Crown Prince (17 page)

“Well, that's no fun. I really wanted you to come,” Kayla said, her voice conveying her disappointment.

After Sarah snapped her cell shut and put it back in her pocket, she started for the office. She wanted to talk to Jack about scheduling an appointment with the vet hospital. She was surprised to see Mrs. DeWitt hanging up the office phone just as she stepped inside. Taco and Spin were curled up on a horse blanket in the corner.

“Hello, Sarah. Chandler told me all about the vet exam. I'm thrilled your horse is absolutely fine except for a tooth that needs to come out.” She saw a worried look suddenly appear on Sarah's face. “Why the frown, Sarah? Having a horse of your own is supposed to bring smiles.”

“I'm afraid Mr. Bolton will want him back,” Sarah said. “Prince is such a special horse. I don't know what I'll do….” Her voice trailed off.

“Don't you worry, dear. We folks at Brookmeade Farm don't throw in the towel easily. I've reminded Chandler that we have a sales receipt on our side, the one Rudy Dominic signed. You have that paper at home, don't you?”

Sarah swallowed hard. Back at the track her dad had pulled a dollar bill from his wallet as a token payment for the horse. All she remembered was him putting it down on the table. The paperwork—had he picked up the letter along with the horse's records in the folder? He must have!

“My dad took care of that,” she said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

“That's good. You need to know that we stand firmly on your side. I just made an appointment for Crown Prince to have the wolf tooth removed. He'll go to the vet hospital Wednesday morning. They squeezed you in,” she said with a smile. Then seeing the downcast look still on Sarah's face, she called to Spin and Taco. “Come on, boys. I think Sarah needs some cheering up.”

Later that afternoon, with Jack's blessing, Sarah took Crown Prince to an area near the hunt course to hand-graze him where the grass grew tall along the fence line.

“He's had his run, so he should be quiet enough on the shank,” Jack had said. “But he's not had much green grass for a while, so don't let him graze more than ten minutes.”

Sarah tried to enjoy the time in the sun with her horse, but her mind raced as she watched Prince greedily snatch mouthfuls of the clover, blossoms and all. If only she could be sure her father had saved the sale agreement. Sarah was so preoccupied she didn't see Paige coming across the lawn, and was startled when Paige spoke. Paige saw the worry lines on her friend's face as she grazed Crown Prince.

“What's up, Sarah? You look a little down in the dumps. I heard that except for the wolf tooth Prince got a good report this morning.”

“I'm just afraid something will go wrong,” Sarah said, turning toward her. “If he's in such good shape, maybe the man who owned him will want him back.”

Paige bent down to pull a long shaft of Timothy from the tall grass, and leaning back against a fence post, she chewed the end thoughtfully. This was not a time for her usual witty comments.

“I hope you didn't have to go through anything like this when you got Quarry,” Sarah said.

“I was lucky. My grandmother made it possible for me to have a horse. I've always been horse crazy. She realized that if I had to wait for my parents to come up with the cash, a horse would be a long time coming.”

“Where did you find Quarry?” Sarah asked.

“He had been off the track about a year, and the girl who owned him before me had worked hard so she could show him. She trained under Jeffrey Davis and showed in equitation classes.”

“Wow,” Sarah said. “I've heard of that trainer. How did the girl and Quarry do at shows?”

“She had the same problem with him rushing fences. But he's getting better, thanks to Jack.”

“Is that why was he was for sale?” Sarah asked.

“No, the girl was going away to college. I was one of the first to see the ad and call about him. When I saw his dappled gray color and big dark eyes, I wanted him so bad! I was just lucky that my grandmother liked him, too! She bought him for me after he passed the pre-purchase exam.”

“I wish getting Prince was that simple.”

“Don't get stressed out with worry, Sarah. I just know you're going to keep him. Once that wolf tooth is out, you'll be on your way. Try to chill.”

Sarah moved closer to Prince as she brought his head up. “I think he's had enough grass for today. But thanks, Paige. I hope you're right.”

