Playing for Keeps

by Suzanne Weyn

  “Don’t I get one of those?” Jake called, pivoting toward her. “How come you skipped me?”

  A wave of cold anxiety shivered down Taylor’s spine. The last time she could remember Jake speaking directly to her they had both been in the fourth grade.

  “I didn’t think you were the horseback riding type,” Taylor said. It wasn’t the full reason she’d passed him by, but it was also true.

  Jake laughed as he eased a flyer from the top of her stack. “Not exactly,” he agreed, scanning the flyer with dancing eyes as though it were somehow amusing. “Is that old dump really open again?”

  “Have you ever seen it?” Taylor asked, surprised that he knew about the place.

  “Yeah, my pals and I come through the woods and ride our quads through there. It’s, like, haunted or something. Have you seen any ghost cowboys rattling around?”

  “It looks really good now. It’s all painted and stuff. You should come take a lesson,” Taylor suggested. “You definitely can’t ride your quads through there anymore.”

  As Taylor spoke, she looked up at Jake Richards and decided he really was the best-looking guy in their grade. Most of the girls in the eighth grade towered over most of the boys, but Jake was tall. Taylor might even have fallen for him if she didn’t know that half of her grade was already madly crushing on him. Besides, it would have been hopeless. Jake only paid attention to the popular girls like Plum.

  “I wouldn’t mind taking a lesson from Daphne Chang. She’s a cutie,” Jake said.

  Taylor remembered the other reason she squelched any urge to get mushy around Jake. She didn’t particularly like his personality.

  “Daphne is in high school,” Taylor remarked.

  “So?” he said, not at all fazed. “Are there even any other horses there besides that old one Plum’s buying? What’s his name, Alfie?”

  “Albert,” Taylor corrected, not even bothering to conceal the annoyance in her tone. “Prince Albert, to be exact.”

  “You’re joking, right?” Jake scoffed. “Plum made a video, and I could see that old thing’s ribs.”

  “He is not a thing. Prince Albert is a very fine, well-trained quarter horse. He’s just been neglected,” Taylor said. She knew her indignation sounded prissy and maybe even a little silly, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Well, once Plum buys him he can kiss his fine, well-trained quarter of a rump good-bye. All Plum’s horses die. She rides them to death.”

  Taylor felt angry, but he was only saying what she knew to be true. So she did her best to speak calmly. “Prince Albert is not for sale, or lease. Besides, he only lets me ride him, so Plum won’t be getting her hands on him.”

  Something between a smile and a sneer crossed Jake’s face. “Don’t be so sure. What Plum wants, she gets. Her mother always sees to that.”

  The afternoon school bus wound its way down the steep, curving road that ran all along the east side of Ross River Ranch. Trees hid most of the fields, trails, corrals, and stable buildings, but here and there a fenced field was visible. Taylor turned toward the bus window to admire two brown geldings and a mare that grazed beside her frisky baby. “Maybe you’ll get to ride one of them,” Travis remarked from his seat beside her.

  Taylor drew a deep, shaky breath.

  “Why are you so nervous?” Travis asked. As he spoke he glanced down at her jiggling right leg.

  Taylor placed her hand on her knee to settle it. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I never thought I’d get to ride at such a fancy place.”

  “A horse is a horse, isn’t it?” Travis said. “Do you think these horses neigh with classy British accents or something?”

  “In a way, yeah,” Taylor confessed with a self-conscious laugh. “Sort of. I bet there are only purebred horses here.”

  “So, what are you scared of — that you’re going to crash one of them into a fence and have to pay for it?”

  “NO! Of course not! Don’t be dumb.”

  “Then what’s the prob?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t bug me about it. I’m not nervous anymore, okay?”

  “Oh, no?” Travis stared pointedly at her right foot, which had started jumping without Taylor even noticing.

  Taylor stopped the bounce. “No!”

  A woman on horseback emerged from one of the trails, and the bus driver stopped to let her cross to the other side. Taylor looked at her from the window and immediately began hitting Travis’s arm in excitement. “That’s Devon Ross! It’s her! She owns the ranch!”

