Lucky Horse (8 page)

“I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted,” he
said, reeling in his line for the final time. “I wonder where all these dumb fish are?”

“Maybe they sent out for pizza last night and they’re not hungry today,” Carole said with a relieved giggle. At least she wouldn’t have to kill another worm.

“Well, this day really turned out to be a bust,” Colonel Hanson laughed. “First I burn the pancakes, then we capsize the boat, then we fish all day and don’t get one bite! Has anything gone right?”

Carole thought for a minute. “Yup,” she said. “Two things, in fact.”

“Name ’em,” her father said.

“One is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine, so our clothes are completely dry.”

“That’s one.”

“And the other is that we’ve been sitting together in the sunshine.”

“That’s two,” said the colonel, giving his daughter a hug and a kiss.

C
AROLE AND HER
father lugged the waterlogged canoe back into their campsite just as the sun was beginning to set through the tops of the pine trees.

“I don’t know about you, but I feel like I could collapse almost as easily as a collapsible canoe!” Colonel Hanson laughed, but Carole could see beads of perspiration dotting his forehead.

“I know,” Carole said. “It was a pretty rough climb. Why don’t you relax for a while? It’s my turn to cook supper, anyway.”

“Okay. Let me charge up the cookstove for you,” Colonel Hanson said.

Carole shook her head. “Thanks, Dad, but tonight I just want to build a regular old fire and have regular old hot dogs cooked over it.”

“That sounds great, but wouldn’t it be easier on the solar stove?”

“Maybe. But I want to try it first this way.”

Colonel Hanson laughed. “Okay. You’re the chef. I think I’ll stretch out in one of the armchairs.”

“Fine. Dinner will be ready in no time.”

While her father relaxed in the chair, Carole hurried into the woods, gathering the sticks and other tinder she would need to start a fire. She found a dead pine log that was exactly the right size, and in a few minutes she had a cozy campfire going about ten feet from the front of their tent.

“I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it smells great,” her father called with his eyes closed.

“I haven’t cooked anything yet, Dad. That’s just the wood burning.” Carole smiled. Solar cookstoves might be handy, but nothing beat the smell of a real campfire.

She went back into the woods to search for some twigs to roast the hot dogs on. The sticks had to be cut from live bushes, since dead ones would burn up right along with the food. She found a huge forsythia bush and cut four long branches, then peeled the bark back to reveal the milky white layer underneath.

“Perfect,” she said aloud. “These will be the best hot dogs Dad ever ate!”

She carried the sticks back to their camp, then loaded two of them with hot dogs and the other two
with buns. She placed them just the right distance away from the fire and sat down to watch them cook. Soon her mouth began to water as the smell of grilling hot dogs filled the air. Her favorite outdoor meal was almost done. Suddenly she jumped up. She hadn’t gotten anything else together for dinner. She hurried back over and began to set the table as fast as she could. She set out the paper plates, poured a serving of potato chips onto each one, and poured fruit juice into two glasses. What else? She looked at the table. Mustard! Everyone needed mustard with their hot dogs. She ran and opened the solar refrigerator. The mustard was there somewhere—she’d seen it that morning when she was searching for the butter. There, far on the back shelf. Just as she was reaching for it, she smelled an odd, awful smell.
Oh no!
she thought.
The hot dogs are burning!

She raced back to the fire, where orange flames were licking around the green sticks. The hot dogs had been singed to dark brown, and the buns were just pieces of long toast. She quickly removed all four sticks from the fire, but she wanted to cry. Her wonderful hot dog dinner was ruined.

She carried everything to the table and called her father.

Colonel Hanson had been dozing in his chair, but he rose and came to the table quickly.

“Hey, this looks …”

“Burned,” Carole said miserably. “Somehow I misjudged the fire. When I was looking for the mustard, everything got burned.”

“Oh, hey, it’s just a little extra brown,” Colonel Hanson said, looking at the charred hot dog on his plate. “That’s how I like them, anyway.”

Carole knew that her father was only trying to make her feel better. “Use some of this,” she said, passing him the mustard. “Maybe it will make it taste better.”

Colonel Hanson grinned. “Just like the jam and syrup improved my pancakes?”

“Well, kind of,” Carole admitted with a smile.

“Maybe we’re not such great outdoor cooks, honey,” Colonel Hanson said as he squirted mustard on his hot dog.

“Maybe not,” said Carole.

“On the other hand, maybe if you’d used that solar stove, these hot dogs would have turned out perfect!”

“I don’t know, Dad. So far the solar stove and the collapsible canoe have given us more headaches than anything else!”

“O
KAY
, S
TARLIGHT
,” S
TEVIE
said with pride. “You are one clean horse.” She backed away from the big bay gelding and looked at him approvingly. His coat sparkled like satin, his mane glistened like silk, and his hooves had been polished to a patent-leather sheen.

“I’ll say,” added Lisa, leaning over the stall door. “How many times have we groomed him today? Four? I know we’ve gone through three complete changes of clothes.”

“Just three times, if you count his shampoo.”

“Stevie, I don’t think that counts. We got a lot wetter than Starlight did, plus you backed up and fell in a whole tub of water.”

“Well, okay. He’s had two complete groomings and half a shampoo. Between that and exercising him twice, we’ve kept our promise to Carole.” Stevie handed Starlight’s dandy brush to Lisa and backed out of the stall. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted.”

“Me too. My head is spinning so, I can barely remember what all we’ve done today.”

