Full Gallop

by Bonnie Bryant

  She breathed in deeply. The acrid smell of smoke, faint but unmistakable, snaked its way into her nose.

  Checkers danced nervously beside her, letting out another snort. And now Carole could hear the distant cries of other horses from ahead. That snapped her brain back into motion. Glancing to the side, she saw that the gate to the front pasture was just a few yards ahead. Yanking at Checkers’s lead, she pulled the reluctant horse forward. It seemed to take forever, but finally they reached the gate.

  “I’m just going to put you in here for a little while, boy,” she said breathlessly, scrabbling with the latch and finally unsnapping it. She swung the gate open and led the horse through. “You’ll be safer out here if—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Unclipping the lead rope and slinging it around her neck, she gave Checkers a smack on the rump to move him away from the gate.

  The horse didn’t have to be told twice. Letting out several more anxious snorts, he took off like a bullet, racing down the fence line toward the road, away from the stable.

  Carole swung the gate shut and latched it with fumbling fingers. Then she dashed up the driveway. There must be some mistake, she thought as she ran. There can’t really be a fire. Stevie made a mistake. She probably just smelled the smoke from Max’s chimney, or maybe it’s something minor and stupid like Kelsey’s bucket heater or the leftover stink from one of Maureen’s cigarettes or from a worker’s blowtorch.…

  When she reached the top of the hill and the stable building came into view, she saw that the spotlight wasn’t on. The station wagon was parked at a crazy angle in the driveway, its headlights illuminating a section of the stable’s outside wall as well as the mounting block and part of the schooling ring. Carole could hear the cries of horses more clearly now, as well as shouting from her friends.

  She ran faster, her heart pounding.

  Stevie raced through the stable doors, ignoring the worried cries of her friends behind her. Lisa and Phil were debating whether the smell could possibly be coming from a neighbor’s chimney, while Scott and Callie called the fire department on Scott’s cell phone.

  Stevie skidded to a stop in the middle of the entryway, sniffing in all directions, trying to pinpoint the source of the smoke. It was very dark, with only the dim light of the moon spilling in through the high windows in the back wall and the open main doors behind her. But she’d smelled smoke coming through the station wagon’s vents as soon as she’d neared the stable, and now she knew there was no mistake. The smell was much stronger inside. She quickly realized she would never figure out what was happening by stumbling around in the dark.

  She turned and headed for the wall to the left of the square of lighter gray that marked the open doors, trying to locate the light switch by feel. After thinking she must have covered every inch of the wooden wall at least twice, she finally found the switch and flipped it on, illuminating the nearly empty entryway as well as the aisles. She saw that Phil had followed her in and was peering through the half-open doors to the indoor ring.

  “That’s more like it,” he said, glancing up as the lights came on.

  “No,” Scott said, appearing in the doorway. “If there really is a fire, we have to turn off the power.”

  “We don’t know there’s a fire yet,” Stevie pointed out distractedly, continuing her sniffing. The entryway was clear and looked the same as always. But there was nothing normal about the sounds the horses were making from their stalls. Something was definitely wrong or they wouldn’t be calling out in panicky voices and kicking at their stalls. Besides, Stevie could still smell the faint, acrid odor of smoke.

  Where there’s smoke there’s fire. The thought popped into her head, but she squashed it. Not necessarily, she told herself, remembering the story Carole and Ben had just told over dinner about dousing the near fire in Kelsey’s horse’s stall earlier that day. Of course, if they missed a spark when they were putting it out…

  Stevie shook her head, banishing the thought. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that neither Carole nor Ben would take even the tiniest chance when it came to the safety of the horses under their care.

  “Come on,” she said, deciding that standing around there sniffing like a demented rabbit wasn’t doing any good. She gestured to Phil, Ben, and Carole, who were peering anxiously down the stable aisles. All of them looked slightly stunned, including Carole, who had just arrived, huffing and puffing and without Checkers. Stevie didn’t bother to wonder about that, though. “Phil,” she said briskly. “You take the office hall. Make sure you check the hot-water pipes in the bathrooms, and make sure the portable heater in the tack room isn’t plugged in. Ben, you check the indoor ring again and the hayloft. Carole, you start down the south aisle and I’ll take the north one, and we’ll meet in the middle.” Scott, Callie, and Lisa seemed to have disappeared, but Stevie didn’t waste time thinking about that, either.