  Travis leaned over Taylor for a look at the woman. She was thin though broad shouldered, in her late fifties or early sixties, and dressed in English riding gear — jacket, breeches, high riding boots, and a velvet-covered helmet. The bay Thoroughbred gelding she rode gleamed in the afternoon sun. Its mane and tail were intricately braided.

  “What a horse!” Taylor exclaimed quietly. “And she rides it so perfectly. I heard she rides dressage, or at least she used to.”

  “I know. You told me. It’s where the horses dance ballet on tiptoe or something.”

  Taylor gave him a playful shove. She knew he was only teasing. He might think dressage was funny, but she admired the horsemanship skills it took to execute the complex dressage moves she’d seen on TV. She could hardly believe what she was seeing when she watched a horse rear straight up and turn with its rider in the saddle.

  As the bus once again moved forward, Travis and Taylor leaned back in their seats, no longer straining to see out the window. “Do you want to come over and play Rock Band later?” Travis asked. Next to comics, playing video games was Travis’s favorite pastime.

  Taylor loved playing the drums in Rock Band. “Okay,” she agreed instantly. “Is six a good time?”

  “Sure.”

  Taylor smiled, happy they would be doing something together. She’d have to be more careful in the future to not make Travis feel so ignored.

  The bus stopped at the bottom of the hill, right at the sign adorned with a drawing of a horse head and the words ROSS RIVER RANCH. Two sixth-graders got off, and with a wave to Travis, Taylor followed them out. “See ya at six,” he called, waving back.

  The other departing students walked off together down the road, leaving Taylor to gaze at the sign. Slinging her school pack over her shoulder, she headed down the paved tree-lined road leading to the ranch. Several shiny, sleek cars — not pickups, dusty compacts, or dented vans like the ones usually on the roads of Pheasant Valley — glided by with barely a hum.

  Ross River Ranch’s four closest corrals were easily three times the size of the fenced enclosures at Wildwood. Beyond the corrals were fields as far as she could see where she counted more than fifteen horses grazing. And she knew there were other fields higher up the hill. There was a large enclosed stable near the corrals and then another, much larger one, set farther back. The stable was almost as big as all of Pheasant Valley Middle School.

  Taylor smiled and waved when she noticed Daphne riding toward her across the closest corral on a smallish gray mare with a thick jet-black mane and a low-set ebony tail. As Daphne got closer, Taylor saw that the sturdy-looking little horse was lightly speckled with black spots and unusual, upwardly curved ears. She recognized the ears as being similar to those of the Arabian breed of horses, since Arabians were her own favorite breed.

  Taylor stepped onto the lower rung of the fence and waited for Daphne. She was relieved to see that Daphne was dressed somewhat casually in black half chaps, a hooded sweatshirt, ankle-high paddock boots, and an olive green, slightly brimmed, hunt-cap-style helmet.

  “Is this Mandy?” Taylor asked when Daphne pulled up alongside the fence.

  “This is my little girl,” Daphne confirmed fondly. “She’s the love of my life.”

  “She’s gorgeous,” Taylor said, reaching forward to stroke the side of the young mare’s neck. “She has curved ears like an Arabian.”

  Daphne nodded. “Arabians and barbs are sort of cousi
ns. They’re both originally from North Africa, but barbs were imported to England way back in the thirteen hundreds.”

  “I don’t see any quarter horse in her,” Taylor observed, recalling that Daphne had told her there was some of Prince Albert’s sensible breed in Mandy’s bloodline.

  Daphne tapped her helmet. “You see it up here,” she replied. “Barbs are like Arabians. They’re very lively and playful, but they can also be high-strung, even skittish. Mandy’s pretty down-to-earth, and I think that’s the quarter horse in her.” Daphne twisted around and pointed to the field. “There’s the most beautiful Arabian up in that field, and she’s mostly sweet but she has a really nuts side, too. We can ride up there and see her later.”

  “Does it cost anything to ride?” Taylor asked. “I only have twenty dollars.” It was the last of her birthday money from the spring. Because her mother had just bought her a new pair of brown, cowboy-style riding boots — the least expensive ones at PetFeed — Taylor couldn’t bear to ask her for more money.

