No Horse Wanted

by Melange Books, LLC

  “Hello.” I picked up the butter dish and bowl of jam. “I already told you that her grandson is downright mean and nasty. He undoubtedly did something to my horse, and now Twaz is defending himself from Jack even though it’s stupid. Jack might have moved too quickly, but he’d never do anything cruel to an animal.”

  “It would still be nice to know more about the horse’s background,” Dad said. “Why don’t Robbie and I drive over to Mrs. Bartlett’s tomorrow on our way home? We can tell her how the horse is doing and see if we learn anything.”

  “All right.” Mom collected the glasses. “I’m probably worrying too much. We don’t know what made the horse kick. It could simply be an accident. If we’re all careful around him until he relaxes, everything should be fine.”

  “We’ll try that.” Dad glanced at me. “I want you to be careful too, Robbie. You’re not as big as Jack and I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  That made sense and I decided to use the training halter on Twaziem more often. Sooner or later, he’d have to figure out that the guys around here weren’t mean, but it might take a while. Rocky said horses had really long memories and never forgot anything, especially abuse.

  As soon as I finished cleaning the kitchen, I headed for my room to do my homework. I was halfway through the first set of algebra problems when I heard limping footsteps in the hall. “What is it, Jack? You’d better go rest that leg or Dad will have kittens.”

  “It’s Vicky.” Jack loomed in my doorway. “She wants to talk to you, and you didn’t pick up when she called your cell.”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. It was dead. “I forgot to charge it. I’ll go talk to her on the landline. How is she?”

  “Crying,” Jack said. “And since I can’t slap her folks, I came to get you. I hate it when she’s upset and there’s nothing I can do.”

  “She doesn’t actually want any solutions,” I told him. “She wants you to listen while she vents. It’s a girl thing.”

  “I’d rather solve problems than emote about them,” Jack said. “It’s a guy thing.”

  I laughed and headed for the hall, stopping to give him a quick hug. “Sorry my horse is so ornery.”

  “It’s okay.” Jack ruffled my hair. “I’m glad you saved him, even if he is a monster.”

  “Me too.” I walked past him. “Next time let Vicky tell you why she’s in trouble at home. She got yelled at for something her brothers or sisters did or didn’t do, or because dinner was burnt, or the laundry didn’t get done, or a dish was broken, or she didn’t mop the floor.”

  “I thought Lincoln freed the slaves,” Jack called after me.

  “He did. He just didn’t free the rest of the women or girls,” I said over my shoulder. “I have a news flash for you, Jack. Most guys aren’t like you and Dad. They can’t pick up their socks or make their beds or put plates in the dishwasher.”

  “They can,” Jack said, “but they don’t.”

  “Good point.” I kept walking and went into the living room to talk to my friend. It was my turn to let her snivel at me. She certainly listened when I whined at her.

  * * * *

  Tuesday, September 24th, 7:15 a.m.

  Vicky was already in the Commons when I arrived. That was different. I headed for her and passed over the latte. “Hi. What are you doing here so early?”

  “You mean on time?” Vicky smiled, but it didn’t touch her eyes. “My mom and I had a screaming fight after I got off the phone with you. She issued another of her ultimatums and I told her where to shove it. So, she sent me down to sleep in the daylight basement.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” A tear trickled down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I hate having her mad at me, but I just couldn’t stand being the family servant for another moment.”

  “But, the basement?” I shuddered, thinking of ours. “Isn’t it creepy and dark with tons of bugs?”

  Vicky shook her head. “No. Don’t you remember? It’s all set up like a studio apartment. There’s a queen-size bed in the living room and an old entertainment center, plus a little computer room. It has a kitchen and a full bathroom.”

  “What did you do once you were there?” I asked.

  “I took a hot shower, nuked a pizza, and did my homework,” Vicky said. “The soda’s kept in the garage so the kids can’t drink it all in a day or two, so I could even have a couple colas. I went to bed early, and then I got up this morning. I had a chance to shower again. I dressed and left for school. If I end up living there full-time, hey, it’s not all bad.”

