Hard Hat

by Bonnie Bryant

Almost anybody else in the world would have described it as a new way to get out. Stevie could hardly help laughing, at least to herself.

  The kids all stood up and began looking around. It turned out not to be difficult at all. It was practically in front of their noses. There was a small window just below the ceiling in the basement. It had some boards over it, but the foundation of the house was concrete, so the contractor had simply propped the boards up against it. Peter stacked enough abandoned boxes so that he could climb up to the window, open it, and shove at the boards. The boards fell aside.

  They had to stack all the old boxes up against the wall so that even Gordon, the shortest of them, could reach the window, but within a few minutes they were outside, propping the boards back up.

  “Okay then, how about eight o’clock tonight?” Regina proposed. “And bring flashlights!”

  “Right,” came an unenthusiastic response from Ann. Being locked in the basement and terrified of being discovered had not seemed to have whetted anybody’s appetite for a return visit, even to a cool place like the old house.

  “Come on, guys!” Regina said. “You’re not afraid of a few construction guys, are you?”

  “I am,” said Gordon. “What if they’d found us?”

  “Ah, but they didn’t!” Regina said triumphantly. “And besides, Stevie knows these wonderful ghost stories that she’s dying to tell us!”

  There was still hesitation.

  “And I’ll bring marshmallows.”

  That seemed to do it.

  “Eight o’clock it is!” they said.

  Stevie looked at her watch. Eight o’clock didn’t seem anywhere near long enough away.

  “MAXI! COME HERE, Maxi! Come to Lisa!”

  It wasn’t working at all. Maxi clearly didn’t have the slightest interest in doing anything Lisa suggested. Instead she tried to run after the ponies and horses. The only good news about that was that there weren’t any around at the moment, for she surely would have ended up under the hooves of one of them.

  “I’m beginning to think that looking after Maxi is a big job,” Lisa admitted to Carole, who was trying to head the toddler off before she climbed over a jump that was set up for the afternoon adult jump class.

  “I always thought it was,” Carole said. “And I will always remember that this was your bright idea.”

  “Guilty,” Lisa admitted. “But as long as we’re looking after her, Max can get some work done.”

  “Even though it’s our vacation, we don’t seem to be getting much riding done,” Carole reminded her.

  “But we’re pitching in to help someone out,” Lisa said. “And that’s one of The Saddle Club rules.”

  “Sure,” Carole agreed. “But the people we’re supposed to help out first is The Saddle Club!”

  “And what about all the money we’re earning? You don’t think that’s helping out?”

  Carole didn’t answer. She was too busy shifting to the left as fast as she could to block Maxi’s access to the jump. She picked up the toddler and gave her a hug.

  Maxi didn’t hug back. In fact, she kicked and howled. Carole knew if she put her down, the little girl would just take off, heading into something even more dangerous than the jump she’d wanted to climb.

  “Maybe we should take her inside,” Carole suggested.

  “Oh, sure,” Lisa said. “Remember how much she wanted to climb the manure pile a half hour ago? That’s why we’re out here.”

  Carole did remember. She put Maxi down and took her hand. Lisa took the other one. Together the girls could pick Maxi up and swing her. Maxi liked that. She liked it so much that both Lisa and Carole soon found themselves with sore backs from leaning over.

  “How about a nap?” Carole said to Maxi as cheerfully as she could, hoping to make it sound like as much fun for Maxi as it would be for the two of them to have a little rest from baby chasing.

  “No nap!” Maxi declared. The little girl didn’t talk much, but she obviously knew that word when she heard it.

  Lisa couldn’t help herself: She laughed. Carole sighed.

  “Hi, girls, how’s it going?” Mrs. Reg asked, emerging from the barn.

  “We’re exhausted and it’s only been a little over an hour so far today,” Carole said.

  “She reminds me of her father when he was a little boy,” said Mrs. Reg.

  Carole and Lisa exchanged looks. It was hard to imagine Max as a little boy, especially as a toddler.

  “He was this energetic?” Lisa asked.

