by Suzanne Weyn
Mercedes pointed to one of the smaller buildings to the right of the main one. “There’s a wash stall in there with two big sinks and a hose,” she said. Then she opened the gate and approached Prince Albert, holding the clip to the lead line toward his bridle.
Prince Albert neighed a warning to her and Mercedes stepped back, alarmed.
Taylor glanced at the red baseball cap on Mercedes’s head. It occurred to her that the nice thing to do would be to tell Mercedes to take it off.
Taylor just couldn’t bring herself to do the nice thing.
Mercedes approached Prince Albert again, and this time the horse stomped his foot at her, intimidating her into taking several more steps back.
Taylor went to Mercedes’s side and reached her hand out. “Let me try,” she offered.
Mercedes tilted her head and studied Taylor suspiciously. “Horses usually like me,” she said, still holding on to the lead line.
Taylor shrugged and kept her hand extended.
“I didn’t even have to put a line on either of them,” Daphne put in. “I just let them follow me out of their stalls.”
“That wasn’t very safe,” Mercedes said huffily.
Daphne rolled her dark eyes. “Whatever. I got them into the corral without a problem, didn’t I?”
Prince Albert sputtered at Mercedes. Pixie came to his side and turned her back toward the girl.
“Fine,” Mercedes relented, placing the lead line clip into Taylor’s hand and passing her the coil.
“Maybe you had better step back,” Taylor warned Mercedes.
Mercedes glared at Taylor, but she stepped farther away as Taylor approached Prince Albert and clipped the line to his halter without any problem. “Good boy,” she praised him, stroking his muzzle. With her free hand she soothed Pixie by rubbing her neck.
“I’ll meet you at the wash stall,” Mercedes said, walking toward the corral gate.
“Wow! Pixie and Prince Albert really don’t like her,” Daphne remarked once Mercedes was too far away to hear. “That makes four of us.”
Taylor chuckled lightly. She felt glad Daphne was there. Taylor wouldn’t have wanted to come up against the formidable Mercedes on her own.
A pang of guilt hit Taylor about not telling Mercedes what she knew about Prince Albert’s and Pixie’s reaction to the baseball cap. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Daphne, but she decided not to tell her, either. She seemed great but they had just met. Taylor couldn’t be sure Daphne would keep her secret.
And this was a secret Taylor wanted kept. Mercedes was way too into taking charge for Taylor’s liking. Taylor had found this place. It was she who had brought Mrs. LeFleur her sign and convinced her to open the ranch again. Prince Albert and Pixie were hers. The fact that they had come into her possession and she had found a way to keep them was practically a miracle. Taylor was not going to let some bossy know-it-all like Mercedes take it out of her hands.
Taylor decided she would have to talk to Mrs. LeFleur about the ownership arrangement. She supposed that in a way they were co-owners, since Mrs. LeFleur was going to house and feed them. Taylor would feel better when they’d ironed out the exact arrangements.
In the meantime, Mercedes needed to be seriously calmed down. Prince Albert’s and Pixie’s fear of people in baseball caps was just the hedge Taylor needed to stay in control and not have Mercedes take charge of them.
Taylor led Prince Albert up to the bath stall, with Pixie following behind. When they were near, Mercedes came around from the back of the building and pulled open the two double doors so Taylor could enter with the horses.
Taylor brought them inside, stepping onto a rough cement floor. To her left was a stall with no front gate and two metal rings bolted onto either side. Each ring had a nylon line clipped to it with another clip on the end that dangled to the floor. She had never seen a setup like this. At Ralph’s she had groomed her horse outside.
Mercedes came to the door but hung back, clearly nervous about getting too close to Albert and Pixie. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she barked harshly. “Tie Prince Albert into the stall.”
Taylor led him in and looped his lead line into the ring to her right.
“Unclip the lead line and tie him with the ropes attached to the rings. That’s what they’re there for,” Mercedes corrected her.
Taylor attached the lines to the rings on either side of Albert’s halter. “Now what?” she asked Mercedes.
“Haven’t you ever bathed a horse before?”
