A Horse like Barney

by Jessie Haas

  “I know,” said Missy. “Every full moon we hear your father’s dogs.” She snapped on the light, and Sarah put Barney in the crossties. “Anyway, Sarah, we’ll only be away for a week. He’ll be fine out in the pasture. But come ride if you want.”

  “He looks really hot,” said Jill. “And so do you guys.”

  Sarah watched Missy strip off the saddle. “Do you think it’s ever going to cool down?”

  “It has to,” said Jill. “It’s August, fall’s coming.”

  “But there’s another two weeks of August!” Sarah sagged onto a hay bale. A warm little breeze blew across her face. Warm breezes were the best nature could seem to do right now.

  Missy came out of the tack room with a sweat scraper, a bucket, and sponges. Wearily Sarah rose.

  “Can I do it?” Jill asked. “I mean, you could sit and rest.…”

  Until an hour ago Sarah had done absolutely nothing all day. Jill, she knew, had been changing a two-year-old, chasing a three-year-old, and trying to supervise an eight-and a nine-year-old since early morning.

  “You can help,” she said, and Missy handed Jill the sweat scraper. While Sarah rubbed the bridle marks off, Jill flipped the foamy sweat from Barney’s neck and chest. Splat! The sweat landed on the floor, like little blobs of whipped cream. Jill didn’t say anything. She worked carefully, as if it were the most important thing in the world.

  Missy came with a bucket of water, and she and Jill washed Barney all over, using big, soft sponges. Barney loved this part. Even the drips tickling his legs didn’t seem to bother him, as they would have earlier in the year.

  There was no room for Sarah to work on him at all now, unless she wanted to comb his tail. She sat on the hay bale, listening to the splash and trickle of the water, and wondering when Jill would say why she’d come over. It was so strange trying to interpret this new, silent Jill.

  All her friends had changed this summer. Jill was silent, and Albert was thin, and Barney liked being washed—

  “Sarah. Are you awake?”

  Sarah opened her eyes. Barney was wearing his white cooling sheet—well, it was nearly white—and Jill was unclipping him from the crossties. Now she led him out into the darkness.

  Sarah struggled upright. “I should do that.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jill said quickly, from outside the door. Sarah could hear Barney’s steps as Jill led him in circles.

  “He could have four or five swallows of water,” Missy called as she plopped down on the bale beside Sarah. In a moment they heard Barney swallowing, exactly four swallows, and then Jill’s firm voice, and Barney walking again.

  “She’s really good with him,” Missy said after a moment.

  “She has four little brothers.”

  “Oh.” They sat silent for a while.

  “Have you told your mother about Roy?” Missy asked at last.

  “I … haven’t figured out how yet,” Sarah said. “I’ll have to tell her what we’ve been doing.”

  “Is she going to be mad?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well …” said Missy. “Actually I wouldn’t blame her. And I don’t want to do it anymore, Sarah.”

  Sarah looked up in surprise. Missy was flushed, and she looked stubborn. “Okay,” Sarah said.

  “I had a great time,” Missy said quickly. “And we saw a lot of good horses. I just wish I’d never let you get on any of them. I thought you were a goner the other day.”

  “Me, too,” said Sarah.

  “If I’d only fixed that stupid strap for you—”

  “It’s okay,” Sarah said. “Nothing happened.” That felt like a lie because something had happened. But it was hidden inside, and she didn’t have to admit it if she didn’t want to. They were quiet for a minute and heard Jill giving Barney four more swallows of water.

  “Tell your mother it was all my fault,” Missy said. “And we’ll still go see that horse this weekend since it’s already set up—”

  “Okay,” said Sarah. She didn’t care about seeing the horse. She didn’t think she ever wanted to meet a strange horse again. But she would miss the grown-up feeling of taking off with Missy, free and unsupervised.

  “He feels pretty cool to me,” Jill said, appearing in the doorway with Barney. “Do you want to check him?”

  Missy went over and put her hand on Barney’s chest. “Yes, he’s fine. Just let me grab this cooling sheet, and you can let him loose. Thanks, Jill.”