  “It actually sounds pretty good,” I said. “Won’t your mom be looking for you?”

  “With five kids to feed breakfast, dress and get off to school?” Vicky laughed, but she didn’t sound happy. “She won’t even miss me.”

  I got up. I walked around the table and hugged her. “I’m sorry you’re hurt. Please don’t be mad at me when I say that I think it’s great that your mom has to do some of the stuff that you do all the time. She may be nicer to you now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tuesday, September 24th, 2:30 p.m.

  During classes, my brain whirled around Vicky’s problems. I didn’t know how to get her mom to back off, but I also didn’t think the basement was a permanent solution. Once her mom figured out that Vicky liked it down there, things would change. That afternoon, I hurried out to the field and saw the cross-country team clustered around Coach Norris.

  I hurried over to stand by Gwen. “What’s up?”

  “New route today,” Gwen whispered.

  Coach Norris glanced around, then pinpointed me with a barely suppressed smile. “Steve says that the team has a new leader, and it’s you, Robin.”

  “Me?” My jaw just about dropped on the grass. “Why me?”

  “Because when Gwen and Porter run with you, they P.R.,” Steve said. “Now, Olivia and her girls are next. It’s only fair that the guys get the same chance to win.”

  “A team can’t have two coaches,” Lew told us. “I’m happy doing what Coach Norris wants and that includes the route we run.”

  “Okay.” Steve glared at the other junior. “All the whiners can run the short route. Anybody who wants to be a winner follows Robin, and we’re back in an hour and a half. Deal?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Olivia agreed. “Let’s do it or we won’t kick butt on Thursday.”

  “Well, stretch out,” I said. “It’s Tuesday and we’re going up Golf Course Hill.”

  The team members moved into a semicircle, and Porter started a series of exercises. While people limbered up, I went over to Coach Norris. “I run six miles a day. I’m not trying to make trouble.”

  He grinned at me. “Hey, it takes work to build a winning team, and the most important part is attitude. Winners never quit and quitters never win. See you when you get back.”

  At four fifteen, I walked out of the school with Porter and Gwen. They had rides waiting for them, and it surprised me to see my dad’s car. I went over and opened the passenger door. “Hi there. What’s up?”

  “Did you forget? We’re going to see Mrs. Bartlett and investigate your horse.” Dad waited for me to climb in and buckle up before he moved the car. “I’d really like some answers.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s play detective.”

  I didn’t add that I wished he’d just believe me when I told him about Caine Bartlett obviously abusing Twaziem. I didn’t have any concrete proof beyond knowing him and his cousins, but it wasn’t like they’d shoot videos of doing mean things to the horse and post them on the web for everyone to see.

  It didn’t take long to get to Mrs. Bartlett’s home. Dad pulled into the drive and parked near the house. The row of kennels looked empty, but there was a guy cleaning them, throwing scraps of wood into the back of a pickup truck. My stomach tightened when he turned toward us. He was tall and skinny, with a long black ponytail threaded through the back of his ball cap. He sta
rted toward us.

  “Do you know him?” Dad asked me.

  “Yes. That’s Caine Bartlett.” I watched him approach. “Can we just go?”

  Dad shook his head. “We won’t find any answers by running away. Come on, Robbie.”

  “The guy’s a jerk.” I wasn’t about to act scared, especially when I was, so I pushed open my door. “Hey, Caine. How are you? Is your grandma around?”

  “At the grocery.” Caine stopped and stared at us, a sneer twisting his mouth. “You took the only horse we had, so what else do you want?”

  “To know more about him.” Dad came around the car and stood next to me, sounding super friendly. “Did you folks have him for a long time?”

  “Almost two years.” Caine sauntered closer, leering at my chest. “Granny bought his mother and he was born here. Want to know what happened to her?”

  “You killed her,” I said in even tones, longing to smack him. “The only questions are how and did Twaz see it?”

  “It wasn’t me.” He pointed to the woods at the back of the property. “It was Ash’s turn to ride her. Ashley was riding her, galloping down one of the trails back there. The horse went down, broke her leg in a hole. My old man had to shoot her.”

