Horse Whispers

by Bonnie Bryant

  Knowing they couldn’t sink any lower, Lisa mumbled, “We turned the oven up to preheat it for the crust.”

  “Yeah,” Stevie added. “Unfortunately, the crust never reached the oven stage. So we, uh, cooked your grilled cheese for about an hour and twenty minutes.”

  Phyllis put the plate down on the stove. She reached up to turn on the oven fan. “I think maybe tomorrow we’ll learn how to boil water,” she said dryly.

  CAROLE MADE HERSELF another sandwich while Stevie and Lisa chopped vegetables. Then Phyllis banished them all to the barn. Kate had finished her reading and came down to join them. She laughed when she heard about the pie fiasco. “Now, if you had only started a fire, then you would have lived up to my kitchen diaster. As it is, I think yours is only about second or third best,” she joked.

  The plan for the afternoon was to saddle up the new horses and try them out. They would have to be ridden a few times by different people before Frank considered them safe for guests. It would be the girls’ job to say whether a particular horse should be assigned to a beginner, to an intermediate, or only to an advanced rider. Even then the Devines were very careful. Many a time they had heard a guest brag about his riding abilities only to find him trying to get on from the right side of the horse!

  Walking out to the stables, the girls noticed that the sky was beginning to cloud over. The Rocky Mountains, which were majestic in the sun, were barely visible now. “Is it going to snow later?” Lisa asked, hoping it wouldn’t ruin their plans.

  “Yes, we’re supposed to get six to eight inches tonight,” Kate replied. She paused and squinted up. “But I’m betting it will hold off for a couple of hours. I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting the weather out here, and that sky isn’t ready to start dumping white stuff yet.”

  “Good, then let’s hustle,” said Lisa.

  In the barn the girls had a quick discussion. They decided to groom and saddle up four of the horses and take them for a brief ride. They would leave the black mare for last in case she was still spooked.

  “I’ll just check on her and then I’ll join you guys,” Carole said.

  Stevie and Lisa watched her walk off in the direction of the mare’s stall. Neither of them said what they were both thinking: Carole’s already getting attached.

  “If no one else cares, I’ll take the gray, okay?” said Lisa.

  “Great,” Kate replied. “I want the chestnut gelding. He and I are already becoming friends.”

  “Okay, so I’ll take Mrs. Fat Appaloosa, which leaves Carole with the bay,” said Stevie.

  In no time at all the three girls were hard at work. They curried, brushed, and picked hooves. They wiped out the horses’ nostrils and checked their ears. It was cold in the barn, so they were all glad of the physical exertion.

  After a visit to the black mare, Carole joined them. She was distracted, but she tried not to let it show. The mare hadn’t touched the hay or water in her stall—a typical sign of being ill at ease.

  “Hey, we’ve been calling these horses ‘the bay’ and ‘the chestnut.’ But what are their real names?” Lisa inquired, giving the gray a final rub with her rag.

  “Yeah,” said Stevie. “I’m beginning to feel impolite.”

  Kate grinned. “Sorry—bad habit. I’m so used to having to point out the horses to the guests by color that sometimes I forget they actually have names. The gray is Merry, Lisa; the bay is Cardinal, the Appy’s called Chocolate Chips, and this guy is Be a Gentleman, Gent for short.”

  “How do you do, Gent?” Stevie said. She picked up his near foreleg at the ankle and pretended to shake it. “Gee, some manners,” she said. “He didn’t even answer!”

  When the horses had been saddled, the girls brought them back out to the corral. There was snow on the ground, but it had been packed down enough to make riding possible. And none of these horses was shod, so the snow wouldn’t ball up in their hooves.

  The girls mounted and put the horses through their (Western) paces: walk, jog, and lope. They stopped and turned them, neck-reining and using vocal commands. They even made some “bad rider” mistakes on purpose to see how the horses would react. Then they switched horses. At this point, something became clear: Each of the girls had developed a loyalty to her first horse.

  “This Appy is slow,” Lisa complained. She was using all her energy to urge the poky, overweight horse into a jog.

