by Suzanne Weyn
“Oh,” Taylor said, embarrassed. “That sounds good.”
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Jennifer said, putting a Post-it on the recipe page. “I have two weeks to pull this together.”
“Mom, can I help you — for free, I mean — just to help?” Taylor asked.
“And because you’re dying to see Ross River Ranch,” Jennifer added with a knowing smile.
Taylor grinned. “That, too,” she admitted.
* * *
“We have to have a business meeting, girls,” Mrs. LeFleur said to Daphne, Mercedes, and Taylor later that same afternoon. They were outside the main building. Tradespeople were all around, still painting, scraping, and repairing. “Now that I have Daphne as Head Instructor, Mercedes as Junior Barn Manager, and Taylor as Assistant Junior Barn Manager, we need something else right away.”
“What?” Taylor asked.
“Does anyone have an idea for a name for this ranch?” Mrs. LeFleur inquired.
The three girls looked from one to another as they tried to come up with a name.
“Rough and Ready Ranch,” Daphne suggested after a moment.
Mrs. LeFleur glanced at the men and women who were still scraping the wood of the main building. Roofers had arrived and were climbing ladders to inspect the damage. “It’s more like very rough and not-ready-at-all ranch,” she commented.
“It’ll be ready someday soon,” Daphne said. “Think positive.”
“You’re right,” Mrs. LeFleur agreed. “I’ll just hope the rest of my money doesn’t run out before this place is whipped into decent shape. Anyone else have an idea?”
“Second Chance Ranch,” Mercedes offered.
“I like that a lot, but I think I saw others with the same name when I was searching online,” Mrs. LeFleur said. “How about you, Taylor? Any thoughts?”
“How about Another World Ranch?” That was how she saw the place — or at least how it could be. It was a place where cranky parents didn’t quarrel and worry about money. There was no grouchy old Mrs. Kirchner. No one left a horse and pony to starve in a barn. There was no Plum Mason. “Or how about The Best Place in the World?” she amended.
Mrs. LeFleur smiled and nodded. “It could be the best place in the world, Taylor. If we set our minds to it, we just might make that happen.”
Mrs. LeFleur reached inside her barn jacket and pulled out a weathered, crinkled black-and-white photo. It was about the size of a notebook. “Look what I found when I was cleaning up in here,” she said, handing the photograph to Taylor. “It was way back in that closet under some moldy old horse blankets.”
Mercedes and Daphne came close to Taylor so they could see over her shoulder. The photo showed happy, smiling people, some standing, others on horseback. They were dressed in the style of the late 1920s, or maybe it was the early ’30s. Behind them was a large wooden sign. Taylor recognized it as the sign that stood at the entrance to the ranch, its paint now too crackled and faded to read. But in this photo the writing was clear as could be. “‘Wildwood Stables,’” Taylor read. “‘Trail rides, lessons, boarding, pony rides, and fun for everyone! All horse lovers welcome!’”
“No one has come up with a better name,” Mrs. LeFleur said, “so I was thinking we should go back to the original. It has authenticity and charm, don’t you think?”
The three girls looked at one another, each checking the other’s reaction. “People would be able to find the place,” Mercedes said. “It’s right here on Wildwood Lane.”
“I like it,” Daphne agreed.
Taylor thought of all the people, like her father and Mr. Romano, who had such warm memories of the place. They would like having it back just as it was. And riders her age would have experiences just as wonderful. “It’s good,” she agreed, nodding. “I think it’s good.”
“That settles it,” Mrs. LeFleur stated. “Wildwood Stables it is.”
The sound of a bike on the dirt road made everyone turn toward Travis, riding fast toward them. He had a big canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He nearly threw his bike to the side after sliding to a halt. “Don’t worry,” he cried. “I’m here and I have all my dad’s tools. Boy, riding down Quail Ridge Road with tools on my back was not easy, and I rode past Wildwood Lane three times. Someone should pull those vines off the sign.”
Taylor knew that made sense, but she wouldn’t volunteer to do it. Somehow she liked the idea that Wildwood Lane was hidden and hard to find. Though, of course, that wouldn’t be too good for business.
“Okay, I’m ready to work,” Travis said enthusiastically. Then he noticed all the workers. “Oh, I see you don’t need me,” he said more quietly.
“We need you,” Taylor said quickly, going to his side.
“I’m not riding a horse, so forget that,” he told her firmly. “There’s no way.”
“You could just say hi to Prince Albert and Pixie,” Taylor coaxed, glancing at the horse and pony grazing contentedly in the nearest of three corrals.
Travis shook his head. “I came here to repair stuff, but you have that covered, so I’ll just go.”
Mrs. LeFleur came alongside Travis and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Not at all, young man,” she said. “We need you very much. You can be our new Junior Head of Buildings and Grounds.”
“Does that mean I’m in the Working Student Program Taylor told me about?” Travis asked.
Mrs. LeFleur looked over Travis’s head and shot a perplexed, questioning glance at Taylor.
Taylor realized she’d never actually told Mrs. LeFleur that she’d made that program up and advertised it on her flyer.
Taylor nodded to Mrs. LeFleur and the woman didn’t question it. “Yes, young man, that’s what you’re in. And you’re a founding member, I might add, sort of an executive,” said Mrs. LeFleur.
