No Horse Wanted

by Melange Books, LLC

  Phillip shook his head. “Nope. Why?”

  I fished out my phone and pulled up the photo I’d taken of Twaz, my walking skeleton of a Morab. “That’s him. If we hadn’t gotten him, he’d be dead by now. The other buyer was taking him up to the slaughter house.”

  “So, tell them to get over themselves,” Gwen finished. “And we’re not busy. We’ll leave them in the dust come Thursday.”

  Phillip laughed again. “That won’t be hard. Good luck at the meet.” He turned and ran the other direction to catch up with the guys from his school.

  I tucked away my phone and waited while Porter tightened the band on her ponytail to keep her black hair out of her face. The light changed to green, and we took off across the street.

  At the next light, Porter asked, “So, when do we get to come visit your latest rescue?”

  I bumped her with my elbow. “How about Friday night after the football game? I’ll ask my folks if I can have a sleepover.”

  “Works for me,” Gwen said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about Wanda or Ashley. They’re all mouth. It’s their cousin, Caine, who will get you. He’s pure poison.”

  “Yeah, but I have the two of you to watch my back,” I said. “I’m not scared.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Tuesday, September 17th, 4:20 p.m.

  After practice, I showered and changed back to regular clothes before I headed toward Dad’s office. Okay, I actually was on my way to the Mustang Corral to visit my car. My beautiful Presidential blue Mustang. Relief washed through me as I got nearer to the lot. I saw it. Hurray! Brenna hadn’t taken it to the auto show.

  However, some of the others in the rainbow herd were missing, the night-black convertible, a candy-apple red fastback, and a canary yellow hardtop sedan. She must have sold them. All right! She was having a good week, and that meant she’d be more likely to listen to my pitch. I walked across the lot and spotted Harry washing one of the sky blue Mustangs. I waved at him and kept going toward the trailer.

  He turned off the hose and jogged toward me. “Hi. I haven’t seen you for a while. What’s up?”

  I shrugged like it was no big deal when he talked to me and my heart wasn’t racing like it was at a road rally. “I had to finish my letter of intent for Weaver or she’d mess with cross-country.”

  He laughed, amusement deepening his dark blue eyes to navy. Gawd, he was a hunk. Best of all, he didn’t know it.

  “Those teachers who think academics come first.” He shook his head, still grinning down at me. “It’s enough to ruin your life, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. He might be joking, but I wasn’t.

  He walked next to me all the way to the office. “So, your folks didn’t come in to buy that Mustang. It’s a lot of money.”

  I heaved a sigh. “They want me to pay half of it.”

  “How are you going to make that kind of money?”

  “I have some saved,” I said, “but I’ll have to make payments.”

  “Well, go talk to Bren. She charges more for installments, and if you miss a payment, you lose the car and your money. And you still have to get your folks to do the paperwork because you’re under eighteen.”

  Whistling, he headed off to finish washing the car. Okay, so he hadn’t been a hundred-percent supportive, but he’d talked to me first. That made this the best day ever!

  Brenna was sitting at her desk, and she actually had a smile on her face too. She must have made some serious bucks at the auto show. “Hi, Robin. How’s it going? Sorry, I missed your folks, but we got a last minute opening for the Corral at the Tacoma Dome last weekend, so we ran down a half-dozen cars and sold them all.”

  “That’s great,” I said and sat down in the empty chair across from hers. “My folks wouldn’t go for the car. It’s a family tradition that we get horses on our sixteenth birthdays, and they just didn’t want one with four tires instead of four hooves.”

  Brenna rocked back in her chair. “I have to say that I wish my parents would have let me get a horse when I was your age. I love them. So, what breed did they choose?”

  “I had to choose,” I said. “And he’s a Morab. It was more of a rescue than finding one I can ride. He’s on my phone.”

  “I hope he doesn’t call long distance.”

