Headstrong

by Bonnie Bryant

  At that moment Red O’Malley strode out of the office hallway. “Stevie!” he exclaimed. “You’re here.”

  “In the flesh,” Stevie replied. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Max called the farrier in to check everyone’s shoes before the Starlight Ride,” Red said. “As usual, Eve is being spooky about it. We need someone to hold her. Then Max wants you to make a sign and a wall envelope for the student locker room where riders can turn in their permission slips.”

  Stevie shot Lisa and Scott an apologetic grin. “Duty calls,” she said lightly. Pausing just long enough to fling her backpack in the general direction of the locker room, she hurried after Red, leaving Lisa alone with Scott once again.

  “So, where were we?” Scott said with a slight smile. “Oh, right. You were just about to tell me how you’d love to go to the ballet with me on Saturday.”

  Lisa smiled back weakly. It wasn’t as if she had a whole lot of other options. And staying home to argue with her mother some more wasn’t really her idea of a fun Saturday night. Besides, she had always loved The Nutcracker, and this would be her only chance to see it this year. “You’re right,” she said. “I was just going to say that.”

  “Great!” Scott’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean you’re saying yes to the Starlight Ride, too?”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” Lisa replied hastily. She wasn’t sure how to express it to Scott, but the idea of a date for the Starlight Ride seemed more than a little weird. It had always been an event geared toward the younger riders at the stable—she couldn’t remember anyone over the age of fifteen ever going unless they were acting as a chaperone for the little kids. Still, she supposed Scott couldn’t really be expected to know that. This would be his first Christmas in Willow Creek, and the way Stevie and Carole kept talking about bringing their boyfriends along on the Starlight Ride this year, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Scott had the impression it was some kind of hot romantic thing. “Maybe we can talk about it after the ballet,” she added tactfully.

  “Fair enough.” Scott gave a little bow and smiled. “I’ll pick you up at six-fifteen, okay?”

  “Sounds great,” Lisa replied.

  Scott took another step toward her. He was standing so close that Lisa could smell his aftershave—spicy and sharp, like the cloves her mother sometimes used for baking. “Until Saturday, then,” he said softly, leaning toward her.

  His polite kiss grazed her cheek. But then, somehow, he didn’t quite pull away. And Lisa found her head turning slightly until her lips met his.

  What am I doing? she thought desperately as Scott’s arms encircled her and pulled her against him. She wondered if he could hear her heart galloping like a runaway horse inside her chest. What are we doing?

  Then she stopped thinking about it and just went with the feeling.

  “Whoo-hoo!” a loud voice interrupted them a minute or two later. “Get a room, you two!”

  Lisa broke away with a gasp, then turned and saw Maureen Chance grinning at them. The new stable hand was leaning against the door to the indoor ring, one booted foot crossed over the other.

  Scott cleared his throat. “Hey, Maureen,” he said, sounding surprisingly normal. “We didn’t see you come in.”

  “Obviously,” Maureen drawled. “Looked like you two were pretty busy.”

  “We were just, er, talking,” Scott said sheepishly, though he was smiling as he said it.

  Lisa didn’t know how he could stay so calm. She could feel her own face burning. Had she lost her mind? What was she doing standing around in the middle of a public stable making out like that? What if it had been Max who had happened along and caught them? What if it had been Alex?

  Maureen stood up straight and came toward them. “I can see I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, Mr. Forester,” she said teasingly. “I could tell from the first time I laid eyes on you that you were trouble. And here you are, already getting poor little—” She paused, obviously searching her mind. “Lisa, is it?—in trouble. Of course, I can’t say I blame her.” She smirked and sidled a little closer to Scott. “Who could resist such a big, strapping boy?”

  Scott smiled. “Aw, shucks. You’re going to make me blush, Miz Chance.”

  Lisa frowned, irritated by the way Maureen was blatantly flirting with Scott. What’s her problem? For all she knows, Scott and I could be some really serious couple. And she’s acting like it’s open season.