She started back to Prince's stall, all the while thinking about the letter. For once she didn't want to be at the barn—she just wanted to go home and track down that piece of paper. It was actually a sales contract, and Rudy Dominic had signed it. She needed to see it in front of her, the proof that Crown Prince was hers. When her father returned from the ice cream shop, she'd know. Maybe sooner. She pulled her phone from her pocket and hit the speed-dial button for her father's number.
Darn!
she thought when the voicemail cut in. His cell was off, which meant he was busy, so he probably wouldn't be calling her back anytime soon.

The bike ride home seemed to take forever. When she finally pulled into the driveway, only her mother's car was in the garage. Her father must still be at work. She wasted no time putting her bike away and bounding up the porch steps. After removing her paddock boots, she moved quickly through the mud room and into the kitchen, where her mother was standing at the kitchen counter making hamburger patties. Sarah offered only a quick, “Hi, Mom,” before hurrying up the stairs two at a time.

Where would her father have placed the yellow piece of paper? Most likely it would have landed on the top of his bureau, where the contents of his pockets usually came to rest. She'd heard her mother complain about the clutter many times. If the paper was there, she'd have it immediately. But her heart sank when she entered her parents' bedroom and saw only some loose change and an extra set of car keys on the bureau. As she scanned the room, searching for any clue, she heard her mother's footsteps laboring slowly up the stairway.

“What's going on, Sarah?” her mother asked when she came into the bedroom.

The words tumbled out of Sarah's mouth, barely intelligible. “We need the letter Rudy Dominic signed. The DeWitts are afraid that once Hank Bolton finds out about the wolf tooth, he'll want him back.”

“Slow down a minute,” Mrs. Wagner said, lowering herself into the bedroom's easy chair. “What are you talking about? What in the world is a wolf tooth?

Sarah looked at her mother intently. “I just need to know if Dad kept the paper that says we bought Prince fair and square. Mrs. DeWitt says it is really a sales contract. I was hoping it would be here.”

Her mother's gaze went to the bureau and then back at Sarah. “You mean to tell me you're worried that
your father
might have thrown it away?” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and then looked at Sarah. “How can you have so little faith in your father?” her mother asked, her voice slightly raised. “He's the most organized person in the world! Surely you must know he would never have thrown something that important away.”

Sarah hung her head, realizing her mother was probably right. Of course her father would have it. Maybe not here, but he'd have it in a safe place. Of course he would!

Back downstairs, Sarah set the table for dinner while she told her mother about the vet exam and counted the minutes until her father got home. When she heard the sound of car doors shutting, she went to the window. Her father and Abby were heading toward the house. The minute they came through the door, Abby started telling Sarah all about her first day at Seaside Creamery. Sarah raised her hand to interrupt her sister.

“Abby, I'm sorry, but there's something really important I have to ask Dad.
Right now!”
Turning to her father, she blurted it out. “Dad, the letter, the sales contract for Prince. Where is it?”

Her father was tired from a day at the Creamery, and he could do without the third-degree interrogation. He scowled. “Why do you need that now? What's going on?”

“If Mr. Bolton decides he wants Prince back, the DeWitts say we'll need that paper to prove we bought him free and clear. It's got to be legal.” Sarah paused to take a breath. “I just need to know you have it, Dad.”

“Of course I saved it,” her father said in a tone of annoyance. “I wouldn't discard something as important as a bill of sale. It's in a folder in my file cabinet.”

Sarah felt as if a heavy load had been lifted. Her mother had been right. She was so thankful her dad was her dad.

“Can you calm down long enough to tell me what this is all about?” Mr. Wagner asked. “And how did the pre-purchase exam go?” Before Sarah could answer, her mother interrupted.

“Dinner is almost ready. You two wash your hands and come to the table. Sarah can tell you the whole story. Wolf tooth and all. And we want to hear about Abby's first day at the Creamery, too.”

TUESDAY MORNING DAWNED OVERCAST
with a fine mist falling. Sarah knew she'd need the waterproof poncho she'd stashed in her closet, and she rummaged around to find it. It wasn't raining hard, so with the poncho she'd stay pretty dry on the bike ride to the barn. She placed the envelope with the precious letter inside the zippered pocket on her sweatshirt.

