“Oh, no. He has to give a lesson. You are in charge of the dumping,” she says with a wide grin. “Special request from Mr. Quinn.”
“But …” Running the wheelbarrow is the worst job there is. It’s heavy and smelly, and if the wheelbarrow tips over, you have to do twice the work.
Zoe’s nose quivers. “Are you sure Gran knows that this is what we’ll be doing?” she asks.
“You won’t just be shoveling manure,” Linda assures her. “You’ll be cleaning tack—the bridles and saddles—feeding and watering the horses, bringing hay down from the loft, and cleaning up the courtyard.”
Brenna looks strangely relieved. “Doesn’t sound like there will be much time for riding,” she says.
“Don’t worry,” Linda says. “There will be plenty. Quinn said you guys should work for a couple of hours, then we’ll get you in the saddle.”
It’s impossible to keep up with four stall shovelers, even amateurs. When I fill the wheelbarrow, I have to push it outside, around the barn, past a toolshed, and through the parking lot to the manure pile. After the third trip, my arms feel like they are about to fall off.
They don’t need me, they need a superhero—Manure Boy—to take care of this.
Wouldn’t it be easier to train the horses to go to the bathroom in the manure pile? If you think about it, it’s like the horses have trained us, or at least me. I’m the one running around dumping their messes.
“Hurry up, David!” “I’m done, David.” “You missed a spot, David!” the girls call after me. They don’t realize how hard this is.
Pushing the fourth load, I have to stop by the toolshed. My arms are stretching so far I’m going to look like an orangutan by lunchtime. And I’ve fallen way behind the girls. They’re going to be finished riding by the time I’m done doing this. And I won’t have any time to spend with Trickster.
There has to be a better way. If the manure pile were closer to the barn …
I check over my shoulder. No one is looking.
I dump the muck behind the toolshed. I’ll deal with it later.
By the time Linda comes back an hour later, the stalls are all clean. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she asks.
“You don’t really want us to answer, do you?” Zoe asks wearily.
“Did you dump all the muck out back?” Linda asks me.
I nod once.
“Maybe you should check behind a truck or look under a rug,” Brenna says. “David’s the best corner-cutter we have.”
Before I can think of a snappy reply, Linda steps between us.
“Good job. Now, I’ll clean the shovels while you head up to the tack room. Find a helmet, safety vest, and gloves that fit, then meet me in the exercise ring. Your horses are waiting for you.”
Zoe and Maggie dash off, pumped about riding. Brenna and Sunita follow behind, a little slower. I really want to ride, but I want to see Trickster first. I follow Linda to the wash block, where there are plenty of hoses and scrub brushes for cleaning up.
“How is Trickster doing?” I ask.
Linda points a strong stream of water at the dirty shovels. “The boss is down at his stall with Dr. Mac. You shouldn’t bother them right now. He doesn’t like to be interrupted when a horse is with the vet.” She turns off the hose and hangs up the shovels. “Come on. Let’s get your lesson started.”
“Um, I’ll be right with you,” I say. “Can I meet you in the ring. I sort of have to go to the bathroom.”
I can feel myself blushing. It’s embarrassing to say that, even if it’s a lie.
“You know where the bathroom is?”
I nod, trying to look desperate.
“Don’t dawdle.”
I wait until Linda heads up the stairs to the tack room, then I hurry down to the far end of the barn.
I have to see Trickster.
Chapter Five
Dr. Mac and Mr. Quinn stand with their arms crossed as Trickster munches hay in his stall.
“How’s his leg?” I ask, walking quietly up behind them.
Trickster lifts his head at the sound of my voice. He nickers and shakes his head so that his forelock flops from side to side.
“David! Didn’t hear you coming,” Dr. Mac says. “It should heal without any problems. The swelling is already down, and he isn’t limping. I don’t see any infection in his cut. His prognosis is excellent, I’d say.”
“How soon can I ride him?” I can feel Mr. Quinn watching me. “I mean, how soon before he can be ridden?”