  As the others scattered, following her directions, Stevie turned and raced into her assigned arm of the stable aisle—the one where Belle’s stall was located. As soon as she did, she recognized the sound of her mare’s whinnies among all the others.

  “It’s okay, sweetie,” she hollered, hoping she was telling the truth. “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay.”

  She coughed. Smoke was visible in the aisle, a haze floating just under the overhead lights. But she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. It seemed to be everywhere.

  Feeling herself start to panic, she clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain calm. There may still be time, she told herself firmly. Focus! You’ve got to find out where it’s coming from—fast—and put it out.

  Pulling up the collar of her turtleneck to cover her mouth and nose, she hurried forward, glancing from side to side. Comanche, in the stall to her left, was flinging himself against the door. Across the way an adult boarder’s horse named Sachia huddled in the far corner, letting out a pathetic whinny every few seconds. But there was no sign of fire, so Stevie forced herself to move on. She looked in on Congo, who had his head so far over the half door that he seemed about to choke himself. Then, as Stevie turned toward the empty stall across the aisle, she saw a flash of sparks.

  Joyride’s stall, she thought grimly.

  She raced over and flung open the stall door. The mare had left for her new home earlier that day, and apparently nobody had yet had a chance to clean out the stall. Manure-dotted straw covered the floor in a deep, soft bed. And that bed was aflame.

  “Here! It’s here!” Stevie cried, leaping forward and stomping on the nearest finger of fire, which was burning through a clump of hay that had been dropped by the door. The flame licked at her boot as she pounded at it; then it finally died. Coughing, Stevie turned and jumped on the next burning section. Then another, and another.

  But for every tongue of flame that she stomped out, five or six more seemed to appear, gobbling up the dry straw and hay in their path and turning them into charred black ash as they moved on hungrily in all directions. Tears of frustration sprang to Stevie’s eyes as she turned and saw the fire licking at the wooden partition between that stall and the next. Sparks flew up from the burning bedding, sent aloft by the breeze coming in through the half-open stall window. Looking up, Stevie realized it was only a matter of time until one of them made it to the hayloft above. Even as she watched, another spark drifted up, alighting on the stall partition at shoulder level.

  At that moment Phil appeared in the doorway. Shouting out a choice expletive at the sight of the fire, he dashed in and grabbed Stevie by the arm. “Get out of here!” he yelled.

  “No!” Stevie cried stubbornly, wrenching her arm free and turning to jump on another burning spot.

  Phil grabbed her again, this time holding on so tight that his fingers dug into her skin through her coat and sweater. “Its no use!” he shouted. “You’re wasting your time. We have to get the horses out—now!”

  With a frustrated sob, Stevie realized he was right. He
r eyes were already burning from the smoke, and the flames were everywhere, taking over the entire stall. They were too late to stop the fire. All they could do was try to save the horses while they waited for the fire department to arrive.

  She glanced again at the flames that were making their way up the partition between Joyride’s stall and the one next door. That stall’s resident, the new school horse named Madison, was screaming frantically. Judging by the dull thuds coming from that direction, Stevie guessed that the panicked mare was practically climbing the walls as the fire crept into her stall.

  “I’ll get Maddie!” she yelled, already shoving past Phil to grab the halter hanging outside Madison’s stall. “You grab one of the others.”

  Stevie entered the mare’s stall just as the overhead aisle lights flickered and died, plunging them into near darkness again. This time, though, the scene was dimly lit by the eerie orange glow of the fire as it continued to spread hungrily through the straw bedding. Several sparks had already taken hold in Madison’s bedding, including one that was dangerously close to the mare’s hind legs.

  Eight minutes, Stevie thought frantically as she wrestled Madison’s head down and clipped on her halter. Eight minutes.

