Wild Thing (9 page)

Friday I whistled as I raked the last stall. That morning Wild Thing had let me scratch her jaw and withers for several minutes before moving off. I could still feel her softness on my fingertips.

“Hello! Peter, stop that!”

This time I recognized Peter Lory. I didn’t mind the bird so much. But where Peter went, Princess Victoria couldn’t be far behind.

“Have you done the stalls?” Victoria asked, leaning in to see for herself. Her red jeans and buckskin leather shirt would have looked weird on anybody else. But they made her look glamorous.

Just being around her made me feel like a Przewalski, the most primitive breed of horse.
What business is it of yours if I’ve done the stalls, Lady Victoria?

Before I could say anything, a squeal pierced through to the stable. It came from the pasture.

“Wild Thing!” I cried, dropping my rake and racing outside. My heart beat like thundering hooves, shaking my whole body.

At the paddock entrance, Summer and Richard flanked Wild Thing, who reared against their long ropes as they tried to force her inside.

“Stop!” I yelled, racing toward them. “Richard, I said I’d catch her!”

Summer scooted as far away from the rearing horse as her rope allowed. “You?”

Richard wouldn’t look at me. He yanked the rope, throwing Wild Thing off balance, making her hop on her hind legs.

“Leave her alone!” I screamed.

“Where do you get off?” Summer yelled back.

I moved toward the mare, my arms out to my sides, moving like a windmill. “Easy, girl.”

“Get away!” Richard shouted. “You’ll get hurt!”

“Hey, girl,” I said, faking a calm I didn’t feel. “What’s with these humans, huh?”

She tossed her long, white mane in the still air. Dust stirred in clouds at her feet.

I moved in closer, stopping when I sensed her tense up.

Then Summer lost it. “Get in here, you crazy horse!” she yelled. She flicked the end of her rope, landing it on the Arabian’s rump.

Wild Thing lunged forward. I dodged sideways. Then I charged at Summer. “Are you crazy?” I cried, inches from her face. “Don’t you know anything about horses? She’s terrified! And you hit her? What’s wrong with you?”

Summer, for once, was speechless.

“Let go of that rope!” I screamed.

I wheeled on Richard, who still held his line taut. His eyes were as wide as Wild Thing’s. “You too!” I shouted. “Let that horse go!”

“Winnie,” he said, “go home and leave this to me. We can handle her.”

But Wild Thing didn’t want to be handled. She lowered her head and snorted. I sensed what was coming. She was seconds away from bucking violently.

“See?” Summer said smugly, pointing to the horse as if Wild Thing’s nose-to-the-ground position signaled defeat instead of a gathering tornado. “This nag just needs to know who’s boss.”

“She knows who’s boss,” I said. “And you better get out of her way because she’s about to prove it.”

Before I’d finished talking, Wild Thing burst into the paddock like an exploding cannonball.

Summer screamed. “Help!” She let go of her rope and fell backwards.

Richard held on. But he was no match for the Arabian. Her galloping force jerked him off his feet, dragging him in the dirt as the mare tore around the paddock.

“Let go!” I shouted.

He released the rope and rolled in the dirt. Then he jumped to his feet, swearing and cursing. “Wait
’
til I get my hands on you!” he shouted.

“No!” I cried.

The mare circled the paddock, tail high, neck arched. The ropes dragged behind her, snakes dancing in the dust. I wanted to unhook them, but she wouldn’t let me near her. She galloped, stopped, changed directions, cantered, trotted—getting as far away from us humans as she could in that fenced-in paddock.

Richard slammed the gate so the horse couldn’t get out. He stalked her, hate burning in his eyes as he muttered curses. I was terrified of what he’d do if he got hold of her.

“Summer!” he yelled. “Get over here! Now!”

Summer didn’t argue. She walked back out to us.

“We’ll scare her into the corner and take her down,” he said.

“You can’t—!” I protested.

“Shut up!” he yelled. “Summer, do as I say!” He waved his arms above his head and whooped, running at Wild Thing.

The mare pivoted, changing directions in a gallop.

“Now!” he screamed. “Summer, do it!”

They yelled, arms waving, backing Wild Thing into the corner.

The mare reared. Terror shone from her eyes as she snorted and pawed. Closer and closer they came, trapping her.

I couldn’t stand it. I rushed up behind Richard and shoved him toward his sister. Wild Thing stopped rearing and stood trembling. I figured I had two seconds before she exploded. Reaching up, I unlatched her halter and yanked it off. The halter and ropes slid to the dust. “Run!” I screamed.

Wild Thing had the opening she needed to escape.

“Go, girl!” I shouted.