“That depends,” Dr. Mac says. “I don’t want to turn him loose in a pasture. He might reinjure himself. But I don’t like the idea of keeping him in a stall twenty-four hours a day, either.”
Mr. Quinn puts out his hands. “I don’t have the staff to walk him, J.J.,” he tells Dr. Mac. “I’m training three horses, on top of caring for the boarders and getting my own horses ready for competition.”
“You run a risk either way, keeping him stalled or letting him run,” Dr. Mac observes.
Mr. Quinn slaps the dust off his jeans.
Trickster knows we’re talking about him. He sticks his head out of the stall door for me to pet him. I move the stray hairs of his forelock out of his eyes. He looks me right in the eye. It’s like looking in a mirror. It’s weird, but I feel like he’s trying to talk to me—to tell me what he wants.
“I’ll walk him.” The words pop out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying. “I’ll come as soon as school gets out and I’ll stay until dark. I’ll even come in the morning, before school starts.”
Dr. Mac’s right eyebrow goes up to half-mast. Mr. Quinn recrosses his arms over his chest.
“I know you, David Hutchinson,” he says. “You want something. What do you get out of this?”
No use fooling around. “I get to ride him,” I say bluntly. “I’ll do whatever Trickster needs, and when he’s better, you let me ride him. We’d be great for each other, I can tell.”
Mr. Quinn picks up some strands of straw on the floor and tosses them in the stall. What is he thinking?
“David has helped at the clinic almost every day this spring,” Dr. Mac says. “He does a good job for me. I think he deserves a chance.”
“You’d have to walk him for forty-five minutes morning and night, and make sure he doesn’t get too warm,” Mr. Quinn says sternly. “You’d be responsible for telling me if the leg swelled up any, or if he limped or tripped.”
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“It may take a few weeks,” Dr. Mac points out.
“And you won’t wander off like you did during that little incident last year?” Mr. Quinn asks.
“No, sir, I promise, Mr. Quinn, I swear. I’ve learned a lot since then.”
He relaxes and chuckles slightly, then shakes his head. “You sure do remind me of your father, you know that?”
I don’t know what to say to that. I know Mr. Quinn is, or was, good friends with Dad, but I don’t like talking about my father to anybody.
“All right, we have a deal,” Mr. Quinn says abruptly.
“We do?”
“You heard me. We have a deal. Prove yourself with Trickster, and you’ll ride him.” Mr. Quinn points a callused finger at me. “But no fooling around, understand? No shenanigans, promise?”
“I promise! Scout’s honor! Cross my heart and hope to die! What do you want me to do first?”
Dr. Mac’s eyebrow sinks back where it belongs. “This horse needs a walk. A nice, slow walk. Don’t let him trot or kick up his heels. Just a walk.”
“Now?” I ask.
“I want to fit him out with a better halter,” Mr. Quinn says as he checks his watch. “You can walk him while the girls have their first lesson. Follow them and watch how he reacts to the other horses. I don’t know too much about his social skills yet.”
“And when he’s all better, I get to ride him.” I repeat, just to make sure he wasn’t fooling with me.
Yee-haa! I did it!
By the time I get to the exercise ring, the girls are standing next to their horses, all of which I recognize from last year.
Maggie is teamed with Gus, which is just as well because they are both on the short side. Zoe will ride Claiborne, a deep bay Thoroughbred with white stockings, or markings, on the lower part of his legs. Sunita is next to old Gertie, a perfect fit. Gertie will be gentle and slow. Brenna is standing next to Blitzen, a palomino mare. I’ve never ridden her, but she has a reputation for being stubborn, so she’ll be a good match for Brenna.
There is one extra horse, Farrah, saddled and waiting for me. I’m disappointed for a second that I’m not going to get to ride, but that’s OK. Trickster will leave Farrah in the dust when he’s better. We’re going to be great together. Wait ‘til the others hear the news!
I climb on the gate next to the girls and holler, “HEY, I’M GOING TO RIDE TRICKSTER!”
Bad idea.
