by Suzanne Weyn
Mrs. LeFleur stood the flashlight on end so that it pointed to the ceiling and illuminated the entire office in a dim light. She sat lightly on the edge of the desk. Taylor faced her, seated on the old, torn couch.
“I haven’t ridden in thirty years,” Mrs. LeFleur said. “But I used to love it.”
“I bet it would all come back to you,” Taylor said. “It’s probably like riding a bicycle. Once you know how, you never forget.”
“I don’t really have the large amount of money required to repair this place,” Mrs. LeFleur said. “It makes more sense just to sell it, but somehow I feel that I want to keep it.”
“Oh, you have to keep it,” Taylor insisted.
Mrs. LeFleur smiled, just a little. “Is that so? Why do I have to keep it?”
Because Pixie and Albert need a place to live, and this place would be perfect if you could fix it up. That was the thought that sprang to Taylor’s mind, but she decided it might be best to keep it to herself. She needed something more persuasive. “It’s a great place. You love to ride. And it just sort of came to you like it was meant to be yours.”
“That’s all true,” Mrs. LeFleur agreed. “But I’m not rich like that Mrs. Ross. I can’t keep a ranch going just for my own entertainment. It would have to make money.”
“You could board horses and offer classes,” Taylor suggested quickly.
“I couldn’t afford to pay anyone.”
“I would help you — for free — just for the chance to be near the horses. You could offer pony rides on Pixie. Albert’s really easy to ride and gentle. He’d be a great lessons horse. I’m not a great rider, but I know enough to teach little kids.”
“It’s really fascinating that there was a Prince Albert nameplate here already,” Mrs. LeFleur said. “So now he’s become a prince. Perhaps he was a prince all along. It’s another sign, I’d say.”
“A sign of what?” Taylor asked.
“That he belongs here, of course.”
“Yes!” Taylor said, encouraged. “Yes, it does seem that way.” She didn’t know if it was a sign or not — she wasn’t even sure if she believed that signs of this kind had any meaning at all — but she could tell that Mrs. LeFleur did. And because of these signs, she was leaning toward keeping the place and allowing Pixie and Albert to stay.
“You know, I did meet a lovely young lady in the deli yesterday, and we got to talking. I asked her for directions to Wildwood Lane, and she told me all about how her grandmother had once been a horse instructor at the ranch when it was open. She asked if I was reopening it and said she would like to give lessons if I was.”
“What’s her name?” Taylor asked.
“I can’t recall but she wrote down her name and number.” Mrs. LeFleur took a folded paper napkin from her pocket and read from it. “Daphne Chang. Do you know her?”
“I know who she is. She goes to the high school.”
“I could get in touch with her, I suppose,” Mrs. LeFleur considered.
Car headlights glared through the front window and lit up the office for a moment before snapping off. In the next moment, Taylor’s mother and Claire walked into the office. Jennifer held a flashlight. “I forgot all about this place,” she said, gazing around. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.”
Claire put a blue five-gallon jug of bottled water on the desk. “I brought this for Albert and Pixie,” she explained. “I have a bale of hay in the van.”
Taylor got off the couch and stood. “Mom, Claire, this is Mrs. LeFleur. She’s going to open this place up again.”
Taylor looked eagerly to Mrs. LeFleur for confirmation of this. Mrs. LeFleur’s gently wrinkled face took on a new youthfulness as she broke into a radiant smile. “Yes, I am. Indeed, I am. Somehow I’m going to make this work,” she said. “Don’t ask me how, of course. I’ll have to worry about that later. But I think this is clearly meant to be, and when things are meant to be they just somehow fall into place. Don’t you think so?”
“Sometimes,” Jennifer allowed tentatively. Taylor could tell her mother wasn’t convinced that things always worked out for the best.
“I’m with you!” Claire told Mrs. LeFleur with much more enthusiasm than Jennifer had shown. “I remember how great this ranch used to be. It could be that way again!”
Taylor looked at Claire and smiled. She felt she could read her mind. Taylor was sure that Claire already had plans to populate the ranch with all her strays and rescues, starting with Albert and Pixie.
