One Unhappy Horse

by C. S. Adler

"We have to do something," Jan said.

  "Oh, right. You have to go to my room and get those papers out of the silver shoes. Do it before my daughter finds them. Or she'll be real mad at me."

  "You mean the paper from the pawnshop?"

  "And the one from your mother. You keep them for me. Don't lose them. We need that pawn ticket to get back my ring."

  "Mattie, wouldn't it be best to tell your daughter what really happened?"

  "No, no, no! You mustn't tell her. If you do, she'll say I'm not responsible. Anyone can lose something, but if she knows I gave it away—" Mattie took a deep breath. "Just do like I say."

  "Okay," Jan said. "I'll go to the house and see if they'll let me into your room. I'll tell them you asked me to bring something to you at the nursing home."

  "That's right. Stella will let you. Stella's partial to me."

  The hour passed quickly. It was easy to talk to Mattie, even here in this place. She was either reminded of a story to tell or she asked questions. When it was time for Jan to leave, she realized she'd had Mattie's hand in hers the whole time. The hand was warm and felt more alive now. She bent and kissed Mattie's forehead. "I'll come back as soon as I can," Jan promised.

  "I'll be waiting for you, Mattie said. "It'll give me something to look forward to. Thanks for coming, honey.

  "My name's Jan," Jan said.

  "I know who you are. I know. It's just your name I can't remember," Mattie said.

  "Lots of people aren't good at names," Jan said.

  "Well, I used to be," Mattie admitted. "When I was young, I was good at remembering. There's a lot of things I was good at that I can't do right anymore." She smiled. That was something Mattie could still do beautifully, Jan thought.

  "How is she?" Mom asked when Jan got back into the truck.

  "She doesn't like it there. But she was very glad to see me."

  They agreed that Mom would drive Jan to the nursing home three times a week until Mattie got out. Mom said she would try to find out when that would be.

  "I've got to get something for her from the house," Jan said.

  Mom didn't ask what the something was and Jan decided not to tell her. Mom might think it was like stealing or something to take those papers from where Mattie had hidden them. Actually, it was like stealing, and Jan had never taken anything that wasn't hers in her entire life. But this was a crime for a good cause, and it was a very small crime and a very important cause. She could do it, she assured herself. She had to do it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Getting into Mattie's room in the assisted living home turned out to be easy. Stella opened the front door while holding a telephone receiver to her ear. She put her hand over the receiver and asked Jan, "Did you get to see Mattie in the nursing home?"

  "I just came from there."

  "Good! I meant to visit her myself, but I haven't made it yet. How's she doing?"

  "Okay, I guess. She wants me to bring her something from her room."

  "Oh, all right, then. You go ahead and I'll talk to you later." Stella waved Jan in and resumed talking into the phone.

  Jan passed two women she didn't know in the living room and glimpsed Amelia sitting out on the back patio. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped into Mattie and Amelia's shadowy bedroom. When Mattie was present, it hadn't seemed polite to examine this room, which had been Jan's private sanctuary for so many years. Now that she was alone in it, she gave in to the urge to find some trace of her past self. But with two partial sets of mismatched furniture crammed into it, the room resembled a furniture store more than a secret retreat.

  Jan opened the closet door to find her name just where she had carved it above the doorknob. But it struck her as sad, like a name carved on a gravestone. Nothing else remained of her here, even though she'd been gone less than a year.

  One deep breath and she turned to the job at hand. First, she had to determine which side of the big closet was Mattie's and which was Amelia's. Mattie was small; Amelia was tall. All right, but the clothes were jammed so tightly on the rod that it was hard to tell sizes. Below the hanging garments were shoeboxes next to a rack full of shoes that had to be too big to be Mattie's. In a row on top of the boxes were child-size shoes. Mattie's, then. But no silver slippers.

  Jan crouched to study the end panels on the boxes. Which one should she open first? She'd make a terrible private investigator, she told herself. This whole business made her feel sneaky. Gingerly, she lifted the top of first one box and then the other. Finally, she located the silver sandals—high-heel, sling-back sandals that were indeed glamorous. She was about to poke through the tissue paper in the box for the papers when she heard a noise. Her heart leaped. Caught in the act!

