No Small Thing (6 page)

Ma keeps her back to me. I can see she isn’t going to budge, which might explain what I say next.

“You have to let us keep him. That pony is the best thing to happen to us in years. If Dad were here, he’d let us keep him….”

This makes Ma turn around, all right, and she looks at me like she’s staring at the devil himself. She doesn’t yell these next words. She spits them through her teeth.

“I don’t want to hear another word. You take that pony back tomorrow.”

“Please, Ma—”

“Get out and leave me alone!”

Ma’s words hit me like broken glass. I feel the anger rise up inside me and before I know what’s happening, I’m screaming. “I hate you! I won’t take the pony back! Not tomorrow or ever! Dad left because of you and I don’t blame him, you old witch!”

Ma stares at me, her jaw dropped, the wooden spoon she was using to stir the cocoa still held in the air. Queenie and Cid just stand there, their faces all shocked and disbelieving. I slam out the mud room door and stumble down the stairs inmy bare feet. I feel like a big fist is hitting me in the stomach. I think I’m going to throw up. I start to run and I keep running, past the corner store and through the park. I run past rows and rows of houses that all look the same, past the church and the jailhouse. I run until I’m far away from everything and my lungs feel like they’re going to burst.

I keep running, but no matter how fast I go, I can’t outrun the image of Ma’s face. The terrible words stab at my brain over and over. I collapse on the lawn of a house where the windows are dark and then I start to cry like I have never cried before. I can’t stop my body from shaking. “I’m not like my f-father. I’m not like my father….”

A light snaps on at the side of the house. I pick myself up and walk out into the street. I follow the road to the edge of town, walking up the big hill until I am standing at the end of the lane that leads to the barn. It’s dark and I have to be careful. The gravel in the lane is sharp, and I have to stop several times to brush the stones from the soles of my feet.

When I reach the barn, I feel for the latch. It opens with a
click
and I close the door behind me. I don’t even care if Clem’s ghost is in here. It’s better than being at home, I think. I can hear the horses stirring in their stalls. They must wonderwhat I’m doing here so late. I can see Smokey’s white shape. He nickers softly.

“It’s okay, Smokey.”

I don’t bother opening the door to his stall, but climb over the side instead, using the edge of the old concrete feed trough as a boost up. Smokey is soft and warm. He rubs his head on my sleeve and gently nibbles my finger. For some reason this makes me feel like crying all over again. Smokey nudges my hand as though he understands. I just stand there enjoying his warmth for a long time before I curl up in the straw in one corner of the stall. My feet are burning from the walk. Smokey looks at me with curiosity and chews his hay. Then he walks over and sniffs me, placing a hoof lightly on my leg.

“You’re a good boy, Smokey. I won’t take you back, no matter what Ma says.”

I feel a shiver run up my spine. I think it must be Clem, trying to haunt me out of his barn. For a moment I’m afraid and I wish I was in my own bed, staring up at the ceiling and watching the spider mend her web in the corner of my room. I feel smaller than I ever have in my life. I imagine myself dead and think about how sorry Ma will be when she sees me laid out in a coffin. I imagine everyone walking past me, my skin all blue andmy hands neatly folded across my chest. Then I start to wonder if anybody came to Clem’s funeral, or if he even had a funeral. I think about what he must have looked like, lying on the barn floor, his neck broken, his stained teeth biting into his swollen tongue. I spook myself again thinking about his ghost whirling around in the rafters of the barn. I can feel my heart start to beat faster, but then I open my eyes and look at Smokey. His quiet dignity comforts me as he calmly chews his hay, and somehow I manage to fall asleep—sore feet, ghosts and all.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping when I hear someone calling my name. At first I think I’m dreaming, but then Cid’s voice startles me.

“Nathaniel!”

“Cid! What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d be here. I came to tell you to come home. Ma sent me. She says we can keep Smokey.”

“What?”

“Queenie and I talked to her. She was really upset when you left, but we talked to her and now everything’s okay. We explained about the money and how you paid for the stall. You know Ma can’t deny Queenie anything.”

I’m so happy to hear Cid’s words that I springup over the stall and throw my arms around her. I know it doesn’t seem right for a brother to hug his sister, especially a boss like Cid, but I’m so glad to hear the news, I’m really not thinking straight.