  “Oh yes,” said Mrs. Reg. “I thought my back would break from chasing after him and picking him up. He was always fascinated by the manure pile. It was all I could do to keep him out of it.”

  “We know what that’s like,” Lisa said.

  “I guess it’s in the genes,” Mrs. Reg said. “And now my son has the child he deserves, except you’re paying the price today!”

  They all laughed at that.

  Mrs. Reg picked up her granddaughter and gave her a little hug before sitting down on the mounting block. “Being a handful, are we?” she asked. Maxi blinked her eyes and smiled at Mrs. Reg. The look was so utterly angelic that it was almost hard to remember that this very same little girl had been aiming to yank Patch’s tail a mere half hour earlier. Maxi settled into her grandmother’s lap.

  “We used to have a stallion here, you know,” said Mrs. Reg. Her eyes got a familiar faraway look that told Carole and Lisa she was about to tell them one of her tales. Mrs. Reg’s stories were often confusing to the girls, and Mrs. Reg would never explain exactly why she’d decided to tell the story. Carole and Lisa leaned against the fence and did the only thing they could do, which was listen.

  “I forget the stallion’s name, but he was a handful and Max—my Max …” She emphasized the my. That meant she was referring to Max’s father, who had died some time ago. The girls usually referred to him as Max the Second, because he was the second Maximilian Regnery to own Pine Hollow. The current Max was Max the Third. “Well, my Max didn’t know what to do with him. He started him out in that paddock.” She pointed to the paddock nearest the schooling ring. It was small but pleasant, with some grass and a nice enough view of the stable and riding rings to satisfy the curiosity of most horses.

  “What happened?” Lisa asked. Mrs. Reg scowled. It was a mistake to interrupt her, even with a question, when she was telling one of her stories. “Sorry,” Lisa said quickly.

  “He jumped the fence. Went right into the field beyond.”

  Carole and Lisa looked where Mrs. Reg was pointing. The fence around that paddock was higher than any of the other fences at Pine Hollow. They didn’t mention that, though. They waited for Mrs. Reg to continue.

  “So Max built the fence up higher. I bet you’ve always wondered why that fence was higher than the others, haven’t you?”

  “Sure,” said Lisa.

  “Absolutely,” said Carole. In fact, the thought had never crossed either of their minds until that minute.

  “Well, that’s why,” said Mrs. Reg. “And that old stallion would just run around that paddock, itchy, annoyed, and very unhappy—always trying to get out. He’d get up against the part of the fence next to the field and rear up on his hind legs, whinnying and bucking, behaving just like the naughtiest little child you ever saw. That stallion had a tantrum every time he went into the paddock.”

  There was a long pause. Mrs. Reg tickled Maxi, who giggled and then put her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. Lisa wished she could get Maxi to be that tame with her. Grandmothers were different from baby-sitters, though, and even Lisa knew that. She and Carole waited.

  “Then one day that no-good stable hand we had back then—I’ve forgotten his name, too, and that’s all for the best—he did what he often did. He forgot to close the gate.”

  That was hard to imagine since one of the first rules anybody learned about being around any kind of livestock, and especially horses, was to latch every gate behind you. No wonder M
rs. Reg had forgotten his name.

  Mrs. Reg stood up and handed Maxi back to Lisa. Maxi immediately wiggled out of Lisa’s grasp and started heading for the stable. Images of Maxi and the manure pile inclined Lisa to follow her. Curiosity held her back for a moment.

  “What happened to the stallion?” Lisa asked.

  Mrs. Reg shook her head as if the answer were utterly obvious. “Happy as a clam of course,” she said. “We never had a minute’s trouble with him after that, and he spent the rest of his days with us out in the field.”

  Mrs. Reg strode toward the barn, then called back over her shoulder, “You girls better get in here! I think Maxi wants to get into Nickel’s stall!”

  Carole and Lisa dashed after the little girl and stopped her right before she unlatched the pony’s stall door. Nickel had a sweet nature, but he was still a lot bigger than Maxi.

  Lisa tucked the wiggling little girl under one arm and turned to Carole, who seemed in a hurry to get to the tack room.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, referring to Mrs. Reg’s story.

