“Okay,” Stevie began. “Alice?”
“Let’s put her on Dime,” said Carole, penciling in the assignment.
“Then what about Taisha? She always wants to ride Dime.”
“She should try another horse,” said Carole. “How about Peso?”
“Peso behaves better with boys,” Stevie reminded her. “So, if we put her on Nickel, then we can have Peter ride Peso.”
“But Peter cantered last week on Dime. He’s going to want to ride him again.” She sighed and took out her eraser. “And the only other boy in that class is David, and he just grew a whole lot, so he’s way too big for Peso, so maybe nobody should ride Peso this lesson.”
Stevie looked over her shoulder at the chart. “But nobody’s ridden Peso all day long,” she said.
Carole started erasing and was still erasing when the phone rang. Since Mrs. Reg and Red were busy with the Wainwrights and Max was teaching a class, the only thing for Stevie to do was to answer it.
“Pine Hollow Stables,” she said, trying to sound very professional.
“Hi, my name is Crawford, Louis Crawford.”
“Yes, Mr. Crawford. What can we do for you?” she asked. It sounded like something Mrs. Reg might say. “Both the Regnerys are busy now, but I’ll try to help you if I can.”
“I lost my horse,” he said. “I mean, my horse got loose when a drunk driver knocked down a couple of fence posts.”
“Oh, how terrible,” Stevie said. She could hardly imagine how she would feel if she’d lost her horse. “You can advertise in the local papers or put up flyers. I’m sure that would help. People around here are good about taking care of animals. Actually, there’s a place called CARL—”
“Right, I know about that,” said Mr. Crawford. “They put out some flyers recently and I got a call from my vet, too. I saw the photograph. I just know it’s Protocol. When I called CARL, they told me he was staying at Pine Hollow.”
“There’s no horse here by that name,” said Stevie. Even as she said it, she knew it was a dumb thing to say.
“I’m sure they gave me the right number. You did say this is Pine Hollow, right?”
“Right, Pine Hollow,” Stevie echoed.
“Well, look, why don’t you have the Regnerys call me when they have a minute and we’ll see what the situation is.”
“Right. I’ll do that,” said Stevie. She pulled the phone message pad over to her and borrowed Carole’s pencil. She wrote down his name, phone number, and the words lost horse. Then she hung up the phone and handed the pencil back to Carole.
“PJ?” Carole asked.
Stevie nodded.
“Oh, no.”
Stevie lowered herself back into the chair and stared at the message.
“I could lose it,” she said.
“He’d call again. You didn’t sound too swift there. I’m sure he’ll call again.”
“I’ll put it at the bottom of the messages,” Stevie suggested.
“Below the calls from people who want Mrs. Reg to change telephone companies?” Carole asked.
Stevie shrugged. “It might work.”
“He’ll still call again,” Carole repeated. “And then Mrs. Reg would be annoyed with you.”
“What would I be annoyed about?” Mrs. Reg asked, entering the office. “I mean, is it possible that there would be anything in the world more annoying than those people Dorothy DeSoto forced on us?” Carole started to stand up to relinquish her chair to Mrs. Reg, but Mrs. Reg shook her off and, instead, chose to stand in a corner, out of sight from the aisle.
Carole couldn’t help laughing. “That’s exactly the same thing Red was doing in the tack room,” she said.
“He was my inspiration,” said Mrs. Reg. “Five minutes, that’s all I ask! Now, what’s going on here?”
A little reluctantly, Stevie handed her the phone message.
“Lisa’s horse?” Mrs. Reg asked. Stevie nodded.
“Sounds like it,” Carole confirmed.
“Well, we’d better call this man,” she said, reaching for the phone.
It didn’t take long to confirm their worst suspicions. Mr. Crawford described PJ extremely accurately. There was no doubt. Mrs. Reg took some time describing PJ’s wounds and all the care he’d gotten at CARL and at Pine Hollow.