Travis smiled at Mrs. LeFleur, seeming pleased.
“Now, come with me,” Mrs. LeFleur said. “I trust you have a claw hammer in there. There are a number of sharp nails I need yanked out of the box stalls.”
Travis looked over his shoulder at Taylor as Mrs. LeFleur guided him toward the stalls in the main building. She grinned and shot him two thumbs-up.
The best place in the world had just gotten even better.
From Wildwood Stables #2: Playing for Keeps
Mrs. LeFleur approached the corral leading Albert’s friend Pixie, a cream-colored Shetland pony mare, behind her. Seeing Mrs. LeFleur and Pixie together made Taylor notice how alike the pony and the ranch’s owner were. Both were short, compact, and just past middle age. Pixie’s frizzy, unruly mane seemed like the equine version of Mrs. LeFleur’s curly hair. All Pixie needed was a pair of thick glasses and she’d be the pony version of Mrs. LeFleur, Taylor thought.
“Perhaps Prince Albert would be more at ease if Pixie were nearby,” Mrs. LeFleur suggested as she opened the corral gate and led the small pony inside.
“Maybe,” Taylor agreed.
“Here’s your pal, Prince Albert,” Daphne said.
Prince Albert went to Pixie and they nuzzled noses affectionately. “They’re so sweet together,” Daphne noted, and Taylor nodded.
Mrs. LeFleur stroked Prince Albert’s side. “How are you today, Your Highness?” she asked him. She looked to Daphne and Taylor. “He doesn’t seem to mind me petting him.”
“He’s okay being around people, but he only wants Taylor to actually be in the saddle,” Daphne said.
“Want to try riding him?” Taylor offered.
Mrs. LeFleur shook her head vehemently. “I haven’t ridden in thirty years.”
“You can’t own a horse ranch and not ride,” Daphne objected.
“Apparently I can,” Mrs. LeFleur disagreed. Taylor thought she saw a distant — and sad — look come into Mrs. LeFleur’s eyes. Mrs. LeFleur’s thick glasses made reading her expression difficult, and Taylor couldn’t be certain. But a soft wistfulness had come into her voice, and it made Taylor wonder what Mrs. LeFleur’s past experience with horses had b
een. Why had she stopped riding thirty years ago?
“There’s no need for me to ride,” Mrs. LeFleur said briskly, seeming to throw off the melancholy moment. “Daphne, now that Pixie is here, see if you can ride Prince Albert.”
Daphne approached the black quarter horse once more. “Want to try this again?” she asked him in a friendly voice. “And this time, no dirty tricks, okay?”
Taylor sucked in a quick breath and crossed her fingers. Mrs. LeFleur was being nice, but Taylor knew she was serious about having Prince Albert tolerate other riders. Her budget had been stretched thin from the start, and she’d told them that the renovations were costing much more than she’d estimated. Her only hope of keeping Wildwood Stables open was to start charging to board horses as well as giving lessons and trail rides as soon as possible.
Daphne lifted her leg to slip her ankle-high paddock boot into Prince Albert’s stirrup, but he turned away from her.
“Prince Albert,” Taylor warned in a voice she hoped was calm but firm. “You know better than that.”
Daphne got back into position — and once again Prince Albert turned. Daphne huffed with frustration, putting her hands on her hips. “You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?” she accused, though a smile played on her lips.
Taylor grinned, too, despite her worries. Prince Albert’s antics would be comical — if there wasn’t so much at stake.
“Get a shank chain and yank him,” a girl’s voice advised from behind them.
Taylor’s shoulders tightened. She knew Plum Mason’s voice from her eighth-grade class at Pheasant Valley Middle School. Turning, Taylor faced the girl. Plum’s diamond stud earrings peeked from her long blonde hair and gleamed in the sunlight. The leather soles of her expensive riding boots were propped on the lower rung of the corral fence, and her elbows were settled on the top.
“You have to show him who’s boss,” Plum added. “You can’t just let him do what he wants. Every good rider knows that.”
“He’s a little shy of people yet,” Mrs. LeFleur told Plum. “We don’t want to force him.”
Plum shot Mrs. LeFleur a tight smile. “Is that the horse I’m going to lease?”
“Oh, are you Plum Mason?” Mrs. LeFleur inquired.
Taylor’s stomach clenched. Mrs. LeFleur had mentioned that Plum’s mother had called to inquire about leasing a horse. Since Prince Albert and Pixie were the only animals at the ranch, the quarter horse was all Mrs. LeFleur had to offer.
“No!” Taylor blurted.
Mrs. LeFleur looked at her sharply.
“I mean … I’m the only one he’ll let ride him, so there’s no way he could be leased,” Taylor explained, more for Mrs. LeFleur’s benefit than for Plum’s.
“Excuse us a moment, will you?” Mrs. LeFleur said to Plum. “I need to speak to Taylor a moment … privately.”
SUZANNE WEYN lives in the heart of horse country, in a valley in New York State—which is perfect for her daughter, an avid horse rider, riding instructor, and competitor. Suzanne’s many books for teens include Reincarnation and Distant Waves. For more information about Suzanne and her novels, visit her online at www.suzanneweynbooks.com.
Copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Weyn.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.
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First printing, March 2010
Cover photo by Michael Frost
Cover background photo by Image Source Black/Jupiterimages
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-0-545-30061-2
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