  Deciding to make her exit before she managed to embarrass herself further by snapping at Maureen, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me,” she muttered. “I’ve got to get going.”

  Scott winked and smiled at Lisa as she turned to leave, but Maureen hardly bothered to glance her way. Lisa clenched her teeth and hurried toward the stable aisle, wondering why she was getting so upset.

  It’s not as if Scott and I really are a couple, she reminded herself. We’re just a couple of friends who are going out on a couple of dates. That’s all.

  She couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder just before she turned the corner into the aisle. Back in the entryway, Maureen had her hand on Scott’s arm. He was still giving her his most charming smile, as if there were nothing the slightest bit strange about the fact that a twenty-five-year-old woman was flirting with a high school senior. Lisa shook her head, wondering if she’d made a big mistake by agreeing to go out with him again.

  Then she turned away and continued into the aisle, deciding it was too late to second-guess herself now. She would go to The Nutcracker with Scott on Saturday night and take it from there. Maybe that was all it would take for the two of them to figure out that they were better off as friends.

  And if not, Lisa thought, a blush creeping back up her cheeks as she remembered that kiss, well, we’ll just have to figure out how to deal with it then.

  Carole stared at the glossy photograph of a hand-knit Irish fisherman’s sweater, trying to picture how it would look on Cam. Finally she shook her head, deciding it really wasn’t his style. Flipping quickly through the rest of the catalog, she tossed it on the growing pile of rejects beside her on the living room floor.

  “Next,” she muttered, grabbing another catalog from the coffee table. She had been looking for gift ideas since arriving home from school. She knew it was probably too late to order Cam’s gift through the mail—unless she wanted to spend as much on priority shipping as she did on the gift itself—but she figured checking out what the catalogs had to offer would give her some inspiration before she hit the outlet stores with her father that weekend.

  “Anybody home?” her father’s voice sang out from the front hall.

  “In here, Dad,” Carole called back, looking up as he walked into the room, still wearing a wool coat over his dark business suit. In addition to giving motivational speeches at businesses all over the country, Colonel Hanson was on the board of several charities and other organizations. “How was your meeting?”

  “Just fine.” Shrugging off his coat, Colonel Hanson leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. He cast a curious look at the stacks of catalogs. “What are you up to? Making your list for Santa?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to get Cam for Christmas.” Carole sighed heavily. “But all the really nice stuff is so expensive. Um, is there any way I could get a little advance on my allowance if I need it?”

  Her father slung his coat over a chair, then sat on the couch. “I thought you still had some money saved for presents.”

  “I do.” Carole shrugged, flipping quickly through another catalog and thinking of those chaps Stevie was buying for Phil. “But I’m afraid it won’t be enough. I want to get Cam something really special.”

  “Special, huh?” Her father smiled slightly. “Is that a synonym for expensive?”

  Carole hardly heard him. She had just realized what she should have seen sooner—she needed a man’s opinion on what to buy for a man. “Hey, Dad,” she said eagerly, dropping the catalog she was holding an
d scooting a little closer to the couch. “What was the best, most special gift you ever got? Your very favorite?”

  “My favorite gift?” Colonel Hanson scratched his chin contemplatively. “Well, I loved the briefcase you got me last year. And of course your mother gave me some wonderful gifts when she was alive—she always managed to surprise me. But as for my very favorite? I’d have to say it was the macaroni horse you made for me in second grade.”

  “Really?” Carole knew exactly which macaroni horse he meant. It had suffered some wear and tear through the years—for instance, there was the time Carole’s cat had knocked it under the bed, breaking off one of its ears—but it still sat in a place of honor on top of his bureau. Carole had never really thought about it, since it had been there for ages, but now she realized it wasn’t exactly the kind of decoration most adults would choose for their bedroom. Not without reason, anyway. It made her feel good to realize that her father kept it there because she had made it for him.