  “Maxi, of course,” said Carole.

  “You think she wants to jump a fence and go into the field?” Lisa asked.

  “Of course not,” said Carole. “She wants to ride!”

  “And you think it’s a good idea?” Lisa asked.

  “It’s not my idea,” said Carole. “It’s Mrs. Reg’s. Don’t you see?”

  And then Lisa did see. Maxi was just like the stallion. She’d be much happier if they let her do what she really wanted, which was to ride. And as long as they saw to it that she rode safely, she’d be much safer than when she was running around in schooling rings or trying to open stall doors.

  “Right!” said Lisa. “Sure she wants to ride. It’s in her blood. Anybody named Regnery would be happier on a horse than anyplace else, right?”

  “Right,” Carole agreed.

  It took the two of them just a few minutes to tack up Penny, the stable’s smallest pony. Maxi, seeming to sense that this was about her, sat patiently on a bale of hay and watched the girls work. Carole got a lead rope, then Lisa lifted the little girl and put her in the saddle, securing her riding helmet before settling her in. She adjusted the stirrups to their shortest length, which was exactly right for Maxi’s short legs. The look on Maxi’s face was pure joy when the pony began to move forward.

  Their first stop was at the stable’s good-luck horseshoe, where they showed Maxi how to touch it for luck. They each gave it a swipe, too, since the little girl’s safety was more in their hands than in her own. Maxi seemed oblivious to any possible dangers of riding. She held the reins as if she knew exactly what she was doing and waited for the girls to get Penny moving.

  It didn’t take long. Carole led the pony at a gentle walk while Lisa walked next to the saddle, being sure at every step that Maxi was secure in it. She needn’t have worried. Maxi behaved as if she’d been born to be in a saddle, which seemed about right when Lisa thought about it.

  They’d gone around the ring five times at a sedate walk and Maxi was showing no signs of wanting to stop when Deborah’s car pulled into the driveway.

  Neither Carole nor Lisa saw the car, but Maxi did.

  “Mommy!” she cried out.

  Lisa’s heart sank as she realized that she and Carole were letting Deborah’s daughter do something that Deborah might very well not approve of. Deborah wasn’t horse-crazy. She didn’t exactly hate horses, and she wasn’t as afraid of them as she had been when she first met Max, but she’d never really learned to love horses the way Max and Mrs. Reg did. Maybe it would have been a good idea for Lisa and Carole to get her permission before putting Maxi on Penny.

  Lisa and Carole looked over at Deborah. She stood by the open door of her car. Her face was pale with worry. Lisa was about to say something. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say, but she was about to open her mouth when Maxi spoke for all of them.

  “Look at me!” she cried with delight.

  Deborah closed her mouth and sighed. She walked over to the young equestrienne.

  “Are you having a good time?” she asked.

  Maxi’s smile was all the answer anyone needed. The little girl kicked gently at the pony’s belly, getting her to move along at her easy walk.

  Deborah looked at Lisa and Carole. “Thanks, girls,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” Lisa told her.

  “We’re being careful,” Carole added.

  “I can see that,” said Deborah. She picked up her computer and briefcase and headed for the house. “I’ll see you later, Maxi!” she told her daughter, but the little girl’s attention was already totally turned to the job at hand, which was riding Penny. She seemed to have completely forgotten about her mother.

  “It’s in the genes,” Carole said.

  “AND HOW WAS the museum?” Mrs. Lake asked Stevie. It took her more than a minute to figure out that her mother was asking about the natural history museum. It seemed like an awfully long time ago that she and Regina had been there—at least one near disaster ago!

  “It was great!” Stevie said. “Dinosaurs, you know.”

  “I know,” said her mother.

  “And elephants. I liked the elephants.”

  The two girls and their mothers were all sitting at dinner in the Evanses’ dining room. Like the dining room at the old house, it was on the ground floor and looked out on the backyard.

  “How was your day, Mom?” Stevie asked.

  “Dinosaurs and elephants would have been an improvement,” she said. “A big one. Well, it wasn’t that bad, actually, but I just wish these people would be more reasonable.”