“Where are your shoes?” she asks.

I look down at my feet. My dirty toes wiggle back at me. “I didn’t wear any.”

Cid looks at me funny and then laughs. I’m embarrassed, but I laugh a bit too.

We tend to Smokey for a while and Cid tells me the whole story about what happened after I ran out of the house. Ma must have been pretty worried to allow Cid to walk here this late at night by herself, and this makes me feel terrible again. I take my time in the barn because I’m loath to leave Smokey behind and, to be honest, I’m not looking forward to seeing Ma. I know everything is fine now, but there’s an awful thing that comes with feeling sorry and that’s the fear of facing the one you’ve wronged. I’m sure the words I said to Ma are still echoing in the air back home.

Before we go, we walk through the barn, looking at all the horses. There is a big quarter horse mare named Silver, a Morgan colt named Rush, a couple of skinny palominos with no names, an old rodeo buckskin named Pip and the big chestnutnamed Flag. At the very back of the barn in a room off by itself is a huge black gelding named Jed. He has a Roman nose and wild eyes. He snorts through the rungs of his stall, pacing restlessly back and forth.

“He doesn’t have any hay,” Cid says.

I look at the tack box by the stall. It has Ted Henry’s name roughly gouged into the wood.” Figures,” I mumble. I get a few flakes of hay from the loft and push them into Jed’s bin. I get some water and pour it into his bucket, then sprinkle a bit on the hay. When Cid is satisfied that Jed is comfortable, we’re ready to leave.

As we walk home I play out the impending scene with Ma over and over in my head. But it doesn’t matter how many times I run it through my mind, I still feel bad. Cid walks along like everything’s fine, because for her, it is. She didn’t say those terrible words. She talks about
Star Wars
and how she’d like to see it again and how there’s this kid in town who’s seen the movie over 100 times and the people at the movie theatre don’t even charge him to see it any more. She goes on and on like this until we reach the house. I hesitate before opening the door.

“Wait a minute, Nat,” Cid says. Then she does the nicest thing she’s ever done. She reaches overand gently brushes some straw from my hair and smoothes it on both sides with her hands. “Okay.”

Ma is waiting in the kitchen when I come in. She’s sitting at the table, her face sober, her eyes swollen and red.

“Ma …” I start to say, but she waves me quiet.

She speaks like she’s been rehearsing the words all night. “I don’t blame you for the way you feel, Nathaniel. I’ve tried really hard to make a life for you kids. I’ve tried hard to make up for Dad leaving. I guess I fooled myself into thinking that things with you kids were all right, that I’d managed to—”

“Ma, it’s not your fault …” I say, but she quiets me again. She adjusts the tie on her house robe, and I’m afraid she’s going to start to cry, but she doesn’t.

“I’ve been thinking long and hard about that pony. I was so upset with you kids being lost, I wasn’t thinking straight. And when I saw Queenie, I almost died. You’re a young man, Nathaniel, and I trust that you will be responsible.”

“I will, Ma. I’ve got it all figured out ….”

“If you feel you can be responsible, then you can keep the pony. I’ve really tried to make things okay for you kids—”

Her voice cracks and I can’t take any more. Irush over to where she’s sitting and throw myself at her feet. And even though I’m twelve, I bury my head in her lap the way I used to when I was a little kid, and it’s me who starts to cry. “Oh, Ma, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Queenie isn’t allowed to go to the barn until her collarbone is mended. That’ll be a good month or so. She’s sore as anything about this fact but knows better than to fight with Ma after all we’ve been through. The crazy thing is, in the days Cid and I have been riding our skateboards to the stable together we haven’t fought once. She’s even stopped bugging me about taking hay all the time to feed Smokey. I know she hates that I take it without paying, but she understands now that we have to do it to save money. Anyway, I never thought I’d say this, but Cid and I are actually getting along.

“What do you think his show name should be?” she asks.

“How about Smoker’s Cough?” I say, just kidding around. We laugh hard about this, our skateboards grinding loudly over the pavement.

While we’re riding and laughing and generally enjoying each other’s company, Cid tells me a funny story that she never told anyone before.