  "I'm in the closet, Stella," Jan made herself say. It had to be Stella come to see what she was up to.

  The closet door behind her creaked as it was opened wide. "Who are you?" a cold voice asked.

  Jan jumped up in guilty terror, hiding the shoe behind her. She was facing a grim-faced middle-age woman with gray hair clipped very short. The woman was primly dressed in a straight skirt and striped blouse.

  "I'm Jan, Mattie's friend. I came to get her something."

  "And what might that be?"

  "Who are you?" Jan dared to ask.

  "I'm her daughter, Valerie Williams."

  "Oh," Jan said. "Oh." She swallowed and gazed in dismay at Mattie's daughter.

  "What are you after?" Valerie Williams demanded.

  Jan had never been a good liar. She blurted out, "Mattie said she wanted ... her silver shoes."

  "You mean what was hidden in them, don't you?"

  In a flash, Jan understood why she hadn't immediately seen the papers in the slippers. "How did you find them?" she asked.

  "I was looking for the ring. My mother said she'd lost it again, so I did a thorough search of her things while I was getting her a nightgown for the nursing home."

  Hastily, Jan began to explain. "Mattie hocked her ring for me. My horse needed an operation. My mother's working nights. And I'm going to lease my horse. We'll repay the money, and Mattie'll get the ring back. By next summer, my mother says. "

  "I've already redeemed the ring. The daughter held her hand out so that Jan could see that she was wearing it. "I'm the one you'll have to repay." Valerie narrowed her eyes. "Give me your name and address and telephone number. I need to talk with your mother about this business, she said.

  Jan didn't like the sound of that. Stiffly, she said, "Mom's working two jobs to pay you back. My mother's very honest. And then she asked the question that had been haunting her. "Was that why you made Mattie go to the nursing home? Because she said she lost the ring?

  "You think I punished my mother?" Valerie's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  Jan didn't know what to answer, and with Valerie blocking her way out of the closet, she felt trapped. If only her father were there! He would know what to say to Mattie's suspicious daughter. No doubt he'd be careful not to make Valerie lose her temper by accusing her of anything. He'd just give her the facts calmly. He used to say you could get through most anything with horses and people if you kept it soft and easy.

  "Well, you didn't want Mattie in your house anymore," Jan began slowly. "And then you don't visit her very much here. So—"

  Valerie gasped and her face turned white, as if Jan had shocked her. "You must think I'm some kind of monster!" she said. "Whatever did my mother tell you about me?"

  Jan took a deep breath and began to pick her way cautiously through what she knew. "All Mattie said was that you were smart," she told Valerie. "She said that you graduated from college and had a good job, but you quit it after you moved her in here. She just doesn't understand why you wanted to get rid of her."

  "Wanted to get rid of her?" Valerie made a strangled sound, and her face twisted as if she were in pain. "She couldn't have said that. My mother knows how much I love her."

  "You do?" Jan couldn't keep the doubt out of her voice. "
Are you going to bring her back here, then? I mean, you're not going to leave her in the nursing home?"

  "Of course I'm not," Valerie said.

  "Because if you are," Jan put in hopefully, "Mattie could come and live with us. I'm pretty sure my mother would let her, even though we don't have much room."

  Abruptly, Valerie sat down on the end of Mattie's bed. "Come on out of that closet," she said. "We need to talk."

  Jan stepped into the room uncertainly. Valerie was staring at the coverlet, smoothing the crazy quilt design. Her hands were small and dainty like Mattie's. Otherwise, she didn't resemble her mother. For one thing, Valerie was twice as wide—not more than a few inches taller, but stockier. For another, the lines of her puffy face were drawn down, while Mattie's face seemed designed for smiling.

  "If my mother's been complaining that I've neglected her lately," Valerie began, "I can understand it. But it's not because I wanted to."

  "She hasn't been complaining," Jan said. "Only you don't come when you promise, and that makes her feel bad."

