A Horse of Her Own

by Annie Wedekind

  Lily saw her face and gave her a quick kiss on one dirty cheek. “We’ve still got a whole week,” she whispered, and to Jane’s utter surprise, she ducked swiftly under Lancelot’s head and began skillfully freeing his mane from its braids. “He’s really pretty sweet,” she said cheerfully.

  They were soon joined by the three trainers, who had disappeared to the house with Mrs. Jeffrys after presenting Jane with the satin ribbon that now hung on Lancelot’s stall, its long streamers fluttering in the breeze from the barn’s fan. Now they each shook Jane’s hand again, and Jill Grabel gave Lancelot a pat on his damp rump. Jane’s curiosity did brief battle with her shyness, and she finally addressed the Long Run trainer:

  “Do you think he did almost as well as he … as he used to?” she asked in a low voice.

  Jill smiled, but cocked her head quizzically at Jane.

  “He had a rough beginning here,” Susan explained. “More than rough, I should say. Though I thought perhaps his problems had started even earlier, when Katie Reed was still riding him.” She shook her head wonderingly at the horse. “Jane’s done a tremendous job with him,” she added to the Ryans. “In fact—”

  But she was cut off by Jill, who had turned her questioning expression now to Susan. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Katie never rode this horse.”

  Now Susan, and everyone else, looked perplexed. “Katie owned this horse!” she exclaimed. “He was stabled at Long Run!”

  But Jill just shook her head. “Katie had one horse—Galahad—who she sold before she went to college. He was a chestnut, too, but more than a hand smaller, with two stockings, not three. I should know, he boarded with me for five years. I’ve never seen this horse in my life,” she finished firmly.

  Dumbfounded, Jane, Susan, and Robin stared at her, their astonishment mirrored in one another’s features. The Ryans and Tom Cumbler, knowing less of the situation, looked politely interested in the debate.

  Susan was incredulous. “But we picked him up from your barn!”

  Jill shrugged. “I can’t help you there. I’ve been traveling so much this summer, I haven’t been able to keep track of every horse that’s come through, though I can tell you that this horse never boarded with me.”

  “And actually, Susan, my grandsons did not pick him up from the barn,” said Jose thoughtfully from a few feet away. He paused and put down the buckets of water he was carrying to the fields. The group wheeled around to him. Even Lancelot turned his head in an interested fashion, as if following this discussion of his origins with equal curiosity.

  “Mr. Longstreet told Ricky and Gabriel to get Emily’s horse from a field near Long Run, private property. I can’t remember what the place was called, if it had a name. But not Long Run, that I remember, because the boys weren’t happy about having to catch this horse in the field. It took them a long time, and they were late getting back.” He smiled at Jane. “Looks like you have a mystery horse.”

  “But Susan,” Jane exclaimed, “you bought him! Don’t you have papers or something?” But her trainer was already shaking her head.

  “Remember, Jane? We agreed to the sale, but were going to finalize the details after the Longstreets came back from vacation.”

  Jane’s mother began to laugh. “A Lancelot for a Galahad! You got the wrong knight!”

  “His name might not even be Lancelot,” Robin said.

  Suddenly Jane remembered a long-ago conversation with Jessica, when she’d told her how Emily had gotten her champion horse.

  “I don’t know if this means anything, but Jessica told me that Emily’s parents had said that they couldn’t afford Katie’s horse. But then she said that Emily wore them down. What if—” She stopped, embarrassed at her own insinuation. Would Mr. Longstreet really have …

  Susan gave her an uncomfortable look. “He did ask for a lot less than what I’d imagined he’d paid. I thought it was just because he wanted to get rid of him … was afraid for Emily’s safety. I certainly haven’t seen any papers yet.” Susan cleared her throat. “Well, we won’t know the truth of it till we talk to the Longstreets,” she finished, “but this sure beats me.”

  Jane looked with wonderment at the dripping horse beside her. She traced the long question mark on his forehead with her finger. “Who are you?” she asked him, and he blew softly to her. She thought about Emily, not even recognizing the difference between this horse and the one she’d fallen for after seeing him once in his stall. Jane felt a pang for Mr. Longstreet, if what she guessed happened was in fact the truth … wanting so badly to give his daughter what she desired, then seeing the danger he’d put her in with the unknown horse (though Emily certainly hadn’t helped matters). No wonder he wanted to get rid of his mistake … .

