Playing for Keeps

by Suzanne Weyn

  Taylor wanted to tell him what she’d been thinking and feeling: Balancing everything in her life wasn’t easy, and maybe she wasn’t doing a very good job of it, either. Being suddenly responsible for Pixie and Prince Albert was a huge job. When she’d taken it on, she’d had no idea how hard it would be. Her life had changed because of it, but she didn’t want their friendship to change. She would try hard to make time for him if he would try to understand how much being here at Wildwood Stables meant to her.

  Taylor continued on down Wildwood Lane. When she got to the ranch’s entrance, she braked and took in a short, sharp gasp of air.

  Mrs. LeFleur had replaced the old, peeling sign!

  The new sign had a blue field and a green border. The writing was in black, outlined with gold. In elegant, swirling calligraphy, it read:

  WILDWOOD STABLES

  HOME OF HAPPY HORSES AND PONIES

  ALL EQUINE LOVERS WELCOME

  Horses Boarded * Riding Lessons * Trail Rides Available

  Taylor noticed that her cheeks felt odd, and realized she was smiling. A bubble of happiness rose in her throat and came out as light laughter.

  The sign made the ranch so real. Mrs. LeFleur wouldn’t have posted it if she didn’t believe things were going to go well.

  Continuing on into the ranch, Taylor stopped at the big maple, got off, and leaned her bike on it. No one was in the corral, so she went immediately to see how Prince Albert and Pixie were doing. When she got there, she pulled the apples she’d brought out of her pocket. She fed one to each of them.

  A shrill neighing came from Mandy’s stall, which was next to Pixie’s. Mandy bobbed her gray head up and down eagerly. “I brought one for you, don’t worry,” Taylor told Mandy.

  Shafir’s head jutted out of the next stall. “And for you, too, wild girl,” Taylor added, offering both horses an apple apiece.

  Turning back toward Prince Albert, Taylor saw that someone had bolted a steel plate over the splintered top of the stall door where Prince Albert had been cribbing.

  Something banged in an empty stall next to Prince Albert’s. Taylor was startled when Travis surprised her by popping up from behind the door. “There was a loose board in there. It’s all fixed now.” He nodded toward the toolbox his father had given him.

  “Travis! What are you doing here?”

  “I’m in charge of buildings and grounds, remember?”

  “Why weren’t you in school?”

  “I didn’t feel like going.”

  “What do you mean? Your mother let you stay home?” Taylor knew that was unlikely. Travis’s mother was on the strict side.

  Travis’s eyes darted from left to right, checking if anyone else was in listening distance. “I faked being sick,” he whispered.

  “Why?” Taylor asked softly.

  “George Santos. I have to shake him.”

  “Why?” Taylor asked again.

  Travis stepped closer. Once more, he glanced around warily. Then he leaned in close to Taylor. “He wants to be with me every second. He either wants me to come over or is calling me.”

  “I thought you and he were good friends. Don’t you like him?”

  “He’s a nice guy,” Travis said.

  “So?”

  “He’s boring, Taylor. He’s so, so boring. I’ve … mmmmm … you.”

  A small smile came to Taylor’s face. “Did you mean to say … missed? You’ve missed me?”

  Travis sighed, and then he nodded.

  Taylor’s little grin became a radiant beam of happiness. “I’ve … mmmm … you, too.” She beckoned for him to follow her down to Shafir’s stall.

  “Was it you who put the steel plate over Prince Albert’s stall?”

  “Yeah, that bossy girl told me to.”

  Taylor didn’t even have to ask whom he meant. “Well, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’ve been calling you. Why didn’t you call back?” Taylor asked.

  “I lost my phone somewhere.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “That’s not good,” Travis said, baffled.

  “It’s not good that you lost your phone. But I thought you weren’t answering my phone calls.”

  “Oh,” Travis replied. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Look here,” Taylor said, pointing to the lock on the stable door. “This lock sticks. Do you think there’s any way you could fix it?”

  “Maybe,” Travis said, rummaging through his toolbox and pulling out a small can of hinge lubricant.

  “Where did this horse come from?” Travis asked.

  Taylor told him the story of getting Shafir from Mrs. Ross. “Plum took the lease on her instead of Prince Albert,” she added. “But all of us are going to watch over her all the time and make sure she’s okay.”

  “I guess that’s what friends do,” Travis commented.

  “Yeah, friends are good that way,” Taylor agreed. All the words about friendship that Taylor had meant to say flew out of her head. “Thanks for coming down here,” she said simply. “I’ve been distracted lately, but I’ll do better.”

  “It’s okay,” Travis said, keeping his eyes on the excess lubricant he was rubbing off the lock. “I’ll do better, too.”

