Before They Rode Horses (14 page)

There was a terrible cracking and ripping sound above my head. It wasn’t like the thunder or any sound I’d ever heard before. I looked up just in time to see a big branch of the tree tumbling down—right above where I was standing. I remember it now as clearly as if it had happened only a second ago. The big branch broke its way through the lower branches of the tree, ripping at the leaves and cracking the twigs. I stood there, too scared to move, and it was too late anyway. It was an enormous branch and I never could have gotten out of its way in time. Maybe it’s better that I didn’t try, because if I’d been anywhere but where I was, I might have been crushed very badly.

As it was, the branch knocked me down. I was stunned when I hit the ground. I tried to sit up and look around, but I couldn’t move because the branch was on top of me and I couldn’t see anything but leaves, everywhere.

“Sparkle? Are you there?”

He barked loudly to answer me. I couldn’t see where he was, but I could hear him moving, so I knew he was okay. Also, the sounds he made were perfectly normal.

Once I knew he was all right, I had to figure out if I was all right. I had a couple of scrapes and bruises, but I didn’t think it was any worse than that. I could move my arms and wiggle my toes. The thing I couldn’t do, though, was stand up or pull myself out from under the branch. It was almost as big as a tree and I was completely pinned down. I was, in a word, stuck.

I think what happened next is what’s sometimes called shock. Sparkle was okay. I was okay. I knew I was okay. But I also knew it had been a very near thing. If I’d been a foot to the left or to the right, I might not have been okay. I might have been hit in the head with the branch. I might have been paralyzed or killed. I remember those thoughts going through my head and I remember that I didn’t want to think about them. Then I don’t remember anything for a long time after that. I guess I sort of fainted.

When I woke up, it was raining. I was grateful then for all the leaves on the branch. They didn’t exactly keep me dry, but they did keep me from
getting totally soaked. It took me a minute to remember where I was and why I was there. The fact that I couldn’t move at all reminded me of everything.

“Sparkle!” I called out.

There was no answer. I called him again and again. Still there was no answer. No matter how loudly I called his name, he didn’t answer.

I took a deep breath. “Midnight!” I called out. The only answer I heard was silence. I was stuck, I was alone, and I was wet. Plus, of course, I was hungry, cold, and afraid. It wasn’t long before I was crying, too. I cried until I finally fell asleep from exhaustion.

When I woke up again, it was dark in the woods, but it had stopped raining and I could see some light from the sky above me. At least that’s where I thought it was coming from. Then I heard something. It took me a minute to realize it was the sound of Sparkle barking.

“Sparkle?” I cried out.

“Carole?” came the answer.

Now, I don’t want you to get the idea that the dog had learned how to talk in the thunderstorm. No, it wasn’t Sparkle who answered me. It was
Mom, and the sound of her voice in those dark woods was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard!

We kept calling each other until she and Dad found me. Somehow they managed to work their way through the thick leaves of the branch, and both of them gave me a hug at the same time. Nothing ever felt so good.

It took me a bit of work to convince them that I was okay except for being pinned under the branch.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Dad said. “I’ll move that thing for you.”

Now, I’ve never understood how he did it. Even though I was just a kid, I was pretty strong, and I hadn’t been able to move the darn thing one teeny tiny bit. Dad looked at me, then he looked at the branch. He reached down under it with one hand, bent his knees to brace himself, and then stood, lifting the branch right up off me.

“This way, dear,” my mother said, helping me out of the trap that had held me prisoner for so many hours. And then I was free.

Well, we all cried then. We hugged one another and then we cried some more. It was only after about our fifteenth hug and fourteenth cry that I asked them how on earth they had found me.

“Sparkle showed us the way,” said Mom.

I realized then that that wonderful dog, my very best friend, hadn’t abandoned me at all. He’d had the good sense to go get my parents and had brought them there to rescue me!

So, we had our fifteenth cry and our sixteenth hug, only this time we all hugged Sparkle, too.

It was time to go home then. We walked back to our farmhouse, and after a nice warm bath, I got into bed and slept and slept and slept.

I remember feeling this wonderful feeling of being safe and being loved and knowing that those were the two most important feelings in the world.

What I don’t remember is knowing that Sparkle’s real owners were coming the next day to pick him up.

I
WAS IN
my room when the Lefferts’ car pulled into our driveway. I couldn’t see it. I just heard it because the car doors slammed so loudly. Then a voice called out, “Midnight!”

Sparkle was inside the barn, but I could hear him bark loudly in response. He knew the name; he knew the voice. I looked out the window.

Michelle ran across our backyard to our barn. Sparkle jumped over the gate that was supposed to
hold him in the barn and ran to greet her. His tail wagged a zillion times a second, and I think he licked every single inch of her face. She hugged him and buried her face in his soft fur. I knew she was crying because she was so happy to see her dog again.

Then her father came into the yard. My mother was next to him, showing him the way, I guess. He stopped about ten feet away from where Michelle was hugging the dog and he watched. I saw him sigh then, as if his shoulders were collapsing, and he bent his head down. He was crying. I guess it was relief or joy or both or I don’t know what, but he cried.

The next thing I knew, my mother was crying as well. Then she gave Mr. Leffert a little hug. It was a sweet gesture—two strangers sharing a special moment—and it had a strange effect on me. It made me cry, too.

So there we were, four people and a dog, all crying our eyes out. I never felt so confused in my whole life. I was crying because I knew I was going to lose Sparkle and I was crying because it made me so happy that Michelle and Midnight were back together again. Believe me, crying because you’re happy and miserable at the same time is a very confusing business.