Blitzen snorts and skitters sideways. Brenna clutches at the reins, but Blitzen bumps into the rear end of Gertie, Sunita’s horse. Gertie looks at Blitzen and lowers her head again. Nothing fazes Gertie.
“Everyone stay calm,” Linda says in a quiet but powerful voice. She slowly walks up to Blitzen and says something to her. Brenna looks pale. I feel stupid. I should know better than to shout at a group of horses, especially when there are green riders around.
When Linda has Blitzen settled down, she walks back to the middle of the ring. “OK,” she says to me. “No more stunts like that. There’s some gear for you on that hay bale. Put it on and keep your voice down.”
“Sorry, I was a little excited,” I say as I climb down into the ring. “I’m not riding today. Mr. Quinn is going to let me work with Trickster. He wants me to walk him while you guys ride.”
“Lucky you,” Linda says. “He looks like a fun horse. OK, let’s get going. Ready, girls? Mount up.”
Zoe mounts perfectly. She puts the toe of her left boot carefully in the stirrup so she doesn’t poke her horse in the side. She hops straight up and freezes for an instant, so Claiborne can get used to her weight. Then Zoe swings her right leg over the horse’s back. She pauses again, standing with a foot in each stirrup. It’s not polite to plop down on a horse’s back. Claiborne is totally relaxed, so Zoe sits lightly in the saddle.
Sheesh, she was telling the truth. She really has ridden before. But she can’t call herself a real rider, not until she shovels a lot more manure.
Maggie struggles a little, but pulls herself up into Gus’s saddle. Linda gives Sunita and Brenna boosts and shows them how to put their feet in the stirrups and sit so that their weight is forward, where it is most comfortable for the horse.
Once everyone is correctly seated, Linda stands in the middle of the large ring. “We’re going to start out nice and easy. Gently squeeze your heels to tell your horse to walk.”
The girls follow the instructions and their horses step forward. “Good, good,” Linda calls. “Just walk nice and slow. Get to know your horse, and let your horse get to know you. Relax. Horses are extra-sensitive creatures. They can tell if you’re nervous, if you’re happy, if you feel sick, or if you are having the time of your life. Relax.”
“Easy for her to say,” Brenna mutters as she and Blitzen pass me. “She’s standing on the ground.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Brenna was nervous. But she’s not afraid of anything, not even snakes, which—to be totally honest—make me want to scream and climb on top of furniture.
“You’re doing great, Brenna,” I call. “Chill out and you’ll have more fun.”
“It’s not so bad,” Maggie calls from the other side of the exercise ring. “When can we gallop?” She and Gus are moving along like they’ve been riding together for years. Maggie can do anything athletic.
Linda has the riders practice starting and stopping and lets them circle the ring a few more times. Then she opens the gate that leads outside and swings herself up onto her horse, a medium-sized bay with a white blaze down the middle of his brown face. I’m not sure about the breed. He has a heavy build. Maybe he has some Clydesdale blood in him. He wasn’t built for speed, that’s for sure.
“Time to head out on the trail,” Linda says.
“The trail?” Brenna asks.
“Don’t worry, you can do it,” Linda assures her. “You look terrific. Here’s the order I want. I’ll go first, then Sunita, Maggie, Zoe, Brenna. David, you follow behind us leading Trickster.”
While the others get in line, Brenna hangs back.
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride? I could walk Trickster,” she offers.
“Are you OK?” I ask quietly, so that the others can’t hear. I’ve never seen Brenna nervous before.
“What do you mean? Of course I’m OK,” she says quickly. “What? You think I’m afraid? I just thought you wanted to ride. You were so fired up about it at the clinic.”
“Brenna, David—get it in gear,” Linda calls.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” Brenna mutters as she urges Blitzen forward.
I follow them out of the enclosed exercise ring to the paddock outside. Trickster is waiting for me at the gate with Mr. Quinn.
Trickster nickers loudly. I think he missed me.
“Here you go,” Mr. Quinn says, handing me the lead rope. “Take it nice and slow, and there won’t be any problems.”
