When he was finished, he had a rim of milk on his lips. He sighed, looking totally satisfied. Jasmine put her arms around him, and he yawned into her hair.
“I didn’t want to give you a bottle this morning because I was tired of babies. They always get all the attention,” she said. “But feeding you was fun. And you need lots of attention, don’t you?”
The colt looked down at the hay that was piled around his stall. And then he looked at Jasmine. She thought maybe he wanted to lie down but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get up again.
“It’s okay,” she said to him. She sat down on the stall floor to show him that it was safe.
He folded his long, spindly legs and dropped down next to her.
“You need a rest,” said Jasmine, wrapping her arms around his neck again. “I want you to relax.” He put his nose in her lap, and within seconds he fell fast asleep.
Jasmine put her head on his neck. “It’s been a tough day,” she said to the colt, even though he was asleep and couldn’t hear her. “But we did okay.” Burying her nose in the colt’s mane, she fell asleep herself.
When she woke up, it was almost dark. The sky in the window over the foaling stall was dark blue. Jasmine’s stomach was rumbling. She was hungry. It was dinnertime.
Outlaw was tied up outside, she remembered. Gently she moved away from the colt. She knew that someone would be coming to feed him soon, so he would be okay. She stood up.
The colt nickered in his sleep and moved his long legs.
“I’ll be seeing you,” she whispered.
Jasmine ran down the barn aisle, back to the feed room. The window looked really high, but Jasmine knew that if she’d gotten in, she could get out. She stood on the hay bale under the window and jumped. She was halfway through the window when she heard Outlaw whinny again.
“I’m coming,” she called. She gave a push and fell out the window.
9 Jasmine Comes Home
Outlaw was grumpy. He glared at Jasmine.
“I had to help the colt,” she said.
Outlaw snorted.
“If it had been you, you’d have done the same thing,” Jasmine said. “Besides, I fell asleep.” She tickled Outlaw in his favorite spot, which was right behind his ears.
“So let’s go home,” she said.
Outlaw snorted, as if to ask what she was waiting for. She climbed into the saddle, and they headed home.
When they got to the top of the hill, she saw her house. It was tidy and brightly lit. She wanted to be there more than anything. So did Outlaw. He was hungry and tired, she realized. He was longing for his stall.
“We’ll be there soon,” she said. “I’ll give you an extra grooming. You’ve been a great pony today.” Outlaw nodded as if he agreed.
As they walked down the hill Jasmine saw that someone was leaning against the fence behind the barn. It was someone tall and skinny, someone with curly hair. It was her father.
Somehow she had the feeling that he wasn’t happy.
Outlaw’s steps seemed to get faster and faster.
“No need to rush,” Jasmine said to Outlaw. “Take your time.”
Jasmine’s father climbed the fence and walked toward her.
When he came up to her, his eyes were blazing. “Where have you been?”
Jasmine opened her mouth, about to explain that she had been helping the foal. Before she could say anything, her father spoke up.
“I’ve been driving all over the neighborhood looking for you,” he said. “I was worried sick. Your mother is worried.”
“I’m sorry,” Jasmine said in a tiny voice. “I had to get away. Sophie was screaming all the time.” She hadn’t meant to say anything about Sophie. But now she couldn’t stop. “I know she’s the greatest human being on earth, but she gets on my nerves.”
Jasmine’s father reached up and helped Jasmine out of the saddle. On the way down he gave her a hard hug. “You want to know the honest truth? She gets on my nerves sometimes, too.” He took Jasmine’s hand as she led Outlaw toward the barn. “Anyway, she’s not the greatest baby ever born. She’s one of the two greatest babies ever born. You are the other.”
As they walked toward the barn, Jasmine looked at the house. She saw her mother’s worried face peering from a window on the second floor. When Mrs. James spotted Jasmine, she waved. “We’ll be right in, honey,” Mr. James called.
They took Outlaw into the barn and untacked him. Then Jasmine got the carrier full of grooming gear, and she brushed one side of Outlaw while her father brushed the other.