  “Well, right now he’d be more interested in calling the feed store,” I said, “but I don’t let him touch it.” I passed over the phone so she could see the photo. “His name is Twaziem. Well, it’s actually Twa Ziemlich Sonne, and my sister came up with a translation. It means two pretty suns, and since he’s from Earth, I think it’s a dumb thing to call a horse.”

  I knew I chattered, but she made me nervous, just looking at the picture and not saying anything. “He might not look like much right now, but he’s actually gained weight since Saturday, and my brother deloused him. I thought he was part paint because he had these patches on him, but they were lice—”

  “Stop, please.” She held up her hand. A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I can’t deal with that kind of stuff, Robin. I went to war and I’m supposed to be tough, but people who hurt animals and kids just anger me.”

  “Me, too.” I took the phone from her and put it back in my sweatshirt pocket. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the car. I can’t buy it for the cash price you quoted me, but I still want it. Can we set it up so I can make payments? What would that cost?”

  “Wow. Do you ever give up, Robin?”

  I shook my head. “Coach says that winners never quit and quitters never win. I really want that car. Now, what do I have to do to make it happen?”

  “Come to work for me as a sales rep when you graduate.” Brenna managed a weak smile. “In this economy, I couldn’t afford to hire you now, but things may turn around in a couple years. Okay, let’s get out a contract, and we’ll talk about it. But, your folks need to come in and discuss this, too. At sixteen, you’re not old enough to make this big of a decision.”

  At least she wasn’t outright refusing to make a deal on my car. And somehow, some way, I’d make it work, I thought a short time later. The Mustang was destined to be mine. I patted its hood as I went by it. Soon, I’d be driving it all over town. I almost danced down the sidewalk to Dad’s office. Inside, I sang, My car. My car. My beautiful car!

  * * * *

  Tuesday, September 17th, 5:15 p.m.

  I was home in time to help Jack do chores. While I mucked Twaziem’s stall, I contemplated how to bring up the subject of the Mustang to my folks. Brenna had agreed to carry her own contract, which meant I wouldn’t need a bank loan for the car. I couldn’t get the money from a bank, anyway because I was only sixteen.

  However, she wanted the full price of twenty-one thousand, and I’d need to make a ten-percent down payment to start the contract. At ten-percent interest with five years to pay it off, I’d be looking at more than four hundred dollars each month. Brenna had told me I’d need to keep insurance on the car, plus there’d be taxes and other fees. That didn’t include gas or repairs.

  “There has to be a way to make this work, Twaz.” I scooped the last pile of wet shavings into his muck bucket. “I’ll have to figure it out. Maybe, I’d better buy a lotto ticket.”

  He flicked an ear at me and kept eating. I was lucky that my parents didn’t charge me for his food. He ate more hay than the other three horses put together. I put the plastic fork outside the stall and dragged in the bale of shavings. It was easier to spread them by hand than with any of the tools since Twaz stomped his feet and spooked anytime I got too close with the rake or the fork.

  I’d bet Caine hit him with a pitchfork or some other wooden handle. I remembered when he picked up a huge stick and went after a stray dog at one of our cross-country meets last year. I’d intended to rat him out to the nearest official, but Caine backed off when I threatened him with Jack. I brought the dog back with me from the trail, and Coach Norris said we were supposed to be running, not rescuing cri
tters. It didn’t stop him from taking home the Airedale puppy mix, which made Dad happy. He said he was afraid I would bring it home with us, and since she was at least six months old, he’d be paying Dr. Larry to fix her. Extra expenses weren’t something that made my accountant father real happy.

  Jack stopped outside the stall. “Halter him up, Robin. We need to delouse him again. After you do that, I’ll finish the chores so you can head for the shower.”

  “Come on. It’s gross. You should do it for me.”

  “If you’re planning to help Dr. Larry, you’ll be doing a lot more gross things,” Jack said, handing me a rope training halter and lead line. “Let’s go for it, Ms. Wimpy.”

  “Why do I have to use this, instead of his flat nylon one?”

  “Because I’ll be holding him, and I want control, not to get stomped when he has a whiff of the delousing powder.”

