Carole (23 page)

Inside, I found Ginger, the dog, but nobody else. Biting back my panic, I went back outside to check the barn and found that Kismet and Jiminy Cricket were both gone. That was when I realized my terrible fears had come true.

My heart sank like a stone. I noticed that Kismet’s blanket was neatly folded and her stall door latched shut, while Jiminy’s door hung open and his blanket was crumpled carelessly on the ground. From that, I figured that Jessie had gone out alone and Louise had followed her in a hurry to catch up. Automatically I picked up Jiminy’s blanket. It was still warm, so I knew Louise hadn’t been gone long.

I ran back to the house to call for help, dripping snow across the kitchen floor. But the phone was dead. I remembered
Aunt Jessie’s words:
“The roads aren’t always passable, and the phones don’t always work.”

I couldn’t use the phone. I couldn’t use the snowmobile. So I did the only thing I could: I saddled up Spice, the big workhorse, and went out after them. I tried to figure out what I might need in an emergency. I brought some rope, a few extra stirrup leathers, and a large flashlight I found in the tack trunk. By the time Spice and I headed out into the snow, which was falling faster now, my hands were trembling—with fear, not cold. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong, that my aunt and cousin were already somehow in trouble.

Ginger followed as Spice trudged through the snow. I did my best to light our way with the flashlight, holding both reins in one hand. I was more scared than I’ve ever been. I wasn’t sure I could find the lake again. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do even if I did find it. But at least Spice’s large, warm, solid presence was comforting. I wondered if the horse could possibly know how totally my life depended on him. I hoped he wouldn’t let me down.

A few minutes later, I noticed that Ginger wasn’t with us anymore. I looked around and called to him, but there was no answering bark. I didn’t have time to worry about the dog then. I figured he must have returned home.

I was so cold I could barely move. The cold made me tired, and I was afraid of falling asleep, slipping out of the saddle, and never waking up again.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually the landscape grew rockier, and I was pretty sure we were getting close to
the lake. Suddenly a sound came from ahead. Moments later a large shape galloped into my flashlight’s beam, moving awkwardly through the deep, drifting snow. It was Kismet, his saddle empty and his stirrups flying. I gulped and felt another stab of panic. Then another horse came into view ahead—Jiminy. This time there was a rider in the saddle. “Louise!” I shouted.

She waved frantically. “Carole! Carole, hurry!” When I reached her, I saw her eyes were wide with fear. “It’s Jessie. She’s on the ice—stuck in rocks. Oh, Carole, I didn’t know what to do!” She let out a sob.

“It’ll be okay,” I said as soothingly as I could. “Tell me what happened so we can go help her.”

Louise nodded tearfully. “She was up on the rocks. She wanted to get a picture from a certain angle, and she couldn’t quite get it. She kept asking Kismet to turn—and she wasn’t paying attention to the footing. Kismet slipped on the ice and threw her. She’s fallen into a crevice in the rocks, and she’s hurt and she can’t get out.” Louise drew in a long, quivering breath. “I’ve got to get help—I’ve got to get home—but it’s going to take too long and I don’t know what to do.”

I understood and agreed. It was way too cold for Jessie to lie unmoving. She would freeze to death before either Louise or I could return with help.

“We’ll have to save her ourselves,” I told Louise.

“But I don’t know what to do!” she wailed.

I felt a moment’s frustration. By getting so upset, Louise was only making things worse. I wished that Stevie and Lisa were there to help me.

Even thinking of them gave me courage. Somehow I got Louise to stop sobbing and lead me back to Jessie. As soon as I saw her, I knew the situation was bad. I rode Spice as close as I could to the crevice where she was stuck, leaving Louise back at the foot of the rocks, and dismounted.

I knelt in the snow. “Aunt Jessie!” I called.

Jessie didn’t move or open her eyes. “Go ’way,” she mumbled. I could barely hear the words above the wind.

“Where are you hurt?” I shouted. I was afraid to try to move her without finding out whether she’d hurt her back or her head.

Jessie just mumbled a few things that didn’t make sense. I could tell she was too tired to understand what was going on. I was afraid that if I didn’t do something, she would fall asleep, and then …

Suddenly I thought of Stevie.
What would she do in a situation like this?

The answer came to me. I bent my face to Jessie’s ear. “Knock knock!” I said loudly.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “What?”

“Knock knock,” I repeated.

“Who’s there?” she responded automatically.

“Banana.”

“Banana who?”

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Banana.”

“Banana who?” By now Jessie looked a little more alert.

“Knock knock.”

“Who’s there?” This time she actually looked irritated.

“Orange,” I said.

Jessie smiled. “Orange who?”

“Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?”

Jessie laughed. “No more bananas.” She blinked. “Carole.”

I was relieved. She recognized me, and that was a start. I asked her again where she was hurt, and this time she understood.

“My arm. My left arm below the elbow.” She grimaced. “It’s hurt so badly that I can’t pull myself out.”

I examined the way she was stuck. Her hips were caught in a gap in the rocks. Her left arm had come down hard on a rock, but her head and shoulders weren’t trapped. I tried gently pulling her while she wriggled to free herself, but that didn’t work.

Jessie had started to shiver uncontrollably. “It’s more of an … in-and-out … than an up-and-down,” she said through teeth clenched in pain.

I studied the problem again.
What would Lisa do?
I wondered. Then it came to me. I took the rope I’d brought and looped it under Jessie’s arms and across her back. With one of the stirrup leathers I buckled her upper left arm tight against her side to keep it from moving.

Then I looped the other end of the rope over the horn on Spice’s Western saddle. “Pull, Spice!” I urged him.