Over Outlaw’s back Mr. James said, “I remember when Harry was born.” Harry was Jasmine’s uncle. “I kept telling my parents they should take him back to the hospital because he was so ugly.”
“No kidding,” Jasmine said. She wasn’t about to admit that she had thought Sophie was ugly, but this was interesting news.
“All he did was scream,” Mr. James said. “I had to stick my fingers in my ears.”
“Gee, that’s terrible,” Jasmine said.
Together she and her father got fresh oats and water for Outlaw. “Harry improved with age,” Mr. James said. “He’s not half bad now.”
Uncle Harry was Jasmine’s favorite uncle. It was hard to imagine him as a red-faced, screaming monster. But, if her father said he had been, Jasmine believed him.
As Jasmine and her father walked toward the house, he said, “I guess everything seems different to you now that Sophie’s born.”
Jasmine was about to say that she hated having one less middle name than Sophie, she hated the way her father had taken her nickname, Petalpuss, and given it to Sophie, and she hated the way her drawing of Outlaw had disappeared from the refrigerator. But suddenly she didn’t feel so angry anymore.
“Hey,” she said. “I can cope.”
They walked into the mudroom. Her father waited while she pulled off her riding boots and put on her sneakers. They walked into the kitchen.
Her drawing of Outlaw was hanging in a frame on the wall.
“Wow,” she said.
“Do you like the frame?” her father said. “I couldn’t decide between black and gold. Gold is more festive, but black is more modern.”
Jasmine put her arms around him. “Dad, gold is fine.”
They had a long hug.
With her face against her father’s chest, Jasmine said, “Was my birth really awful?”
Her father hugged her tight. “It was the greatest day of my life.”
“You said it was a nightmare,” she said softly.
“The hospital was a nightmare. Not you.”
Jasmine looked up at him. Her father’s blue eyes were shining.
Jasmine’s stomach growled. “Sorry,” she said.
“My sentiments exactly,” her father said. He picked up a pair of potholders. “As it happens, I have made your favorite meal.” He opened the oven. “Vegetable lasagna.”
Inside the oven the lasagna was bubbly and brown.
“We’re dining upstairs tonight,” he said.
Jasmine helped her father load a tray with plates, silverware, and napkins. He went first, carrying the lasagna. She followed him.
It made her think of the night before, when she had to eat her veggie burger alone. As if her father knew what she was thinking, he said, “Sometimes when something exciting happens people get discombobulated.” He grinned at his own big word. “I mean they get all mixed up.” He looked at her. “I’m sorry.”
“What’s to be sorry for?” Jasmine said. “You are the world’s greatest dad.”
Her mother was sitting up in bed.
“Jasmine,” she said, reaching out. “Sweetie.”
Jasmine dived into her arms. As soon as the two of them were hugging, Jasmine remembered the softness of the bed, and how she and her Mom and Dad loved to watch TV and eat vegetarian pizza together.
Jasmine looked around. Sophie was in her crib looking small and pink—and quiet. When Sophie wasn’t scre
aming, she wasn’t half bad.
“Where were you?” her mother said.
“At Pine Hollow. I gave the orphan colt a bottle,” Jasmine said.
“Oh,” Mrs. James said. “That poor thing. Is he all right now?”
“He’s fine,” Jasmine said.
“You gave him a bottle?” asked Mrs. James.
Jasmine nodded.
“You know,” Mrs. James said, “I was going to give Sophie a bottle of sugar water. But since you know how to feed babies, maybe you could do it.”
“You think?” said Jasmine.
“I know you can do it,” her mother said.
She went to look into the crib. Sophie was making tiny cheeping noises.
“Where should I feed her?” Jasmine asked.
“Why don’t you sit here next to me,” her mother said, making room on the bed. She plumped up a pillow for Jasmine to lean on.
As Jasmine settled into the bed, her mother said, “Is that comfortable?”
“Just right,” Jasmine said.
Her father picked up Sophie and put her on the changing table to check her diaper. Sophie needed a change, so Mr. James put on a fresh diaper. Then he brought her over to Jasmine.