  Until that very moment she’d forgotten a fact that she had learned in Pony Club long ago: Once a fire started, there were at best eight minutes to evacuate the horses before it was too late. How many valuable seconds had she already wasted trying vainly to put out the fire? She couldn’t think about that now.

  “Come on, girl,” she said, tugging on the lead rope.

  Madison planted all four feet and rolled her eyes, looking terrified. Stevie gritted her teeth. She was feeling pretty terrified herself, and she knew that the horse was picking up on her mood.

  Forcing herself to calm down and stay patient, she clucked to the mare. “Come on, girl,” she said, wincing as a floating spark landed on the back of her bare hand, burning her. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  Once again she tugged on the rope. This time, after a slight hesitation, the mare stepped forward. Once she was moving, Stevie had little trouble bringing her out of the stall.

  As she emerged into the aisle, Phil had just clipped a lead rope onto Congo’s halter. “Here,” he said, tossing the lead to Stevie. “Take him. I’ll get these two.” He gestured toward Comanche and Sachia, who occupied the two stalls at the near end of the aisle.

  Stevie nodded and kept moving, dragging both horses along behind her as she headed for the entryway. The lights still seemed to be on out there, and they were like a beacon, overtaking the glow of the fire behind her.

  Eight minutes, she thought grimly. Eight minutes.

  “Where is the fire department?” Scott asked for about the ninth time.

  Lisa peered into the entryway, feeling uncertain. She, Scott, and Callie had agreed to wait outside to guide the firefighters when they arrived, but the wait was almost more than Lisa could stand. Should they run in and see what Stevie and the others were doing? She sniffed the air experimentally. The smoke was still there, but where was it coming from? She could hear muffled shouting from somewhere inside. What was going on in there?

  “I don’t know,” she told Scott. “Maybe we should call again.”

  At that moment Stevie came barreling out of the stable aisle, leading two horses. Her face was grim. “It’s in one of the stalls in the north aisle!” she called when she spotted them, not slowing down. “We can’t put it out—it’s too far along.”

  Lisa felt the words hit her like a freight train. She was so stunned that she barely stepped back in time to avoid being stepped on as Stevie rushed by with her charges.

  “We’ve got to get the horses out!” Callie exclaimed as she stopped pacing and took a step forward.

  “First we’ve got to turn off the power,” Scott said, grabbing his sister by the arm.

  “But how will we see to get the horses?” Lisa asked.

  “It’s too dangerous,” Scott said grimly. “If the fire gets to the wiring or if water hits it, it’ll throw off sparks. That’ll only make things worse.”

  Callie was already heading into the building. “I’ll get it,” she said. “I know where the box is.”

  Lisa glanced into the building, her first instinct to run inside and help her friends. But she knew there was one more thing that someone had to do. Taking off at a run, she headed around the side of the stable toward the house high on the hill beyond. It was dark once she moved beyond the reach of the stable lights. For a moment she considered stopping and going back to Scott’s car for the flashlight he kept there. She glanced uncertainly over her shoulder at the stable and saw an ominous reddish glow through several of the windows on the north side. She gulped and turned, stumbling over a rock in the dark but not daring to slow her pace. There was no time to waste. She had to get Max.

  TWELVE

  Carole coughed, the smoke burning her throat raw as she struggled to breathe in the thick haze of the stable aisle. Jumping back out of the way as Ben rushed past, leading a violently bucking and shying Talisman, she glanced around. The once-familiar stable aisle had turned into a scene out of her worst nightmare. Smoke was everywhere, heavy and choking, and the crackling sound of burning straw filled her head, seeming even louder than the screams and snorts of the horses all around her. The flames were spreading astonishingly fast. The same wooden board partitions that usually allowed ventilation between the stalls were now allowing the fire to creep beneath and between them, attacking the thick straw bedding in each new stall it found.

  As soon as Ben and Talisman were past, Carole grabbed the halter and lead rope from the hook beside the door to the nearest occupied stall, grateful for Max’s obsessive attention to safety details. She couldn’t imagine how much time they would have lost if they’d had to fetch halters and leads from the tack room. Shoving open the stall door, she clucked to the bay mare inside.