  “She’s not slow, she’s just quiet!” Stevie cried indignantly. “Use your legs more!” She sat back in her own saddle to ask the gray to walk. The horse promptly speeded up. “Boy, this gray is no beginner horse!” Stevie remarked scornfully.

  “Excuse me? Merry is fine for beginners! Even a beginner can’t just sit there and let the horse do whatever he wants!” Lisa retorted.

  Across the corral, Kate was struggling to turn the splashy bay. The horse was resisting and walking straight ahead. “This guy needs some brushing up, doesn’t he? He’s like a kid who’s been out of school too long!”

  Passing, aboard the chestnut Gent, Carole scoffed loudly. “That’s what I was going to say about this horse. He’s—He’s—” but Carole couldn’t think of a complaint.

  Lisa had to laugh. Even her own comments had sounded funny. She called everyone to the middle of the ring. “I think we’ve got to switch one more time to make a fair assessment of these horses,” she said.

  Everyone agreed. After fifteen minutes aboard their next mounts, the girls hopped down and led the horses back to the stable for untacking—and judgment. They decided that the Appaloosa, Chips, was lazy but safe, a perfect beginner horse. Merry, the gray that Lisa liked, was high-strung but not dangerous. He didn’t shy, buck, rear, or do anything but try to go faster than the rider wanted: a good intermediate mount. The bay was stubborn but quiet: advanced beginner. The chestnut got three thumbs up. He was a wonderful horse—attractive, obedient, energetic, even comfortable: an ideal mount for many levels of rider.

  “I think Dad’s going to be really pleased with his purchases,” Kate commented. “He’s always trusted this dealer, and I can see why. These four are going to be a great addition to the Bar None fleet.”

  “Four? You mean five,” Carole reminded her, amazed that Kate could forget the most eye-catching horse of the bunch. “There’s the black mare.”

  “How could I forget?” Kate said. “And we haven’t even tried her!”

  “Let’s all go groom her,” Lisa suggested.

  “Yeah, we can give her the deluxe treatment,” Stevie joked. “Full facial, manicure, pedicure …”

  Carole pursed her lips. Her friends were so enthusiastic that she didn’t want to say anything. But she was afraid of how the mare would react to getting attention from four people at once.

  “Carole?” said Kate, seeing Carole’s brow wrinkle. “A penny for your thoughts?”

  Carole thought quickly. “Oh! I was just, um, wondering … what the real name of the mare is,” she said.

  “Hey, that’s right. You never told us her name,” said Lisa.

  Kate screwed up her face in concentration. “You know, I’m not sure I know. We’ll have to ask Dad.”

  The girls trooped down the aisle to the mare’s stall. In the East, most horses lived inside and spent the nights in large box stalls. But out West, the horses weren’t babied as much. At the Bar None the majority lived outside in a big pasture. There was a shed in the pasture that the horses could wander into for protection from the elements. It was a lot less work for the wranglers (who had far fewer stalls to muck), and it was a more natural way for horses to live—closer to their original habitat. Carole was glad of that. She sensed that the black mare would be happy to get out of her stall as soon as possible. Now if only she wouldn’t freak when she saw the group of them.

  “What on earth—” Stevie stopped and stared. The mare’s stall door was open. She peered inside. Sure enough, the stall was empty.

  Lisa was right behind her. “She’s gone!”

  �
�THIS IS THE stall you put her in, isn’t it?” Kate asked.

  Carole nodded, her heart pounding. “Yes. Last stall on the left. I’m positive.”

  Automatically the girls turned and looked down the aisle. The main door at the end of the stable was wide open. “Oh no,” Carole murmured, her fears mounting.

  In summer the big sliding door was open all the time. In winter it was open a couple of times a day, when the stable boys went back and forth to the manure pile with wheelbarrows. Clearly, the mare had escaped from her stall and walked right out of the barn.

  Carole sprinted to the open door. If she hurried …! Snow was beginning to fall, a few flakes at a time. On the muddy ground, hoofprints led off in the direction of the pasture. Carole didn’t wait to explain. That would take valuable minutes. She started off in hot pursuit.

