Nothing But Horses (3 page)

I led Nevada around the arena on the left
track a few times, then switched directions so he could see there
weren’t any monsters lurking in the corners. Robin followed me with
Charm. Vicky and Aladdin brought up the rear. Once, we’d shown them
that the ring was a safe place for the next hour, we tightened our
cinches and mounted up.

I started the warm-up with the Shamrock
Stable version of Cowgirl Jumping Jacks. We all dropped our reins
on the necks of our horses and clapped our hands over our heads.
Then, Robin took us through ten reps of Cowboy Jumping Jacks. It
was basically the same exercise, but we did it standing up. Vicky
finished up with the twists and turns, we’d named This-a-ways,
That-a-ways.

After that exercise, I lowered my arms and
sat down in the saddle, leaving my reins behind the saddle horn.
“Okay, let’s get started. I’m Sierra and this is my best horse
ever, Nevada. First and most important, let’s review balance.
Everybody place your hands on your shoulders and make sure they’re
over your hips in a straight line. Point to your heels. Are they
below your hips?”

Once we had the proper form for Western
riding, I collected my reins in two hands. It wasn’t normal for the
equitation class, but I wanted Nevada to focus on everything I told
him to do and he performed better on the snaffle bit. I glanced at
my friends to be sure they were ready. “Pick up your reins and say,
whoa. That’s the second important thing we’re going to do today,
learn how to stop.”

Robin taught us to ride forward four steps by
using our seat and legs. Vicky reviewed backing. My turn again and
I talked them through a left-hand circle. Onto Robin and she led us
into a right-hand circle. Then, it was onto more exercises with
Vicky. My mom came and stood in the center of the ring to watch us
finish the warm-up that she called, ‘Round-Robin,’ and yes, it was
named after my friend. She’d started it three summers ago because
then the day-campers remembered how to do the horsy basics.

I glanced toward the gate when it opened and
saw my younger sister come into the barn. She still wore her school
clothes, a red jacket, blue jeans and running shoes. She plopped
her backpack on the bench by Jack and climbed up to sit next to it.
Queenie, our year-old, sable collie mix who adored Autumn, stood in
front of them, plumed tail waving as they petted her. All was right
in her doggie world, now that the school day was over and my sister
was back where she belonged.

“Okay, ladies,” Mom said, “let’s get moving.
Turn your horses to the right and follow Sierra around the arena on
the left track. That will put Aladdin at the end of the line. Pay
attention since Q.U.E.E.N.I.E. has graced us with her presence.
Horses have been known to spook when they see D.O.G.S.”

Robin and Vicky both knew that the reason my
mom opted to spell out certain words was to keep Queenie out of the
arena. If Mom used the dog’s name or even said the ‘d-word,’ it
meant it was time to round up the horses, whether they had people
on their backs or not. Spelling avoided that hassle. Of course, Mom
ordered the collie to stay near the porch on weekends or deal with
the dreaded chain or jail in the back yard.

However, when it came to driving a colicky
horse forward and keeping them on all four hooves, Queenie was a
blessing. She’d work all night with Mom and never give up. I walked
Nevada past the benches and our audience. He didn’t care. They
didn’t even deserve a flick of his ears. Of course, that could have
been because I alternated squeezes with my legs, urging him to pick
up a brisk, active walk.

There was a method to my proverbial madness.
Charm was super calm in the ring, what Vicky called a dependable
slug. He’d go along with whatever his big half-bro, Nevada did.
Meanwhile, Aladdin was a fairly young horse who might spook at the
dog, my sister and possibly Jack. The bay Arabian had issues with
guys.

We couldn’t get any answers from the breeder
about what Aladdin had been through at that barn and the person who
donated him to us didn’t know the questions to ask. Still, it
didn’t take much for Mom or me to know an abused animal when we saw
one. I turned at the letter, ‘C’ and began a series of half circles
on the imaginary line toward the letter ‘A’ at the opposite end of
the arena.

“Serpentines,” Robin said. “Really, Sierra?
Aladdin’s a baby.”

“He does them with Vicky all the time,” I
said. “This is the same thing, but she’s on his back instead of the
ground.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Vicky said, petting
the horse she’d been training for six months. “We can do what the
other guys do. Aladdin has on his big boy saddle.”