Stevie picked up Starlight’s grooming supplies and walked toward the tack room. “Well, first we mucked out about a million stalls. Then Denise came and we had to help her out at the front desk because she had laryngitis and couldn’t talk on the telephone.”

“Then we had to tack up Patch for that little girl who’d put his saddle on backwards,” Lisa added with a laugh.

“Right. Then we exercised Danny for an hour, since Red didn’t have time to do it.” Stevie flipped the tack room light on and put Starlight’s gear in the proper place. “But thanks to us, Danny’s looking
great. Veronica should be amazed when she gets back from her shopping trip.”

“She won’t be, though,” said Lisa. “Shell just find something else wrong with him.”

“Oh, probably.” Stevie turned the light off and closed the door. She rubbed the back of her legs. “Those exercises we did with Starlight today were really hard. I’m sore.”

“I know. I had no idea Carole was putting him through such an intense dressage drill.”

Stevie laughed. “I had no idea Carole would be putting
us
through such an intense dressage drill.”

The girls walked through the empty stable toward the hayloft, their boots echoing in the stillness. They heard an occasional chomping of hay as they passed, and once in a while a horse would pop its head out to see who was going by, but for the most part the stable was getting ready to bed down for the night.

“Don’t forget we’ve got that picnic supper my mom brought us,” said Lisa.

“I know,” yawned Stevie. “I’ve been looking forward to it all afternoon.

They paused at Prancer’s stall. “Hi, girl,” Lisa said softly, leaning over and rubbing the bay mare’s neck. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to pay as much attention to you as usual—it’s just that I’ve had to pay so much attention to everybody else!”

Lisa looked at Stevie. “Every time I’ve gone by here
today, Prancer’s just poked her head out of the stall and given me the saddest look!”

“She misses you like Belle misses me. But all this will be over Monday. Then we can take them on a nice ride and give them some extra attention.”

Lisa gave Prancer a final pat, and she and Stevie began to head for the hayloft. “Just a minute,” Stevie said as they neared Belle’s stall. “I want to check that bruise on Belle’s shoulder.”

Lisa watched as Stevie went inside Belle’s stall. The mare flinched when Stevie ran her fingers over the lump at the top of her withers.

“That must still hurt,” Stevie said, frowning. “I’d better put some liniment on it tomorrow. That’ll make her feel better.”

They said good night to Belle, then slowly climbed the ladder. The hayloft looked like a cozy retreat, complete with Mrs. Atwood’s picnic basket waiting for them on a bale of hay.

“Arrrggghhh!” Stevie flopped down on her sleeping bag. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired before in my entire life.”

“Me neither,” said Lisa. “Let’s just eat something fast and go to sleep.”

“Good idea. What did your mom bring?”

Lisa opened the basket and looked inside. “Cold fried chicken, corn chips, carrot sticks, some bottled water, and some little pecan pies.”

“Hmmm,” said Stevie, extending her arm without moving the rest of her body. “Just Put something in this hand and I’ll eat it while I doze.”

Lisa frowned. “What do you want?”

“Anything,” moaned Stevie. “At this point it doesn’t matter.”

Lisa put a chicken leg in Stevie’s hand and grabbed another for herself. In a few minutes most of the chicken was gone, along with the chips and the pecan pie. A few minutes after that, everybody at Pine Hollow, including the guests in the hayloft, was sound asleep and dreaming of the day to come.

“T
HAT WAS A
great dinner, Carole.” Colonel Hanson stretched in the camping armchair. “The food totally refreshed me, and I don’t even feel tired anymore. Must be the magic of home cooking.”

“Whatever you say, Dad.” Carole smiled. She knew the hot dogs hadn’t really tasted that good, but he was nice to say so.

Colonel Hanson looked at her. “Do you still want to go stargazing tonight?”

“Sure,” Carole replied eagerly. “I could go stargazing every night. There’s so much to see.”

“Okay. Let me check my barometer to make sure a front’s not coming through.” Colonel Hanson dug the little electronic barometer out of his pocket and held it close to the fire. “Everything looks okay,” he reported,
grinning at Carole. “No bad weather coming, but why don’t you grab our jackets while I get the telescope? It gets chilly on top of that mountain.”

“Okay.” Carole hurried to the tent and got her father’s leather flight jacket and the old red quilted coat that she usually wore to the barn.

They doused Carole’s small cooking fire with water, and Colonel Hanson hoisted the telescope over his shoulder. Though the path to the top of Mount Stringfellow was somewhat more familiar to them, Carole, leading, shined her flashlight to guide them.

“Gosh, Dad, by the time we get there, the stars will already be out.”

“I know. It should be perfect for stargazing.” Colonel Hanson looked up at the sky. “Maybe tonight we’ll be able to see the Perseid meteor showers.”

Carole smiled up at the few dim stars that were already twinkling through the trees. Of all the things they’d done on this trip, looking at the stars was her favorite. Never had the heavens shone more brightly for her and her dad.

By the time they reached the top of Mount Stringfellow, the sky was black velvet spangled with a million diamonds. Over their heads a wide band of even brighter stars stretched across the sky. Carole gasped. “Is that the Milky Way?”

Her father looked up and smiled. “That’s what it is. Pretty impressive, huh?”

“It’s amazing. I’ve never seen it so clearly before.”

“Well, it’s so clear tonight that you can see the whole thing.”

Carole stared up at the band of brilliant stars while her father set up the telescope. A brisk breeze skimmed the top of the mountain, and both of them slipped into their jackets.