“Right, right. Well, of course, we’re in the horse business, but we also care,” said Mrs. Reg. “He’s gotten a lot of attention from some of our young riders.” There was a pause. “Well, of course I saw that. He’s been difficult as well. But we’ve looked after him. You can get full details from Judy Barker. Yes, that’s our vet. Right. And we all think your horse tangled with a bobcat. He’s got scars. And you should have seen the dirt!”
The two of them talked for a few more minutes, then Mrs. Reg hung up after a final “Okay, we’ll see you soon.”
She sighed and looked at Carole and Stevie.
“Protocol. That’s the horse’s name. He’s definitely talking about the same horse. In the meantime, you might want to let Lisa know so that she can have him ready to go.”
“When’s the man coming?” Carole asked.
“Well, he lives in Cross County. I don’t think it will be long. Maybe twenty minutes.”
Carole handed the horse-and-rider charts to Mrs. Reg. “We’ve got work to do,” she said.
“WHERE IS SHE?” Stevie asked, looking around the stable. “I mean, the last time we saw her, she was grooming PJ for what, the third time today?”
“In his stall,” Carole said. “And he’s not there. Neither is she.”
“Maybe she’s taken him for another walk,” Stevie said. She and Carole left the stable and walked over to the schooling ring, where the Wainwrights were longeing one of their horses. There was no sign of Lisa or PJ.
“You don’t suppose she heard the phone call and has run away or anything, do you?” Stevie asked.
“Stevie, that’s the sort of thing you’d do, not Lisa,” Carole said.
“Well, the old Lisa was pretty predictable that way. The new one, I don’t know. I think the word is obsessive.”
“I think the word is she needs our help,” Carole reminded her. “Come on, let’s find her.”
It didn’t take long. They spotted Lisa and PJ in the paddock across the drive from Pine Hollow. It was a particularly nice area with a small hill that allowed a beautiful view of Pine Hollow and all the surrounding countryside.
“I think she must be trying to give him an overview of the place,” Stevie said, joking.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t seem to be working,” Carole observed.
Stevie looked to see what she was talking about. PJ was acting up a bit. He wasn’t misbehaving to a dangerous degree, but he was tugging at the lead rope and being generally uncooperative.
“She loves him anyway,” said Stevie.
“Well, she clings to him, that’s for sure. Obsessed, that was what you said, right?”
“I heard it on an afternoon talk show,” Stevie said. “It’s what I got for staying home with a cold one day.”
Carole, afraid that Stevie was going to launch into a full-scale explanation of obsession as defined by a talk-show host, spoke up. “Let’s go give her a hand. The only time that boy stands still and behaves completely is when he’s being fed or groomed. Any other time he’s more than a little frisky. I think Lisa needs our help.” She walked up the hill toward her friend. As she climbed, she remembered the phone call and the news she and Stevie had to give to Lisa. She slowed down.
Behind her, Stevie was lagging as well.
“We don’t have to tell her first thing,” Stevie said.
Carole agreed.
They joined Lisa at the crest of the hill. As soon as all three of them began patting PJ, he responded by improving his behavior.
“He does like to be the center of attention,” Stevie teased.
“Wouldn’t you if you’d been through the ordeal he must have had in the wild?”
�
��I guess,” Stevie said. “Though I suspect he’s always been just a little bit pampered.”
“And as long as I’m looking after him, he’ll be pampered even more,” Lisa said.
It was a cue. As soon as Carole heard her say that, she knew it was the moment to tell her. She took a breath. “Uh, Lisa—” she began.
“I wish someone would spoil me like that!” said Stevie.
The moment was gone. Carole let out her breath.
“Oh, Stevie!” Lisa teased. “You can groom yourself!” The three of them laughed together at the idea of Stevie being brushed and coddled by three people all at once.
“Come on, let’s walk back to the stable,” Carole suggested. “Max may need us to do something.”
“You guys have been working hard, doing all those chores just for PJ,” Lisa said. “I haven’t been much use except to look after him. I can’t wait until he’s better and I can ride him. Max will see what a wonderful horse he is and he’ll be glad he let him come to Pine Hollow!”