I laughed and turned into a circle that took
up the top half of the ring. Nevada bent his body around my inside
leg like he did it all the time and it wasn’t a rarity. Normally,
he sulked his way through the lessons, but we’d been hitting the
arena a lot lately and it seemed like our practices were paying
off. I did love riding, but usually school took priority. I’d been
having some issues with my new choir director and my soccer coach.
It’d gotten to the point that I was ready to change my schedule if
things didn’t improve.

During our phone conversations Grandma had
said that she had an in at some of the local private schools and
set up interviews for us with the headmasters or principals. We’d
be touring Stewart Falls Academy and Centennial Middle-High
tomorrow. I wanted to check them out, but I’d much rather go to
Lincoln High in Marysville where my friends went.

I’d think about school later. Right now, I
needed to pay attention to what Mom said. She signaled me and I
nodded. “Okay, let’s do a four-point halt. Seat down, heels down,
squeeze your shoulders and close your hand on the reins. Once the
horse has stopped, make sure he stands square and balanced. We’ll
review this two more times, then instead of transitioning to a
walk, we’ll go for a trot.”

When I did the final walk-through of the
barns after chores, I wasn’t surprised to find that Aladdin had
about five pounds of organic carrots in his manger. He had totally
focused during our lesson and was even able to trot once around the
ring. Then, my mom called him into the center to stand and watch
Robin and me work. Vicky claimed that the youngster could finish
the work at higher speeds, but Mom didn’t want to push him and I
agreed.

It was better to go slow and careful, keeping
in mind that we wanted the Arabian to be useful for the next thirty
years. We didn’t want him to go too fast and be a nervous wreck
like his best barn buddy. Summertime could work in the indoor or
outdoor arenas now, but he totally freaked when I took him on the
trails. He knew all the trees in the world would jump out and eat
him. People who didn’t teach their horses to work in every possible
environment completely irritated me.

I clicked off the lights and went toward the
parking lot. Robin, Vicky and Jack were already by his pickup.
Vicky waved and I hurried to join them. “What are you guys up
to?”

“Dinner on the way home,” Vicky said. “Call
and tell us what the other schools are really like. I’ve only
visited them during rec cheer. The gym at S.F.A. is amazing.”

“We want Sierra at Lincoln High,” Robin said,
“not at Snob Hollow, or its clone.”

“Oh, come on.” Vicky elbowed her best friend.
“If you want to see snobs, check out Mount Pilchuck. I’ve cheered
against the S.F.A. and Centennial squads at competitions. They’re
way decent. The captain at C.M.H. even congratulated Evie when we
beat them a couple weeks ago.”

Robin narrowed brown eyes. “I still want
Sierra with us.”

“Yeah, well we don’t always get what we want,
Princess Robin,” Jack said, walking around to the driver’s side.
“Now, get in the truck so we can stop for burgers.”

Still complaining, Robin climbed into the
passenger seat. I watched them go and debated following to close
the gates at the highway. I decided against it. My grandparents
would be along in a couple hours and Grandpa would need mass room
to get his land yacht…er Winnebago off the highway. I walked up to
the two-story farmhouse and Queenie barked at me from the
porch.

“Oh, yeah.” I petted her white ruff. “Now, I
feel majorly threatened.”

When I walked into the house, I found Mom and
Autumn in the kitchen rolling out Christmas cookies. “What happened
to dinner?”

“We’re waiting for Grandma and Grandpa,”
Autumn told me. “Want to help me cut out the reindeers and Santa
and cowboy boots? You gotta wash your hands first.”

“Okay. I’m in. You had me at cookies.”

Mom grinned and my little sister laughed.
Autumn chattered about the different colored buttercream frostings.
Would I make them all taste funny, one of our holiday traditions?
After I obediently washed the horse off my hands, I found the
flavorings, peppermint for green, raspberry for red, and caramel
for yellow. I left the blue alone – that way we’d have a color to
use for accent.