  Jane leaned her cheek fondly against Lancelot’s. He was no mistake. And she realized it really didn’t matter to her where he came from, or who he was. She felt at that moment that she knew all she needed to know about him, and all of it was more than wonderful.

  “So, Jane,” Susan asked her, “how do you feel about your mystery horse?”

  “I think he’s perfect,” Jane said dreamily, and everyone laughed.

  “Well, he’s yours,” Susan said gruffly.

  Jane smiled and went back to work scraping the water from Lancelot’s coat. But then the silence around her made her look up again.

  “Wait, Susan, what did you say?” She stared at her trainer, who was giving one of her ferocious half-smile half-frowns.

  “I said he’s yours. If your parents agree.”

  Jane felt paralyzed as she turned to her parents, who were looking very serious indeed, and more than a little wary.

  Lily jumped to the rescue: “You won’t have Jane’s school tuition this year,” she exclaimed, then, seeing their looks deepen into scowls, added hastily, “not that that’s why Jane’s going to MLK, right, Jane? Right, Mrs., um, Susan?”

  Susan, having no idea what Lily was talking about, simply nodded, eyebrows raised. Jane couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. This couldn’t really be happening.

  “Well, it’s something to think about,” her father finally sighed. “But you have to know that we couldn’t pay you for the horse. We don’t know at the moment exactly where he came from … and I confess I don’t have any idea how much board would be.”

  “It’s not so much, sir,” Susan said firmly. “Especially if Jane would agree to continue teaching the younger riders as she’s been doing this summer. I’m sure we could work something out with the Jeffrys. And I agreed to buy him before I knew he should be Jane’s. It’s my choice to give her this horse. And as far as where he came from, well, we don’t know. What I do know, and know for an almost certainty, is where he can go from here, with Jane riding him. He could be a champion. And your daughter could be a champion. What you saw here today surely must have shown you that much.”

  Tears blinded Jane’s eyes, but she heard Tom Cumbler’s laconic “Here, here,” and Jill Grabel chiming in, “Without a doubt.” Still, she stood frozen by Lancelot’s side till she could bear it no more and words came wrenching from her in a painful plea: “Oh, Mum, Dad …” She couldn’t finish, but everything that was Jane was in her face, and her parents saw it.

  “He’s a lovely horse, Jane,” her mother said with tears in her voice.

  “A mystery horse of your own.” Her father chuckled. And Jane had to hand the lead rope to Jill so she could fling her arms around her startled trainer, pulling Lily and her father and her mother and finally Robin and Jose to her to envelop them in all the thankfulness and amazement and joy that coursed through her like a river of happiness bursting its banks.

  Jane was lingering at Lancelot’s stall, unwilling to say her final good-bye, though she would see him again, would see her horse again in a little more than two weeks, after the Ryans had taken Lily to college and Jane had started school. Her mind whirled with everything that had happened that miraculous day, and her heart flooded with an almost uncomprehending gra
titude when she thought of her trainer, so tough, so demanding, but finally the person who believed in her most of all. And she couldn’t help thinking with a kind of stunned amusement what Alyssa and Jessica would say when they found out. Both girls and Jennifer had left immediately after the awarding of the ribbons, giving over the care of their horses to the Reyes family, and disappearing in a flurry of tossed sleeping bags and duffels and wet towels and promises to see one another the next night at Jennifer’s house.

  As Jessica had jumped in her brother’s convertible, pulling on her huge sunglasses and fiddling with the stereo, Jane had seen Ben looking after her briefly, before turning away. Their looks just crossed each other’s: Jessica looked up and watched Ben’s retreating back. She then glanced over to Jane, standing as sweaty and dirty and unglamorous as always, carrying the muddy length of hose to her horse, and she had smiled. It was not a very kind smile—it was knowing and a bit pitying and also a little rueful. But Jane had suddenly decided to take it for what she could, and she waved to her ex-friend, calling, “Have a good rest of the summer!” And Jessica, surprised into spontaneity, had given her a real smile and waved back. Jane thought she might have heard “You, too” as the convertible peeled off down the drive.

  Alyssa and Jennifer, of course, had not said a word to her besides bright, false “Congratulations!” in front of their parents and the judges.

  Jane heard a noise like a low voice coming from the stall behind her, and she turned to see Megan hanging on the bars of Beau’s stall, in apparent conference with her horse, who was leaning down to catch the words being whispered up to him.