  Daphne smiled. “Well, it would cost more than that, but don’t worry. The barn manager, Bob, owes me a favor, so he said you could ride for free. Come on, we’ll get you saddled up.”

  Daphne dismounted and walked Mandy toward the corral gate while Taylor followed on the other side of the fence. Daphne hitched Mandy to a post and then beckoned for Taylor to follow her toward the stable several yards away.

  “Wow!” Taylor breathed as they stepped into the building.

  The stable’s ceiling reached three stories, with bright sunlight beaming in from high-set windows. The horse enclosures each housed two or more horses, but they were easily four times larger than the stalls at Wildwood. Taylor could barely detect the smell of horses but inhaled the fresh scent of new hay.

  “This place is amazing,” she said to Daphne. “Are you sure you want to take Mandy out of here?”

  Daphne’s eyes darted around as though seeing the place anew through Taylor’s eyes. “It is pretty great, isn’t it? And no, I’m not really sure. But Wildwood Stables has so much heart, and I want it to succeed so much. Boarding Mandy there will help.”

  Taylor realized it hadn’t really been smart to suggest to Daphne that she might not want to move her horse from this palace of a stable. Having Mandy board at Wildwood solved her problem, or at least bought her some more time to find a solution. “You’re right, this place is cold and impersonal,” she joked, smiling. “Who would want their horse here?”

  “I know, this place is totally the pits,” Daphne deadpanned. She led Taylor to a stall housing a white gelding with black spots and a black-and-white mane and tail.

  “I never saw a horse like him,” Taylor remarked.

  “Isn’t he unusual looking?” said Daphne, opening the half door and letting them into the stall. “His name is Cody and he’s a Colorado Ranger.”

  Taylor chuckled at the funny name. “What is he, some kind of horse sheriff?”

  “No. This breed was started by mixing barb and Arabian blood into a line of Virginia trotting horses. I guess the Colorado part comes in because they were used out west as ranch and cow workers. That’s why I thought he’d be good for you. I know you like Western-style riding.”

  “It’s the only kind I’ve learned,” Taylor said.

  “The other reason it would be good if you rode him is that Mrs. Ross bought him for her daughter, but she’s grown and moved away. Poor Cody doesn’t get ridden nearly enough,” Daphne added. She patted his side affectionately. “He’s got a really nice temper, don’t you, boy?”

  “I’d love to ride him,” Taylor said as she moved in front of Cody, letting him see and get used to her a little before she hopped on. “Where do we tack up?”

  “I’ll show you,” Daphne said. She led the way to a spacious and neat tack room. “There are no Western saddles here, but there are some nice all-purpose ones,” Daphne said. Taylor noticed an array of gorgeous saddles sitting on rails along the wall.

  “That’s fine. I never use the saddle horn, anyway,” Taylor said, referring to the knob at the front of a Western saddle that was originally intended to hold a cowboy’s rope but also allowed a less experienced rider to hold on.

  Daphne helped Taylor select the proper girth and stirrups. “You can use a basic bridle and snaffle bit with Cody,” Daphne advised. “He’s so good he doesn’t need anything out of the ordinary.”

  They led Cody out of the stable, and with Daphne’s help Taylor soon had Cody tacked up and ready to ride. “Want to ride up to the big boarding stable and see the indoor ring there?” Daphne asked.

  “Sure,” Taylor agreed, and swung herself into the saddle. “Let’s go.”

  They rode toward the expansive fenced-in field below the big stable on the hill. Taylor was impressed with the fluid ease with which Daphne, without getting off her horse, was able to open the gate and then close it again once they were both in. They rode at a medium pace diagonally across the field in the direction of the stable. Taylor would have used the Western term to describe their pace and said they were jogging. She knew that the English equivalent would be the word trot.

  Ahead of them, two groups of horses grazed peacefully. Taylor was admiring the horses closer to the stable on her left when she became aware of something moving on her right.

  A chestnut horse with a white blaze was charging toward them, galloping at full speed. Taylor saw all four legs come off the ground, and the animal seemed to float in the air for a moment.

  Frightened by the charging horse, Taylor pulled back on Cody’s reigns. “Whoa!”

  The brown horse ran a circle around the two riders, stopped, and then reared.

