Nothing But Horses (12 page)

Chapter
Ten

Shamrock Stable, Washington

Saturday, December
28
^th
, 10:15 am

The snow continued to melt in a slow, but
steady thaw. That meant we had lesson customers again, even if the
trails weren’t clear enough to ride. I’d groomed and saddled up
about six horses in the top barn while I supervised the beginning
level students preparing theirs. I helped the group lead the mares
and geldings to the indoor arena so they could ride with Vicky.
Grandpa had offered to assist with the class so she wouldn’t be
overwhelmed and Mom went for the idea. It would give her time to
organize the rest of the day.

I stuck around long enough to make sure
everyone had tight cinches and stirrups that fit. Once the
exercises were underway and Vicky was in charge of her lesson, I
returned to the top barn to put together Nevada for the advanced
session. He needed to return to work and since Mom would be
teaching the next class, that made it a perfect time for me to hit
the ring.

I carried in my groom kit and conditioner.
Two carrots later, Nevada wore his halter. I began turning my
favorite mud monster into a horse. It wasn’t an easy process. It
felt like the more dirt I removed from him, the more I ended up
wearing. I heard the other horses begin nickering and I glanced
toward the front of the barn in time to see Tom walking toward me.
He wore jeans, a sweatshirt and a helmet so he must plan to ride.
He wasn’t here for a casual visit.

“What’s going on?” I asked, struggling to
sound halfway polite. I knew customers came from everywhere and he
wasn’t the first to use horses to chase girls. Why did he bother me
so much? “Did you need help?”

“No, I’m just hanging out until the next
lesson,” Tom said. “Rhonda has Shiloh in the ring now and your mom
told me that I get her for the next class. Isn’t that too much work
too soon?”

“Not really.” I stopped brushing Nevada’s
left side to talk to Tom. “It’d be different if you and Rhonda did
a lot of trot and gallop work, but you both do more walking than
faster gaits. Afterwards, Shiloh gets lunch. She’ll be fine.”

Tom handed over a carrot to Nevada, paying
the toll to stand outside the stall. “What would happen if we
worked her harder?”

“You could make her sweat, lame her, cause a
stress colic, but we won’t let that happen. Shiloh’s a good horse.
She won’t over-do.”

“Why does she trot for me when she won’t for
Rhonda?”

“Look if I’m going to spend my life answering
questions, come in and help me finish my horse,” I said, suddenly
impatient with the guy. “If he’s ready, I can warm him up in your
class and then really work him in mine.”

“Okay, I never thought you’d ask.”

Another carrot and he took what looked like a
giant hairbrush to Nevada’s thick flaxen mane. I kept my focus on
the horse’s body. “So, how did you get a Saturday off?”

“By volunteering to work Christmas Eve, the
actual day and the rest of the week,” Tom said. “I have a good
boss. He tries to be fair.”

“Making you work the holiday doesn’t sound
fair to me.”

“It’s easier for me than other people who
have families,” Tom said. “I don’t get along with my stepdad, so it
wasn’t like I had anywhere to go.”

I stopped brushing and glared at him. “Are
you playing me? You didn’t even visit your mom or sibs?”

“There wasn’t any room at the inn.” Tom tried
a smile, but it didn’t touch his dark chocolate eyes. “She’s his
wife first and the kids are more his than my half-brothers or
half-sisters. Her new family means more to my mom than I do.” He
didn’t sound pissed, just matter-of-fact. It reminded me of that
old cop show where the guy keeps saying, “just the facts, ma’am.”
Nothing else.

“I don’t know how people can stand being
dumped on,” I said. “I always want to kick tails and take names.
I’d have taken presents to the house and
Gibbs
slapped the
witch if she gave me any sass.”

“Gibbs
slapped?” Tom stopped
untangling Nevada’s mane and stared over the top of his neck.
“What’s that?”

“Oh come on. You’ve seen
NCIS
. When
his male investigators act stupid, Gibbs bops them on the back of
the head to get their brains working.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that now. Is that show
still on?” Tom smoothed out my horse’s mane and started brushing
again. “My TV died before I got kicked out and I haven’t made
enough money to replace it. They should get a bunch of stuff in at
the thrift store this week when people donate their old things.
Maybe, I can find a cheap one there.”