“Who actually owns those animals?” Mrs. LeFleur asked Claire.
“The sheriff put me in contact with the owner just a few hours ago,” Claire revealed. “She doesn’t want them, and she’s agreed to mail me their ownership papers.”
“The owner is just giving them to you?” Mrs. LeFleur questioned.
“She’s lucky she escaped a criminal neglect charge,” Claire said. “I should have the papers by the end of the week.”
“How much would it cost to buy Albert and Pixie from you once you have the papers?” Mrs. LeFleur asked.
“Ask Taylor. I’m giving the papers to her,” Claire replied.
Taylor’s jaw dropped. She was going to become Pixie and Albert’s owner!
Jennifer shook her head. “Wait a minute, Claire, I’ve already told Taylor that we don’t have the money to —”
Claire interrupted by putting her hand on Jennifer’s arm. “Maybe Taylor and Mrs. LeFleur could come to some arrangement,” she suggested. “What if Taylor could ride Albert whenever she wanted, but she’d have to work at the ranch for his upkeep? Mrs. LeFleur could use Albert for trail rides and lessons. That way Albert would be paying for his own upkeep, too.”
“Taylor has already suggested something similar,” Mrs. LeFleur said, “and I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
“What about Pixie?” Taylor asked Mrs. LeFleur.
Mrs. LeFleur sighed uncertainly but did not answer.
Taylor barely dared to breathe as she waited for Mrs. LeFleur’s response. What would she do if the woman didn’t want Pixie? Was it better for one of them to have a home rather than have both of them be homeless? But it would be too heartbreaking to split them apart. She looked to Claire for help, but Claire’s face was blank and impossible to read.
“I’m sure she’s a sweet pony. But will I make enough on pony rides to justify the upkeep?” Mrs. LeFleur wondered.
“Small children like to take beginning lessons on ponies,” Taylor offered.
Mrs. LeFleur nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we can give it a try, can’t we?”
“I’m sure all the kids will like her,” Taylor said excitedly.
“Do you know any other young people who would be willing to work in exchange for free riding time?” Mrs. LeFleur asked.
“Not really,” Taylor admitted. “But I’ll find some. I’ll ask in school.”
“Do that, and I’ll phone Daphne Chang. I’ll also inquire at the local high schools,” Mrs. LeFleur said. She turned to Jennifer. “Can I assume Taylor has your permission for all this?”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with schoolwork,” she said.
Taylor went to her mother and hugged her. “Thank you! Thank you! It won’t get in the way. I promise!”
“It had better not,” Jennifer warned seriously.
“No, it really won’t.”
“Tomorrow morning I’ll bring down the food and other things I have for Pixie and Albert,” Claire said.
Taylor longed to be there in the morning to start getting the place into shape. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask to skip school the next day, but she thought better of it. She had just promised not to let this get in the way of her grades.
“I’ll come over straight after school,” she promised Mrs. LeFleur. “I’m just going to go say good night to Pixie and Albert … I mean Prince Albert.”
Taylor flew out the door and ran down the wide space leading to the stalls, giddy with happiness. “We did it! We did it!
” Taylor told Pixie and Albert in a thrilled whisper.
They looked at her from above the gates of their new stalls. Lines of silver moonlight now beamed through the slats in the broken roof, lighting the two of them in a shimmering, magic-seeming glow.
Taylor rested her forehead on Albert’s muzzle and rubbed his cheek. “Don’t you worry. I’m going to make sure this works. This is going to be the happiest home you’ve had yet. I promise. After all, you’re a prince now.”
“Travis, you have to come to the ranch with me today, okay?” Taylor said on Tuesday morning as she taped one of her flyers to her locker. The night before, she had stayed up late designing and printing them from the family computer.
“Why? So I can work for free?” asked Travis. He ripped off another piece of tape and handed it to her. “No, thank you. Besides, there’s a classic X-Men comic auction on eBay today. I don’t want to miss it. My mom’s letting me use her PayPal account. Do you realize how big that is? She’s never done that before.”
