“I don’t get brain freezes.” To demonstrate, Izzy took Madison’s leftover ice cream and sank her teeth directly into it. Everyone winced.
Hanna wasn’t watching. She studied Shy Guy, who simply stood tied by the other horses, lazily swatting flies with his tail. As she finished her ice cream, she felt buoyant, like a balloon rising into the sky.
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During dinner that night, a car came grumbling down the driveway. Conversation at the table halted.
“Are we expecting anyone, honey?” Mr. Bridle asked his wife.
Ma Etty shook her head. “No—not that I know of. But it could be the Goodsteins.”
Mr. Bridle rose to his feet and peered out the dining room window. “Not Jim’s truck,” he said.
No one spoke as the car pulled into the parking lot. Mr. Bridle and Ma Etty got up to answer it. The air buzzed with anticipation. No one had come to the ranch this late before, especially not unannounced.
After a long, loaded silence, a knock came at the door. In the other room, the door creaked as it opened.
“Hello,” Hanna heard Mr. Bridle say. “What can I help you with at this hour?” He stressed this hour, as if to impress upon the visitor that the late visit was unwelcome.
Heeled shoes clicked on the wood floors. Izzy got out of her chair and scurried to look.
“Izzy!” Madison hissed, but Izzy ignored her, peering into the living room.
“My name is Elena Baxter,” boomed a woman’s voice, sharp and steely. “This is my husband, John Curry.”
Josh followed Izzy, peering over her short head.
“Josh!” Fletch tried this time, but the kids couldn’t be stopped. Eventually, Rae Ann and Cade got up too, and soon Madison and Fletch couldn’t help their curiosity either. Hanna was the last to join them in the doorway, openly staring at the couple who had arrived on the ranch’s doorstep.
The woman stood as tall as Mr. Bridle and thin, dressed in a white, billowy blouse and dark-washed jeans. Everything on her gleamed, from her flashy earrings to her faux crocodile skin boots. Her husband, a stout, older man with a deeply receded hairline, huddled behind her.
“What can we help you with this evening, Ms. Baxter?” asked Ma Etty, her politeness almost sounding genuine.
“We’re here about our horse.”
“Pardon me, but what horse?” asked Ma Etty. “I don’t know you, and neither do I know your animals.”
“Yes, you do. You have my horse, Star Dancer.”
Ma Etty shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “There’s no horse here named Star Dancer.”
Elena took another step into the house. Something about her made Hanna shrink back from the doorway. Her face was all sharp angles, no dimples—strange for someone her age. It was like she had never smiled in her life. “I think you do. In fact, I know you do.”
“I’m sorry,” Ma Etty repeated, taking a matching step closer. Mr. Bridle stayed put, as if his wife was more fit to handle this than he was. “We really don’t have your horse.”
“But I saw one of your girls riding him around town today. The big gray Hanoverian—that’s our Star Dancer!” Elena Baxter clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ve been looking for him for so long.”
There was only one big gray Hanoverian at Quartz Creek Ranch. Hanna’s heart dropped. The woman had to be mistaken.
“I think you’ve made an error,” said Ma Etty evenly. “That horse—Shy Guy—was abandoned on our property, and we took him in.”
“No, no,” said Elena. “I think you’re the one who’s made a mistake. I went on a short vacation to Europe. When I returned, my beloved Star Dancer was gone. He must have escaped, or—”
“Then that was a different horse. When we took in Shy Guy, no horses had been reported missing to the sheriff.”
The two women stared each other down, despite the immense height gap between them.
“Do you know who I am?” said Elena. “My mother was an Olympic dressage rider. She was known all over the world.”
“No, I don’t know you,” said Ma Etty. “Or your mother. It’s not going to change my opinion on the horse.”
“I insist you return him to me. This is theft.”
Hanna only felt total and complete horror.
“How dare you—!” Ma Etty stopped mid-sentence and took a deep, calming breath. “Ms. Baxter,” she began again, squaring her shoulders. “Please refrain from making such unfounded accusations until you can prove it—with paperwork.”
“If that’s what it takes,” Elena said. “You’ll be seeing me again very soon. I promise you.” Elena turned, grabbed her husband’s hand, and yanked him out the still-open door.