  “It’s okay, Belle,” she murmured, stepping forward and slipping the halter over Stevie’s horse’s head before the confused mare realized what was happening. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get you out of here.”

  Belle snorted but followed her out of the stall obediently, ducking across the aisle at Carole’s direction as Callie raced past with a fire extinguisher, heading for the source of the fire. It seemed like a hopeless task. The flames had already spread across the wide aisle, and straw was burning busily almost everywhere Carole looked. Reaching one-handed for the next halter, Carole opened the door of Windsor’s stall. The flames hadn’t reached his stall yet, but the smoke was thick and heavy. The big gelding reared up when he saw her, his heavy forefeet waving in the air as he let out a scream of protest.

  “Yikes,” Carole muttered, jumping back just in time. Belle snorted again, rolling her eyes at the crackling flames across the aisle and almost stepping on Carole’s foot as she danced to one side.

  As Windsor reared again, Carole glanced around for help. Scott had just emptied the contents of one of the stable’s fire extinguishers in the stall down the aisle, and now he was attacking the fire with every water bucket he could grab out of the empty stalls nearby. Meanwhile Callie was still busy with her fire extinguisher in another stall. She was moving fast, aiming mostly at the sparks and tongues of flame climbing the walls toward the hayloft.

  The loft, Carole thought, freezing for a moment in sheer panic as she belatedly realized what Callie was trying to do. If the fire makes it up there …

  She didn’t dare think about that. “Come on, Windsor,” she crooned, trying to keep her fear out of her voice. “Please. You’ve got to let me help you.”

  Windsor had stopped rearing, but he backed into the corner of his stall and glared at her suspiciously, his nostrils flaring. Carole debated whether to leave him and grab another horse. She couldn’t spend too much time on a horse that wouldn’t be saved when there were so many others still trapped. …

  Luckily, at that moment the big gelding finally stepped forw
ard, allowing her to fling the halter over his ears and snap the buckle shut. Whew! Carole thought, quickly steering him out into the aisle to maintain his forward momentum. Belle put her ears back at Windsor briefly, but when Carole gave a tug on her lead she was only too willing to follow. The mare had never stopped dancing at the end of her lead rope, casting an anxious eye at the flames that were taking over her stall across the way.

  Carole paused as Callie raced past. “It’s spreading too fast,” Callie called breathlessly. “We’ve got to clear this aisle. I’ll get Topside and Flame out.”

  Carole nodded and hurried along as Callie disappeared into Topside’s stall. Suddenly she heard a horse cry out from somewhere behind her. Recognizing her own horse’s voice, she glanced over her shoulder—and stopped short, frozen in horror. A flame had caught a clump of straw in the aisle and was burning busily. Even as she watched, a spark flared bright orange and the bedding caught fire in her horse’s stall.

  Starlight! she thought, almost losing hold of Windsor’s lead as the gelding jerked forward, trying to continue down the aisle. Oh no!

  She just stood there for a second, struck immobile with indecision. Scott was nowhere in sight—Carole guessed that he was probably in search of more water or fire extinguishers. Callie was busy with other horses. Ben, Stevie, and Phil were still outside. If Carole continued on her way with the horses she had in hand, it could mean doom for her own horse. But she couldn’t just release Belle and Windsor to their own devices. Not only would it be dangerous for the horses themselves, but having two panicky horses on the loose inside the stable would also be very dangerous for Carole’s friends. She thought about putting Windsor back in his stall, but even as it crossed her mind, she glanced over and saw flames making their way beneath the wooden partition. Too late.

  Before she could think any further, she heard the rear entrance door at the far end of the aisle crash open, then a shout. Lisa raced in, followed by a pajama-clad Max. Lisa stopped short, her eyes widening in horror as she took in the scene, while Max hurried into the wash stall and started dragging out the hose. As Carole watched, Lisa snapped back into action, heading straight for Starlight.