“Ah, come on, Travis. There’s always some auction happening on eBay. Come with me.”
“Albert and Pixie don’t even like me,” Travis argued.
“They’ll like you once they get to know you better,” Taylor said.
She stepped back to admire her flyer.
NEW PHEASANT VALLEY RANCH OPENING!!!!!
CHANCE OF A LIFETIME TO
HORSEBACK RIDE FOR FREE!
JOIN THE NEW WORKING STUDENT PROGRAM!
SPEND TIME AROUND HORSES AND
LEARN ALL ABOUT THEM!
SEE TAYLOR HENRY FOR DETAILS
CELL PHONE 555-987-4901
“What’s the Working Student Program?” Travis asked. “Did you just make that up?”
Taylor smiled, feeling just a little embarrassed. “Sort of,” she admitted. “But it makes sense. If you work around horses, you’ll learn stuff about them.”
“It sounds like they’ll get riding lessons in exchange for the work,” Travis argued.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does,” Travis insisted.
“Well, it says right here to get in touch with me. When they call or text or whatever, I’ll tell them that they’re not getting free lessons,” Taylor said, slightly peeved at Travis for being so argumentative, and also knowing he was probably right. “No one will mind. People like me who love horses are happy just to be around horses.”
“Okay. Don’t get mad,” he said.
“I’m not mad,” Taylor told him, calming down. “So will you help us at the ranch or not?”
“I really don’t want to miss that auction, plus I have a lot of homework.”
The buzzer for their first class sounded. “I have homework, too,” Taylor said, reminding herself to try to get as much of it done during skills class as possible. “You don’t have to stay there all night.”
“I’ll let you know at lunch,” he answered, turning a hallway corner. With a wave, he disappeared down the crowded hall.
Feeling optimistic, Taylor was aware of a bounce in her step that hadn’t been there for a while. Things were really looking up. Her mother had gotten the catering job at Ross River Ranch. Taylor would soon take ownership of her own horse and pony, and she was about to embark on the adventure of being involved with a new horse ranch. Life was looking extremely good to her.
Taylor was nearly to class when Plum came up behind her. “Do you have that phone number for me?” she asked.
“Oh, um … I think Claire had her phone shut off,” Taylor lied. “There’s no way to get in touch with her.”
“Are you kidding?” Plum cried. “Didn’t she pay her bill?”
Taylor shrugged. “Who knows?” She walked to class, leaving Plum in the hall looking annoyed. Despite her high spirits, Taylor felt a twinge of anxiety. She would feel a lot safer when Prince Albert’s and Pixie’s ownership papers arrived.
* * *
That afternoon Taylor pedaled her bike down Wildwood Lane, fretting about how to tell Mrs. LeFleur that she hadn’t been able to recruit a single helper. The few girls who had inquired about her flyers became instantly uninterested when they learned that there was only one horse and one pony there and that no lessons were being offered. But when Taylor turned the bend, her spirits lifted. The ghost town feeling of the day before had been replaced with a whirl of activity.
Pixie and Prince Albert were in the first corral grazing on clumps of grass around the fence. A slim girl of about sixteen or so was looking them over. Long, silky black hair cascaded down her back. Taylor knew right away that she was Daphne Chang. The girl had been student body president at PV Middle School. She and Taylor had never met, but Taylor had always admired her style and confidence.
A van with writing on its side and a pickup truck were parked by the main building. Five men were at work on the outside of the building, scraping blistered, peeling paint and sandpapering the sliding door. Out behind the main building, Taylor heard the repetitive banging of a hammer.
Taylor leaned her bike against the huge maple tree between the corral and the main building. She lifted the plastic bag of apples she’d brought out of the front basket and then climbed up onto the corral railing. “Hi,” she greeted Daphne.
Prince Albert immediately caught the aroma of apples and walked over to Taylor, bumping her bag with his muzzle. She laughed and dug one from the bag, presenting it to him with a flattened palm.
“Don’t you go to PV Middle School?” Daphne said, approaching Taylor.
