One Brave Summer (Quartz Creek Ranch)

by Amber J. Keyser

  “He’s listening,” Fletch whispered. “Tell him to move back in a big strong voice. Not mean. Strong. Then we’re going to repeat the message with the rope and a step toward him. Okay?”

  Paley nodded. Feeling Fletch towering over her made Paley feel a little better, like she had a regiment of elf warriors guarding her flank. She took a deep lungful of crisp mountain air and said, “Back!”

  Together Paley and Fletch flicked the lead. The red rope jumped into action, snaking through the air between her and Prince. He stepped back and stared at her. Fletch stilled the rope, squeezed Paley on the shoulder, and nodded his approval. “Good. Now lead him in a circle around the arena. When you get back here, tell him to stop. If he doesn’t stop right away, send him back a few steps.”

  Paley tightened her grip on the rope and clicked her tongue. “Come on.”

  Right away she felt resistance. The success she’d felt earlier drained away. Fletch smacked Prince on the rump, and he walked forward, half pulling Paley along. She scrambled to stay on her feet and keep up with him.

  “Man, look at her.” Bryce’s loud voice cut the sound of horses. “Who’s walking who?”

  Paley’s heart sank. She jogged beside Prince until he settled into an easy walk around the arena like that was exactly what he had planned to do all along. Paley forced a smile when she passed Bryce, hoping her expression said, Yeah, I’ve got this.

  They were almost back where they started. Prince showed no signs of stopping. A lump rose in Paley’s throat. Fletch’s pep talk in the barn about making connections and being tough had been short on the practical. How exactly did you stop a giant horse with a mind of his own?

  A sick feeling bloomed in the pit of Paley’s stomach. She had to get him to stop. Paley took a deep breath, dug her heels in, and said, “Whoa!” Prince pushed past, jerking her after him. “Stop!” she shrieked. Prince took two more steps before he paused and swung his head toward her as if to say, You talking to me, girly?

  Paley was pretty sure this was not the kind of connection Fletch was talking about.

  Suddenly, she was right in front of Bryce. “What’s wrong with your horse?” he said, leaning against the fence like he was holding it up.

  “Nothing,” said Paley, trying to stop panting.

  “He seems kinda dumb.”

  Heat spread up Paley’s face. Prince wasn’t dumb. It wasn’t his fault.

  Bryce continued. “My horse does everything I ask the first time. I bet I can make your old gluepot hustle.” He pushed off from the fence and snatched Prince’s lead rope from her hands. “Watch and learn, Pay-Lee,” he said, turning her name into a taunt.

  He strode right up to Prince’s nose and shook the rope. “Move!”

  Prince remained motionless.

  Paley wanted to grab the rope back. She wanted to push Bryce out of the way, but he was huge, a full head taller than her. She froze, like she’d been stunned by some spell, and stayed frozen while Bryce whipped the rope through the air and shouted, “MOVE, YOU DUMB HORSE!”

  All sounds in the arena ceased. Prince still didn’t budge.

  And then like some evil warlock, Bryce raised his arm and slapped her big, beautiful horse across the nose.

  Paley’s mouth dropped open in a wail. Fletch raced toward them. Bryce raised his fist again, but the bigger, older trainer caught it in one hand and urged Bryce out of the arena.

  Prince still hadn’t moved.

  Neither had Paley.

  Chapter Six

  Paley wasn’t even sure how she got into the bunkhouse. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop crying. Everything was tears and sweat and snot. She was furious and hurt and frustrated and sad and indignant all at the same time. It was too much, this stupid mess of emotions. Paley swiped at her face with a dirty T-shirt and curled up in a ball on her bunk.

  The door creaked open.

  Through the wash of tears, she saw Leila peeking in, her eyes wide.

  “Go away!” Paley cried, unable to stop the gulping sobs rolling out of her.

  The door opened a little more. A guttural rasp escaped Paley’s throat, but Leila came into the bunkhouse, a very determined look on her face. She shut the door tight behind her. “Bryce is in big trouble,” she said, handing Paley a handful of tissues. “Mr. Bridle and Ma Etty are talking to him now.”

