Bold Beauty (2 page)

The Barkers' oldest son was one of the few friends I'd made in Ashland, and Lizzy did a lot of babysitting for his five younger brothers.

“Tell Barker hey for me!” I called as Lizzy ran in the house.

I back-biked to Stable-Mart, pedaling backward to go frontward over scattered yellow, red, and brown leaves. The back bike looks like a regular bike, but Dad redid the gears and chains in reverse. It's just one of my dad's inventions, like the musical toaster or the electric shoehorn. At least I didn't have to ride
those
to school.

As I wheeled into the stable, I heard Bold Beauty's anxious snorts and the thud of her hooves echoing from the indoor arena. I raced to the end of the stalls, where I could watch without being spotted.

Summer Spidell shouted something at her brother as she galloped the mare toward a pole jump. She looked the part of an equestrian in jodhpurs and tall black boots, her long blonde hair tucked under a bowler. But her seat was off balance, and Beauty loped out of position.

Hawk walked up behind me. “She is magnifi- cent.”

“Hawk, they're ruining her! Look! Summer's going to clip that jump.”

Sure enough, Summer leaned so far forward that the horse took off too soon. Front and back hooves ticked the pole, knocking it down. Summer jerked the reins, using them as lifelines.

“Coward can't jump, Richard!” Summer cried, trotting over to her brother. “This is a waste of time!”

“Coward?” I repeated, anger surging through me. Summer was the coward. That's why the horse was losing confidence.

“Summer says the horse's real name is Howard's Lionhearted Lady,” Hawk explained. “They're calling her Coward's Chickenhearted Baby.”

I turned to Hawk. She looked great, as always. Her shiny black hair fell neatly to her waist, and the leather capris and buckskin shirt she wore made her look like a fashion model. But something was missing, and I couldn't figure out what. . . .

Then I got it. “Where's Peter Lory?” Hawk's exotic red bird, a chattering lory, usually rides on her shoulder everywhere. She'd named her pet after an actor, Peter Lorre, who played gangsters in really old movies before they invented color.

Hawk's expression almost never gives away what she's thinking. But this time her forehead wrinkled and her eyes glistened. “I had to leave him at Pat's Pets until we get back from Europe.”

Hawk's lawyer parents were taking her to check out a fancy boarding school in Paris. “Pat will take great care of Peter,” I said. “I'll check on him, too. And
you
get to miss a week of classes!”

Hawk stared off into space. “I do not want to attend a boarding school.”

“So tell them, Birdbrain!” I meant it as a joke. Hawk's totally into birds.

“For your information—” her words came out round, each one separated from the next “—many birds have remarkable brains. Chickadees, for example, hide thousands of seeds for winter and then grow new areas of the brain to remember where the seeds are. Scientists are studying
bird brains.
”

“I just meant you should be honest with your parents. You can tell them straight-out how you feel,” I explained. “It's like jumping horses—all a matter of confidence!”

A scuffling sound came from the arena.

I sneaked closer for a better look. Sawdust and bright lights gave the Spidell indoor arena the look of a horse show. The ring was the only thing I envied at Stable-Mart, but I'd lose the bright lights and make the corners horse-friendly.

Summer swore at her brother, dismounted, and reset the pole jump she'd just botched.

Richard climbed into the saddle and yanked the reins so hard I could see the mare salivate.

“Richard's worse than Summer!” I complained to Hawk. I wanted to scream for him to stop.

He headed for the same jump Summer had nicked.

As he cantered past us, I whispered to Hawk, “The stirrups are too short. He rides too far back anyway!”

Beauty pricked her ears forward, then back, the way horses do to take in their surroundings. But Richard tightened the reins and dug his heels into her ribs as they approached the jump. She
had
to be confused.

I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed the scar at my elbow, a horseshoe-shaped souvenir from the car accident that killed my mom. I couldn't bear to watch what I knew would be a lousy jump.

Thu-dump. Thu-dump. Thu-dump.
Then a silence.

I opened my eyes in time to see the rough landing. Beauty stumbled. Richard jerked her head up and plopped hard in the saddle.

“I can't stand it!” I whispered.

“Winnie!” Hawk warned. “Don't—!”

But I was already storming the arena.

Bold Beauty nickered when she saw me, her soft brown eyes pleading with me not to make things worse. God must have planted that look because instead of losing my temper—and my job—I stopped and stroked Beauty's foaming neck, turned a darker red from sweat. I inhaled the horse scent that never fails to calm me down.

“Take her in and clean her up!” Richard shouted, dismounting. “Her owners are coming by later.”

I stared at Richard as he yanked off his bowler and ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair. Lizzy says girls in high school are dying to go out with him, but I don't see why. Richard Spidell is the kind of guy who would lead a horse to water and
make
him drink. If Summer is a chip off the old, hard-hearted Spidell block, Richard is a chunk.

“Glad to help, Richard,” I said, doing my best to sound convincing. If I wanted him to let me train Beauty, I'd have to get on his good side . . . if he
had
a good side.

He straightened to his full, nearly six-foot height and narrowed his eyes at me. “‘Glad to help'?”

Summer sidled up to her brother, their suspicious expressions a perfect match. “I know what you're thinking, Winnie. And the answer is
no,
” said Summer.

Richard looked from Summer to me and back. “What's she thinking?”