  “What’s it want?” Taylor asked Daphne in a nervous voice.

  “To play.”

  “What? Are you kidding?” Taylor asked.

  “No, I’m serious. Arabians are really playful, and when she saw us she figured we were fresh playmates. She’s probably worn the other horses out. This is Shafir, the crazy Arabian I was telling you about before.”

  As her frightened heartbeat subsided to its normal rhythm, Taylor looked over the gorgeous deep-brown creature. The young mare had the same delicate, curved ears as Daphne’s barb, Mandy, but her brown tail was high and brushlike. Taylor knew the distinctive tail was characteristic of Arabians. “Who owns her?” Taylor asked.

  “I guess Mrs. Ross does, now,” Daphne replied.

  “What do you mean, now?” Taylor asked.

  “She was being boarded here. The owner stopped coming or paying for her board. One day her ownership papers came in the mail.”

  “At least she wasn’t abandoned and locked up in a shed without food or water,” Taylor commented, thinking of what had happened to Prince Albert and Pixie.

  The Arabian was prancing back and forth in front of them. Taylor was glad Daphne and she were on such reliable horses that wouldn’t be spooked by Shafir’s antics. “Could her rider handle her?” Taylor asked.

  Daphne shook her head. “I think that was part of the problem. She came down and tried to work with her a few times, but I don’t think she really knew what she was doing. I’d like to give it a try, but she’s not my horse and I don’t have the money to buy her.”

  “Is Mrs. Ross selling her?”

  “She’d like to sell her,” Daphne answered. “She already has all the school horses she needs for lessons.”

  “Then she might let her go pretty cheap,” Taylor guessed.

  “Maybe,” Daphne agreed. “What are you thinking?”

  “Wildwood Stables needs horses, but Mrs. LeFleur doesn’t have a lot of money for them. Mrs. Ross has a horse she doesn’t want … a horse that she’s boarding for free and that she can’t use — a horse you could train.”

  “Hmm. Shafir is really nutty, but she’s friendly, too. Let’s try playing with her.”

  “How do horses play?” Taylor asked.

  Daphne pulled a red bandanna from the pocket of her hoodie. Reaching over, she tuc
ked it into one of the cheek pieces on Cody’s bridle. “Mandy and Cody like this game. Maybe Shafir will join in. It’s called halters — it’s like tag. Canter around a little.”

  Taylor translated the English riding term to mean a gentle lope. With a click and squeeze to his side, she signaled Cody to go. In a minute, Daphne and Mandy were racing up alongside them.

  Mandy came closer to Cody until her mouth was nearly touching his cheek. For a frightening moment, Taylor thought Mandy was about to nip Cody. Then she saw that Daphne had pulled the bandanna from Cody’s bridle. Daphne reached forward and stuffed the red kerchief into the side of Mandy’s bridle. “Your turn to catch us. You’re it,” Daphne called.

  “I’m not a good enough rider to do that,” Taylor protested.

  “Sure you are. Cody’s done this before. We’ll just trot for the first time.”

  “I don’t know,” Taylor said hesitantly.

  Daphne and Mandy began moving. “Come on! You have to catch us! Don’t be a wimp!”

  “A wimp!” Taylor cried indignantly. If there was one thing she had never been, it was wimpy. “I’ll show you who’s a wimp!” she shouted as she leaned forward in the saddle and squeezed Cody’s sides hard. “Giddyap, Cody! Let’s get that rag!”

  Daphne had been right. Cody knew just what this game was about and blasted off after Mandy. Daphne shifted Mandy into high gear and ran off, with Cody giving chase.

  Taylor forgot her fear as she got caught up in the challenge of trying to cut off Mandy and Daphne. She had Cody cut a sharp right, then steered him to the left. After minutes of dodging back and forth, Cody ran neck and neck with Mandy.

  New fear gripped Taylor. The two horses were so close! Would her leg be smashed between them? Stretching out a tentative hand, Taylor leaned forward and neatly plucked the bandanna from Mandy’s cheek piece.

  Taylor’s heart was pounding, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

  Daphne rode around and took it from her. “Good job!” she praised, smiling broadly. “And you thought you couldn’t do it!”