Sophie looked so small, so fragile, so helpless. What if I drop her? Jasmine thought. What if I feed her wrong? What if she develops the world’s biggest burp? But then Jasmine remembered how well she had fed the colt.
Sophie’s blue eyes looked up at her. Jasmine slid one hand underneath Sophie’s back and another one under her head.
Sophie looked at her with total trust. “It’ll be okay,” Jasmine whispered to her. “We’re sisters.” She lifted Sophie, feeling how warm her skin was. She put Sophie against her chest and felt Sophie’s tiny hands touch her.
She could feel the beating of Sophie’s heart, and she could tell that Sophie trusted her. Jasmine kissed her on the top of her head.
Jasmine settled Sophie into the crook of her arm. Sophie looked warm and happy, but Jasmine knew she needed to drink.
“Here,” Jasmine said, putting the nipple of the bottle next to Sophie’s lips.
Sophie sucked it in.
“That was fast,” Jasmine said.
As if they were one person, Jasmine and her parents smiled.
Sophie drank an ounce of sugar water, and then she moved her head away from the bottle and looked up at Jasmine.
“Was that good?” Jasmine asked.
Sophie raised her feet with pleasure. Jasmine touched one of them. It was small, but it was strong.
“She has good feet,” Jasmine said. “She won’t have any problem keeping her heels down as soon as she starts riding.” She looked up at her parents. “We’ll have to get her a pony someday.”
“Absolutely,” her father said.
“You’ll help us choose it because you know ponies,” Mrs. James said.
One of Sophie’s tiny pink hands reached up and touched Jasmine’s hand. Sophie’s tiny hand closed around one of Jasmine’s fingers.
Jasmine bent down and kissed Sophie’s tiny thumb.
10 How to Be a Big Sister
“One more thing,” May said.
“That’s your fifteenth one more thing,” Jasmine groaned.
May was filling her in on how not to be an older sister.
“Never tell your sister that she’s ideal for the Before in a Before and After ad,” said May.
“No way,” Jasmine said.
“Never lie around and sigh over some pimply TV star,” May said.
“I would never do that,” Jasmine said.
“Never call boys and hang up,” May said.
“As if I would do that,” Jasmine said.
“Never paint your toenails green.”
“Yuck,” Jasmine said.
“Anyway, you’ll never be like my sisters,” May said. “You’re a normal human being.”
“Jasmine’s not a normal human being,” Corey said. May and Jasmine turned to look at her. “She’s a hero.”
“‘Did I ever tell you you’re my hero?’” May sang.
“Oh, please,” Jasmine said. “Give me a break.”
“But you are,” Corey said. “Max says you really helped the colt. Who knows? Maybe the owners will name him after you.”
“A colt named Jasmine?” said May. The three girls giggled.
“I can’t believe Max isn’t mad at you for climbing in the stable window,” Corey said.
“He is,” Jasmine said. “I’m going to have to stay late on Friday to polish the tack. I’ve got stable detention.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Corey said.
“Me too,” May said. She sighed. “It’s so nice when someone else is in trouble.” She turned hastily to Jasmine. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay,” Jasmine said with a grin. “Everybody gets in trouble sometimes.”
Then a funny thought occurred to Jasmine. Someday—when Sophie was bigger—she would get in trouble, too. Not that Jasmine wanted Sophie to be bad or anything. Not that she wanted Sophie to get detention. No way! But in the future, if Sophie did get in trouble, Jasmine would be there to help her little sister out.
It was fun to think of the adventures ahead.
JASMINE’S TIPS ON HOW A HORSE GROWS
When I look at my tiny little newborn sister, it’s hard to imagine that one day she’ll be as big as I am. One day she’ll even be as old as I am now. Of course, I’ll always be her big sister. Right now I’m not worried about that. She’s very small; she’s got a lot of catching up to do.