  “What about you?” her father asked. “Which gifts have meant the most to you?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Carole shrugged thoughtfully, still thinking about that macaroni horse. “I pretty much like everything. Like the new turnout rug you got me for my birthday. Or the nice leather halter Stevie gave me last Christmas.” Then she remembered another gift from the previous Christmas. “Oh! But I really liked that ceramic tree ornament Denise made for me. Remember? The one shaped like Starlight. She painted the right markings on it and everything.” Her gaze wandered to the corner where she and her father put up a small Christmas tree every year. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to get that year’s tree. “That ornament was probably my favorite gift last year.”

  “Really?” Her father looked interested. “But a handmade ornament can’t possibly have cost as much as a turnout rug or a leather halter.”

  Carole rolled her eyes and laughed. “Real subtle, Dad,” she said. “I get it. It was special because Denise made it just for me.”

  She paused and thought about that for a moment. Now that she put her mind to it, she started to remember a lot of extra-special gifts she’d received over the years. A hand-sewn teddy bear from her mother. A framed photograph of Starlight that Lisa had taken herself. A well-worn horse-shaped amulet from her great-grandmother. Even an almost inedible batch of pony-shaped cookies that Stevie had made from scratch.

  “Okay, all joking aside,” Carole said, remembering how she’d saved those cookies until they’d crumbled and started to smell. “The very best gifts I’ve ever gotten have really never been the most expensive ones, you know?”

  Her father cocked an eyebrow at her, a slight smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “Oh?”

  Realizing what he was thinking, Carole giggled. “Okay, okay,” she corrected herself hastily. “Except for Starlight.” Her father had bought Starlight for her one Christmas several years earlier, and Carole had to admit that the spirited gelding had been the best gift she could possibly imagine.

  Colonel Hanson grinned. “I know what you mean, though, sweetie,” he said. “It’s kind of a cliché to say it’s the thought that counts, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That’s just something to think about while you’re searching for the perfect gift for Cam.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Carole said as her father stood and picked up his coat again, heading toward the front hall closet.

  Carole sat back against the couch, thinking about what really made a gift special. It’s that heartfelt personal touch, she thought. That’s what I want Cam to see—that whatever I give him is for him alone, from me alone. It has to let him know how happy I am that we’ve found each other again.

  That seemed like a pretty tall order. Glancing at the stacks of catalogs, Carole realized she was looking in the wrong place.

  Most of the really great gifts in my life have been handmade, she reminded herself, standing up and wandering toward the stairs. So maybe I could try making Cam an ornament or something, like the one from Denise. Or baking him his favorite kind of cake. Or maybe writing him a poem.

  She stopped short. A poem! That was it! What better way to let Cam know how she felt about him than to put it into actual words?

  “It’s perfect,” Carole murmured, a smile spreading across her face as she pictured his reaction. Cam was such a romantic—a love poem would be the best gift in the world for him!

  Hurrying up to her room, she sat down at her desk and pulled out a pen and a writing tablet. Chewing the end of the pen for a moment, she thought about what she wanted to express. Then she bent over and started to write.

  I’m really glad you moved back, Cam

  I really, truly am

  She read over what she’d written. Then she snorted and crumpled the paper. Turning to a fresh page, she stared thoughtfully into space before trying again.

  Cam, I’m so glad we are together

  We’re like birds of a feather

  My love is bright in any weather

  “Aaargh!” Carole cried, slashing through the sappy words with an angry stroke of her pen. “How do those professional poets do this, anyway?”

  She tossed the tablet and pen aside, discouraged. What in the world had made her think her poetry plan was going to work? Now that she thought about it, she’d never received anything higher than a B-minus on any poem she’d ever written for English class.

  Okay, so maybe I’m not meant to be the next Shakespeare, she thought, leaning back in her desk chair with a sigh. But I still think it’s a good idea to give Cam something personal, something he’ll really appreciate because it could come only from me. She sighed again. I just wish I knew what that was.