“Are you coming with us?” I ask.
“Nope, I’m going to put Starfire through his paces,” he says, nodding toward the saddled horse.
Starfire, Mr. Quinn’s best show horse, prances in place. A giant black Thoroughbred who can run faster than the wind, Starfire is the perfect horse for Mr. Quinn. They are both strong and smart.
“We’ll be jumping in the field at the base of the hill,” he continues. “Follow directions and be careful.”
“Are we ready?” Linda calls from the head of the line.
“All set,” I answer.
Linda’s horse moves forward, followed by my friends.
Trickster picks up his feet quickly, like he wants to trot, but I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I tell him. “We are not running today. You heard Mr. Quinn. Take it easy.”
Trickster snorts loudly, as if he’s annoyed. He feels like running. I can’t blame him, especially after being cooped up in the trailer yesterday. And it’s a perfect day—not too hot, not too cold. The grass is green, a breeze blowing …
Stop it. No running today. Pay attention to Trickster and watch his leg.
“Soon, buddy.” I stroke his muzzle. “We’ll get to run soon, I promise. But not today.”
Chapter Six
The girls all look comfortable, even Brenna. Zoe has the best posture, and Maggie is sitting well, too. Sunita and Brenna are getting bounced around in the saddle a little, but that’s OK. They’ll learn how to move with the horse soon.
We climb the long hill behind the barns. Below us, I can see Mr. Quinn mount Starfire, and the two of them start their jumping exercises in the ring. He and Starfire look like they are one animal, like something out of a storybook—turning, cantering, leaping, and landing. That’s what I’m going to look like when I ride Trickster.
Linda stops at the top of the hill, where the trail forks. One path continues up over the hill, and the other heads into the woods.
“Which trail are we going to take?” Maggie asks.
Linda points to the right. “We’ll ride along the top of the hill, then down the other side. It’s a gentle slope,” she explains. “You can’t take the wooded trail until you have more experience.”
“When do we get to jump?” Zoe asks.
“Not today,” Linda says, smiling. “Not for a while. Let’s go.”
She presses her heels into the sides of her horse and he steps forward. Maggie, Sunita, and Zoe’s horses follow her
. But Brenna’s horse doesn’t move. She flaps the reins. Blitzen stays put.
“Maybe you should say please,” I tease, as Trickster and I walk toward them.
“You’re no help,” Brenna says.
“Use your legs,” I say. “Give her a gentle squeeze.”
“I’m trying. She won’t go!”
“Move forward. You’re sitting too far back in the saddle.”
Brenna looks exasperated. “David, look at me. If I move up any farther I’ll be sitting on her head! You’re the big horse expert. Do something!”
As Trickster and I step closer, Blitzen flattens her ears and skitters sideways. She’s staring at Trickster, swaying her head a little so she can get a good look at him.
“Hang on,” I say. “I don’t think Blitzen likes Trickster very much. He’s making her nervous. Let me tie him up.”
I lead Trickster a few steps away and look around for something to tie him to. There is nothing, unless you count a few patches of daisies. I could lead him across the field to the woods and tie him to a tree, but then I’d have to walk him to the woods, walk back, help Brenna, walk to the fence, get Trickster, and catch up with the group. It makes me tired just thinking about it.
“Go get Linda,” Brenna suggests. “This isn’t working.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle this.” I say confidently. “Give me one second.”
I lead Trickster farther away to a thick clump of grass. “Snack time, boy. Stay here and munch while I help Brenna.”
Trickster snorts once and lowers his head to nibble hungrily. He’s not going anywhere, not while he can eat.
“Are you sure he’s going to be OK there?” Brenna calls.
“We understand each other,” I say. “He listens to me. Now let’s deal with Blitzen.”
As soon as I get close enough to touch Blitzen, she nervously steps sideways again. “Well, that worked,” I say. “She just likes to walk sideways, that’s all.”
“Be serious,” Brenna says. “I don’t want to go sideways. I want to go forward. Go get Linda.”
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