“No,” Taylor admitted. She had groomed horses after riding them at Ralph’s barn, but she’d never bathed one. She picked up a hose from the floor and began to spray Prince Albert. He neighed unhappily.
“You don’t just spray them full blast with a hose,” Mercedes said in the same superior tone that seemed to be her trademark. “Stick your finger in it so it’s more of a gentle spray. And don’t do it until you’re ready. You don’t want your horse standing there catching a chill while you’re getting your stuff together. First, put some Mane and Tail into a bucket.”
“Mane and Tail?” Taylor asked, annoyed but also relieved that Mercedes was there to help.
“It’s the brand of horse shampoo I brought. It’s over there by the bucket. Put some shampoo in and fill the bucket in that sink.”
“Is there a sponge?”
“Didn’t you bring your own grooming kit?” Mercedes asked.
“I don’t have one,” Taylor replied.
“What?” Mercedes cried. “What have you been using?”
“The truth is, I just got Prince Albert and Pixie,” Taylor told her. She quickly revealed everything that had happened over the past four days.
Mercedes surprised Taylor by laughing so hard she had to lean against the door, clutching her sides. “Four days! And you had them in someone’s front yard?” she said breathlessly. “That is too funny!”
Mercedes’s hilarious laughter was contagious, making Taylor smile despite her dislike of the girl. “It wasn’t that funny,” she said.
“No! No!” Mercedes said, calming down. “The funny part is that I thought you’d owned them for years and that you were the one who had let them get into this state. I’d decided I despised whoever owned them — and all the while you and your friend were the ones who rescued them. So it turns out I don’t hate you at all!”
“Gee, thanks a lot,” Taylor said wryly.
“No, really. It was just a misunderstanding,” Mercedes insisted. “Guess we got off to a bad start. Sorry I got you all wrong.”
Taylor opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She wasn’t quite sure what to say — so she said the only thing that came to mind.
“Pixie and Prince Albert don’t really dislike you; they’re just afraid of your baseball cap.”
* * *
Daphne came out of the main building and let out a low, admiring whistle when she saw Prince Albert and Pixie. “I guess you were right, Mercedes,” she admitted. “They were dirtier than I thought. They look so much better.”
Mercedes beamed with pride. “They still need new shoes,” she said. “Prince Albert, especially, has overgrown his. Does anyone know a good farrier?”
“Mrs. Ross has an awesome farrier who comes every week to check her horses,” Daphne told them. “I’ll get his number the next time I’m there.”
“That Ross River Ranch looks gorgeous from the road,” Taylor mentioned.
“It is,” Daphne confirmed.
“I had a gorgeous stable once,” Mercedes said wistfully, “and five horses.”
“You did?” Taylor asked, impressed.
“Uh-huh, but it’s all gone now.”
“What happened?” Daphne inquired.
“Stupid adult stuff,” Mercedes said, waving her hand as if to shoo away bad memories. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So, did you just recently move to Pheasant Valley?” Taylor asked.
“Yeah. What a dump, huh?” Mercedes repl
ied.
Taylor and Daphne once again exchanged wry glances. “We kind of like it, actually,” Daphne said.
Mercedes shrugged. “Whatever. I guess I’ll get used to it. It’s just that it’s not Weston, where I used to live, and I miss my horses.”
Mrs. LeFleur joined them, clapping her hands in delight when she saw Pixie’s and Prince Albert’s shining coats. “My, my! Look at them. Aren’t they beautiful! Beautiful! Who would have thought it?”
Mrs. LeFleur was exaggerating just a bit. Prince Albert’s ribs still protruded, and Pixie wore the same frazzled, unkempt mane — but it was much cleaner. Mercedes had helped Taylor braid Prince Albert’s mane, but Pixie wouldn’t stand still for it. Both of their coats gleamed. The grooming session had improved their appearance a lot; there was no denying it.
Mrs. LeFleur sighed. “Oh, there’s just so much to do. It seems overwhelming.”
“We’ll all work and it’ll get done,” Taylor assured her. “I just wish there were more of us.” She glanced toward the entrance of the ranch to see if Travis was coming, but he wasn’t there.
