Tight Rein

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Poor baby,” Mrs. Reg said softly, with a sad shake of her head. “I’m afraid there’s nothing anyone can do. She’s dying of a broken heart.”

  Lisa’s heart skipped a beat again, for an entirely different reason. Carole wondered how often the space aliens turned out to be heroes—heroines?—in disguise.

  Mrs. Reg gave Chad’s arm a sympathetic pat. Without a glance at the girls, she sailed back down the aisle, went into her office, and closed the door.

  Lisa clutched the top of the stall in pure relief. Carole struggled not to laugh. Chad looked downcast. “I guess it’s really serious, then,” he said. Carole, still unable to speak, nodded solemnly, while Lisa averted her eyes.

  “STEVIE! STEPHANIE! Stephanie Lake, come down here, please!”

  Stevie jumped at the sound of her mother’s voice. National Velvet slid off her chest onto the floor, and she sat up and absentmindedly put it back on the bed, where she had been lying. She must have fallen asleep. She’d been dreaming of herself and Belle, sailing over Beecher’s Brook, winning the Grand National, the hardest steeplechase in all the world—Belle, the horse nobody wanted, and herself only a slip of a girl …

  “Stephanie Lake!” Stevie blinked. Her mother called her Stephanie only when something serious was going on. But what was her mother doing home in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon?

  “Coming!” Stevie yelled.

  “This had better be serious, young man,” Stevie heard her father’s voice say. Her father? What was he doing home?

  Suddenly Stevie felt very curious. She paused just a moment at her mirror—making sure she looked suitably tragic and afflicted—and hurried downstairs.

  Chad was standing in the entryway, holding his shoulders carefully square and his hands tight behind his back. He looked terrified—so terrified, in fact, that Stevie felt a rush of sympathy for him, until she remembered how her pink flowered underwear had looked hanging from the flagpole, waving in the warm summer breeze. No, Chad deserved whatever he was about to get.

  Stevie sniffed sadly and slumped her shoulders. Her mother came briskly out of the living room. “There you are, honey,” she said. “Your brother asked us to come home. He says he needs to talk to all of us, including you.”

  Stevie’s dad opened the door of his home office. “Come inside,” he commanded. He shut the door after them. Stevie heard it click and felt a satisfied thrill. Her dad shut the door only when they were in serious trouble. For once Stevie knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Chad must be quaking in his boots—or in his smelly soccer shoes. “So,” Mrs. Lake said conversationally, taking a seat in the wing chair, “what was so important, Chad, that I had to cancel my afternoon meetings and come home? I expected broken bones at least.”

  “Well,” Chad said. “Well, see …” His voice squeaked an octave higher, and he paused. Mr. Lake sat down behind his desk and swiveled to face his children, and as he did, Stevie caught the brief, amused look that passed between her parents. They weren’t truly angry, she realized. They were pretending to be angry. How odd.

  Stevie didn’t think that had ever happened before. Chad, however, didn’t appear to have caught on. He looked genuinely anxious.

  “Stevie can’t be grounded anymore,” he said. “You’ve got to unground her now, right away.” He spoke in a rush, his words tumbling out, as he shifted his weight nervously back and forth on the carpet. Stevie felt a flood of absolute joy. She tried hard not to show it.

  “Chad,” his mother interrupted, “are you wearing your cleats?”

  Chad looked down and swallowed hard. He quickly removed his soccer shoes and used his toe to scrub away the indentations they had left in the plush carpet.

  “She can’t be grounded anymore,” he repeated.

  “Why not?” Mr. Lake was a trial lawyer, and it showed in his tone of voice. He sounded as if he were interrogating a hostile witness.

  “Because some stuff was my fault, too,” Chad said. “It wasn’t just Stevie.”

  “What stuff? What wasn’t just Stevie’s fault?”

  Chad shrugged uncomfortably. “All those pranks and stuff. I mean, Stevie did them, but so did I.”

  Stevie coughed to hide a grin. This was turning out great—better than she’d hoped.

  “And what exactly did you do?” Mr. Lake picked up a pencil and twisted it between his fingers. Stevie had been to court a few times to watch her father work. This was what he looked like there. If it hadn’t been for her flying-flag underwear, and her riding boots, and most especially camp, she would almost have felt sorry for Chad.