  At the stall Kate was leaning in, examining the door. “She must have worked the bolt with her mouth, huh, Carole? I should have thought! We’ve had horses do that before.” She stood up. “Carole?”

  “She took off toward the big pasture!” said Lisa, hurrying outside.

  Just then Mick and John appeared around the corner of the barn. They were pushing empty wheelbarrows. “I thought you girls were going riding,” said John. He paused, letting the snow land on his head and shoulders.

  “We were—I mean, we did,” Lisa replied hurriedly. “And we were about to try the black mare.”

  “And?” said Mick. “She looked like she was calming down a little when we passed by, didn’t she, John?”

  John nodded. “Definitely. It may take a while, but she’ll adjust.”

  Lisa rushed to make herself clear. “No—but she took off. She escaped!”

  “And Carole took off to look for her,” Stevie added.

  Mick and John exchanged worried looks. “Does the boss know?” Mick asked.

  The girls shook their heads. “I’ll go ring him on the intercom,” Mick volunteered.

  “Do you have to tell Frank right this second?” Stevie asked. “Carole will probably have her back in no time.”

  Mick wavered. “Well, I guess we could wait a couple of minutes. But that’s it. A loose horse is a loose horse. And with this storm coming …”

  “He’s right,” said Kate. “If Carole doesn’t get her back right away, Dad’s got to know.”

  “Maybe I should go help her—” Lisa started to say.

  “No! Nobody else is wandering off,” John declared. “Carole shouldn’t have gone by herself. Where did she head?”

  “We don’t know,” Kate said. The five of them stared outside, but visibility was bad. They couldn’t see more than twenty feet. Carole had literally disappeared.

  “Darn! I hope she remembers how huge the property is,” John said worriedly.

  The group walked to the tack room, where they passed an anxious quarter of an hour. Mick and John had chores to do, but they didn’t want to leave until Carole was back safely. When she burst in, everyone jumped up in relief.

  “You got her, right?” Stevie asked with confidence.

  “I need a saddle and bridle,” Carole said breathlessly. “I got halfway to the end of the pasture before I lost the tracks. It’s coming down hard and I’ll make better time on horseback. Will you hand me that bridle?”

  Slowly John started shaking his head. “No,” he said quietly.

  “I thought I could take Stewball. He’s good at—” Carole stopped and looked at John. “No?” she repeated. “Is that what you said?”

  “Yes. I mean, yes, I said no. You’re not going back out there, Carole.”

  “But I have to!” Carole protested, her voice bordering on hysterical. “It’s my fault that she escaped, and I have to get her back or—”

  John put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “First of all, it’s not your fault. You bolted the door, didn’t you?”

  Carole nodded. “I’m sure I did.”

  “Well, then—”

  “But, you see, I should have stayed with her instead of going and riding those other horses because I knew she was scared and—”

  “Carole,” John interrupted, “it’s not your fault. Anyway, it wouldn’t matter if it was. It will be dark in an hour. It’s snowing like crazy. Going to look for the mare now would be the most idiotic thing you could do.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” John said firmly.

  Stevie, Kate, and Lisa looked from John to Carole and back. They knew John was right, but they felt awful for Carole. They knew she had formed an instant attachment to the mare. When Mick left to tell Frank, Lisa put a consoling arm around Carole. “They’ll find her in the morning. She won’t go far.”

  “The morning?” Carole whispered, dismayed. She could have kicked herself for not staying with the mare. Why had she gone and ridden the other horses? She had let down one beautiful black horse already, and look what had happened to him. Her eyes filling with tears, Carole looked out the window. The few flakes had escalated into a real storm. “If anything happens to her out there, I’ll never forgive myself!” she vowed.

  THAT EVENING THE mood in the bunkhouse was glum. Carole headed for bed right after dinner. Not wanting to disturb her, Stevie and Lisa followed suit. Now they couldn’t sleep. They could hear Carole sniffling every few minutes. It was torture! Finally Lisa had to say something. “Carole, are you okay?” she whispered across the room.