I don’t know whether my sister will ever be bigger than I am, but it’s a sure bet that the foal will be—and it won’t take all that long, either. Baby horses seem to do a lot of things very quickly. The foal was walking within a half hour after he was born. Sophie won’t do that for another year! The foal will reach his full height by about the time he’s three years old. It will take him longer to fill out. Sophie won’t be done with her growing until she’s a teenager. The foal is just a few weeks old, and already he’s nibbling at grass and hay. Sophie won’t get any solid food for months, and when she does, she’s going to have to start out with squishy rice cereal and then, if she’s lucky, some strained fruit. I think I’d rather eat grass.
I’ll always be able to tell how old Sophie is by the number of candles on her cake, but you can’t ask a horse how old he is, so there’s another way. You look in his mouth and check his teeth. A horse’s teeth change as he gets older, and the pattern in each horse is pretty much the same. The teeth won’t tell you exactly when he’s old enough to start school, get a driver’s license, or run for president, but it will give you a pretty good idea of how old he is.
Like people, horses get two sets of teeth in their life. The baby teeth are sometimes called milk teeth, because they’re the teeth he’s got when he’s nursing. A foal is born with teeth—usually four on the top and four on the bottom to start with. Sophie has no teeth at all. Mom says she’ll start getting teeth when she’s about eight months old.
When a foal is a year old, he’s got twelve milk teeth, six on top and six on the bottom. They’re new and don’t show any wear at all. By the time he’s two years old, he’s done a lot of chewing, and the milk teeth are worn down a bit. In the next year, the foal will get to be his full grown-up size. He’ll also lose his two front teeth, top and bottom, and his permanent teeth will grow in their place. The permanent teeth are much bigger than the milk teeth, and when they first come in they have sharp edges and a dark mark on the chewing surface, which will eventually wear away. When Sophie’s baby teeth fall out, the Tooth Fairy will probably bring her a quarter for each of them. That’s what I got for mine. I don’t know if there’s a Tooth Fairy for horses. Probably not. Probably there isn’t a Tooth Fairy for people either, but I’m afraid that if I tell Mom and Dad that, I’ll stop getting money under my pillow. I’m too smart to blow a racket like that!
In the next year, the horse will lose four mo
re baby teeth, two on the top, two on the bottom, on either side of the center teeth. When he’s five, all the milk teeth will be gone, replaced by permanent teeth. A six-year-old horse shows wear on his center teeth. When he’s seven, the four center teeth, top and bottom, will be noticeably worn. By the time he’s eight, all his permanent teeth will be a little worn down, so that all the dark marks on the biting surface have disappeared.
After this, it gets a little hard to tell exactly how old a horse is because as they wear down, the teeth change shape. They become more triangular, with the flat side to the front and the points of the triangles toward the inside of the horse’s mouth. The problem is that the rate of change isn’t as predictable as it is before the horse is eight years old. By the time a horse is fifteen, all his teeth will be triangular, and by the time he’s in his twenties, the teeth will be thicker than they are wide.
As Sophie gets older, I’ll stop calling her a baby because she won’t be one anymore. When she learns to walk she’ll be a toddler, and when she can talk some and doesn’t wobble so much when she walks, people will call her a preschooler, then a kindergartner, and so on. Eventually she’ll be a preteen, then a teenager, then a young adult—well, you know how it goes. Horses have different names at different ages, too.
For the first year, any horse can be called a foal. If it’s a boy, it can be called a colt foal. A girl is a filly foal. You don’t say “foal” anymore when it’s a year old, so you just call it a colt or a filly. You can also call it a yearling then, but you continue to call it a colt or a filly until it’s full-grown. Then it’s called a pony or a horse. But things being the way they are with horses and ponies, it’s more complicated than that! A female horse is called a mare. A male horse is called a stallion. A stallion is very hard to ride because he can be strong-willed and unpredictable. An owner who wants to use a stallion for riding usually has him neutered. Then he’s called a gelding.
Sophie will grow older, and so will I. And no matter how old I get and how old she gets, she’s always going to be one very special thing to me—my little sister.
Jasmine Helps a Foal (Pony Tails Book 10) Page 4