Outside, the engine roared to life. The car veered at full speed back onto Bridlemile Road, the red taillights flickering in the window of the main room as the couple sped away.
Hanna burned from head to toe. She couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger—all she knew was that she really wanted to grab one of that woman’s crocodile skin boots and hit her with it.
“You okay?” Izzy asked her.
Hanna shook her head, unable to speak. Izzy hugged Hanna with one arm, frizzy curls brushing her face.
“Everyone back into the dining room,” said Ma Etty. “That woman has a case of mistaken identity. I’m sure we’ve seen the last of her.”
But a knot of dread had settled in Hanna’s stomach. She didn’t think Elena Baxter would go away that easily.
Chapter Seventeen
A dreary silence settled over the ranch the next day. Clouds had rolled in overnight, and in the morning, they turned dark and angry. Riding lessons were canceled because of a storm warning. Ma Etty didn’t even have the spirit to assign jobs that day, so when it started raining and thundering in the afternoon, she called everyone inside for board games and a movie instead.
It felt like a rainy Saturday when Hanna was little—when her dad didn’t travel so much and her mom wasn’t so anxious.
Paul came to the house as soon as he heard about the strange visitors. He and Ma Etty disappeared down the hall, talking in hushed voices.
Izzy got up and gestured at Hanna to follow her.
“What?” Hanna whispered.
“Come on. I want to hear.” They made off like they were going to use the bathroom but stood outside the office door instead, listening to the conversation inside.
“Baxter, huh?” Paul was saying. “Yeah. I do know her. They moved here when I was in high school, from somewhere east. I never heard why, but I did meet her mother once—Juliet Baxter. She went to the Olympic Games in ’68, I think. Came back with a bronze. Scary lady too, just like her daughter. I heard she left Elena a bunch of money, but she’s blown most of it on having horses shipped over from Europe.”
“Horses, plural?” asked Ma Etty.
“Yeah—gets a new one every few years. It’s a big event when one of those fancy trailers rolls into town, you know? But I don’t think she keeps them long.”
“Probably because she ruins them, just like she did Shy Guy.”
“I reckon you’re right, Etty.” He sighed. “She’s going to come back with papers, you know. No way that big horse isn’t hers. And she’s gonna want him back, now that Hanna’s fixed him up.”
“I know,” Ma Etty said with a sad sigh. “I know, Paul.”
Izzy noticed Hanna’s tears before she did. “It’ll be fine,” she whispered. “I’m sure of it.”
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
The knock came around 5 p.m. Ma Etty rose from her spot on the floor playing the banker in Monopoly and went into the entryway. Everyone stood up to see what was happening, but Madison ushered them into the dining room to start setting the table. Izzy and Hanna lingered in the hallway, and no one hassled them.
When Ma Etty opened the door, Elena stood on the other side dressed in jeans and riding boots, her hair pulled back in a tight, high bun. Beside her stood a tiny older woman with g
lasses.
Ma Etty did not invite them in. “Hello again.”
“This is my lawyer, Ms. Marcelle,” Elena said. The lawyer did not extend her hand but, instead, held out a manila envelope.
“What’s this?” asked Ma Etty.
“An injunction. To release my horse.” Elena gestured to the gleaming white trailer sitting in the parking lot. “I trust you’ll cooperate in bringing Star Dancer out so I can load him into my trailer, and I won’t report to the sheriff that one of your hoodlums stole him.”
Ma Etty’s hands balled into fists. “They are not—” She stopped herself; took a long, calming breath; and took the envelope.
Hanna squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, hoping this was all a nightmare. Her pulse hammered as Ma Etty undid the clasp on the envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. She read for a short time, and Hanna wished she could see her face.
Then Ma Etty’s hands fell to her sides.
“He’s out in the barn,” she said, her voice painfully quiet. “Will, can you—?”
Mr. Bridle set his hands on her shoulders and steered her back into the house. “Give us some time,” he told the lawyer, not looking at Elena, and closed the door in their faces.
When Ma Etty turned around, her eyes met Hanna’s.
“Hanna,” she said, gesturing at her to come over. She drew Hanna in for an embrace. “I think you know what this means.”