  “I put whipped cream in her riding boots,” Chad confessed. He had started off with the most minor prank, Stevie noted. The whipped cream hadn’t been hard to wipe out.

  “Is that all?”

  “No—”

  “What else?”

  “I refilled her shampoo bottle with chocolate syrup,” Chad said. Stevie flinched at the memory. The syrup had not been easy to wash out.

  “Goodness, Chad,” Mrs. Lake said lightly. “You filled Stevie’s room with popcorn, too. I don’t know if we should let you have any more food.”

  “What else?” Mr. Lake interjected sternly.

  Chad squirmed. There was silence. “I glued the pages of her horse magazine together,” he said.

  “What else?”

  “I hung her underwear on the flagpole. But she turned my underwear pink!”

  “It was an accident!” Stevie cut in. “I did his laundry! I was trying to do him a favor!”

  “Oh, right, some favor,” Chad said sarcastically. “Like you didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “What else?” Mr. Lake continued, in a louder voice. Stevie shut up fast. “Chad?”

  Chad sighed. He seemed determined to make a full confession. “When you yelled at Michael last week for letting his bathwater slop all over the carpet, the water was really from a bucket I stuck over Stevie’s door. It just sort of sloshed across the hall.” He paused. Stevie figured that was all he was going to say. She knew she would never admit to more than that.

  But Chad continued. “The night Stevie got the ladder and was spying in my bedroom, Mark and I were going to use Super Glue to stick the little plastic horses from my old toy soldier set all over the tops of her boots. It was my idea,” he added hastily. “Not Mark’s. It wasn’t his fault. But see, Stevie saw us, and that’s why she started yelling, and that’s why she crashed into the flowers and stuff. And I put her boots back and I forgot to mention that they’d been in my room—” He glanced at Stevie. “I mean, I lied about it. So it wasn’t her fault. So she has to be ungrounded, right now. Please. It’s really important.” He shuffled his stocking feet. Stevie noticed the run down the back of his left sock. Hadn’t he worn those socks the day before?

  Mrs. Lake held up a finger. “Just for clarification,” she asked, “which pair of Stevie’s boots did you take? Her old snow boots?”

  Chad shook his head miserably. “Her riding boots,” he whispered.

  “Her new riding boots? The ones she got for her birthday?”

  Chad nodded. Stevie felt herself growing furious about it all over again. At least her pranks weren’t mean—except, maybe, for the tacks in Chad’s shoes.

  “Her expensive riding boots?” Mrs. Lake continued. “You were going to put Super Glue on those?” Chad nodded again. “Well,” said his mother, “if I had seen you do that, I would have started screaming at you myself. The popcorn prank was funny, Chad. It was out of line, but it was funny, and it didn’t hurt anything. This is different. It’s destructive. I won’t tolerate it. Do you understand?”

  Chad mumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Mrs. Lake said.

  “Yes,” Chad said. “I do understand. And I’m really sorry, believe me.” He turned toward his sister. “I’m sorry, Stevie,” he said.

  “Okay,” Stevie said. “I’m sorry about the tacks in your shoes.” To her mother she added, “I’m sorry about the flowers, too, but you know
I didn’t wreck them on purpose. I know how much you loved those pansies.” The garden shops didn’t sell pansies in late summer, so Stevie had had to plant geraniums in that bed.

  Mr. Lake tapped his desk pad with his pencil. “What’s the point of all this, Chad?” he asked. “Much as your mother and I appreciate your confession, you had gotten away with everything. Why tell us about it now?”

  Chad bit his lip. “I went to Pine Hollow yesterday, and again today,” he said. “Stevie’s horse is really sick. She misses Stevie so much, she’s dying. If she doesn’t see Stevie soon, she’s really going to die. And I know how much Stevie loves Belle. I don’t want Belle’s blood on my hands. I’m sorry. I had to tell you. You have to let Stevie see her horse.” His voice rose anxiously with the last words.

  Stevie tried to look sorrowful all over again, and shocked, as if Belle’s illness were a complete surprise.

  Mr. Lake’s stern expression changed. His lips twitched, and his eyebrows arched in disbelief. “Stevie’s horse is dying?” he repeated.