  "She'd feel worse if she knew what was wrong, Valerie said. The eyes that met Jan's had a wounded look. "My mother and I are so close. We're everything to each other, Valerie said. "And something terrible has been happening to me. I thought it would kill her if she knew."

  "If she knew what?" Jan asked.

  Valerie studied Jan with care. "How good are you at keeping secrets?" she asked.

  "You mean from Mattie?"

  "From everybody. I know Stella the manager here thinks I'm a terrible daughter. It's in her tone of voice when I call, and the way she looks at me—I haven't told her, either." Valerie pressed her fingers to her lips.

  "Maybe you should tell her," Jan said. "And your mother, too.

  Valerie eyed Jan thoughtfully. "My mother didn't actually say she thought I didn't love her, did she?"

  "She wouldn't say anything bad about you," Jan said. "But she cried once.

  "When?"

  "When you didn't come for her birthday."

  "Oh, her birthday!" Valerie's eyes glistened with tears. "I was so sick that day. I could barely drag myself out of bed, and I brought her a pathetic bunch of flowers because I just couldn't—" The tears slid down her cheeks. "I've had breast cancer," she said. "I set my mother up here so that I could hide from her when I was going through the operation and the chemotherapy and—everything I had to go through."

  "Are you okay now?" Jan asked cautiously.

  Valerie shrugged. "I'm in remission. That's okay enough, I guess. But I can't believe ... How could my mother imagine that I'd ever stop loving her? We've always been so close."

  "Yeah, she did say that," Jan said.

  "Then you understand?" Valerie asked. "The reason I've neglected her? One look at me on some days and she'd have known something bad was happening to me."

  Jan nodded and said, "Well, I'm glad. I mean, that you're all right and that you really love her. But why can't you tell her the truth now?"

  "I don't know. She's gotten so frail." Valerie rubbed at her forehead and closed her eyes as if she were thinking.

  "Because you're not going to die or anything anymore," Jan said.

  Valerie laughed. "No. My doctor thinks we may even have licked it."

  "And Mattie could use some good news," Jan persisted.

  "Everybody can use good news. But she'd be frightened to know how sick I've been. She can't even say the word cancer without shuddering."

  "I'm really sorry that I thought you were mean," Jan said.

  "Well, I'm not sweet like my mother, that's for sure. Valerie's face lifted in a smile that finally made her resemble her mother. And she said, "You know, my mother talked about you. She told me you were just the grandchild she wished she had. I wanted to give her grandchildren. But—Anyway, I hope you're convinced that I do love and appreciate my mother.

  "Sure, " Jan said, "I believe you. " It was Mattie who still needed to be convinced.

  "Okay, then," Valerie said, getting back to business. "For now, would you just tell my mother you hid the papers somewhere for her? I'll show her I've got the ring when the time's right.

  Jan nodded.

  "And when I pack up her stuff and sort out what to toss and what to save, I'd better keep those silver sandals she's so crazy about, hadn't I?"

  "You mean Mattie's not coming back here?" Jan asked in alarm.

  Valerie shook her head wearily. "I can't afford to keep paying for this room. Cancer's expensive. I've been trying every cure I hear about, and insurance won't cover what the doctor doesn't prescribe."

  "So when she leaves the nursing home—?"

  "I'm not sure what'll happen then. Listen, I need time to think. Would you please just not tell anyone what we talked about here? Will you keep it to yourself for a while and let me decide about telling my mother?"

  "Okay," Jan agreed. She had done the best she could, and having talked to Valerie, she trusted that the woman would find a way to make things right.

  Stella was nowhere in sight when Jan walked through the house and out the back door. That was a relief. With all the promises and cross-promises Jan had made to both Mattie and her daughter, she didn't want to risk talking to anybody about anything. Still, she returned to the casita in a cheerful mood. Mattie's daughter wasn't a monster, after all, and life seemed suddenly more fair.

  Now all she had to do was figure out how to make Dove use his leg again. She found him in his favorite spot under the mesquite tree, leaning sideways to avoid putting weight on his fixed leg.