A week later, Taylor had Prince Albert tied in place in the central passage of the main building with halter ropes on either side so she could groom him one last time before Daphne arrived to teach a private lesson, her very first one.
In the week just past, Wildwood Stables — so far no one had come up with any other name for the ranch that everyone could agree upon — had been a hive buzzing with activity. The roof had been covered with new plywood and shingles. A fresh coat of red paint had been applied. Mrs. LeFleur had hired an electrician to rewire the place and bring it up to the state safety code. After that, she announced, she was flat out of money, at least until they could get in some horse boarders.
Daphne, Mercedes, and Taylor had worked together feverishly to fix up the box stalls, finally laying in a bedding of wood shavings in Prince Albert and Pixie’s adjacent stalls.
“I know you’ll do great,” Taylor told Prince Albert. “We want everyone to see what a terrific school horse you are. You’ll be in demand, and everyone will want to take lessons on you. That way Mrs. LeFleur will see that you’re invaluable and won’t mind that you eat like … like a horse.” In truth, Albert ate more than most horses. Even in one week his once-protruding ribs were now much less visible. Taylor wondered if this was because he’d once been nearly starved. She was hoping his voracious appetite would slow down once he attained his former weight.
During the week, she’d had a serious talk with Mrs. LeFleur about the details of sharing ownership of Prince Albert and Pixie. Mrs. LeFleur was happy to pick up all the expenses in return for Taylor’s weekly work. But she made one exception clear — if Prince Albert and Pixie could not be used for lessons because they weren’t good with the students, then Mrs. LeFleur would be forced to return full ownership to Taylor and charge for their board. “I just can’t afford their upkeep if I can’t use them for lessons and rides,” Mrs. LeFleur had said apologetically. “It’s not because I want to be mean.”
“I know you’re not mean, Mrs. LeFleur,” Taylor had replied. “You’ve been great. Really.”
Mrs. LeFleur had nodded. “Let’s hope for the best. I’m sure it will be fine.”
So today would be Prince Albert’s first test. He had to be gentle and patient, sensible, and cooperative. Taylor knew he was all those things, so there was no need to worry.
Taylor tacked up using an almost-new general-purpose saddle and a comfortable snaffle-bit bridle that Daphne didn’t use anymore and had generously donated. Mrs. LeFleur had bought the thick blue saddle blanket.
Unhooking Prince Albert, Taylor led him out of the main building and toward the nearest corral where Daphne waited with a blonde girl of about eight who was dressed for riding with a helmet, a fitted jacket, leggings, and proper heeled shoes.
“Meet Prince Albert,” Taylor said.
“Pet him, Maddy.” Daphne urged her new student gently forward. But as the girl reached out, Prince Albert neighed and turned his back toward her.
“That’s not a very princely way to act,” Taylor scolded him mildly. She spoke to Maddy. “He’s really very nice once you get to know him.”
Maddy walked around toward Prince Albert’s front to try again. This time Prince Albert snorted at the girl and stomped his foot.
“Albert!” Taylor scolded him. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Is he afraid of riding helmets as well as baseball caps?” Daphne asked.
“No, I’ve worn a helmet all this week while I’ve ridden him.”
“Let’s see if he’ll let me ride him,” Daphne suggested. She approached and, holding the saddle, she put her foot in the stirrup. Prince Albert neighed and stepped away, forcing Daphne to jump back.
“That’s not nice,” Taylor scolded him.
Taylor turned to Daphne. “Maybe some part of his tack is bothering him.” Taylor checked over Prince Albert’s saddle, harness, and bridle. She opened his mouth to make sure nothing was broken on the two D-rings of the jointed bit. “It seems fine,” she reported.
“Try petting him again,” Daphne suggested to Maddy.
Again, Prince Albert turned away from the girl.
“See if he’ll let you ride him, Taylor,” Daphne said.
Nodding, Taylor stuck her foot in the stirrup and hopped on. She clicked for Prince Albert to walk forward. She signaled for him to jog, which was about the same as an English trot. He did it with no problem.