  “You mean like they should see it your way?” Stevie teased.

  “Exactly,” said her mother. “I mean, we’re going to finish our business, but they’re making it take so long!”

  “Sounds like good news to me,” Regina said. “The longer they take, the longer Stevie can stay here, right?”

  “As long as you two don’t get into any major trouble,” said Mrs. Evans.

  “Whatever would make you think something like that?” Regina asked. Her mother just gave her a look that pretty much said it all. Stevie was beginning to think that Regina spent more time in hot water than she did, and after this afternoon she thought she knew why.

  “So, what’s everybody up to this evening?” Mrs. Evans asked.

  “A hot bath and bed,” said Stevie’s mother. Being a lawyer was hard work sometimes, Stevie knew, though her mother often said that being a mother was even harder.

  “Girls?” Mrs. Evans asked.

  “We’re going over to Ann and Peter’s. We’re going to meet the gang there. Stevie claims to know some really good ghost stories.”

  Mrs. Lake laughed. “She does. She sometimes tries to tell them at dinner and freak out her brothers. Alex and Chad never seem to mind, but Michael has been known to run from the table.”

  “That’s why ghost stories have been outlawed from the dinner table,” Stevie explained. “But that’s okay. It’s better if I tell them in the car, when Michael can’t run anywhere!”

  “Well,” said Mrs. Evans, “it’s okay to go to Peter’s, but don’t be late, okay? Catherine and I are really tired and we’re likely to be asleep before you get home, but the curfew is still ten P.M. sharp.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. We’ll be home by then, won’t we, Stevie?”

  “Oh, sure,” Stevie said, but at that moment her mother’s plan was feeling like a better one than Regina’s. Bath and bed versus breaking and entering. “By ten, easy,” she promised.

  After dinner the girls cleared the table, then Mrs. Evans told them it was okay to go on over to Peter’s. Regina had lots to do before they could leave, and she got Stevie to help her fill her school backpack. They needed candles, a flashlight for each of them, and lots of snacks, including marshmallows, chocolate milk, cheese crackers, and diet soda.

  The mothers surveyed the girls�
�� snack choices with raised eyebrows. Mrs. Evans handed Regina a stack of paper cups so that they wouldn’t have to use Peter’s mother’s glasses.

  “Good idea,” said Regina. “She’ll be really grateful for that.”

  “She’ll be grateful if you don’t make nuisances of yourselves in her home,” said Mrs. Evans.

  Stevie wished they were planning to make nuisances of themselves in Peter’s home instead of in the old house. There was no turning Regina back, though. She considered her plan a done deal. Stevie was beginning to see it as her job to keep Regina from doing something really ridiculous, like breaking into the locked storage closet.

  “We’re out of here. G’night, Mom,” said Regina, giving her mother a quick peck on the cheek.

  “At ten o’clock sharp I want you to come in and tell me you’re home safe and sound, even if you have to wake me up. Understand, Regina?”

  “I understand, Mom. Of course I will. I promise.”

  “Have fun, girls,” said Stevie’s mother.

  “We will,” said Stevie.

  With that, the two of them went out the garden door. Mrs. Evans turned on the garden light for them, and it would stay on until they got home and turned it off themselves. Both Mrs. Evans’s room and the room where Stevie’s mother was staying were on the front side of the house. They would not be bothered by the light in the backyard.

  The girls climbed up onto the fence and then looked back to wave to their mothers, but the two women had already left the kitchen, presumably headed for their hot baths.

  “This way!” Regina said, leading Stevie along the brick wall.

  When they got to the old house, Peter was just ahead of them at the basement window.

  “Good evening, ladies,” he said, greeting them as if he were a doorman. He held the boards to the side while they lowered themselves in, then he followed and replaced the boards. The dim ceiling light was turned on, so they knew someone else was already there.

  “Hello!” Regina called, just above a whisper.

  Gordon appeared from the other side of the closet.

  “We were just checking this out,” said Gordon. “There’s no way in at all. We couldn’t even see through the cracks with a flashlight.” He held up a flashlight as if to show that they’d tried.