  “I hate him,” said Paley.

  Leila stamped her foot on the floor. “He’s a bully, a big jerk bully.”

  Paley gulped air and tried to stop crying. It wasn’t working.

  “You’re doing great with Prince,” said Leila.

  Oh, Prince—just the thought of him made Paley cry harder. “No, I’m not,” she sobbed. “He hates me, and I let Bryce hit him, and . . . and . . . I should have done something.” Paley buried her face in the pillow.

  Leila patted her shoulder and held out more tissues.

  Paley blew her nose and wiped her eyes and made another attempt to get herself under control. Leila smiled at her, a tiny encouraging twist of her lips.

  Paley sniffled and asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Leila pulled herself up very straight and made a little frowny face. “You’re sad.”

  A little tendril of good feeling twisted through Paley.

  “I can help you with Prince,” said Leila.

  “Can you make him like me?” As the words came out, Paley’s throat felt tight and scratchy all over again.

  “It doesn’t really matter if he likes you,” said Leila. “With horses, respect is more important. Prince isn’t listening because he thinks you’re a pushover. You’ve got to stand up to him.”

  “But what if I can’t?” Paley was remembering that first week at her new school.

  She’d seen the flyer for the gaming club. She’d shown up Thursday after school just like it said and walked into a room full of boys arguing about some zombie apocalypse game. As soon as they saw her, they fell silent, looked her up and down, and went back to zombies as if she wasn’t even in the room. What’s she doing here? a boy asked in a not-so-silent whisper. The Girl Scouts are down the hall, said another. Paley didn’t even stay five minutes.

  Leila shrugged. “I think you can.”

  “How come you’re here?” Paley asked. “You seem so perfect.”

  “That’s a joke.” Leila fiddled with the button on the cuff of her riding shirt. “You are looking at Exhibit A: Wanton Destruction of Property.”

  “Huh?”

  Leila sighed and stared at the floor. “I put sugar in the gas tank of my mom’s Mercedes.” Paley’s mouth dropped open. “And in the tanks of the other doctors’ cars. The whole clinic, believe it or not. It ruined all of them. Will you still be my friend even if I’m a total felon?”

  “Um,” Paley stammered. “Yes . . . I guess. Why did you do that?”

  “All my mom does is work, work, work, and sign me up for a million activities I don’t want to do just so she can keep me out of her hair. I wanted to get her attention.”

  “Well, I guess you did.”

  “Yeah. Just enough to get sent away for the summer. Convenient for her. How about you?”

  “Apparently I was spending too much time online.”

  “Like how much?”

  Paley winced. “Pretty much every waking moment that I wasn’t at school.”

  “Doing what?”

  Paley stood, walked over to the dresser, and held up the Dragonfyre book.

  “Did you play with friends and stuff?”

  Paley frowned. “My parents say online friends don’t count.”

  Leila rolled her eyes.

  “I know! Right?” Paley put the book back on the shelf. “Anyway, it’s their fault that I’m friend-limited in real life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My parents made me move last year,” said Paley, shrugging, “and everyone in Denver is a jerk.”

  Leila waggled one finger at her. “I’m from Denver.”

 
; Paley bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  Leila shrugged, reached for Paley’s book, and began flipping through it. After a few moments, she said, “You should give Denver a chance. It’s pretty cool.”

  It was Paley’s turn to shrug. “I really liked LA.”

  “You should take the factory tour at Hammond’s Candies. It’s amazing.”

  “Maybe.”

  Leila looked up. “I’m sorry you had to move.”

  Paley blew her nose again and snuck a peek out of the bunkhouse window. Ma Etty was walking Prince into the barn. He was so beautiful that it made her heart ache. She wanted to race across the fields on his back. She wanted him to leap to her call. With a horse like that it wouldn’t matter that she hadn’t made friends in Denver.

  Prince would be enough.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  At the end of lunch, Ma Etty took Paley outside on the porch to explain a few things. Bryce glared at her as she left, stabbing his last tortellini with extra force.

  “We don’t have a lot of rules here,” said Ma Etty, gesturing for Paley to sit on the porch steps. “We know you’re all good kids.”