Her father was up early, too, and having coffee in the kitchen when she came downstairs. She sat down with him while she ate her cereal. “How's Abby doing at the Creamery?” she asked.

Her father laid down the newspaper. “Just fine for a beginner, and she'll get better. She's not happy she can't wear flip-flops on the job, though.”

Sarah smiled. “I miss the ice cream, especially the chocolate chip.”

“Do you have that sales receipt with you?” her father asked after taking a sip of coffee. When she nodded, he said, “I don't have to remind you how important it is to get it to a safe place. Be sure you give it to the DeWitts right away.”

“Thanks, Dad. Believe me, I will.”

A few minutes later Sarah had gathered her things for the day and was out the door. The soft, warm rain wasn't unpleasant as she pedaled down the bicycle lane on Ridge Road. Her unprotected face and hands got a bit wet, but the poncho kept the rest of her—and the all-important letter—dry. She thought of the encounter ahead with Gus, when he showed her the routine for feeding grain. She was trying so hard to do a good job. Would he ever learn to appreciate it?

Sarah arrived a few minutes before seven and immediately saw the familiar figure with the red baseball cap at the end of the long aisle uncoiling the hose in preparation for filling the water buckets. Gus stopped what he was doing when he saw Sarah and looked at his watch.
He's checking to see if I'm on time,
she thought. She took a deep breath and started up the aisle toward him.

Trying to sound positive and sincere, she spoke up as she got closer. “Good morning! I'm ready to help with the grain, if you want me to.”

Gus didn't answer, but he put down the hose and with his chin motioned her toward the feed room. He pulled a key on a buffalo-head key ring from his pocket and unlocked the padlock on the extra wide door. Once inside, he flipped on the switch, and a large overhead light flooded the windowless space.

Sarah had never been in this part of the barn, and she was met with the pungent aroma of grain and molasses. A pull cart loaded with blue plastic pails sat in front of a blackboard that listed each horse's grain ration. Each pail had a horse's name in block letters taped on it and was filled with grain. Without saying a word, Gus grabbed the cart's handle, and with Sarah following, started for the aisle. He stopped by the first stall, and hastily tossed the contents of one of the pails through the opening above French Twist's feed tub.

The sound of the grain being dished out was met with a chorus of neighs as horses showed their eagerness for what they knew was coming. A few whirled around in their stalls, some pawed, and others just tossed their heads as they waited impatiently for their breakfast.

“Don't just stand there. Start feeding,” Gus barked. They were now near Gray Fox's and McDuff's stalls, and Sarah obediently searched for their pails. They made their way down both aisles, feeding the grain as they went. Crown Prince was waiting by his stall door and offered a low nicker as she came closer.

She paused to speak softly to him. “Here's what you've been waiting for, Prince.” She noticed that his grain was different from the others, mostly oats with some pellets and sweet feed mixed in. Prince shoved his nose into the feed tub as Sarah moved on to the next horse. The ponies were the last to be fed, and they got less than half the grain the horses did.

Gus turned, pulling the grain cart back in the direction of the feedroom. Once inside, he pointed to where the silo let grain into a deep wheelbarrow. “Now we fill the pails for the next feed.” A motor started when he pushed a green button on the silo, and a mixture of pellets and sweet feed began falling into the large wheelbarrow. When it was nearly full, Gus turned the motor off and began scooping grain into the pails. He paused to point to the black board on the side wall. “That's how much each horse gets.”

Sarah looked at the board and noticed that Crown Prince was the only horse getting oats in addition to the other grain. As if he could read her mind, Gus continued, “Horses coming off the track get weaned off oats a little at a time.” He pointed to the corner. “The oats are in that bin over there.”

After measuring out a few grain rations, Gus retrieved the key on the buffalo-head key ring from his pocket and handed it to Sarah. “Lock up when you're done, and whatever you do, don't lose that key! If a horse ever got loose and found his way into the grain room, there'd be hell to pay. Most horses would eat so much they'd colic and die.” Gus paused, but seeing she had no questions, he went back to the aisle to fill the water buckets.