She took off from a standstill and raced around the paddock, gaining speed. “Jump!” I cried. “Jump!”

She raced straight for the fence and with a smooth leap, cleared it by a foot. I held my breath as she landed in the south pasture turf and kept running.

“You little—!” Richard shouted, charging at me.

Summer was right behind him. “We had her! How dare you?”

“You’re both idiots!” I screamed, anger sparking behind my eyeballs. My chest heaved.

“What did you say?” Summer demanded.

“Stupid idiots!” I shouted.

“Oh yeah?” Summer yelled. “We are, are we? And do you know what you are?”

I waited. Nothing she could call me mattered. They’d wrecked everything I’d gained with Wild Thing. I’d have to start all over.

“No, you tell me, Summer,” I said. “What am I?”

A smile slowly appeared on Summer Spidell’s lips. “Fired!”

Fired?
I looked desperately to Richard. He’d overridden Summer once. I couldn’t be fired. I needed the money. I needed to be close to Wild Thing.

But Richard’s expression was meaner than his sister’s. “That goes double for me. Get out of here—and don’t come back!”

Victoria was standing in the stable doorway, watching everything.

“Ring! Ring! Uh-oh!”
Her bird flapped its wings and bobbed. Even
it
mocked me.

I pushed past Victoria and kept running. I didn’t stop until I found myself at Pat’s Pets.

Pat Haven and Barker were settling in a new litter of puppies. I ducked behind the fish aisle. My vision blurred as I watched striped angelfish swim in and out of underwater castles.

What will happen to Wild Thing? What if the Spidells try to break her again? I shouldn’t have lost my temper!

“Winnie?” Barker called up. Puppies yapped. Pat laughed. “You need something?”

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. The horseshoe scar at my elbow whizzed under my eyes like a car out of control. “No!” I hollered back. “I—I’m going to check e-mail!”

“Good!” Pat yelled up. “Quite a few horse ones.”

I moved to the computer. One kid had written:

My buddy chased me all over the stable yelling that his Paint is better than my Pinto. What should I tell him?

I answered:

Tell him you’re both unbelievably lucky to have horses of your own. And stop running in the barn! You’ll spook the horses.

I don’t know how long I sat staring at the screen, trying to focus on the words in front of me. My mind felt bombarded with images of Wild Thing, pictures as real as if I were sitting in front of a television watching a horror movie—Wild Thing rearing, tugging against the ropes.

The mailbox flag symbol popped up:
You’ve got mail!
It was for me from Hawk
.
I felt as glad to hear from Hawk as if the message were coming from my best friend.

Winnie,

My horse is doing fine. I thought I’d write to see how you’re doing. How’s that Arabian?

—Hawk

Something opened inside me, and I started typing as fast as I could. I told Hawk about losing my temper and about losing my job.

I have to make a lot of money fast! I have
to earn enough to buy Wild Thing!

—Winnie

I hit Send and waited for the reply in new mail. It didn’t take long:

I’ve got it! The Auction! You know so much about horses, Winnie! Go to the auction tomorrow and buy a horse cheap. Work with him all week. Then next Saturday, you can sell the same horse for a lot more money at Spidells’ fall sale!

People assume something must be wrong with auction horses, so they sell cheap. But at Spidells’ sale, the seller shows off the horse, and the same horse can sell for hundreds of dollars more. Anybody can sell there too, because Spidell takes a percentage of the sale. But you could still have enough left to buy Wild Thing—especially if they’ve given up on her.

—Hawk

By the time I’d finished reading, my heart was pounding and my mind racing.
It’s crazy, right? Or is it? I can gentle most horses in a week. And I’d look them over carefully and get a good-natured one. But where am I going to get the money to buy a horse at auction?

“From Dad,” I muttered, getting up from the computer.

Catman and Lizzy were working on a shelter for Larry the Lizard when I ran up. In between panting breaths, I filled them in on my auction plan.

“I’ll soften Dad up with my famous Missouri ham,” Lizzy offered.

“Remember,” Catman said, staring hard into my eyes, “you can’t
make
a cat do something he doesn’t want to do.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant
cat,
as in the animal, or
cat,
like in old movies where hippies called each other “cat
.
”

“Like . . . you can lead a cat to water, but you can’t make him drink?” I asked.

Catman grinned. “People think I train cats. But you can’t train a cat. I just get them to follow along. They think it’s their own idea.”

I felt like I was piecing together a Catman puzzle. “Make buying the horse Dad’s idea?”

Catman didn’t answer. “Good idea, Winnie. See you later.” He strolled off, staring up at the sky, which had filled with heavy gray clouds and the promise of rain.