She looked up at the horse and put her arm around his neck, impulsively giving him a hug. He pulled back, almost snapping her arm off to free himself. She blew him a kiss instead.
“Some guys just don’t like public displays of affection,” she said.
“I guess you’re right,” Stevie said.
They walked together in silence, Carole and Stevie both wondering how—or even more importantly if—they were going to give the news to Lisa. They remained silent as they walked back across the driveway and took PJ into the jumping ring, which was empty now. Lisa unclipped his lead rope. PJ shook his head as if to shake out his mane, and then trotted to the far side, away from The Saddle Club.
“Lisa—” Carole began.
“What’s that?” Lisa interrupted, watching a horse van pull into the driveway. “You don’t suppose those Wainwrights are bringing some other horses over here to bother us even more.”
“I don’t think so,” said Stevie. “Lisa, I think that’s—”
“Who’s he?” Lisa asked, looking at the man who got out of the cab of the van.
“I think his name’s Crawford,” said Stevie.
The man looked around, but it didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He strode over to where the girls stood at the edge of the ring.
“Pro!” he called out. The girls looked at the object of his call. Across the ring, PJ’s ears perked up immediately. He snorted, flicked his tail, and trotted over to where they stood.
Lisa looked a little confused, but she reached out her arms to welcome the horse. PJ never even looked at her. He headed straight for Mr. Crawford, who put his arms around the horse’s neck. PJ didn’t object one tiny bit. Mr. Crawford grinned.
“Who are you?” Lisa demanded.
“My name’s Louis Crawford,” he said. “I called a little while ago. Was it you I spoke with?”
“Me,” Stevie said. “I’m Stevie. This is Lisa, and Carole.”
“What’s going on?” Lisa asked.
“Mr. Crawford is PJ’s owner,” Stevie said.
“No, he’s mine!” Lisa said.
“Well, he’s certainly thrived in your care,” said Mr. Crawford. “When I spoke with Dr. Barker, she told me what bad condition he was in when he arrived. She told me there was a girl who was looking after him. Liza?”
“Lisa,” the girls corrected him.
“Lisa, I guess Pro and I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Pro?” Lisa asked.
“Protocol,” he said. “That’s his name. What is it you’ve been calling him?”
“PJ,” said Lisa. “Because—”
“He’s the color of peanut butter, right?”
Carole looked at Lisa to see how she would answer that. But it didn’t seem that she could, or would. She looked totally exhausted, as if the simple explanation of giving the horse her sandwich was more than she could manage.
“Yeah,” she said finally.
Max and Mrs. Reg walked up to them. Max introduced himself and his mother.
“Oh, yes, we spoke,” said Mr. Crawford.
Carole and Stevie stood back to let the adults talk. Lisa hadn’t moved. Carole didn’t think she could.
Their conversation was warm and cordial. Mr. Crawford kept saying how wonderful it was to see his horse, how much he loved the animal, how grateful he was for all the veterinary care he’d gotten, and how wonderful it was that “these girls” had done such a good job looking after him since he’d arrived here.
“I’ll gladly pay you board for the time he’s been here,” Mr. Crawford said.
“Oh, it’s only been a couple of days,” said Max. “It’s nothing. If you’d like, you could make a donation to CARL and see to his vet bills.”
“Anything, anything,” said Mr. Crawford.
Carole listened to the words, but she watched the horse and she watched her friend. The horse stood absolutely quiet right next to Mr. Crawford during the entire conversation. There was no fussing, no flinching, no misbehavior of any kind, even when Mrs. Wainwright brought one of her feisty horses out of the stable into the jumping ring, walking it right behind Pro. When Mr. Crawford reached up to pat his horse, the horse didn’t pull back or nip as he often did with others who weren’t feeding or grooming him.
Lisa, like Carole, was not watching the adults. In fact, Carole suspected that Lisa wasn’t even hearing their conversation, never heard all the nice things and the thanks Mr. Crawford expressed to her about looking after his horse. Lisa never took her eyes off PJ.
When the conversation ended, Mr. Crawford snapped his fingers and Pro followed him, without a lead rope, through the gate and over to the van.