  “But, Ashley was okay?”

  “Oh sure. She walked away. That stupid colt screamed for days when his mother didn’t come back.” Caine shrugged. “It was like he actually knew who she was. Granny had a fit and kicked Wanda and Ashley off the property for months.”

  “Was the colt still nursing?” Dad asked, his voice low and grim.

  Caine considered the question for a moment. “Yeah, he was. It was kind of weird since he had to be two months old. He used to freak whenever we took his mother out to ride her, but we didn’t want the little snot following us. He’d run up and down the fence till she came back, whinnying the whole time.”

  “I see.” Dad took a step closer to me. “And when did you start beating him?”

  “I only threw a few rocks at him to shut him up.” Caine smirked at us again. “Get serious. It’s a horse. He doesn’t have real feelings.”

  “Can we go now?” I asked. “If you stick around, he’ll tell you what else he did and I’ll puke.”

  “Sure.” Dad patted my shoulder as if I were still five. “Get in the car, honey.”

  I did, but Dad didn’t come right away. He stood and talked to Caine for another ten minutes. How could he stand it? I just wanted to cry for the little foal that lost his mom, who’d been knocked around almost from the day he was born. After what seemed like forever, Dad handed Caine a couple bills, then came around to get in the car.

  “What did you pay him for?” I demanded as soon as he shut the door. “Horse abuse?”

  “For his answers, Robbie,” Dad said. “I know you don’t like him. Neither do I, but now we know some of your horse’s history. And I’m going to tell Jack to be a lot more careful. He has a certain resemblance to the Bartlett boy and Twaziem has plenty of reasons to pack a grudge.”

  I managed a nod while Dad started the car and backed out of the drive. Tears welled up, and I grabbed a tissue from the box on the console between our seats. “It’s not fair. He was just a baby and they killed his mom in front of him.”

  Dad didn’t answer for a moment. Then, he said, “You may want to rethink going out with Dr. Larry. You’ll see sad things with him.”

  “Yes, but there’s a big difference, Daddy.” I blew my nose and took a deep breath. “The people who call the vet when their animals are sick honestly care what happens to the horse or the cow or whoever’s ill. They don’t deliberately try to cause harm, not when there will be a big bill to pay.”

  “I’m glad you can see that, Robbie.”

  “And I’ll make sure that Twaziem doesn’t hurt Jack,” I went on. “I’ll learn everything I can from Rocky and Sierra, so I can teach Twaz that all guys aren’t mean.”

  At home, I changed my clothes and then headed for the barn with a brief pause in the back porch to grab my groom bucket and the garden to pull up some carrots. I’d halter up Twaziem and take him out to the indoor arena to brush him. If I kept him out there for the rest of the afternoon, it would be safe for Jack to clean the stall.

  I grabbed the training halter off the hook by the door, and then went into the stall to catch Twaz. He dropped his head so I could slide on the noseband, then take the rope behind his ears and tie a knot in the loop. I gave him a carrot as a reward. “You’re so good, and soon you’ll know the difference between us and the Bartletts. I promise.”

  I attached the lead line to the loop by his chin. He walked beside me out of the stall, down the aisle to the arena, with just a pinned back glare for Nitro when the other horse stuck out his head. “Don’t worry.” I petted Twaziem’s brown neck. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

  In the arena, I laid the rope over his back. I gave him another carrot. I grabbed my currycomb from the bucket and started to work on his left side. While I curried, I told him about my day. I didn’t mention the visit to the Bartlett place. It still stressed and hurt me so I didn’t want to put those emotions on him. I just talked about Vicky and the cross-country team and the way Lew puked halfway up Golf Course Hill.

  “Hi, Freckle-face,” Bill called from the hallway. “How’s the Incredible Bulk? After the way he’s been eating, he should start looking like a real horse.”

  “Stop being mean about my horse.” I looked at Twaziem’s ears. He hadn’t pinned them back against his neck. He wasn’t stamping his hooves. Instead, he’d turned his attention toward the gate where Bill stood and gave a low nicker. “You like him? Twaz, he’s a jerk.”