  “This is sounding more and more like fun.” I pulled a carrot out of my pocket. After Twaz ate it, I tied the halter into place. “Come on. Like Grandma says, ‘sooner to it, sooner through it.’ And this is the last time you’ll have to stink, buddy. Promise.”

  “Until next spring,” Jack said. “When we do all the other critters on the farm, you’ll do him again.”

  “Still sucks to be him.” I pulled him away from the hay and led Twaziem outside the barn. Jack already had the shaker can sitting on the lawn, a pair of plastic gloves underneath it. He explained how to sprinkle the delousing powder into Twaz’s mane, the dock of his tail, his girth area, inside his back legs, around his ears, and along his spine.

  But, that wasn’t all. I had to work the thick white powder into my horse’s coat. The acrid dust blew into my face, up my nose and tasted bitter. Twaziem snorted and snapped at Jack, almost biting him, but my brother just kept pointing out the spots I missed. I’d barely finished when a green and white sheriff’s car pulled into the drive.

  “I knew it,” I said. “This is against the law. It’s sister abuse and I’m so turning you in.”

  Jack laughed. “Go talk to the cop, Ms. Wimpy. He’s probably lost. Stay downwind so he doesn’t have to smell you, and I’ll put away Jaws. After that, hit the shower.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll hurry so I can come back down and help after I clean up.”

  “Don’t stress over it. I do chores all the time and I’ll make the dinner table. You’d better, too, or Dad will have a fit and fall in it.”

  I nodded and started toward the cop car, peeling off the plastic gloves. The big, burly guy in a dark blue uniform climbed out and came toward me, carrying a metal case with papers attached. “Hi,” I said. “Are you lost?”

  “Not if this is the Gibson place.”

  “Yes, it is.” I stared at him, aware of the white powder on my arms and the smell. So much for looking decent when people came to visit. That wasn’t happening. “Why?”

  “I’m Officer Yardley.” He started to hold out his hand like he wanted to shake hands and be polite. “I’m from Animal Control.”

  He stopped when I shook my head and didn’t take his hand. “No, I stink. What are you looking for?”

  “It’s more of a who.” He smiled, but it was still scary because he didn’t look all that friendly and the smile didn’t touch his dark eyes. “I think I saw the horse, but I’m looking for Maura Gibson.”

  “That’s my mom,” I said and jerked my head toward the house. “And what do you want with my horse? We just got him last weekend.”

  “According to his previous owner, Maura Gibson is the person who has him now.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I hate being sixteen. He’s mine, but Mom has her name on his papers until I’m an adult.”

  “Okay, then let’s go talk to your mother. And after that I want to see the horse. What were you doing with him?”

  “Can’t you smell it? I was delousing him. The vet said he had to have it done again today, and my brother made me do it this time. I majorly stink. And Jack said I couldn’t come in the barn until I had a shower.”

  “But your horse can?” The cop walked beside me toward the house. “Why?”

  “Because it’s supper time and he has to eat.” I eyed him. “Don’t you know anything about horses? Jack says if Twaziem doesn’t get his food at regular times, he’ll colic and that would totally suck. I have a ton of homework, and I don’t want to walk him all night.”

  “I can see where that would be a problem.” The cop looked like he was trying to hide a grin.

  “Yeah, and you don’t even know my teachers. They so need to get lives.” I led the way into the back porch. I opened the back door and saw Mom in the kitchen stirring something at the stove. “Mom, this cop is here about Twaziem. Don’t let him arrest my horse.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tuesday, September 17th, 6:05 p.m.

  Mom turned off the burner, then came toward us. “What have you been doing, Robin?” She sniffed and caught a good whiff of the delousing powder. “Never mind. I know. Go hit the shower, and on your way, tell your father to come join us. And after that, put supper on the table for me.”

  “But, what about Twaz?”

  “He’ll be fine,” Mom said. “Before the county can remove him, they have to serve us with papers and that takes time. Believe me, if your dad has to wait for dinner, that will be worse than anything you’ve ever seen. Get busy.”

