Chasing Dream (4 page)

7

Go?

“Don't look so scared, Ellie,” Mr. Harper says. “I'm just making certain everything's okay.” He pulls out his stopwatch and moves in front of Dream. I'm still sitting on her back, and I wonder if she can feel me shaking. “Hold her still while I check her heart rate.” With his stopwatch in his left hand, he slips his right hand down the groove in Dream's neck to where it meets the chest.

I can't breathe while he counts the beats of my horse's heart. It seems like minutes pass before he takes his hand away from Dream's chest and clicks off the stopwatch.

“Looks like 35,” he says.

“No!” I cry.

Ashley rides up closer. “Dad, is that good or bad?”

“It's great. Ellie, it's fine. A normal heart rate for a horse can be anywhere between 27 and 50 or so. Dream's is perfect.”

“Really?” I stroke Dream's neck. “You would tell me if something was wrong. Right?”

“Of course. What do you say we check respiratory while we're at it?”

I know that means breathing. “I haven't felt her having any trouble breathing.”

“Good. Move your leg up a minute, will you, Ellie?”

I curl my left leg so Mr. Harper can put his open hand on Dream's side.

Again, I can't breathe.

Without saying a word, he moves from Dream's side to her head. He bends down and studies her nostrils. I lean to the side so I can see what he's doing. I think he's watching her nostrils get wide, then relax. Wide . . . and relax. That's how he's counting her breaths.

“Got it,” he says. “She's at 12 breaths per minute.”

“That's not very many.” Tears push at my eyes. I think I'm going to be sick.

“Ellie, that's normal,” Mr. Harper says quickly. “Average respiratory rate is between 8 and 16 breaths per minute. So Dream is right in there.” He strokes her blaze and straightens her forelock. “I'm sorry if I worried you.”

“Why did you test Dream's heart rate in the first place, Dad?” Ashley asks.

“I'm not sure.” He shrugs. “You hang around horses as long as I have, and you get a feel for things. Sometimes you're right. Sometimes you're wrong. I'm glad I was wrong this time.”

So am I.

“Are you here to practice for your race, Ellie?” Ashley asks.

In all the worry and fuss over Dream, I nearly forgot why I came out here. “Right. I thought I'd practice quick starts. Maybe get Dream used to the idea of running hard in the arena instead of practicing all the gaits like we usually do.”

“That makes sense,” Ashley says.

I love the Harpers' arena, where we usually have horsemanship class. It has lights and everything. Sometimes we practice here at the fairgrounds because this is where Hamilton horse shows are held. But the Harper arena is really a better surface than this one.

“So is that why you're riding here instead of at your place?” I ask. “Because the race will be here? You know Galahad will win even if you don't practice.”

When I planned this race, I guess I kind of forgot about Galahad. I was thinking Ashley would ride Cindy Lou. And Dream would have a good chance of beating her, just like I think she has a good chance of beating Larissa's three-gaited mare. Those are both American saddle horses, and they're not meant to gallop all out in a race. Galahad, on the other hand, is a quarter horse. They're the fastest horses in the world for a quarter mile.

“We're resurfacing our arena,” Mr. Harper explains. “That's why Ashley couldn't ride at home. Don't worry, though. It should be set to go for horsemanship on Saturday.”

“I wish I could be here for the race tomorrow,” Ashley says. “Sounds like fun. But we have to leave right after school to go to the Raytown Horse Show.”

“Really?” Even to myself, I sound too happy about Ashley being gone. I try again. “Really?”

Ashley grins. “Really. Good luck, Ellie.” She reaches over and pats Dream on the neck. “I hope you come in first, Dream.”

It's turning dark by the time I get home with Dream. I check the latch again before opening the gate. There's nothing wrong with it. Maybe I'll never know how my horse got out.

Last Halloween some older kids let Cassie's pony loose. Some trick or treat that was. Maybe the same kids thought it would be funny to pull their trick on me now, even though it's not even close to October.

I lead Dream into the lean-to shelter so I can brush her, and I'm surprised to see my little brother there waiting for me.

Ethan, what's wrong?