“This guy is sometimes pretty naughty around other people,” said Mr. Crawford.
“We’d noticed that,” Max joked. “And there are a couple of horses here who won’t miss him at all!”
The men and Mrs. Reg laughed. Carole and Stevie stood by, prepared to help Mr. Crawford load PJ into the van, but he didn’t need any help. PJ simply walked up the ramp and obediently waited to be cross-tied for security.
Mr. Crawford slammed the door shut and then shook the Regnerys’ hands. He thanked Carole and Stevie and waved to Lisa, who was still standing in the ring. Then he pulled out of the driveway and was gone.
Max, Mrs. Reg, Carole, and Stevie all turned to look at Lisa. Her back was to them and her head was hanging. They walked over to her.
At first Carole couldn’t hear anything. She became aware that Lisa was crying only because her shoulders were heaving up and down. The next thing she noticed was that drops of tears were falling onto Lisa’s paddock boots.
Stevie got to her first and put her arms around her. Lisa didn’t resist, didn’t even seem to notice.
Carole reached her next. She joined in the hug.
“I’ll get you girls a box of tissues,” Mrs. Reg said very sensibly. Max delivered the tissues a few seconds later and directed the girls to the picnic table in the backyard of the house.
“You’ll have some privacy there,” he said. “You know where to find me.”
Together, Stevie and Carole took Lisa over to the table.
It took a long time, Carole thought later, for Lisa to begin talking. At first all she could talk about was PJ, and both Carole and Stevie knew instinctively that saying anything sensible like “he wasn’t yours” or “he behaved much better with his owner” wasn’t going to do any good. This crying wasn’t logical. In fact, Carole was pretty sure it wasn’t even about PJ.
When Lisa finally wailed, “And I never got to show him to my dad!” the girls knew they were making progress.
“I wanted him to know what a wonderful job I was doing, but I didn’t tell him about all the things I was up to and I made that whole list but he left anyway and if I hadn’t left so early in the morning maybe he would have seen the list or I suppose I could have shown it to Mom, but it was Dad who needed to see it because I’m a good girl, a good daughter
, and I try to do everything right, but he doesn’t believe me because he’s gone—just like PJ—gone!”
Stevie and Carole both hugged her.
And when she finally stopped crying, Stevie and Carole gathered her things and walked her home. It was time for her to talk with her mother.
Mrs. Atwood took one look at her daughter coming up the walkway with her two best friends and reached out. Lisa walked straight into her arms.
“I DON’T THINK I realized divorce meant so much crying,” Stevie said to Carole the following Saturday. The two of them had gotten to Pine Hollow early—early enough to see Lisa get out of her mother’s car with her face still blotched from crying. She had her bag of riding clothes, plus another bag. She looked more angry than sad and barely spoke with her friends before she stuffed her bags into her cubby and stomped back outside for their Pony Club meeting.
“I don’t think I realized it, either,” said Carole. “But I’ve got to say I think crying is probably healthier than clinging to a horse the way Lisa clung to PJ, or Pro, or whatever his name is. You know, though, I think I was a little bit like that when my mother was dying. Even when everything else in the world was going wrong, horses were still going right.”
“It’s not exactly the same,” said Stevie. “You were just overattached to horses, exactly the way you are today!”
“Sort of,” said Carole. “Anyway, let’s go see if she remembered to save us seats.”
Carole and Stevie found Lisa on the bench at the indoor ring. She’d saved one seat on either side of her for her friends. They slipped onto the benches and were glad for a moment to chat.
“What are you up to this afternoon?” Carole asked.
“Yeah, why can’t you come over to my house?” Stevie asked.
“My dad is supposed to come pick me up here,” Lisa said. Her jaw was set stiffly.
“That’ll be neat,” Stevie tried.
“Right. Well, he’s coming because some judge told him he had to,” Lisa explained. “I’m sure that’s why he’s doing it.”
“What?” Carole asked.
“Custody stuff,” Stevie said. “It’s what lawyers argue about in divorces.”
“They’re only separated,” Lisa reminded her friends.
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