Fury swept through me and I shut up before I
totally lost it and told him what I thought of his spineless mother
and her dirtbag husband. Okay, so I’d bet Tom could be a pain in
the backside as Grandpa put it, but what teenager wasn’t? It wasn’t
like he drank or did drugs or partied with a bunch of losers. I’d
heard enough of his anecdotes when we were at the at-risk group to
know that he had a job and was an officer in the Honor Society
before he got kicked out on his eighteenth birthday. Some
present!

It reminded me of what Vicky said about her
stepdad. Even if it wasn’t from personal experience, I knew that
all step-parents didn’t suck big-time. I certainly saw enough of
the decent kind around the barn, the ones who brought the kids for
lessons and paid for them too. They were the ones who loved their
partners’ kids and chose to help raise them.

Tom moved onto Nevada’s tail and I took a
deep breath. “We’ve been living here forever and we have all kinds
of things stored up in the attic. After your lesson, we could look
up there and see if we have an extra TV. My last stepdad left a
bunch of junk here. One of his old TVs won’t be fancy, but you
could have it.”

“I don’t take charity.” Tom shot me a
dark-eyed glare.

Unimpressed, I shrugged. “Okay, then pay my
mom the same amount you would if you got it at the thrift store. It
will save us a trip down to Marysville. Grandma’s griping about all
the stuff we throw upstairs in the spare room. She thinks we should
give the house as much attention as we do the barns.”

“How could she say such a thing? Isn’t that
heresy on a horse farm?”

My turn to glare at him and he turned on his
charming smile. “Okay, so we don’t do a lot inside, but it’s not
our trip. The barns are what is important around here. You won’t
find a single cobweb even in the hay-rooms, or a speck of dust on a
bridle or saddle in the tack-rooms.”

“What does your grandmother say about that?”
Tom asked.

“I left when she suggested my mom would
really like it if I organized the kitchen cupboards. Grandma and
Autumn had already decided they’d declare war on the dust bunnies
and then go see the latest Disney flick.”

“Your little sister is a good sport.”

“She’ll do anything to get movie popcorn and
see one of her cartoons.” I wouldn’t tell Tom that I’d do anything
for the kid. She was my weakness, but I’d learned a long time ago
to hide those. He gave me a solid onceover before he concentrated
on Nevada’s tail again.

Early that evening, Grandma and Autumn
returned with a huge bucket of the Colonel’s chicken along with all
the fixings. While she loaded up a plate with potato salad and
baked beans, Mom flicked a sideways glance at me. “So, tell me
again. Why are we having a New Year’s Day party, Sierra? Are you
taking a page out of your grandfather’s book? Do I have to worry
that we’re turning into regular party animals?”

“It doesn’t have to be fancy,” I said,
ignoring the way that Grandpa tugged on her long French braid. “Tom
was telling me that he’s off for the day and he doesn’t have
family. Dave’s kids are still out of state. Vicky’s mom is working
and her sibs will be off with their dad. I’m thinking an “open
house” with snacks, sandwiches, easy stuff down in the party
barn.”

“That wouldn’t take much cooking.” Grandpa
snagged a thigh, then a drumstick from the cardboard bucket in the
middle of the kitchen table. “We could even have it catered by the
sub shop.”

“And activities, Sierra?” Mom went for a
piece of chicken. “What did you plan to do? We have to entertain
our guests.”

“I’m thinking we clean and organize the
tack-rooms,” I said. “We have fences to repair, signs to wash, the
feed-room to rat-proof again and a lot to do to be ready for next
year. It’ll be fun, a work party. Then, nobody thinks they’re here
because we feel sorry for them. I’ll stop at the bakery and we can
have a carrot cake to celebrate Nevada’s birthday too.”

“And it isn’t a make-work project,” Grandma
said. “Those are things that all need to be done, Rocky. It will
save you time. You’ll be able to promote spring programs because
you won’t be doing a lot of maintenance.”

“It makes sense.” Mom smiled at me. “When
your friend offered me money for that old TV set, I told him I’d
rather have his muscle when we got in the next big load of hay.
Then, we won’t have to visit the chiropractor after we tussle
hundred pound alfalfa-grass bales.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” It was my
turn to fill a plate. “I told him that he could have it, but he
wouldn’t just take it. What do you call that?”