I need you to help me with Coach.

Ethan's baseball coach isn't a bad guy. He just doesn't know what to do with Ethan, a great player who can't understand a word he says.

What did he do this time?
I sign.

I don't know. That's the problem, Ellie. Before practice, he gave us this big speech. Then we played. I know I did something wrong because he kept getting mad. Then after practice, he gave us another long speech, but he talks so fast. I don't think I could have understood him even if I'd heard him with my own ears. I need to know what Coach is saying. You have to come to practice with me tomorrow.

The race is tomorrow, Ethan.

Ethan drops his hands to his sides. Then he trudges toward the house.

I run after him and tap his shoulder.
How about Saturday?

Before the game?
he signs.
And after?

I work out a Saturday schedule in my head. If I do it right, I could be at the ball field to translate Coach's pregame pep talk. Then I could ride Dream to the Harpers' stable for horsemanship. I should be able to get back for the end of Ethan's game. And I could translate the after-game talk, no problem.

Deal,
I sign.

Deal.
Ethan and I shake on it.

Friday morning I wake up earlier than usual. I can't wait for the race. By the end of today, everybody in Hamilton will know how great Dream is. Even Larissa. I'm going to enjoy beating her for a change.

Like I do most mornings, I get out of bed and go straight to my window. It not only faces the backyard. It
is
the backyard—or part of it, anyway. “Here, Dream!” I call.

I wait, but I don't hear the sound of her hooves. Or her morning nicker.

I whistle for her. “Come on, girl!”

Since Dream first learned to trust me enough to put her head through the window and into my room, she has done it every morning without much encouragement from me.

I stick my head out and look for her. The sun is coming up. From my bedroom, I can see the whole backyard. I survey the grounds from one end to the other and back again. No Dream.

Panic rises as I try to see into the lean-to. The sun is still coming up, but I can see inside. Not into every corner, but almost.

She's not there. Dream is nowhere. She's gone.

My horse is gone!

8

Gone

I tear out of my bedroom. What if Dream ran away? She has never run away from me. But she must have run away from someone, somewhere, before I found her.

I should have checked our fence better. I shouldn't have stopped trying to discover how my horse got out of the yard. I shouldn't have—

“Whoa!” Dad stops me in the hallway outside the bathroom. “I missed you last night. Ellie, I really need those rhymes.”

“Rhymes? Dad, I—” I try to push past him.

“The rhymes for the barrel campaign? You promised you'd have a bunch of rhymes for me. I really need those before—”

“I can't talk now. Dream is gone!”

“What? What do you mean,
gone
?”

“I opened my window and called for her, but she didn't come.”

Dad smiles at me. “Well, that doesn't mean she's gone.”

“I looked. I couldn't see her in the yard. Not anywhere.” I can't stand here talking about it. I need to go look for my horse.

I race past Dad toward the back door.

Ethan stops me.
What's the matter?

Not now!
I sign.
Dream is missing.

Mom rushes into the kitchen. I keep going for the back door, but Ethan must have signed her up to date. She catches me at the door and opens it before I can. “When did you realize Dream was gone?” she asks. “I'll help you find her, honey.”

Dad and Ethan follow us into the backyard.

And there stands Dream.

“Well, that was easier than chewing gum,” Mom says. “Guess I'll be off for the cat farm.” She turns to me. “Don't suppose I can count on you for quarantine cat duty?”

I'm still staring at Dream. I'm too stunned to answer her.

“Didn't think so. See you folks later.”

Dad runs after her to give her a good-bye kiss.

Ethan goes over to pet Dream, but she shies away from him. That's a first. Usually she loves Ethan. He shrugs and goes back inside.

I glance at the lean-to shelter, then back at Dream. I don't see how she could have been hiding in there. I would have seen her. Wouldn't I?

“Don't ever do that again. Okay, Dream? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

A lot of mornings I ride Dream before school starts. But not today. “You rest up for the big race today,” I tell her. I give her a big hug. “We're going to show them who Ellie's Dream really is.”

When I step away from her, my pajama top is wet. Dream must be sweaty, although I can't imagine why.