Eventually I went downstairs and met Michelle.
Part of me wanted her to be an awful pain, but of course it turned out she was as nice as could be. Anybody who owned a dog as nice as Sparkle/Midnight had to be nice.

Fortunately, Michelle and her father had to go quickly. They had a long drive to their new home. That was okay as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want Sparkle to leave, but I also couldn’t stand waiting for it to happen.

That night, when Dad came home for dinner, we talked about everything that had happened. My parents weren’t anywhere near as angry with me as I think they might have been, or as I was afraid they would be. I’d frightened them by running off, but they sort of understood. They were awfully glad that Sparkle had known how to find them and show them where I was, and we talked about what a wonderful pet he was and what a wonderful time I’d had with him.

Then Dad told Mom and me the most exciting news. He’d finally heard about his transfer. The Marine Corps wanted him to go to Quantico right near Washington, D.C. He’d been promised that this would be a long assignment, probably his last move. Dad said it meant we could really settle down. We could buy our very own house in a town,
and I could go to the town school and not worry about moving anywhere before the end of the school year. We’d have our own backyard. Dad told us that he knew there was a nice town near Quantico called Willow Creek, Virginia. He’d even heard about a house there …

“Mom,” I said, but I was so excited I could hardly talk. She didn’t hear me. So I tried again. “Mom,” I practically croaked.

“Yes, Carole,” said my mother.

“When we have our own house in our own town where I can have friends and we can live for a long time, can we, I mean, can I—please? Can I have a dog just like Sparkle for my very own?”

Mom smiled at me then. “Yes, dear. Your father and I have already decided that you will never be far from the animals you love. I promise you that one day, very soon, you will have your very own pet to love and care for just as you did Sparkle. Only this time, don’t run away, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed.

Mom and Dad kept their promise, too. And so did I.

“O
H
, C
AROLE
,
THAT
was a lovely story!” Deborah said.

Carole was very pleased that Deborah had liked it so much.

“And she hardly mentioned horses at all!” Stevie said.

“Right, well there was that stuff about the model
h
words,” Lisa reminded her. “But, then, nobody’s perfect.”

“More than that, she gave me some great ideas about what good parenting is,” said Deborah.

“Definitely, the part about not having a fit just because she did something stupid and dangerous
like running away and letting a tree fall on her,” Stevie said. “Personally, I think all parents should take a page out of that book. Carole, maybe you could tell my parents about how they should behave in case I ever do something just a little bit, oh, I don’t know, should I say ‘impetuous’? Actually, I definitely should say
impetuous
because that’s the word my parents are forever using—once they got tired of saying
harebrained.
It’s not my favorite word, though maybe that’s just because I hear it so often. ‘Oh, Stevie, you’re so impetuous.’ It’s not fair, you know. It’s not even true.
Impetuous
is when you don’t think about what you are doing. The fact is that I really think a lot about all those wild and crazy things I do. Anyway, Deborah, it’s important to recognize your child’s strengths and to appreciate them. Deborah? Deborah?”

All three girls looked at Deborah now. She hadn’t heard a word Stevie was saying. She was doing her breathing exercises and it didn’t look as if they were really helping her.

“Do you think maybe we’d better call the doctor again?” Lisa asked. Carole and Stevie nodded.

“I’ll stay here with Deborah,” Carole said. “You two go make the call. I know we’ve never seen a baby born before, but we’ve certainly seen mares
deliver foals, and if Deborah were a mare, I’d say she was pretty close to delivering her foal.”

Lisa and Stevie hurried back downstairs. Stevie dialed Dr. Husted’s number once more, and once more the doctor’s nurse answered.

“No, I’m afraid that Dr. Husted is still in surgery,” the nurse said. “It’s an emergency, you know.”

“So is this,” said Stevie. “Mrs. Regnery is about to have her baby.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said the nurse.

Stevie could tell from the nurse’s tone that she wasn’t at all sure. It was more than a little frustrating for her to have someone distrust her so much on the phone—especially someone who had never even met her!

She asked the nurse to let Dr. Husted know that they had called and that they were sure he ought to know Deborah was really about to have a baby.

“I’ll let him know as soon as he calls me,” said the nurse.

Stevie practically slammed down the phone. Carole joined them in the kitchen then. “She’s had another contraction,” she told her friends. “This time, it was just a minute since the last one. I’m telling you, she’s about to have that baby, for sure.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Stevie said. “Up until now, I’ve been pretty sure that everything we were doing for Deborah was good for her. Telling her stories is one thing, but delivering a baby is another altogether.”

“We need help,” Lisa agreed. “Maybe we should just call an ambulance.”

“Good idea,” said Carole, reaching for the phone. But before she could dial, a set of headlights appeared in the driveway. It was the first time any of the three of them had noticed that it was late enough to be dark. They’d been with Deborah for more than five hours!

“Maybe it’s the doctor,” said Stevie.

“Maybe it’s Max,” said Lisa.

“Look, it’s Judy!” said Carole. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Stevie shook her head in amazement. “How can you possibly be thinking about Patch’s leg at a time like this?”

Lisa laughed. “Don’t be silly, Stevie,” she said. “She’s not thinking about Patch, she’s thinking about the fact that we now have an adult here with us, somebody that Dr. Husted’s nurse will listen to. Right?”

“Sort of,” Carole said. “Come on. I’ll go get her
before she gets to Patch’s stall. You two stay with Deborah.”

Carole hurried out the kitchen door of the Regnerys’ house. She was only vaguely aware of the cool evening air that brushed her skin while she ran toward the stable. What was on her mind was a woman who needed help and three girls who seemed unable to help her. It wasn’t easy to admit that there were things The Saddle Club couldn’t do, but she guessed that if she had to make a list, delivering babies would probably have to be on it.