Summer sighed. “Winifred Willis thinks she can do better with this
coward
of a horse than we can. You know what a great horse whisperer she thinks she is.”

I glanced back at Hawk for support. She nodded for me to go for it . . . but
she
stayed put.

“Look, Richard . . .” I chose to ignore Summer. “Give me a chance with the mare. I'll work her until she gets her confidence back. You don't even have to tell the owners—”

“Who do you think you are?” Richard demanded.

Summer laughed, a cross between a giggle and a cackle . . . a gackle. “If Richard and I can't get this horse to jump,
you
sure can't!” She sneered at me, then eyed her big brother. “Shouldn't Winifred be shoveling manure or something?”

Richard snatched Beauty's reins out of my hand so hard my palm stung. “Summer can groom Coward here. You better get those stalls cleaned if you want to keep your job.”

I watched them walk off with Bold Beauty in tow. My throat burned. How could two people I think so little of make me feel so rotten?

“Sorry, Winnie,” Hawk said as I hurried past her and went into the barn.

I pulled on rubber boots and went to work, stabbing the spade into a pile of manure.
This isn't over, Spidells! You can treat me like Cinderella and send me off to sweep cinders. But I'm going to rescue Bold Beauty if it takes a giant pumpkin and a fairy godmother to do it!

“Missed a spot!” Summer leaned over the stall door and pointed.

I'd already mucked eight stalls and had almost finished this one, which belonged to Summer's American Saddle Horse, Spidell's Sophisticated Scarlet Lady. I'd kept her horse in the stall with me on purpose, even though the high-strung “Scar,” my name for her, couldn't be trusted. Summer wouldn't have lasted two minutes in the stall with her nervous mare, and she knew it. Which is why I did it.

Scar kicked up wood shavings and paced. She'd been trying to bite me whenever my back was turned.

Like owner, like horse.

“I said,” Summer shouted, “you missed a spot!”

“Thanks, Summer,” I replied sweetly, flipping a spadeful of manure over my shoulder so she had to jump out of the way.

“You did that on purpose!”

I leaned on the spade. “Gorgeous
and
smart?”

Summer didn't know how to take that one. She twirled a strand of her long blonde hair. “Adrianna and Jeffrey Howard, of the Cleveland and Philadelphia Howards, are coming to ride their hunter. Be gone before they get here.
I
 have to go jump.”

Good idea. Take a flying leap.

She strode back to Bold Beauty in the arena. As far as I could tell, Summer still hadn't unsaddled the poor horse.

Hawk had gone home to pack for Europe, so I really was alone.

Now what am I supposed to do, God? You can't possibly want to leave your beautiful creation out there in the hands of Summer and her brother!

I'd been talking more to God lately. I still didn't pray like Lizzy did. She talked to God natural as sundown. But I'd come a long way since giving God the silent treatment after Mom died.

I shoved my braid off my shoulder and went back to mucking. I'd just unloaded the last bucket of manure when I heard Richard yell, “They're here!”

I waited for Richard to run outside and greet his customers. Then I sneaked to the arena to watch.

When he came back, Richard wore a smile as broad as a Quarter Horse's rump. “Mr. and Mrs. Howard, my dad's sorry he couldn't be here today. This is my sister, Summer. We thought having her ride your mare would help get it used to a woman. It's your wife's horse, right?”

“My wedding gift to Adrianna.” The handsome, dark-haired man put his arm around his pretty, auburn-haired wife. So they were newlyweds. “That horse won blue ribbons in hunt competition last year. I had no way of knowing she'd start refusing high jumps.” Husband and wife wore matching brown jodhpurs and checkered jackets, like Barbie and Ken at the hunt.

Mrs. Howard snuggled closer and slipped her arm around his waist. “I love her, Jeffrey. I just hope I'm good enough for her.” She smiled at Richard. “Jeffrey's parents belong to a hunt club. I love to ride and jump. But I have a lot to learn before I hunt at their level, I'm afraid.”

“My wife's being modest. She's a wonderful rider!”

Sometimes I try to figure what kind of horse a person might be if people were horses. I could picture Jeffrey Howard as a Thoroughbred, with centuries of good breeding behind him. Mrs. Howard, too—or maybe even an Arabian, with a fine, light-bone structure and a natural grace.

I'd expected to write them off as rich snobs. But watching them, I couldn't lump them in with the Spidells. They kept looking at each other like they had to check to be sure the other one was still there and okay.

I tried to imagine my parents as newlyweds. I remembered running to the car once and catching them kissing. I'd pretended not to see.

Lizzy had said just a week after Mom died, “I miss
us.
” She'd only been nine. I'd missed us, too, the four of us. I'd missed Mom and me. I'd even missed Lizzy and Mom and me. Now a new ache set in. I missed
them.
Not just my mom and dad.
Them.
Mr. and Mrs. Willis.

How many more ways could there be to miss Mom?

“Could I have a minute?” Richard tilted his head, signaling to Mr. Howard that he wanted to talk in private.

His wife took the hint and lifted the reins from Summer. “Let me walk her a bit and get us used to each other.”

“She's pretty lively!” Summer called after her.

Beauty tested Mrs. Howard, trying to stride ahead.

When they passed my hiding place, I ducked under the fence and fell in beside Beauty. “She likes to be scratched.” Beauty stopped, and I reached up and scratched her withers. “Don't you, Beauty?”