  “It’s hard to leave, isn’t it?” Jane said smilingly.

  Megan nodded, turning to her, and Jane could see that her eyes were sparkling with tears.

  “He won’t forget you, I promise,” Jane told her, and Megan gave a shaky sigh.

  “I hope not,” she whispered. “But it’ll be a whole two days!”

  “Wait, you’re coming back day after tomorrow?” Jane laughed, but tried to keep her laughter kind. “You really don’t have anything to worry about, Megan. He loves you.” Jane crossed the aisle to give Beau a fond pet between his gentle eyes. And she stepped back, startled, as Megan threw her arms around her waist and hugged her. Then the sound of a tapped car horn broke them apart, and with a final hug of her horse and Jane, Megan ran to her parents, waving at her to get a move on and get in the car.

  Jane knew it was time for her to go as well. Her family and Robin were hovering around the packed car, saying good-bye to Jose. But there was one more good-bye Jane had to say, and she was wondering where she would find Ben, when he came into the barn, looking for her. He had something in his hand, behind his back. When he reached her, he held it out.

  “For you,” he said simply.

  Jane unfolded it in wonderment. It was her T-shirt, the shredded, filthy, bloodstained one she’d worn during her second fall from Lancelot. But as he helped her spread it out, since she couldn’t with one hand, she saw that he’d had letters ironed across the back, a little hard to read since they were printed in a haphazard fashion to avoid the tears: I WON THE FIRST SUNNY ACRES EVENT AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT.

  Jane stared at it, then burst out laughing. “But, but,” she gasped, “how did you know I was going to win?”

  He grinned back at her. “I just had a feeling,” he said. They looked at each other, then started laughing again.

  Jane didn’t know where to begin, or how to end. For this good-bye would end her summer. So, of course, she blushed. “Thanks … thanks for everything, Ben,” she said, and felt herself turn even redder as she heard how shy and awkward she sounded. But Ben apparently couldn’t think of what to say, either, and just nodded, looking with fixed interest at a nearby hay bale.

  “Don’t forget to keep that transistor radio buried,” Jane tried.

  He looked up and smiled. “Not to worry, my lady,” he said in accent, and she smiled, too. It was harder to be shy with Ben than to just be themselves, Jane thought. We sort of can’t help it.

  “Oh!” Ben smacked his forehead. “I meant to tell you that if you get Mr. Gupton for homeroom you have to call him ‘Guppy,’ I mean, for the obvious reason, but don’t let him hear you because you’ll get on his bad side for the rest of the year and he’ll always mark you late, whether you are or not.”

  “Huh?” Jane stared at him bewilderedly.

  “Your sister told me you’re going to MLK. Didn’t she tell you that’s where I go?”

  “No! What?” Jane exclaimed. Ben nodded and seemed to be about to say something else when they heard the car horn.

  “One second!” Jane yelled, then torn and in a riot of happiness and shock, ran to hug Lancelot one more time (which he put up with graciously), gave Beau a last pat, and, not knowing what else to do, stuck out her hand, and she and Ben shook, hard, like they had the morning after their long night in the barn. They grinned at each other. The horn sounded again, and their hands dropped.

  As she climbed in the back of the car, piled in tightly with Lily and Robin, she thought she saw him mouthing something, and unrolled the window.

  “See you in school!” he called.

  “See you in school!” she yelled back, and waved her T-shirt, fluttering as a many-colored banner of the many-colored summer, from the window of the Ryans’ car as it made its way slowly down the drive, leaving Sunny Acres.

  Note

  The landscape of Sunny Acres farm—from the fields to the barns, the riding arenas to the main house and cabins—was inspired by my memories of Undulata Farm in Shel-byville, Kentucky, where I was fortunate enough to learn to ride under the expert eyes and loving guidance of the Meffert family—Bobbie and Jim, and their children, Jill and Jimmy. However, not a single character in A Horse of Her Own is based in whole or in part on any of the marvelous people I knew during my years at Undulata—with the notable exception of Beau.

  A HORSE OF HER OWN. Copyright © 2008 by Annie Wedekind. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

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  Book design by Amanda Dewey

  Feiwel and Friends logo designed by Filomena Tuosto

  eISBN 9781429939072

  First eBook Edition : October 2011

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Available

  First Edition: June 2008