She tells me how she got her skateboard. I bought mine with my paper route money. It’s all purple with swirls of different colors. Cid saw it and wanted one too, but had to save and save for ages—birthday money and such. When she finally had enough money, she took the bus to the mall. She bought an orange skateboard, just like mine. She had just enough for the skateboard and her bus fare home. But Cid had a taste for candy that day and spent half her fare on some licorice and black-balls. When the bus pulled up, she got on with her new skateboard under her arm, threw the loose change in the slot and started to walk to the back of the bus. The bus driver stopped her with a shout and told her to ante up. Cid ends up giving him some sob story about being left at the mall by her parents and how she didn’t have enough money to get home and wouldn’t he please just take her as far as town—all of this with a mouth full of candy! And he did! I didn’t know Cid had it in her!

When we get to the top of the hill we kick our skateboards and carry them down the lane to the barn. The door is open.

“Must be somebody here,” I say.

“Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. But we’ll find out.”

No sooner do we step into the barn than we’re assaulted by a loud voice.

“You kids own this stallion?”

I let my eyes adjust for a second, and a big, red-faced man with a baseball cap comes into view. It’s not Ted Henry. Except for the cap he looks and sounds like a hairy gorilla. “Yes, sir, we do.”

“You’ve got some nerve bringing a stallion into this barn. We’ve got mares in heat in here and he’s going to go crazy!”

Cid and I look over at Smokey calmly chewing his hay.

“Mister, he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Son, I won’t tell you again. You’d better get that stallion gelded or there’ll be hell to pay. I don’t want some balls-crazy pony spooking the other horses!”

I stifle a snicker at his use of “balls-crazy.” I’ve never heard an adult talk like this before. This doesn’t help the matter at all.

“You think this is funny, son? I have a mind to throw you and your pony out into the street. You’d better take care of this situation, pronto!”

“Yes, sir,” I say, just to get the Gorilla off my back. “It’s already been arranged.”

This seems to appease him, and he stomps outof the barn without another word. I follow him to the door and close it after him.

“Who the heck was that?” Cid asks.

“Some big jerk who thinks he knows better.”

“What are we going to do? What if he does throw Smokey out into the street?”

“He won’t do anything of the kind,” I say, but secretly I’m worried he’s already gone ratting us out to Ted Henry.

“What are we going to do, Nat?”

“I don’t know. That gorilla can’t make us do anything.” I have to admit, I don’t like the idea of getting Smokey gelded. I don’t think any boy likes the idea of anything being treated that way—for obvious reasons. The Gorilla doesn’t know Smokey. He doesn’t know that Smokey wouldn’t cause any trouble. I don’t think Smokey even knows he’s a stallion….

I’m thinking like this as I lead Smokey out of the barn to the small field where the horses are allowed to graze. The Morgan colt named Rush presses his face against the bars of his stall. He’s the only horse other than Jed who’s left in the barn on this beautiful day. I realize then that the Gorilla owns the colt. I consider letting him out, then think better of it. We don’t need any moretrouble. I rub the colt’s nose as Smokey and I walk past.

The other horses are grazing happily in the field. Smokey whinnies excitedly when he sees them. He isn’t off the lead for more than two seconds when the big chestnut named Flag comes charging over, his mane and tail flying, his big yellow teeth bared.

“Oh, no! Smokey, look out!” Cid yells.

But it’s too late. Flag grabs Smokey by the withers and practically lifts him off the ground. Smokey squeals and rears up. And then he does something that neither Cid nor I can believe. He grabs the horse by the front leg with his teeth and pulls him down to the ground. Flag topples like an old building. He flounders helplessly in the dirt while Smokey trots away victoriously, his mane and tail streaming behind him.

“I can’t believe it!” I yell. “He took that horse out without even trying!” I’m so proud I’m busting my shirt buttons, as Dad used to say.

“I guess we don’t have to worry about him,” Cid says incredulously.

By the time Flag scrambles to his feet, Smokey is already grazing comfortably halfway down the field. The other horses eye him curiously, then continue to graze. Flag walks to the far end of thefield, his head hung in defeat. He doesn’t even look at Smokey again. We decide that Smokey can hold his own, so we leave him to fend for himself.