  “Except Bryce,” Paley muttered.

  Ma Etty patted her knee. “Even Bryce.”

  Paley was about to protest, but the look Ma Etty gave her made Paley choke back her snarky comment.

  “I’ve seen a lot of kids come through here, and Mr. Bridle and I raised three of our own. There are no bad kids.”

  Paley picked at a loose sliver of wood on the porch. “Maybe you should tell that to my parents.”

  Ma Etty didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she said, “The only real rule we have here is respect—respect for the animals, respect for each other, and respect for ourselves. And that’s why you and Bryce are sharing the consequences for what happened this morning.”

  Paley shot off the steps and whirled to face Ma Etty. “You have got to be kidding!” Ma Etty gazed at her placidly. “He hit my horse!” Paley shrieked.

  “Prince is your responsibility this summer,” said Ma Etty, in the same level tone. “And you allowed Bryce to hurt him. You and Bryce will clean the chicken coop.”

  “Fine,” Paley snapped. “If you want to lump me in with a bully like him, go ahead.”

  “You are the one who will define your place at this ranch,” said Ma Etty. “Hot Tamale and the rest of the ladies will appreciate your help with the housecleaning.”

  Ten minutes later, Paley and Bryce were outfitted with shovels, rakes, and muck buckets.

  “After you shovel out all the old bedding,” said Ma Etty, “dump it in the compost heap by the garden and then put down fresh straw. I’ll be on the porch if you have any questions.”

  Paley fumed while she shoveled poop and made faces at the back of Bryce’s head. The boy’s blond hair was shaved so short near the nape that she could see skin. Paley drew an imaginary dotted line across his neck and drew her imaginary sword. “Thwack,” she whispered to the nearest chicken, a shiny red one named Apple Pie.

  “What?” said Bryce, leaning on the handle of his pitchfork.

  “Nothing.” Paley shoveled a pile of filthy straw into the wheelbarrow. The ammonia smell of all the droppings stung her nose.

  “Oh, come on. Don’t be all mopey.”

  She attacked another pile. “I’m not mopey.”

  Bryce slumped in an exaggerated pose of depression. “I’m not mopey,” he mocked.

  She squeezed the handle of her shovel and kept scooping. The sooner she finished this gross job, the sooner she could get away from stupid old Bryce. A chicken waddled through her work zone, and Paley nudged it away with her foot. Ma Etty was freaking crazy for chickens. They were everywhere!

  Bryce picked idly at a pile of straw.

  “Could you work, please?” Paley said. “I’d like to get this over with.”

  “Touchy, touchy.”

  Paley slammed the shovel into the ground. Three chickens flew up, flapping their wings and squawking in alarm. “I’m not mopey or touchy. I’m mad at you!”

  Bryce squinted at her like she was a squeaky rabbit or some small furry thing not worth his time. “Oh, yeah?”

  “You hit my horse!”

  He made a face at her. “I was trying to get him to behave.”

  “There are better ways to do that.”

  “Like what? Mutter at him behind his back? He wasn’t exactly following your commands.”

  “That doesn’t make it okay for you to hit him!”

  Bryce slammed his right fist into the palm of his other hand. “The only thing anyone listens to is this.”

  Paley stopped working and stared at him. “Are you from the Stone Age or something?” Sure, she had been imagining his head rolling off his neck and into the dirty straw, but seriously, did Bryce really think he could punch his way out of everything?

  He shrugged. “Works for me.”

  She squinted at him. “Works how?”

  Bryce didn’t answer. Instead, he made an ugly face and turned his back on her.

  Paley shook her head and went back to shoveling, but she couldn’t quell the uncomfortable feeling that filled her. Bryce wasn’t doing any better in the friend department than she was. What if they weren’t as different as she wanted to believe?

  Chapter Seven

  “Rise and shine, cowpokes!” said Madison, flipping on the lights in the bunkhouse. “It is the very best time of the day.”

  Leila pulled a pillow over her head and groaned.

  Sundee sat up in bed, her dark hair in a serious snarl on one side. “How can you say that?”