Hanna could only nod, her whole face hot and swollen with tears. They hadn’t broken through yet, but her nose felt like a volcano ready to burst. She didn’t believe it. That woman really was Shy Guy’s owner. His old, abusive owner. He’d tried to escape her once, but she’d found him again.
“I’m so sorry,” Ma Etty said. “We’ll do whatever we can to fight this, believe me. But for now, we have to let her take Shy Guy. Okay?”
Hanna nodded slowly. It would be temporary until they could get a scary-looking lawyer too. Right? Isn’t that how these things worked?
“But . . . Hanna.” Ma Etty looked her in the eye. “I can’t promise anything. If that Baxter woman is Shy Guy’s owner, if those papers are real, then we have to give him up. He’s not ours.”
“But she hurt him!” cried Hanna, pushing Ma Etty away. “She hit him so much he ran away from her! That woman is evil. She can’t have him back.”
“Hanna’s right,” said Izzy. “Elena Baxter is abusive. She’ll send Shy Guy back to the way he was before.”
“We can’t prove that she’s ever done anything wrong,” said Madison, who had followed Izzy. “There’s no evidence. Not anymore.”
Another knock came at the door. Mr. Bridle’s face turned beet red.
“We’re coming!” he roared, and everyone stood stock-still. He took a few deep breaths and then wiped his forehead under his hat and replaced it on his head. “Can’t stand those impatient city people.”
“There’s nothing we can do right now,” said Ma Etty in her calmest voice. “But we’ll talk to the sheriff later and find out what options we have. That’s all we’ve got right now.” She turned away from Hanna. “Paul, Will—it’s time to go out to the barn.”
“I need to say good-bye!” cried Hanna, lunging after Paul and Mr. Bridle as they headed for the door. She couldn’t let them take Shy Guy without getting to see him one last time. The tears that had threatened behind her eyes finally burst free, and they burned as they ran down her cheeks.
“You can go with them,” assured Ma Etty. “But don’t help them get Shy Guy into the trailer. We’ll see then what this Baxter woman is about.”
Chapter Eighteen
Outside, rain pelted the ground in torrents and the sky was so muddy black that it was impossible to tell whether the sun had gone down. Even in the parka Ma Etty had put over her, Hanna shivered as she walked between Paul and Mr. Bridle out to the barn. The black shale roofing shuddered in a gust of wind.
When Mr. Bridle opened the barn door, a gale ripped it out of his hand and slammed it against the barn wall. The horses neighed in their stalls. As he reached to get the door back under control, Hanna and Paul rushed into the barn. Mr. Bridle followed them in, latching it closed behind them.
Inside, Hanna pulled down the hood of her parka. The barn was quiet save for the gentle shaking of the walls in the wind and the occasional whinny of a horse. The air was electrified.
When Paul went to take the green halter off Shy Guy’s stall, Hanna stopped him.
“Use a different one.”
He gave her an odd look but grabbed a junky old one from the tack room anyway. Shy Guy’s shiny new nameplate flickered as Paul opened the stall door.
When Shy Guy saw the strange man, he retreated a few steps back into the darkness, his eyes bulging and worried.
“Hanna,” said Mr. Bridle, “can you help us get him out?”
Anger shot through her—not at Mr. Bridle but at Elena Baxter. At the whole world. Why should she help that horrible woman take Shy Guy away? She’d be complicit in betraying him.
“No,” Hanna said, stepping back from the stall. “If she wants him, she can get him herself.”
Mr. Bridle looked at her long and hard and then nodded. Instead, Paul strode into the stall with the halter hanging over one arm and reached to put the lead rope around Shy Guy’s neck.
Shy Guy pressed himself against the far back wall, but Paul wouldn’t give up. Despite Shy Guy tossing his head, Paul managed to get the halter over his nose and buckle it behind his ears.
“Shh,” said Paul, trying to calm him. “It’s only rain.” He tugged on the lead rope toward the open stall door, but Shy Guy wouldn’t budge. He’d put his ears so far back they were nearly flush with his head, and his frightened eyes flicked from Hanna to Paul and back to Hanna again.
He was terrified. Not of the rain—but of this strange person, of the tension and fear buzzing in the air. It felt like he could even see the tears on Hanna’s soaked face and knew something bad was coming.