“He wants only you to ride him,” Daphne observed after Taylor had jogged once around the corral before bringing Albert to a halt. “You’re going to have to train him out of that or he’ll be no good for lessons.”
“How do I do that?”
“I don’t know but I’ll try to find out,” Daphne replied. “Maddy’s light. We can try her with Pixie.”
“I’ll get Pixie ready,” Taylor offered as she dismounted.
“We’ll come with you,” Daphne suggested. “It will be good for Maddy to see the barn and how to tack up a horse.”
* * *
Late that afternoon, Taylor was brushing out Prince Albert’s tail in his stall when Mrs. LeFleur joined her. “Pixie did well with Daphne’s second student today,” she said, reaching in to pet the pony in her next-door stall.
“She did great,” Taylor confirmed.
Mrs. LeFleur moved over to Prince Albert’s stall. “But this guy did not do so well,” she remarked. “When I asked, Daphne told me he only seemed to want you.”
“I’ll train him not to be that way,” Taylor said quickly.
“What if you can’t?” Mrs. LeFleur asked.
“I will. There’s got to be a way. Daphne is going to see what she can find out about it.”
“I hope it doesn’t take too long.”
Taylor didn’t like the sound of this. “Please give me the chance to try, Mrs. LeFleur. Please. I’ll work with him every day for as long as it takes.”
“Before you panic, Taylor, I received a phone call today that gave me an idea that might solve the problem. If Albert could get accustomed to just one more rider, we could lease him to that person.”
“Does that mean he wouldn’t belong to me and you anymore?” Taylor asked, preparing to launch a strong objection.
“We’d still be the half owners,” Mrs. LeFleur assured her. “The lease would simply entitle that person to be the only other rider allowed to ride Prince Albert. In turn, the monthly payment would contribute to his food and board.”
“That sounds okay,” Taylor admitted. “Ralph Westheimer sometimes did that at his ranch. Who called?”
“A woman was interested in the lease for her daughter. Oh, what was the name? It was odd … some kind of fruit.”
Taylor’s throat went dry. “A fruit?” she croaked.
“Yes. Plum! That was it. The daughter’s name was Plum.”
“I just want you to get to know Prince Albert and Pixie,” Taylor said to Travis as th
ey sat on the bus the next day after school. “Daphne asked one of the instructors at Ross River Ranch about Prince Albert and —”
“When did he become a prince?” Travis asked.
Taylor explained about the coincidence of the nameplate. “It’s a better name, don’t you think?”
“It’s kind of goofy, if you ask me,” said Travis, bluntly honest as usual.
“Well, I like it,” Taylor insisted. “Anyway, the instructor at Ross River said that obviously Prince Albert has had some bad experience with someone — probably the guy with the baseball cap — and now he only trusts me. But if he gets to know other nice, kind people, he’ll rebuild trust.”
“I’m a guy, remember. He hates guys.”
“But that could change,” Taylor argued.
“Forget it. I’m not riding a horse.”
Taylor sighed with frustration. “This has to happen fast. I’ve convinced Mrs. LeFleur to wait another week. I can’t let Plum lease Prince Albert.”
When Taylor got home that afternoon, Claire and her mother were sitting at the kitchen table. Recipe books were spread out in front of them. “How was school?” Jennifer asked.
“Okay,” she said, tossing her books on a chair. “Plum Mason kept coming over to talk to me. I don’t know how much longer I can avoid her.”
“She never called me,” Claire said. “I don’t know how she found out about the ranch.”
“It was those stupid flyers I put up,” Taylor said. “They led her right to it.”
“I’ll come by,” Claire offered. “At least Albert — excuse me, Prince Albert — knows me a little. I’ll bring apples.”
“Thanks,” Taylor said sincerely.
“Do you think Devon Ross’s guests would like mousse cups?” Jennifer asked. She’d gotten the catering job at Ross River Ranch and seemed obsessed with developing the greatest lunch she’d ever made.
“A cup of moose meat?” Taylor asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “Gross.”
Jennifer and Claire laughed. “No, silly,” said Jennifer. “This mousse is spelled differently. It’s a kind of pudding. I’d serve it in graham cracker crust cups.”