  They walked up the steep path to the house. Sarah and Missy got into Old Paint, and Jill climbed on her bike and pedaled away into the darkness. Sarah was halfway home before she realized that Jill had never said why she’d come over in the first place.

  10

  A New Trail

  It didn’t make sense to tell Mom what she’d been up to until she wasn’t up to it anymore, Sarah decided. That gave her a target of Sunday or Monday—four more days.

  They crept by in a haze, warming up again from “high of eighty-eight” to “high of ninety-five.” If it hadn’t been for the trail ride, only one week away now, Sarah would never have dreamed of riding. Herky didn’t mind, though. He was fit and frisky and hardly seemed to notice it.

  “He needs a break,” Albert’s note said on Friday. “Go somewhere different—a couple of hours walk and trot.”

  Somewhere different! Sarah had spent the whole summer pounding over the same two measured loops until now she could hardly think of somewhere different to go. She went down the road, turned into a field at random, and rode along the edge, where the shade of trees was trying to cool things down a little.

  On the back side of the field, a rutted dirt track led into the woods. It looked cool and shady and, above all, unfamiliar.

  As they entered the woods, the deerflies zoomed in like a squadron of fighter-bombers. They bored into Herky’s neck and shoulders and occasionally, for a refreshing change, into Sarah’s bare arms. It was like a being stabbed with red-hot darning needles. Bug repellent meant nothing to them.

  Back when he was fat and sluggish, Herky would only have tossed his head. Now he pranced, jigged, sidled, stopped abruptly to bang his head against his forelegs, and once almost unseated Sarah trying to scratch his ear with his hind foot. Sarah broke off a maple twig to brush away the flies and stuck another in the top of his bridle, so the leaves sheltered the backs of his ears. “And you just—ow!—you just tough it out a little, Herk!”

  It was weird, she thought, how none of this scared her, though Herky could easily dump her with all his wiggling. She thought this, she even imagined getting hurt, but that didn’t awaken the feeling in her chest that Roy had caused and that she’d even felt on Barney.

  Was she getting over it? Cautiously she let herself picture not Roy and the flower barrel but the log, the little Morgan. A week ago that had given her a soaring feeling. Now she only felt pinched. She tried thinking about Beau and saw not his beautiful straight profile but the chain over his nose, the way he’d nipped at MaryAnne.

  Think about Herky. The trail led straight back through the woods with no steep hills or washouts, so Sarah was able to keep him to a steady jog. His neck darkened with sweat, but he remained eager and bouncy.

  After a while the trail made a sharp V uphill. By now the sun was nearly setting. Sarah looked at her watch. Three-quarters of an hour had passed.

  If she turned back now, that would be almost enough time—and she probably should turn back. The trail up the embankment was steep and rough, littered with stumps and tree trunks.

  But as she sat there considering, Sarah suddenly heard a car somewhere on the hillside above her.

  A car? Out here? Maybe she had a touch of sunstroke!

  Then she realized that not very far away someone was mowing a lawn, and a dog was barking.

  “We must be near a road!”

  A fly bit Herky on the belly. He kicked at it violently and surged uphill.

  “Okay, let’s!” It would be a lot more interesting to
get to that road and make a loop back.

  The trail got rapidly rougher. There were heaps of brush and big snags of larger wood. The ferns grew as high as Herky’s chest, so Sarah couldn’t see the ground. Herky couldn’t see it either, but he wasn’t in a mood to be slowed down. He plowed on through the ferns. Branches crackled beneath his feet.

  Suddenly he plunged, branches snapped, and there was a horrid, sucking sound. He snorted, like a gasp of fright, and scrambled up onto a small grassy hummock. Sarah felt his legs trembling.

  Quickly she swung out of the saddle. There was no room for her on Herky’s hummock, and she had to stand down in the mud. It didn’t seem deep to her, but it had shocked Herky terribly. He showed the whites of his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath.

  “Easy, Herk,” Sarah said. Herky turned as if just noticing her presence and gave her an urgent poke with his nose. Help! he said, as plain as could be.

  “All right, all right, but I can’t carry you.” Sarah looked ahead, picking out a path between the downed trees and the slippery, moss-covered rocks. “Come with me—and take it easy! We’re almost there!”