I scurry into the house and get dressed for school. The last thing I need is to get in trouble for being late. Miss Hernandez might make me stay after school. And I can't. Not today.

I have a race to win.

I make it to school on time. But it's a lousy day in class just the same. Miss Hernandez gives us a practice math test to prepare for the proficiencies. I miss half the questions.

On the way to lunch our teacher stops me. “Ellie, I thought you said you were ready for math proficiencies. Everything all right?”

It's almost worse when a teacher is nice to me when I know I don't deserve nice. “I'm sorry, Miss Hernandez. Guess I better study harder, huh?” Studying harder shouldn't be that tough since I haven't studied at all yet. I will. I just need to get the race over first.

An hour after school lets out, Dream and I are lined up for the first annual Fourth-Grade Horse Race.

Colt and Bullet are standing next to us. Then Cassie on Misty, Larissa on Custer's Darling Delight, Rashawn on Dusty, and Aiden Zeller and Kaitlyn Ferguson, both on bay mares.

I think Dream must be as excited as I am to get this race going. She paws the ground and jerks her head up and down.

Brooks, a fourth grader and one of Colt's best friends, is the official starter. “Horses to your marks!” he shouts.

“It's not auto racing, Brooks,” Colt teases.

“Start your engines!” Brooks yells.

“Not funny!” Larissa whines.

“Go!”

Dream and I explode from the starting line. Most of the thundering hooves I hear are behind me. Bullet and Colt have already dropped back. Larissa must have had trouble with her high-strung horse because I can't even see her in my side vision.

For the first quarter of the arena, Rashawn takes the lead. Dusty's strides are so long he barely has to trot to stay ahead. After that, Dusty wears out and slows to a walk.

The two bay mares are running neck and neck. They're even with Cassie and me until their riders start bumping into each other.

“Move over, Aiden!” Kaitlyn shouts.

“
You
scoot over!” Aiden shouts back.

Their squabble makes them drop back in the race.

That leaves Cassie and me in the lead coming around the curve to the home stretch. Little Misty's legs move so fast that I see a blur when I glance at them.

Dream is fast, but I think she's fading. She tosses her head and snorts. When I try to settle her down, she gets even more restless. She's acting like she's tired of racing.

We drop farther behind Cassie and Misty. Kaitlyn's bay mare whizzes by me. Then Aiden's horse.

“First place!” Brooks yells. “The winner is . . . Cassie Bennet! And her pony, what's-its-name.”

“Misty!” Cassie shouts.

Kaitlyn gallops across the finish line. “Second place!” she cries. “At least I beat Aiden.”

The rest of us trail in one by one. I think Aiden comes in third, but it doesn't really matter to me. Only first place counts. The winner.

And the winner isn't Dream.

Some of the other fourth graders have come out to watch. They cheer and shout out Cassie's name. “Cassie! Cassie! Cassie!”

Colt rides up on Bullet. He's wearing a cowboy hat, and he tips it at Cassie. “Mighty fine race, Miss Cassie,” he says in a lousy cowboy accent.

Cassie is laughing like it's all just a fun game to her. She does a fake bow from Misty's back. “Thank you, thank you! But Misty is the real winner. Not little ol' me.”

Larissa storms up on foot, dragging her million-dollar horse behind her. I don't even know what happened to her. “I cannot believe Phony Pony won this stupid race.”

“Don't take it so hard, Larissa,” Cassie says. “Who knew ponies were so fast? Hey! Maybe that's why they called it the
Pony
Express.”

I laugh at her Pony Express joke. Then I congratulate Misty and Cassie. I'm really trying to be a good sport. I even tell Larissa she ran a good race. She growls something under her breath and storms off.

Everybody else thanks me for starting such a cool race. Several third graders have shown up. They claim they'll faithfully carry on the wonderful tradition of the Fourth-Grade Horse Race.

But inside, all I want to do is go home.

Dream lost the race. I wanted everybody to see how fast she is. And instead, I'm right back where I started. I am a loser. And even though Dream could never be a loser, everybody thinks she is.