  “I know it sounds weird, but she is,” Chad persisted. “Mrs. Reg said so. She said poor Belle was dying of a broken heart.” His voice trembled with earnestness.

  “Oh, Chad, I really doubt—” his mother began.

  “Mrs. Reg said so! And I saw Belle. She looks it, too!”

  Stevie’s parents looked at each other. There was a long silence. Stevie struggled to keep a suitably solemn face. She held her breath.

  “Well,” Mrs. Lake said at last, “we hope you two have learned a lesson.”

  Chad nodded and said yes. Stevie didn’t say anything.

  “These constant pranks have absolutely got to stop,” Mrs. Lake continued. “On the other hand—”

  Stevie exhaled. She’d been so hoping there was an other hand.

  “—On the other hand, Stevie, you’ve behaved well during your punishment. You haven’t tried to sneak out to Pine Hollow, you haven’t tried to call your friends, and you’ve behaved civilly to the rest of us, even though it appears you had reason to be angry at Chad. Also, the flowers look nice, and I know you paid for your share of them and the screen door.”

  Stevie nodded. Her piggy bank would never be the same.

  “So you seem to have been punished enough,” her father said. He turned to Chad. “However, in view of your recent testimony, young man, you don’t seem to have been punished enough. Do you agree?”

  Chad hung his head. “I guess so.”

  “Good. Admission of guilt allows for leniency in sentencing. You’re grounded, Chad, but only for four days.”

  “Starting when?” Chad asked. Stevie knew he had two soccer games on Saturday.

  “Starting now.”

  “What about me?” Stevie asked.

  Her parents smiled at each other. “You’re ungrounded,” Mrs. Lake said. “Starting now.”

  Even though after all this Stevie had been expecting her mother to say that, she could still hardly believe it. “You mean it?” she asked. “I can go to camp?”

  Mr. Lake smiled. “You can go to camp.”

  “Yippeeee!” Stevie jumped in the air. Chad grabbed her by the arm.

  “You’ve got to get to Pine Hollow!” he urged her. “Hurry! Right away!”

  Stevie looked at her parents, who nodded. She dashed for the office door. Then she stopped and turned. Chad looked so worried about Belle. He’d looked so worried the whole time he was talking to their parents. He’d done all this for her.

  Stevie was surprised at herself, but suddenly she felt she didn’t want Chad to worry anymore. “Can Chad come with me to Pine Hollow?” she asked. “Just so he can see how Belle is doing now?”

  Stevie’s parents looked as surprised as she felt. “Okay,” her mother said after a pause. “But on your honor, Chad. Come straight home when you’re through. You’ll be grounded as soon as you get back.”

  “Thanks!” Chad said. He struggled into his shoes, then beat Stevie to the front door. “C’mon! We don’t have any time to lose!”

  STEVIE KNEW SHE WAS in pretty good shape, but with all the soccer Chad played he easily outran her to Pine Hollow. He was waiting outside the stable door when Stevie got there, breathing hard. “Just a minute!” she gasped. “Let me get my breath.” Chad pounded her on the back while she bent over and coughed.

  “Okay.” Stevie stood and looked around her. After her four-day absence, Pine Hollow seemed more beautiful than ever before. For a moment Stevie let her gaze wander over the lovely riding ring, the beautiful horses grazing in the pasture, the indoor arena, the manure pile, Max’s ancient, rusted-out truck … it all looked so amazingly wonderful. Stevie drew in a deep, pleased breath. She was so glad to be back.

  “C’mon,” Chad said. “Belle needs you!”

  “Oh, right.” Stevie went into the stable. “Belle!” she cried out. “Belle! Belle! Here I come!”

  From around the corner came Belle’s high-pitched whinny. Stevie began to grin. How she had missed that sound!

  “She hears you!” Chad said. He broke into a run.

  “Hey!” Stevie called after him. “No running in the stable!” It was a safety rule. Also, Stevie wanted to savor the moment. While Chad hopped up and down impatiently, Stevie walked slowly around the corner.

  “Oh, Belle!” Despite herself, Stevie ran the last few steps to her mare’s stall. Belle had indeed heard Stevie’s voice and responded. She had thrust her head and neck over the half door of the stall and was looking eagerly, ears up and eyes bright, down the aisle in the direction of Stevie’s voice. When she saw Stevie, she began to bob her head and whicker.