  Things might not be perfect — maybe nothing was ever perfect — but, to her, they were suddenly looking bright here at Wildwood Stables, the best place in the world.

  From Wildwood Stables #3: Racing Against Time

  Taylor and Daphne approached the corral closest to the main building, riding at a jog. Pixie hurried behind, her short legs scurrying to keep up.

  Plum Mason and Shafir eyed each other in the middle of the corral. Plum held a lunge line that was looped around Shafir’s neck. In her hand was a lunge whip. She stood with the line in her left hand and the whip in her right as she tried to make Shafir walk circles around her.

  Plum’s slim shoulders were tight, slightly hunched with tension. Shafir’s ears were not quite flat, but they were back, and her tail was swishing, sure signs of the horse’s annoyance.

  Shafir turned and started to walk away. Plum gripped the line, pulling back, but Shafir was determined to go and dragged Plum along. The girl dug her heels into the dirt, kicking up dust until Shafir stopped. Stepping quickly toward the horse, she whacked the mare’s withers hard with the lunge whip.

  Shafir flinched away from the impact, making Plum lose her balance for a moment.

  Daphne reached the corral gate first, dismounted, and hurried inside. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Excuse me?” Plum replied haughtily.

  “What are you doing?” Daphne repeated, this time speaking pointedly, her voice tinged with irritation. “A lunge whip is for guiding a horse, not hitting her!”

  Taylor dismounted from Prince Albert. She hitched him to the corral fence and then did the same to Mandy. There was no need to worry about Pixie; wherever Prince Albert was, that’s where Pixie would be.

  As Taylor let herself into the corral, she saw that Plum and Daphne were embroiled in a heated argument.

  “I leased this horse from the ranch, which means I am entitled to come here whenever I want and do whatever I want with her,” Plum insisted.

  “No, not whatever you want,” Daphne shot back. “You know that Shafir needs to be trained.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m doing,” Plum replied.

  A girl with long black curls who in jeans and a green hoodie strode purposefully out of the main building toward the corral. “What’s the trouble here?” Mercedes Gonzalez asked in her usual take-charge manner.

  “You said I could take Shafir, didn’t you?” Plum said.

  “Yeah. You leased her, right?” Mercedes replied.

  “But Shafir isn’t ready to ride,” Taylor reminded Mercedes.

  Mercedes shrugged and then gestured toward Plum. “She holds a lease.”

  “That entitles her to ride, not to train,” Daphne argued.

  “I don
’t know,” Mercedes said. “Does it?”

  The three girls looked at one another uncertainly. A lease gave Plum the right to ride Shafir whenever she wanted, but could she also train her? That was something Taylor, Daphne, and Mercedes had assumed they would be doing.

  “No, I don’t think it does,” Daphne insisted. “Shafir is still the property of Wildwood Stables.”

  “We’ll just talk to the owner — Mrs. What’s-her-name, Flowers or whatever,” Plum replied forcefully.

  Shafir used this interruption as an opportunity to amble toward Prince Albert, Mandy, and Pixie, who stood on the other side of the fence.

  Shafir scooped up a bare stick that had fallen from the spreading maple that grew beside the corral. She pranced with the stick in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down, as if she were the leader of a parade.

  “What’s she doing?” Plum demanded.

  “She’s playing,” Mercedes informed her. “Arabians are known for it.”

  Taylor spied a bridle draped over the corral fence. A chain shank was fitted over the nosepiece and dangled from the bottom. “Were you planning to use that on Shafir?”

  Plum didn’t answer. She kept her focus on Daphne and Mercedes as though Taylor wasn’t even there.

  “Are you using the chain shank on Shafir?” Taylor asked again.

  “Does anyone else hear mosquitoes buzzing?” Plum asked.

  Taylor’s face reddened with anger. But then she remembered her new plan when dealing with Plum: Stop treating her like she’s got fangs and claws. It was the only way she’d get close enough to Plum to make sure she was treating Shafir right.

  Taylor felt responsible for Shafir. It was Taylor who’d persuaded Plum that Shafir was a great horse for her to lease. She’d acted out of sheer desperation because Plum was about to lease Prince Albert.

  Taylor would not let that happen to Prince Albert. It was a matter of life-and-death.

  SUZANNE WEYN lives in the heart of horse country, in a valley in New York State—which is perfect for her daughter, an avid horse rider, riding instructor, and competitor. Suzanne’s many books for teens include Reincarnation and Distant Waves. For more information about Suzanne and her novels, visit her online at www.suzanneweynbooks.com.

  Copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Weyn

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.

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  First printing, March 2010

  Cover photo by Michael Frost

  Cover background photo by Image Source Black/Jupiterimages

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-30062-9

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