  Carole gulped, trying to make her voice sound calm. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she said. Normally she would have talked things over with The Saddle Club, but this time she didn’t know what to say. Everyone would think she was getting too involved, making too much of it. She sighed aloud. That was the problem with The Saddle Club: Sometimes they cared too much.

  Carole tried to look on the bright side. Frank had been very understanding. Several times he had told her that it wasn’t her fault, that they ought to have replaced that bolt months ago. And he had organized a search party for the morning. She had to believe they would find the mare and bring her back. And yet, Carole wondered, why didn’t that thought make her happier?

  THE NEXT MORNING, Carole was awake at dawn. She had tossed and turned all night. She wasn’t sure she had slept even one wink. A glance out the window told her that it had stopped snowing, at least for now. As fast as she could, she yanked on long underwear, jeans, two shirts, a big bulky sweater, boots, gloves, a scarf, and a hat. She raced through the fresh snow to the main barn. Maybe there would be news about the mare. Maybe she had come home in the night of her own accord.

  The first person Carole saw was Walter Brightstar, John’s father and the ranch’s head wrangler. He greeted her warmly.

  “I was down mending fence in the big pasture all day, so I didn’t get to say hello yesterday,” he explained.

  But Carole heard only three words. “The big pasture?” she said. “Did you see a black mare go by—loose—in the afternoon?”

  Walter shook his head regretfully. “John already asked me. Can’t say that I did. But that pasture is huge. She might have walked right by me, ten yards away. With the snow, I wouldn’t have noticed. If I were her, though, I would have headed north.”

  “North?” said Carole, paying careful attention. “Why north?”

  “That’s where she came from. If she’s trying to get back home, that’s the direction.”

  Carole nodded. She had several more questions. “Are you going out with the search party? When do they leave? Can I take Stewball? Stevie reminded me how good he is on the trail.”

  Walter began doubtfully, “No, I’m not going. I’ve got work here. And sure, sure, you can take Stewball. But you’d better hurry. They’re leaving in two minutes!”

  Carole was down the aisle and into the tack room before the words were out of Walter’s mouth. Frank was inside, dressed for riding. Begging him to wait, Carole reached for a set of tack.

  “Carole, I—”

  “Please, please, I’ll only be two minutes, I promise!”

  Fr
ank frowned. “It’s not that. I don’t mind waiting. It’s just … well, I’m not sure you should go. John and I are all set and we both know this country well. It could be a very long day—cold, exhausting. I don’t know how long because I don’t know how far this silly mare has gotten herself.”

  Carole waited in silence, trying not to cry. She had to go. It had never entered her mind that she couldn’t. She felt Frank studying her face. A moment later he relented.

  “Well, okay, if it means that much to you—”

  Carole didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She saddled Stewball in seconds flat. “I know, boy, you’re expecting Stevie, but I need your herding and roundup skills out there today. We’ve got to find one of your stablemates who’s lost out there.” Carole took a quick glance out the window. It was partly sunny, but more snow was expected that night. She shivered a little as she tightened Stewball’s cinch and led the pinto outside.

  Lisa, Stevie, Kate, and Phyllis all came out to see them off. Stevie gave Stewball a pat and told him to take care of Carole. Phyllis gave Frank bottled water, a Thermos of hot coffee, and a backpack of sandwiches, which he tied into his saddlebag.

  “We expect you back by noon,” she said brightly.

  Frank leaned down to kiss his wife. “At the latest,” he promised.

  As the three of them set off, John turned around in his saddle. He smiled and waved good-bye to Lisa. Lisa caught his eye. She blushed. She had been imagining what it would have been like if John had kissed her good-bye—

  “Yee-haw, it’s pie time!” Stevie hollered.

  Lisa gave her a withering glance. “Thanks,” she said. “You really know how to wreck a moment.”

  “A moment? What moment?” Stevie followed Lisa inside, frowning in confusion.

  “Oh, you know,” Lisa murmured, her eyes far away. “It’s so romantic when someone leaves, saying good-bye and everything …” She sighed. They were in the foyer hanging up their coats and trading wet boots for moccasins and slippers.