops, and boot hooks. It didn’t seem so long ago that she’d been one of them. She shook her head. At seventeen, she was much too young to be sentimental, no matter how tempting it was. She also couldn’t avoid seeing Fez forever. It was time.

  She left the locker area and walked down the aisle to Fez’s stall. Callie was there, peering over the doorway, and Emily stood next to her. Stevie joined them.

  “Wow! Look at that!” she said when she peeked over the door.

  Ben was in the stall with Fez. The horse was standing up, and Ben was grooming him. Fez was cross-tied, but he was also tied up in a lot of other ways.

  “It’s a sling,” Callie explained. “Well, sort of.”

  And it was: a body sling. The horse was supported by a web of leather and nets that was suspended from the roof beams and slung under his belly. The sling wasn’t holding his full weight, but it was taking enough of the weight off the damaged leg—as well as off the others—to allow Fez to remain upright.

  “The idea here is to make him use his leg a little, but not a lot,” said Emily.

  “I couldn’t teach him to hold crutches properly,” said Ben, regarding his audience wryly.

  “You were waiting for Emily and me to be here to try that line, weren’t you?” Callie asked.

  “A-yep,” Ben admitted. He continued grooming the horse. It wasn’t easy to do because the leather and the nylon netting interfered with a normal grooming, but he was doing the best he could, and Fez seemed to be benefitting both from the extra attention and from standing up.

  “How long is he going to stay in that thing?” Stevie asked.

  “Not long,” said Ben. “Just another few minutes. Then some more later on today and some tomorrow, too. A little more each day until he builds up strength, and then less each day after that because he won’t need it anymore.”

  “Is that all he’s going to need to get better?” Stevie asked.

  “Nope.”

  It was a dumb question and got the dumb answer it deserved. Stevie shook her head. Of course the horse would need a lot more than that. As soon as he could walk securely, there would be some sort of exercise regimen to build his muscles. And if Ben had put half as much thought into the exercise scheme as he had the sling, it was going to be great.

  Fez was standing still for his grooming, but it wasn’t as if he had much choice. He was immobilized by both the sling and his injuries. When Stevie focused her attention on him, she realized that he was a good deal sicker than he appeared, standing so politely—and necessarily—still. While Ben groomed him, his head hung low, his ears flopped disinterestedly, and his eyes seemed dull. His tail hung listlessly. Most of his feed from the morning remained in his pail. This was a sick horse.

  Stevie tried to suppress the memory of Fez before the accident. She’d looked after him a bit. She’d even ridden him. He had been spirited to the point of sassiness; he had been stubborn, proud, and full of heart. He hadn’t made it easy for whoever was in his saddle, but the rewards of riding him well had been great. Stevie knew he’d earned a cabinetful of ribbons on countless endurance courses. An endurance specialist was a special horse indeed. Now the light seemed to be gone from his eyes, the spirit from his heart.

  “Okay, that’s enough for now,” said Ben. Methodically he removed all the leather straps and the netting, allowing Fez to ease down into the straw.

  “Looks like he’s ready for his morning nap,” said Emily. “So I guess we have to get to work.”

  She stood back from the stall door, letting Ben out. Callie followed her across the hall to where PC was waiting patiently, tacked up and ready for his lesson.

  Ben helped Callie into the saddle and opened the gate for her, PC, and Emily to go into the small schooling ring where they’d worked the day before. He then returned to Fez’s stall and began folding up the sling. Stevie held the straps while he arranged the netting and untangled some of the hooks. They stepped back outside the stall.

  “He’s still a fine horse,” Ben said, as if reading Stevie’s mind.

  She didn’t answer. There really wasn’t any need to.

  “He’s got heart. Always has,” Ben added. “That’s the most important thing.”

  “It may not be enough,” said Stevie.

  “No, it may not be,” said Ben.

  “And it’s my fault,” said Stevie.

  “Maybe,” said Ben. “Maybe not. Maybe you couldn’t help it. One thing, though …”

  “What?”

  “He is—or was—a great horse by any measure, but the finest horse in the world isn’t worth the lives of three people.”

  “I—Uh—” Stevie began to speak, to try to respond, but Ben didn’t expect a response. Without another word, he swung the stall door closed, latched it, picked up the empty water bucket, and walked away, leaving Ste
vie alone with her thoughts, not necessarily more comforting for his words to her.

  She walked down the aisle in the opposite direction, toward Belle’s stall. As usual, Belle recognized her footsteps long before she could possibly have seen Stevie, and stuck her head up over her stall door. Her ears flicked alertly. She tossed her head eagerly. Stevie could hardly help smiling.

  “I suppose you think there’s some sort of treat for you in my pocket,” she said, approaching the horse.

  Belle’s answer was to nuzzle Stevie’s neck and nip at her hair.

  “I know, I know. I didn’t brush it well enough this morning and it looks like hay, but it’s not,” Stevie said, standing back. Belle continued to tug playfully at it. “Talk about a cure for split ends,” Stevie said, tugging back and, finally, wresting a lock of hair from the horse’s teeth. She dug in her pocket and found some carrot chunks, which Belle seemed to like even more than hair. While the mare chewed, Stevie hugged her. Really, the only time she could hug Belle safely was when the mare’s teeth were occupied with something other than her hair. And Stevie had to hug Belle now. It was the only way she could be sure she was hiding her tears if somebody came down the aisle. It was both odd and wonderful that the horse could be so oblivious to Stevie’s unhappiness. That alone was comforting.

  Stevie slipped into the stall, seeking more comfort and some privacy. Somehow, when things didn’t make sense, she’d found the simple pleasure of being with a horse clarifying. She breathed deeply, loving the familiar scents of horse and hay blended with leather and grain. And she cried, uncontrollably.

  “And you get Patch today,” Carole told the little girl on the other side of the desk.

  “Pa-atch!” the little girl whined.

  “Or you can sit on the side and watch the other riders,” Carole said threateningly.