Spice began to strain against the rope. Jessie slowly slid free of the crevice, crying out in pain. We’d done it!

I maneuvered Jessie to Spice’s side and held her against the horse’s thick fur, hoping she could feel some of the
warmth of his body. When I looked up at him, Spice seemed to have grown twice as tall since I’d started out. How was I ever going to get Jessie, or even myself, up onto his back?

I barely remember the next few minutes. I think I decided to try to help Jessie mount from the right side, thinking it was the only way because of her arm. I seem to recall the two of us getting knocked over by an especially strong wind gust. I think getting both of us on our feet again took kind of a long time. I may even have used Spice’s leg to haul myself up.

But then something broke into my fuzzy, cold brain: the sound of excited barking—and better yet, the roar of a snowmobile! It was Dad and Uncle John. Ginger had led them to us!

I definitely don’t remember much after that, except Dad hugging me and Uncle John saying, “Let’s get home.” That sounded like the best idea I’d ever heard.

A few other memories, fuzzy ones, came back to me the next morning after a really long, really deep sleep: seeing Spice safely into his stall and giving him an extra helping of oats; watching Uncle John bundle Jessie into the truck for their trip to the hospital; sitting at the kitchen table with Louise while Aunt Lily made hot chocolate.

Aunt Jessie came home from the hospital that morning. She had a large white cast from her fingertips to her elbow, and a few bruises, but otherwise she was fine. She didn’t even end up with frostbite, which was practically a miracle.

Actually, she was better than fine. She and I talked for a long time after that, and I think I understand her a little better now. I think we may even end up being friends after all. Louise was a lot nicer after what happened, too. I started to see
the nice, caring, interesting side of both of them in addition to the more suspicious, prickly one they’d shown me before.

I also spent a long time with Spice that morning, feeding him special treats and thanking him for the fine, brave thing he’d done the night before. I think all horses are special, of course, but I know now that he’s
especially
special, despite his shaggy fur and plain looks.

“Your heart, Spice,” I told him, “is pure champion Thoroughbred.”

Suddenly I remembered that it was New Year’s Day, the day Stevie and Lisa were planning that birthday party for Prancer. It gave me an idea.

“You’ve got a Thoroughbred’s heart,” I told Spice. “So I guess that means today’s your birthday, too.” I sang “Happy Birthday” to him as he polished off more of the apple and carrot pieces I’d brought. It felt right.

After that I gave the rest of the treats to the other three horses and sang to them, too. After all, Jiminy and Kismet had shared the ordeal, too, and I knew better than to blame Kismet for slipping on the ice or being frightened when Jessie fell. And I was sure that Sugar would have been just as willing to go out as Spice had been.

And do you know the most wonderful thing? When I got home, I found out that Stevie and Lisa had done the exact same thing. What had started out as a birthday party for Prancer and the other Thoroughbreds had quickly turned into a celebration for
all
the horses at Pine Hollow. They decided every one of them, from the tiniest pony to big old Nero, deserved a birthday party just as much as the Thoroughbreds,
fancy bloodlines or not. So in a way, it was sort of like the whole Saddle Club was together, even though we were physically so far apart.

Anyway, ever since I got home I’ve been thinking about what Grand Alice said about seeing all the interesting angles. I think from now on I’ll remember that people—situations, too—can be complicated, and I should try to see all their angles before I make up my mind about them.

Of course, there’s another lesson that I didn’t learn from Grand Alice or anyone else in Minnesota. That’s that good friends are always with you. So is family, I guess, if not exactly in the way I used to think. I thought before that I would be able to understand myself better by looking at my bloodlines, just the way horse breeders do. But I know now it’s not as simple as that. I remember that every time I think of Jackson Foley and Aunt Jessie, or when I look at the beautiful amulet necklace that Grand Alice gave me. The amulet always makes me think of her, and my mother, and that long-ago woman—my great-great-who-knows-how-many-times-great-grandmother who came over to America on the slave ship.

It doesn’t tell me anything more about what I’m like, what I believe, or what I should be when I grow up. But it makes me feel like a part of something larger, like an important link in a strong, living chain. And I kind of like that feeling.

It’s funny how The Saddle Club works sometimes. The three of us are such good friends that it’s always a little surprising
when we don’t agree on something. For instance, when I got back from Minnesota after New Year’s, I wanted to know all about Karenna’s visit to Willow Creek. I was expecting Stevie and Lisa to have hit it off with her, since I like her so much. But it turned out that they didn’t get along that well after all. Karenna ended up spending more time with Meg Durham and Betsy Cavanaugh than she did with my friends.

I guess it shouldn’t be that surprising when I really think about it, though. I think Karenna’s great, but she’s always been just as interested in things like shopping and gossiping as she is in riding. That doesn’t bother me a bit, because I’ve known her so long. But I can see why Stevie and Lisa might not really understand her. They thought she would be like me because she’s my friend, but she’s really not that much like me at all. Just like Stevie’s not that much like me, and Lisa’s not that much like Stevie, and I’m not that much like Lisa. I guess sometimes differences work together, like with the three of us, or with me and Karenna, and sometimes they don’t, like with Stevie and Lisa and Karenna. Actually, it sounds like the only time they really connected with Karenna was when they were all talking about
me!
Ha!

Anyway, not much happened back home while I was gone. Stevie’s still trying to come up with the perfect name for No-Name. She still wants to do something that reflects the mare’s bloodlines, though personally I’m not sure that’s the right approach. Bloodlines can’t always tell you everything about a horse—or a person. Of course, that doesn’t mean you should totally ignore where you came from, either.…