  “One word,” said Madison, holding up a finger. “Horses!”

  Horses—

  Now Paley was the one groaning. Madison’s one word brought everything back. Prince’s velvety soft nose. The way trading a summer playing Dragonfyre for a summer riding Prince seemed okay. Until it wasn’t. Until the golden thread broke. Until Bryce hit him. Until she failed to help.

  No more riding lessons for her.

  Paley rolled away from the light.

  “Come on,” said Madison, tugging on her blanket. “It’s a new day.”

  Paley pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m not getting up.”

  “Breakfast is in thirty minutes and riding lessons start right after that.”

  “I’m not riding.”

  Paley’s bed squeaked as Madison sat down beside her. “Prince is waiting for you,” she cajoled.

  “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “You’ve only had one lesson,” said Madison. “Do you really think you should be an expert already?”

  Through a crack in the blankets, Paley could see Leila tucking her blouse into her jodhpurs. Sundee tamed her hair and pulled on her riding boots. Already experts. “Just leave me alone,” she begged.

  “Paley—” Madison began, her voice tense, but then she stopped and took a deep breath. “You let me know if you change your mind.”

  Paley didn’t.

  As soon as she was alone, Paley brushed her teeth, made her bed, and got dressed. Leaving the lights off, she sat in the dim light of the bunkhouse and looked at her Dragonfyre book.

  An hour later, the door creaked open. The bright sunlight streaming in made Paley squint. Ma Etty stood framed in the doorway, her silhouette small but fierce all at the same time. Paley bit her lip. It would be just like at home with her parents pleading for her to leave her room, pleading with her to get some fresh air, eat something, blah blah blah . . .

  But Ma Etty didn’t say anything.

  She left the door open. She opened the blinds. She flipped on the lights.

  She sat down across from Paley. “Look out the window.”

  Paley looked before she could stop herself. It was like Ma Etty had cast a Compulsion Spell. Prince was in the small warm-up pen, pacing.

  Back and forth. Back and forth. The sun shone on his sleek coat, but he wasn’t happy. Any id
iot could see that. He tossed his head toward the barn, flipped around, stomped to the other side of the pen, flipped his head again.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, even though she’d meant to give Ma Etty the silent treatment.

  “He’s cooped up and needs exercise.”

  Paley bit her lip. “Fletch should take care of him.”

  “Fletch takes care of Sawbones.”

  Paley hunched over, feeling more like a cave troll than ever. “He’s Mr. Bridle’s backup horse.”

  “He is your responsibility for the summer.” That was the dumbest thing Paley had ever heard. Who put a kid like her in charge of a horse like that? “Mr. Bridle and I are confident,” Ma Etty continued in a gentle voice, “that you will do the right thing. Why don’t you give him a flake of alfalfa and think about it? I’ll have Madison meet you out there.”

  With that, the old lady got up and left Paley alone.

  Paley tried not to look out the window, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she peeked, Prince was more and more agitated. A horse like that shouldn’t be crammed in a tiny pen. He should be racing over the hills. The muscles in his neck rippled under his sleek black coat. She couldn’t imagine a more regal horse. Even after yesterday, she wanted to ride him.

  She wanted to know what that felt like.

  “Fine,” she muttered, “just the alfalfa.” Paley made her way to the barn, hoping that no one else would see her. The last thing she needed was Bryce making fun of her. But the barn was empty except for the birds in the rafters.

  As soon as she appeared with the dried alfalfa, Prince stopped pacing. He snuffled at her and poked his nose over the side of the warm-up pen. His breath tickled her hand, surrounding Paley with the smell of dried apples, oatmeal, and horse sweat. “I brought you a snack,” she said, putting the alfalfa next to him.

  Paley watched Prince eat. When he was done, he nibbled her braid.

  “Hey! That tickles!” She couldn’t help giggling.

  Prince snuffled at her again.

  On the far side of the barn, Paley heard the others. They were laughing. There was Fletch’s low murmur, and Madison’s cheery encouragement. Those sounds were easy and smooth. Why was it so easy for some people to make friends?