  NINE

  “Don’t worry, Callie, I do have my license,” Red commented, glancing over from the driver’s seat of his truck as he stopped at a red light. “And I’m doing my very best not to kill us.”

  Callie blinked. She had no idea what he was talking about. Then she glanced down and saw that her knuckles were white from clutching her armrest so hard. “Oh. Sorry,” she said sheepishly, loosening her grip. “I guess I’m just nervous.”

  “I know. And I’m just teasing,” Red said with a smile as the light changed and he put the truck into gear. “Buying a horse is exciting, but it’s also nerve-wracking, especially when you don’t even have the critter home yet.”

  Callie nodded her agreement. The two of them were heading for Mr. Rayburn’s farm with Pine Hollow’s smallest horse trailer hooked behind the truck. The day had finally arrived. Scooby had come through his vet check with flying colors, and now Callie was riding over to pick him up and bring him back to Pine Hollow, his new home. She planned to spend the day getting better acquainted and making her new horse feel at home. If all went well, they could start some preliminary training the next day.

  Fearing that she might burst with excitement if she thought about that any longer, she glanced over at Red and changed the subject. “You know, I’m not the only one taking on new responsibilities these days,” she said. “What about you? Are you psyched for the big wedding? It’s only, like, ten days away, right?”

  “Eleven.” Red shifted gears. “This is all happening so suddenly, it’s hard to know how to feel. But Denise and I are basically looking forward to it, especially now that Max and Deborah are being so great about throwing us the reception and everything.”

  Callie nodded, though she wondered if Red was really feeling as upbeat as his words indicated. Glancing at the worried set of his brow, she doubted it. He was probably a little scared and a lot uncertain about what was coming. Anyone would be in his situation, Callie supposed. Still, she couldn’t seem to focus on that for too long. Her thoughts kept wandering back to Scooby.

  “I hope he’s okay trailering,” she said, thinking aloud. “I don’t remember if I asked about that. But Mr. Rayburn said he didn’t have any vices.…”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Red said. “From everything you’ve said, it sounds like your Scooby is a h
orse with a good head on his shoulders.”

  They chatted about Scooby and Callie’s plans for him for the rest of the short ride. When the tall red barn of Mr. Rayburn’s farm came into view, Callie fell silent, gripping the armrest again.

  This is it, she thought, suddenly feeling calm. I’m ready to pick up my horse. My horse.

  It was strange. She’d ridden all sorts of amazing horses, both at Pine Hollow and back in her old hometown. She had even leased one or two. But this would be the first time she would actually own her very own horse.

  I guess I never really thought of it that way before, she thought in amazement. I was so busy trying to figure out which horse would be the best for me that I sort of spaced on the fact that it was actually going to be a horse for me. As in all mine. Permanently. A real partner.

  Then, for the next few minutes, she didn’t have much chance to think at all. Mr. Rayburn was waiting when Red pulled to a stop in front of the barn, and a moment later the farm owner led out Scooby, who was already dressed in shipping bandages. The Appaloosa walked up the ramp like a pro, much to Callie’s relief, and stood quietly as she settled him in the trailer.

  Callie finally remembered to breathe, inhaling deeply as Red pulled carefully out of the drive and back onto the highway. After giving Mr. Rayburn one last wave, Callie collapsed against her seat. “Whew! Halfway there.”

  “Right.” Red shot her a quick glance and a smile. “Before you know it you’ll be bedding him down in his new stall.”

  Callie smiled. She was always a little nervous when she was shipping a horse, but she managed to distract herself on the ride home by running over everything she wanted to do when they arrived and then planning the next day’s ride. Before long they were easing to a stop in front of Pine Hollow. To Callie’s surprise, a small crowd was gathered just outside the stable door. She spotted Stevie, Scott, and Lisa right at the front of the crowd. Stevie was holding something, and after squinting at it curiously for a moment, Callie realized that it was a cake.