We were on the second tray of cookies when
the dog alarm went off. Autumn hustled toward the front door, Mom
right behind her and me after them. Mom opened up and the three of
us rushed to meet the two of them. Grandma was the first one out of
the motor home. In spite of the way I teased them, the Rialta
wasn’t that huge—a little less than twenty feet. I frowned when I
saw the little red car behind it. What was happening? Normally,
Grandpa drove the Winnebago everywhere when he was here. He could
park it pretty much anywhere, even if it did take two long spots on
the street.

If Grandma wanted to visit somewhere when
they were here, she’d borrow the Ranger or go with me or Mom.
Speaking of which, it was my turn for a hug. I stepped up and was
squished against my grandmother’s short, plump body. She kissed me,
then I was free while Autumn clung to her hand.

I went to hug Grandpa, a tall, lanky,
gray-haired cowboy in a western shirt and jeans. He put an arm
around my shoulders and said, “What’s for supper? I could eat a
horse. Where’s yours?”

“In the barn, safe and sound from the likes
of you.”

Mom always said that we had to go to bed on
time so we could get up early the next day. We never quite managed
it on the nights that Grandma and Grandpa arrived. We had cookies
as an appetizer while he grilled steaks. I made a huge salad and
Grandma nuked spuds in the microwave. Grandpa complained about
that, but I noticed he ate his.

Once the dishes were done, we pulled out the
Scrabble game and played a quick round while more cookies baked.
Holiday music from the radio filled the air. Grandma described the
trip north and talked about the snow they’d run into and what a
great driver, Grandpa was. When I asked about the car, he said it
was so she could run around without inconveniencing us. I expected
Mom to say that borrowing the farm truck wasn’t a hassle, but she
didn’t.

Okay, that meant something was up and I’d
have to play detective to try to find out what the three of them
had in mind. It wouldn’t be too difficult. When it came to keeping
secrets, Autumn did better.

I helped Grandpa bring their suitcases in
from the motorhome so they could sleep in the guestroom. The
Winnebago had a double bed, but this had been their house for years
and Grandma always said there was no place like home and family for
holidays. When I walked through the kitchen, I noticed Autumn had
dozed off, her strawberry blonde head on the table.

Once I rolled the suitcase into the guest
room, I went back to collect my little sister. I was too late. Mom
had already carried the munchkin off to bed. I glanced in on them,
and then headed to my room. I was wiped. Since we were visiting
Stewart Falls Academy and Centennial Mid-High tomorrow, I wouldn’t
have to get up early enough for school, but we still had morning
chores and forty horses to feed before breakfast.

* * * *

Stewart Falls, Washington

Thursday, December
19
^th
, 9:10 am

Grandma didn’t have any trouble finding
Stewart Falls Academy the next morning. There were several red
brick buildings like a college campus scattered around long
sweeping lawns. On one side was a football field, complete with a
giant grandstand. I saw tennis courts and most surprisingly of all
was a huge indoor arena. “What’s up with that? They offer
lessons?”

“No,” Mom said. “It’s for the students. The
Academy has its own equestrian team. They specialize in three-day
eventing.” She gestured to another building. “That’s the swimming
pool.”

“We should leave,” I said. “There’s no way we
can afford this place. We’re like the peasants who want to line up
and see the queen.”

Grandma parked the Subaru. “I taught Sean
Donnelly back in the day. We’ll visit and see what they have to
offer you. Your grandfather and I discussed your education, Sierra.
We want the best for you.”

“Me too,” I said. “I just want it to be a
reasonable price and none of us have won the lottery.”

I felt like I was talking to a stone. When
Grandma made up her mind, she was more stubborn than I was. I
sighed and got out of the car. She was right about one thing. We
could do the tour even if I didn’t end up at this school.

I heard a bell chime and a bunch of teen
zombies came out of the main building. They all wore the same
colored clothes, blue slacks, white collared shirts, blue sweaters.
“No way! They have uniforms. I’m so outta here.”

Chapter
Three

Right after lunch, Grandpa found me grooming
my big red, booger-horse, Nevada. Grandpa leaned on the stall door
and gave me a long look. “Why do I have a feeling that you’ll only
go to Stewart Falls Academy or Centennial Middle-High if we rope
and hogtie you, Sierra Morn?”