  “Okay.” I headed for the study.

  Behind me, the cop called, “It was nice to meet you, Robin.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” I said, but I was lying. I didn’t trust the cop. Actually, when it came down to it, I didn’t trust anyone but us to take care of Twaziem. A lot of people would look at him and see death walking. They’d be like the guy who wanted to take him to slaughter, not put the time and energy into saving his life.

  When I told Dad about the Animal Control cop coming to see Twaziem, Dad hurried off to help Mom. He paused long enough to pat my shoulder. “It’ll be okay, honey. Take your shower and keep your cell with you. I’ll call if I want you to get our lawyer. Your horse isn’t going anywhere.”

  I nodded and headed for my bathroom. I washed my hands and arms before I got out my cell phone and put it on the vanity. Now, it wouldn’t stink like the lice powder. I slid out of my clothes, piling them on the tile floor next to the hamper. I’d take them to the laundry room and dump them in the washer right after my shower.

  I hurried through washing my hair and showering away the smell. Then, I toweled off and blew dry my hair. I hustled into clean underwear, a T-shirt and jeans. I didn’t bother with makeup, which was totally not like me. I always wore it, even when I did cross-country, but it wasn’t true that I had to look perfect to go to the barn, no matter what Jack said.

  I bundled my smelly clothes into the towels and went to throw everything in the washer on the hot cycle. Once that was done, I checked the meatloaf. It was ready. So were the potatoes when I poked them with a fork. Same went for the green beans—they’d finished steaming after Mom turned off the heat. I wasn’t putting the food on the table to get cold. Dad would hate that.

  I checked my cell. He hadn’t called. Did we need a lawyer or not? When I looked out the front window, I still saw the green and white sheriff’s car. Okay, so Officer Yardley was still here. Didn’t he have a home? And why didn’t he go there?

  I pulled on my running shoes. I didn’t need my boots. It wasn’t like I’d be in the stall with Twaziem. I was just going back to the barn to save him. There was no way I’d let this guy have him, not when he obviously hadn’t done much to make the Bartlett brats step up and look after him.

  Dad and Mom came out of the barn with Officer Yardley between them. I went to meet them. “He’s mine, right?”

  “For now,” Officer Yardley said.

  “For keeps,” I said. “So, what’s it going to take to make you go away and not come back? How do I make that happen?”

  “By being polite,” Mom said.

  I shook my head. “No
. I don’t think so. Mrs. Bartlett was dying of cancer and her snarky, nasty grandkids didn’t feed Twaziem.” I stared at Officer Yardley. “And he left him there to starve. So, why do I have to be polite?”

  “Because if you’re not,” Dad said, “I’ll ground you past forever and you’ll lose all your privileges, but none of your responsibilities.”

  I folded my arms, tapped one foot, and glared at him, even though it wouldn’t work. Dad was almost as stubborn as I was. The cop grinned at me, but I didn’t smile back. I just waited for a long moment, then another one and a third. “He’s mine.”

  “I can see that you folks are trying to do right by him,” Officer Yardley said. “And as long as he keeps gaining weight, I don’t have a problem with him living here. I’ll talk to Dr. Tomlinson about the prognosis and I’ll also be in touch with your farrier.”

  “And you’ll leave Mrs. Bartlett alone,” I said. “She has enough to contend with. She doesn’t need to be hassled because her family messed up when she was in the hospital with cancer. Harass them. If you want their addresses, I’ll get those for you. I have friends who still go to school with them.”

  He stared at me suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”

  “Hello? How do you do your job?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for an answer from him. “The three of them are rotten, and they had to learn to be mean to animals from somebody, so you should go after their parents.”

  Utter silence from the three adults who stared at me, then at each other. I didn’t have a problem ratting out the three Bartletts. It wasn’t because I was afraid of them. I wasn’t. I just didn’t like Caine who was overtly cruel or his cousins who were covertly abusive. Either way somebody helpless always suffered whenever the Bartletts were around, and it didn’t matter if it was a two-legged or four-legged person.