“Pride,” Grandpa said. “It’s an old-fashioned
notion these days, but back when I was growing up, a man didn’t
take freebies. He didn’t have “a handful of gimme and a mouthful of
much obliged.” He worked for what he got. If he couldn’t afford
something, he waited until he could. That’s how we built our own
indoor arena. My dad bought the kit and we rounded up all the
relatives to swing hammers.”

* * * *

Marysville, Washington

Monday, December
30
^th
, 2:30 pm

Since the weather remained warm, the snow
kept melting. The roads cleared enough for me to drive to
Marysville and buy groceries. Okay, it wouldn’t be a big deal for
some people, but I got to take my new car, new to me and go on a
road trip. Whoo-hoo! It wasn’t much of a trip, only twelve miles
but it was still majorly awesome.

On the way home, I pulled into Sink-A-Sub to
get a sandwich and place the order for the party. Vicky had
promised to pick up the refreshments and bring them to the farm on
New Years’ Day. She was also bringing her puppy. That way Charlie
would have company that was his size and Queenie would undoubtedly
be in doggie heaven.

I waited in line behind a cluster of
teenagers from Mount Pilchuck, a couple others that I didn’t
recognize and then three more came in the glass door. I recognized
the Native girls because we’d played ball together last year, but I
hadn’t seen them at school in ages. “Hi, Cedar,” I said, nodding at
her friends. “Long time since I’ve seen you. Where have you
been?”

“My parents transferred me to Lincoln last
fall because they liked the emphasis on academics.” Cedar rolled
her dark eyes. “It’s cool. Rumors are that you’re joining our
basketball team. We’ll kick tails if it’s real.”

“No way.” One of the Mount Pilchuck kids
spoke up, a hanger-on of my arch-rival, Lauren Jamison who was into
stealing everything that was mine including my choir solos.
“Sierra’s at our school. She was the point guard last year.”

“Not this year. Not in January,” I said,
knowing it’d get back to the clique I hated and from them to the
new choir director and this year’s basketball coach. “My mom
transferred me to Lincoln.”

The others turned and stared. Then, Inez, a
tall dark-haired girl who always played forward on the team said,
“I wondered why you weren’t at practice today, but Coach told us
she’d call your house and remind you about the schedule.”

“I hope she didn’t,” I said. “My grandma is a
retired teacher and she says I’m attending Lincoln, or Centennial
Mid-High, or Stewart Falls Academy. She wants me somewhere with an
emphasis on academics.”

I heard Cedar choke behind me and I glanced
over my shoulder at her. “Does your team have practices during
break?”

“No. Our coach said the holidays were for
family and friends. We start practicing next Monday. Want to eat
with us?” Cedar asked. “We’ll tell you everything about the team.
You can’t screw up at all or we’ll be running lines freaking
forever.”

“They’re messing with you, Sierra.” Inez
moved up toward the counter. “Nobody would blame a new player for
not knowing the rules on the first day.”

“And that’s why Lincoln goes to State every
year,” Cedar said. “We bust our tails in class and on the court.
Want to join us?”

I flicked a wary glance at her quiet friends
and one of them smiled at me. “If it’s okay with the rest of you,
I’d love it. I like knowing what’s expected ahead of time.”

Chapter
Eleven

Marysville, Washington

Monday, December
30
^th
, 3:30 pm

I didn’t hang out with Cedar, Olivia and
Kanisha for very long since I had groceries in the car and I still
had to get to the bakery to order Nevada’s cake. I invited the
girls to the work party at the barn on New Year’s. Cedar said she’d
try to make it and Olivia told me she would have to skip it because
her family was visiting her grandmother. Kanisha said she had
enough stuff to do at home, so why would she want to do someone
else’s chores.

When I had to leave, Olivia walked me to the
Subaru. “Ignore Kanisha. She has issues, but they aren’t yours. If
Cedar comes, she’ll bring her.”

“They’re both welcome,” I said. “So are you.
If we get everything done around the farm, we might be able to get
my grandfather to move the motor-home so we can play basketball in
the carport. Grandma freaks when we hit it with the ball.”