  Stevie threw her arms around Belle’s neck. “Oh, my sweet, darling horse,” she crooned. “Did you miss me? I missed you!” Belle nuzzled Stevie’s shirt. Stevie buried her face in Belle’s neck and breathed in the rich, wonderful smell of her horse.

  “It’s a miracle!” Stevie opened her eyes. Chad was staring thunderstruck at Belle. “A miracle, Stevie!” he repeated, wide-eyed. “If you saw what she looked like this morning—she’s so much better now. It’s unbelievable.”

  He patted Belle softly on the nose, his eyes wide with wonderment. “Gee, Lisa and Carole were right all along. They said Belle needed you. They were right. Look at her. She’s been cured by love.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Stevie said. She was so happy to see Belle that at that exact moment she would have given Chad her new riding boots, gladly, and let him fill them to their tops with whipped cream or sour cream or whatever, and glue whole herds of plastic horses on them, in exchange for being with her beloved horse again. Not to mention being able to go to camp. Stevie loved her brother as she never had before.

  Of course, she reflected, the whole mess had really been his fault all along. If he hadn’t been such a brat, she wouldn’t have needed to spy on him.

  “Do you think we should give her some grain?” Chad asked eagerly.

  “Sure,” Stevie said. “A little extra won’t hurt her.”

  “Extra?” Chad looked puzzled. “But she’s hardly been eating at all, Stevie. It’s not extra.”

  “I mean,” Stevie amended, “it won’t hurt her to have a little in the middle of the afternoon. Sure.”

  They went together to the feed room and got half a scoop of grain. Chad very carefully poured it into the bucket in Belle’s stall. Belle dived for it. She seemed delighted at the unexpected treat.

  “She’s eating!” Chad said.

  “Yay!” Stevie cheered. Belle looked up briefly at the noise, then went back to the grain.

  “I just can’t believe how much better she looks,” Chad said. “Yesterday her coat was all dark, and this morning she looked almost unconscious.”

  “I was really worried about her,” Stevie said, stroking Belle’s shining neck. “Yesterday, when Carole said it could be colic—that was bad.”

  “I heard you crying,” Chad said.

  Stevie looked at her brother. Most of the time she detested him, but ev
ery once in a while … “That was a really nice thing you did, Chad,” she said. “Making Mom and Dad come home in the afternoon, and telling them about everything you did.”

  Chad blushed. “I was afraid to wait until dinner,” he said. “It might have been too late for Belle by then. Anyway, I didn’t do much. All I did was tell the truth.”

  “Which was probably more than I would have done,” Stevie said in a sudden burst of honesty.

  “Even if my horse was dying? If I had a horse, or something else I loved as much as you loved Belle, and it was dying, don’t you think you would have done the same thing for me?”

  “Maybe,” Stevie admitted. She smiled. “I might have, but you did. Thank you, Chad. Now Belle’s okay, and I get to go to camp and everything. Thank you, very much.”

  “You’re welcome.” Chad looked at Stevie with a shy smile. “Don’t hug me or anything, okay? People could be watching.”

  Stevie nodded. “As long as you promise not to hug me, either,” she said.

  “IT’S BEAUTIFUL,” Carole said mistily. “Like the happy ending of a movie. Two sworn enemies declaring their secret, undying love for one another … it almost chokes me up.”

  “Almost,” Lisa said. “Not quite. I agree with the sworn enemies part, but ‘undying love’? I think what Stevie and Chad have is more like secret, undying tolerance.”

  “Still, look at them!”

  Lisa looked, peeking through a large crack between the boards of Barq’s stall. She and Carole had been helping Red clean stalls when they heard Stevie and Chad enter the barn. As quickly as they could, they’d hidden themselves in the stall they were cleaning. Luckily, it was across the aisle and only a little way down from Belle’s stall. They’d been able to see all of Stevie’s joyful reunion with her horse.

  Now Stevie and Chad were talking earnestly, in soft voices Lisa couldn’t quite hear. She strained her ears. “She gets to go to camp!” she told Carole at last.

  “All right!” Carole whispered. She and Lisa exchanged quick hugs of delight.