  The open-looking space where the road must be was not far, and Sarah picked her way toward it, scrambling to keep her feet out from under Herky’s. Now there was a stone wall ahead, low and tumbledown. She paused to wipe the sweat from her eyes and looked for a place to cross it.

  Then, for the first time, Sarah saw the three strands of barbed wire.

  Unbelieving, she scrambled closer. It must be the sweat in her eyes.… It had to be an old fence, and somewhere nearby it would be down. Or the wires would be weak and rusted and not fencing anything in.…

  But no, they were silvery and tight, and beyond them several pot-bellied Jersey heifers spooked and ran.

  Now Sarah knew where they were. Looking across the pasture, she could see the dirt road, and she could even tell which road it was. It came out on the main road about a mile from Albert’s—a short ride home, but they couldn’t get there. The fence was high and strong, and there was no sense looking for a gate. No one would put a gate in the back side of a pasture, just leading off into the woods.

  Sarah sat down on the stone wall and cried.

  If she hadn’t been alone, she would have been brave. But she’d been wanting to cry for days now, because of the heat and for other reasons. And she was stuck, and it was getting darker. She saw herself standing here all night, holding Herky’s bridle and listening to noises. Somehow it made it all seem worse, to know how easily she herself could slip through the wire and cross the pasture to the road. But she couldn’t leave Herky, to wander and break the reins and hurt himself. So she would stand here, while headlights swept by: her own parents, searching, and Albert waiting anxiously only a mile away.… Sarah let herself sob aloud.

  At last a heavy sigh made her look up. Herky’s head hung near her shoulder. His ears pointed limply out to the sides, and there were worried wrinkles above his eyes. He, too, felt very sorry for himself.

  “Oh, boy!” Sarah stroked his nose and with a loud sniff stood up and wiped her face on her shirtfront. “Okay, let’s walk along the fence. It has to turn a corner somewhere, and then we’ll just follow it to the road.” She said this mostly to cheer herself up, but she didn’t quite believe it. It couldn’t be that easy.

  11

  Sap Lines

  It wasn’t easy. There were huge boulders, downed trees, tangles of brush, and horrid little mud pots. Sarah had to take so many detours that she almost lost the fence completely.

  When she did eventually come to the corner, she found herself facing even worse terrain. Ancient apple trees, with spreading, snaggly branches, stood shadowed by the evergreens and maples that had grown up thickly around them. The trunks were so close together they looked like a stockade. On foot, or with a pony, Sarah might have made it. A horse Herky’s size simply couldn’t squeeze between the trees.

  Now what? Obviously she should have turned around when she’d first come to the fence. Dark was closing in, and she’d have to pick her way back through the awful terrain they’d just covered. How could I be so stupid? Sarah wondered, trying hard to keep from crying again.

  Herky tugged at the reins.

  “Cut it out!” Sarah snapped. “This is at least half your fault!”

  Herky tugged again. He was looking eagerly out through the woods, and Sarah looked, too. She thought she saw a trail.

  It couldn’t be! She’d been deceived too many times already, by openings that looked like trails and turned out to be pure imagination. But this opening led straight out from the corner of the wall, and it did seem a little lighter in that direction, as if the trees had thinned out. Sarah climbed back into the saddle and started forward—and stopped.

  Wasn’t this just what had gotten her in this mess in the first place? Shouldn’t she turn around now, while there was still a chance of the light lasting, and go back the way she knew would get her home?

  Herky poked his nose out, snatching a generous length of rein, and plowed on toward the new trail. Still debating with herself, Sarah let him go.

  For several hundred yards it was almost a trail. Then Sarah thought she saw an old wheel rut. And then, around a bend, a beautiful wide road opened up. Even in the dusky light the ferns made it seem green and lush as a jungle. Herky bobbed his head and broke into a trot.

  Sarah took one deep breath of happiness. Then, almost too late, she spotted the black plastic pipe that sliced diagonally across the road, as high as Herky’s chest.

  “Whoa!”

  Startled, Herky put on the brakes, and Sarah sat staring in dismay.