  “Hey, I heard that.” Bill leaned on the gate, grinning at me, mischief lighting his chocolate brown eyes. Then, he came into the ring and gave Twaziem a piece of apple. “Your horse has good taste. He could tell you that I’m a great guy.”

  “He doesn’t lie.” I couldn’t help but smile back at Bill, especially when he stood there and fed quarters of a Red Delicious to my horse. “So, why are you here? Did you come with Jack?”

  “Yes. I told Coach I’d help with chores so Jack doesn’t overdo it. Coach was threatening your horse with violence if Jack can’t run the ball on Friday night until I showed him the pic on my phone. This guy’s suffered enough.”

  Twaziem nudged Bill for more apples, and he gave my horse the last one. “So, you’re sixteen now.”

  “Yeah, and you’re so bright. Did you just figure that out?”

  “I can’t help it, Freckle-face. I’m a guy, and everybody knows ball players aren’t that smart.”

  “I don’t know that. Jack gets better grades than I do, and he’s done sports forever.” I watched Bill scratch behind Twaz’s ears. My horse leaned into the caress. Nice, I thought, but I didn’t say so. “And stop calling me Freckle-face. I haven’t had any since Felicia taught me to use makeup.”

  “You still have them,” Bill told me, “even if they’re invisible.” He winked at me. “And you know what they say about freckles.”

  “No, what?”

  “One freckle for each boyfriend you’ll have.”

  I felt heat flood into my face. I was so dumb. Why hadn’t I realized that he liked me? I mean, Bill really liked me. Why hadn’t I seen him before? Really seen him? He was tall, red-haired and nice looking in faded blue jeans and a hooded Lincoln High sweatshirt. I stood like a rock and stared at him while he kept petting Twaziem. Dimly, I heard whistling and knew Jack had come into the barn.

  “Bill, where are you? I thought you were going to start mucking.”

  “In here,” I called out. “Take your friend away and tell him to quit picking on me.”

  Jack paused outside the gate. “Come on, you wolf. We have stalls to clean. Leave my little sister and her man-eating horse alone.”

  “But, I like picking on your sister,” Bill said, giving Twaz one last scratch. “All I have is an older brother, and he always hassles me.”

  “
Good for him.” I hoped I sounded cool, nonchalant, not like I was weirded out because Bill looked at me in a new way. Or maybe it was just new to me. “And if you tell me that he still punches you, I’ll laugh.”

  “No, you won’t. Under that cynical attitude and smart mouth, you have a butter soft heart and you like me. You kicked my brother in the shins when you thought he made me cry.”

  “I was four.” But, he was gone, so I turned back to Twaziem who was looking after him and flicking his ears. “Really. I was four and he played me.” I gave my horse a carrot so he wouldn’t miss Bill and the apples. “Okay, so he was barely six, but he was still a player. You should know that a guy who brings you apples the second time he sees you is up to no good.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tuesday, September 24th, 5:45 p.m.

  Twaziem’s ribs still stuck out and so did his hips, but after ten days of solid eating, I could definitely see a difference. I knew Dr. Larry said Twaz had only gained thirty pounds but it looked like more to me. I finished brushing out his tail. Now, all that was left were those four hooves, and he didn’t like holding up his legs for me to clean them. Luckily, Mom was in the barn untacking Singer from her trail ride, so I went and asked for help. Even if he’d been great with Bill, I didn’t want to push my luck and have the guy bitten by my monster horse.

  Mom came into the arena and gave Twaziem a carrot. Then, she ran a hand down his left front leg to check out the hoof. “He’s going to need to see the shoer for a trim next week. Look how ragged the edges are.”

  I nodded. I’d seen the cracks, splits, and missing pieces before. “I’ve been putting hoof dressing on them, but he won’t eat his grain if there’s biotin or anything else in it.”

  “Let’s try adding in some carrots and apples first,” Mom said. “Maybe, we can disguise the supplements.”

  “Okay, it’s worth a try.” I petted Twaziem’s neck, and then I passed the lead to Mom. I took my hoof pick. “When is the appointment with the shoer? Can I hold him for Beth?”