  "Dove," she said, "you'll never believe what I just found out." She put an arm around his long neck, and looking into the intelligent brown eye nearest her cheek, she told him all about it.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Two days before Thanksgiving, while Jan was in school, Valerie came to speak to Jan's mother about the money Mattie had lent them. Valerie had been crisp but cordial, according to Mom. They had agreed upon regular monthly payments, and Valerie had left with an initial check. "We should be free of debt by next June, if all goes well," Mom told Jan.

  "And you'll quit your waitressing job then?"

  "You bet," Mom said with a grin.

  The day before Thanksgiving, Lisa came into school beaming. She told Jan that her parents had agreed to let her lease Dove starting in January. "Dad's calling your mother to set it up. Isn't that great?"

  "Uh-huh," Jan said. Her stomach lurched briefly at the idea of sharing Dove. She felt as if she had agreed to go shares in a brother or sister, but she reminded herself that this was her contribution toward Dove's recovery.

  "That's good," Jan made herself say to Lisa. And she told herself to be glad Dove was being leased by a friend. "Now, how about helping me convince Dove he's cured?

  Lisa hit a jubilant high five with her and said, "Let's do it."

  On Thanksgiving day, Mom worked at the restaurant while Jan filled in for her at the ranch. That night, when they were eating the leftover turkey Mom brought home, Jan said, "I guess we have a lot to be thankful for."

  "I guess we do, " Mom agreed. "Including that I didn't have to cook this." They smiled at each other.

  For the next three weeks, Jan and Lisa spent a part of every lunch hour concocting schemes to get Dove to put weight on his healing leg. Lisa wanted to try scaring Dove again. "Because what does a horse do when he's scared?" she asked Jan.

  "He runs away."

  "Yeah? And can he run on three legs?"

  "Not likely," Jan said.

  "Okay," Lisa said. "So I'll charge into Dove's corral in that witch costume I wore for Halloween, and you scream, and Dove will run away on all four legs. It's simple."

  Jan was doubtful. Deliberately scaring Dove seemed mean. Besides, they'd tried it once and it hadn't worked. But she couldn't come up with a better idea, so she agreed to Lisa's plan.

  The next afternoon after school, Lisa brought her Halloween costume home on the bus with Jan and changed into it in the casita. Her dres
s was full of spangles and trailing scarves that floated eerily in the fitful December wind.

  As planned, Lisa sneaked out to Dove's corral, hiding behind Jan so she could jump out and surprise him. But when Jan screamed and Lisa began leaping about and flapping her arms, Dove wasn't fazed. He lowered his head, watching Lisa, then nudged Jan as if to say, "What's with your friend?"

  Their next idea was to walk Dove down the slope to the wash. It was hard for him to balance on three legs going up and down, and they hoped he'd need to use his mended leg. But he managed to lurch awkwardly along without it.

  On another windy day that week, Lisa brought a bag of balloons. The girls blew up a dozen with much huffing and puffing and set them loose in the arena with Dove. As the crayon-colored balloons flew about, Dove turned to watch. His ears twitched with interest, but he didn't chase a single one.

  Next, Jan tried running around the ring just inside the fence. She went around twice, and Lisa joined her on the third go-round. Dove watched them with a mildly perplexed expression, his ears turning as they ran, but not a step did he take to join them.

  ***

  Along with her efforts to get Dove to move, Jan was visiting Mattie in the nursing home three times a week. Her mother took her twice, and on Wednesdays, when Lisa's mother had her weekly hair appointment in that direction, she took both girls. Lisa found an old man named Al who was palsied but still mentally alert enough to enjoy a checker partner. She stayed in the lounge with Al and played checkers while Jan visited with Mattie.

  They talked about Dove and his obstinacy. Mattie kept assuring Jan that someday Dove would surprise her and just start using his leg. "You wait and see. It'll happen," Mattie said.

  Every so often Mattie would make a remark about her daughter's visits that showed an edge of disappointment. Each time, Jan was tempted to break her promise to Valerie. It seemed wrong that Valerie was still withholding the truth from Mattie. Surely, knowing Valerie had had cancer would hurt Mattie less than believing her daughter had stopped loving her. But Jan's father had taught her that promises had to be kept, even ones she came to regret. And she had learned that lesson well.