  Now she could see them clearly, a maze of plastic pipes, crisscrossing throughout this part of the woods. Just in the few hundred feet ahead of her she could see four places where it crossed her beautiful green road.

  They were sap lines. In spring they carried sap downhill to a central gathering tub—probably right next to that blasted road! Once again Sarah and Herky were trapped.

  Herky fidgeted. He really wanted to go home, and he didn’t understand why they were standing still.

  Sarah got off. “No, Herk,” she said as he tugged on the reins. And without much hope she took hold of the plastic pipe.

  For some reason she’d expected it to be rigid—it drew such a black, solid line across the road. But at her touch it waggled surprisingly. Herky started, as if seeing it for the first time.

  If it was loose, could she lift it? Could they get underneath? Sarah tried, expecting the pipe to tighten at any second. But it stayed loose. She could lift it over her head. Herky watched with bulging eyes. Was it high enough for him to get underneath?

  “Come on, Herk. Walk!”

  Since he wanted to go forward anyway, Herky obeyed, quickly and nervously, his neck just scraping under the pipe. Then Sarah had to drop it, as he pulled her forward. The pipe slapped against the saddle. Herky snorted and jumped and scooted ahead, and by the time Sarah got him walking there was another pipe before them.

  Sarah lifted. Herky ducked and scooted. Sarah dropped the pipe, and this time it caught on the saddle horn. “Whoa!” she shouted, and got him loose, and hurried on to the next pipe.

  By now Herky seemed to realize that he wasn’t being hurt. This time he dipped his head thoughtfully and paid no attention to the pipeline slapping the saddle.

  And after that he was wonderful, pausing while Sarah lifted the pipe, then serenely lowering his head and passing beneath, his calm brown eyes fixed on the road ahead. He suddenly gave Sarah the impression that he was taking care of her. Tears came to her eyes, and she had to stop and hug him.

  He was hot and reeking and not interested in hugs. They went on. Soon, though night had gathered dark gray around them, everything seemed to lighten, and just before darkness made them completely invisible, the sap lines ended. They came out in an open field.

  Sarah crawled back into the saddle, and Herky trotted across the field. He seemed perfectly con
fident now. Sarah had to trust him because she could hardly see. The field was a gray blur; the woods were black. A black blob moved and flashed a white flag, and was a deer.

  Herky turned sharply, and his hooves made a sharp, crunching sound. The dirt road! Sarah sat up straighter, straining to see, but there were only black tree trunks.

  After a while he turned again, and his hooves rang out on pavement. Sarah pulled him back to a walk. Out on the main road, after dark! She steered for the dim white line at the side of the road and tried to stay near it.

  Now headlights approached from the front, coming fast. Mom and Dad! Sarah thought, and jerked nervously at the reins. Herky jerked back and kept walking. Sarah heard the car brake and slow, the headlights flashed in her eyes, and it was gone. Herky forged steadily on. The backs of Sarah’s eyes prickled suddenly, and she patted his hot shoulder. “I love you, Herk!”

  Two more cars passed, both braking and sending out strong brain waves of surprise and indignation. A few lighted houses dotted the unseen hills, and soon, ahead, a long row of small, lighted windows lay stretched out like a string of pearls. Sarah could smell cows.

  Herky bellowed. A shrill pony neigh reached Sarah’s ears, and the drumming of hooves. Herky angled across the road and trotted with great style into the Joneses’ barnyard.

  The big yard light was on, and Mom and Dad were there, the car doors open as if they were just getting in or getting out. Albert came hurrying to take Herky’s bridle.

  “Sarah, where the heck were you? How far did you take him?”

  “Is he too hot?” Sarah asked wearily, starting to climb down. The back of her head throbbed, and her throat felt swollen.

  “He’s okay,” said Albert shortly. “Where did you go?”

  “I got lost.” Sarah tried to explain where they had been. It seemed to take an enormous number of words, and organizing them into sentences was difficult. At last Albert seemed to understand.

  “You came out through Wesley’s sugar lot,” he said. “So that’s not too far. I’m gonna take him over to the milk house and hose him down.” He led Herky off into the darkness.