“Come on, boy,” called Mr. Bridle, grabbing a bucket of grain. But even shaking the pail didn’t help, and Shy Guy tried to make himself as small as possible in the back of the stall.
Hanna’s heart crumbled. He was so frightened, and refusing to help only made it worse. Elena Baxter was going to take him away, no matter what.
She owed it to him to make it less painful if she could.
“Here,” Hanna said, walking into the stall and taking the lead rope from Paul. Shy Guy’s ears immediately pricked forward, and his silver head reached out toward her from the shadows. Hanna lifted her hand, running her fingers over his velvety nose. He took a step toward her and weaved his head through her arms.
Shy Guy’s nostrils flared as she brushed his face. He could smell that she was afraid. He nudged her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Hanna whispered, pushing his forelock out of his eyes. He blinked gentle brown eyes. “I told you I’d protect you,” she murmured in his ear. “But I can’t. It’s only temporary, though. I’ll get you back. We’ll get you back, Shy Guy. I promise.”
He snuffled her hand, hoping for a treat. She still had some stashed in her pocket, so she produced one, and he lipped her hand before eating it up. She was never afraid he’d bite her. He had the gentlest soul of any creature she’d ever met.
Elena Baxter didn’t deserve him.
Shy Guy waited obediently as Hanna left the stall, then came out after her, turning around so she could close the door behind them.
Mr. Bridle had propped the barn door open, and a cold, wet wind stole inside, shuffling a paper tacked to the wall. Shy Guy’s ears flicked back and forth, but not anxiously. He had no idea who was waiting to take him away.
Hanna felt like a traitor.
After ushering them outside, Mr. Bridle shut the barn door. The sudden noise startled Shy Guy, but at Hanna’s side, he didn’t spook.
“You did well with him,” Mr. Bridle said.
“I didn’t do anything,” said Hanna. “It was all Shy
Guy.” She was glad for the rain because it hid the fresh tears that rushed down her face.
Paul pointed toward the gleaming white trailer in the parking lot. “Let’s go.”
Together, Paul, Mr. Bridle, Hanna, and Shy Guy crossed the little bridge over the creek onto the gravel road, which now ran black with mud. The closer they got to the white trailer, the more Hanna wanted to turn around and run away with Shy Guy, off into the woods, where there were no Elena Baxters who could hurt him.
They stepped into the parking lot and Hanna swallowed. Elena approached in a hooded, silvery raincoat, so not a hair on her head was wet. Hanna found an ounce of pleasure in the big splotch of mud staining the hem.
Elena extended one hand for the lead rope. Behind her, her husband lifted the latch on the back of the trailer and lowered the ramp.
“I know what you did to him,” Hanna growled.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Elena shook her hand, emphasizing that she wanted the lead rope, and Shy Guy shied away—whether from the sudden movement or because he recognized Elena, Hanna didn’t know. “Now, please, dear, hand him over.”
“I know how you hurt him,” said Hanna, clutching the lead rope tightly. “And even if we can’t prove it—”
“Hanna,” Mr. Bridle told her. “Now is not the time.”
But she didn’t let go. She pressed her hand to Shy Guy’s cheek, and he watched her, eyes frightened.
“Yes,” Elena echoed, “now isn’t the time. The lawyers can fight it out later if you insist on it. Anyway,” she leaned forward and patted Hanna’s head, “what good would a horse like Star Dancer do an inexperienced child like you? He’s been trained in Germany by the best in the business. He’s a Grand Prix competitor. Who knows what damage your novice riding has already done to him?”
“Me? Damage him?” cried Hanna. “You—!”
Reaching out a third time for the lead rope, Elena plucked it right out of Hanna’s hands. Hanna grappled to get it back, but Mr. Bridle took her by the shoulders and drew her away.
“No!” Hanna shouted, reaching for the lead rope, for Shy Guy, for anything. She couldn’t let him go. She wouldn’t. “No! Shy Guy!” Shy Guy neighed and yanked his head away from Elena, but her grip was iron strong. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared as she tugged him toward the open trailer door.
Shy Girl & Shy Guy (Quartz Creek Ranch) Page 10