“Yes,” Taylor said, feeling good that Daphne was even aware of her. “I’m in the eighth grade. I’m Taylor Henry.”
“I’m Daphne Chang,” the girl said with a smile. “I’m going to give lessons here once Mrs. Le Fleur officially opens.”
“Awesome!” Taylor said. “Would you use Pixie and Albert?”
Daphne nodded. “Mrs. LeFleur said it would be okay with you. Is that true?”
“Absolutely. It’s part of my deal for keeping them here. Do you have a horse?”
“Yeah, I have her boarded over at Ross River Ranch. But my parents make me pay for it, and it’s getting way too expensive. I don’t know how much longer I can afford it. Maybe when this place is ready I’ll bring her over here. Her name is Mandy. She’s a gray mare, mostly barb with a little quarter horse blood in her, too.”
“I don’t know that breed, barb,” Taylor admitted.
“A barb is an ancient North African desert breed, like an Arabian but more sturdy, less high-strung.”
“What style do you ride?” Taylor asked.
“English. I did competitive jumping on Mandy last year.”
“No way!” Taylor gasped, impressed beyond words. “Would you give lessons in jumping?”
“Sure, if the student was ready for it. You have to be a really solid rider before you start jumping, though. Do you jump?”
“Oh, no, not at all. I ride Western style. But I would love to learn English. I really want to jump someday.”
“Maybe I can get you started.”
“I’d have to save up some money to pay you first.”
Daphne waved her concerns away. “I wouldn’t expect to get paid, not if we’re all working here at the barn together.”
“That would be so great,” Taylor said. She swung her legs over the fence and jumped down the other side.
“I brought a saddle and bridle but it’s English. Want to try it?” Daphne offered.
Before Taylor could say that she would love to, a strange girl about her own age stormed out of the front building and strode purposefully toward them. In her hand was a coiled red-and-white-striped lead line.
The scowling girl was slim, but unlike graceful Daphne, she was all sharp angles. She had very dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders beneath a red baseball cap, a plaid flannel shirt, and jeans tucked into work boots. “There are my animals!” she cried. “Who said you could take them outside?”
Taylor and Daphne answered the girl at the s
ame time.
“Your animals?” Taylor cried.
“Who said I couldn’t?” Daphne asked.
“I was just assembling my tools to give them a good grooming, and when I returned for them they weren’t in their stalls,” the girl complained. “Now I need them back.”
“Wait a minute. Who are you, anyway?” Daphne asked.
“And these animals are mine, not yours, by the way,” Taylor quickly added. “I’m picking up their papers this evening.”
The girl threw back her shoulders, puffed up with her own self-importance. “I’m Mercedes Gonzalez, and Mrs. LeFleur has appointed me Junior Barn Manager. I live just up the road, so I can be here whenever I’m needed.”
“When did Mrs. LeFleur do that?” Taylor asked. Mercedes’s overbearing, bossy approach had definitely rubbed Taylor the wrong way. “And why did you call them your animals? They’re not yours.”
“Mrs. LeFleur recruited me from the guidance office at Pheasant Valley High today. I’m a freshman there. My guidance counselor knows that I ride and called me down to meet Mrs. LeFleur,” Mercedes replied.
Taylor wondered why she’d never seen this girl at school. She would have been just one year ahead of Taylor when she was back in the middle school.
“Albert is my horse and Pixie is my pony,” Taylor repeated.
“That’s not what Mrs. LeFleur told me,” Mercedes disagreed. “She said that they’re owned under a sort of joint agreement between their owner and the barn. I called them my animals because they’re under my management. And since I have been given the job of running this place, I say that these animals may not be ridden until they are properly groomed. The plumber has just finished reattaching the water lines to the well and we have running water, so I would like to clean them.”
Taylor and Daphne looked at each other. “What a tyrant,” Daphne murmured.
“I know,” Taylor agreed. “But she’s probably right about grooming them.”
“Probably,” Daphne agreed quietly. She turned back to Mercedes and spoke to her in a louder voice. “All right. Where would you like me to bring them, boss?”
The way Daphne called Mercedes boss made Taylor smile.