That Horse Whiskey! Page 11

  “Let’s go watch the auction,” Ryan said to his father. The five of them—Lainey and Dad, Mr. Dodge, Ryan and his father—moved into the group of people around the auctioneer, who was standing on a wooden box and holding a microphone. The man had long silver hair and, on his plaid shirt, he wore the fanciest silver and turquoise bolo tie that Lainey had ever seen.

  The auctioneer’s voice boomed until he adjusted the mike. In rapid order, he put three horses up for bids and sold them to buyers who had apparently examined them already. Lainey’s heartbeat picked up until it was going at a gallop when the auctioneer said, “And now, folks, here we go with the star of today’s parade—Whiskey. Owner’s Roy Dodge, and this handsome, high-stepping young gelding has been part of his riding stock for a year now. What am I bid on Whiskey? Six hundred? Do I hear seven?”

  To Lainey’s surprise, Ryan’s father put in a bid at eight hundred dollars. “Why did he do that?” Lainey asked Ryan.

  “Tell you later,” he said and went back to listening.

  It didn’t matter. The bidding moved fast as a skeet shoot. Through it Ryan’s father stayed silent. The faint hope his bid had roused in Lainey faded. Someone offered a thousand dollars, eleven hundred, twelve. The final bid came from a skinny blond man in a white cowboy hat and tan Levis.

  “Sold,” the auctioneer said. Lainey gave one last despairing glance at Ryan’s father, but he was asking Ryan if he wanted to get a soda, as if he didn’t really care that Whiskey had been sold to a stranger.

  Lainey walked up to the young man in the white cowboy hat—Whiskey’s new owner.

  “Birthday present for my wife,” he told her when Lainey asked him why he’d bought the horse. His mild blue eyes were friendly as he said, “You’re the kid that rode him in the parade.”

  “Yes.”

  “You did a good job. He’s a good horse, huh?”

  “Does your wife know much about horses?” Lainey asked.

  “Oh, she’s ridden all her life. Used to have a show horse when she was a kid.”

  Mr. Dodge had hobbled over on his cane and was standing at the young man’s elbow, waiting to talk to him. “Whiskey acts up sometimes,” Lainey warned, ignoring Mr. Dodge. “I mean, he’s not bad. He doesn’t bite or kick. But he’s a character. He’ll do things you don’t expect.”

  “Yeah, I can see he’s got some fire to him. That’s why I picked him for my wife. She likes spirit in an animal.” The young man’s eyes were sympathetic as he said, “You’re kind of stuck on him yourself, huh?”

  Lainey nodded and swallowed hard. “Will he have a place to get out of the sun?”

  “Sure, his own barn and corral. Don’t you worry. He’s going to a good home.”

  She drew a deep breath and took a step back, leaving Mr. Dodge alone to talk business with the young man. This was it, then, Lainey told herself, the best she could expect. She should be glad for Whiskey. It was selfish of her to feel so rotten. Be glad, she ordered herself.

  “Lainey, are you feeling all right?” her father asked her.

  “My head hurts,” she admitted. Now that it didn’t matter anymore, she even told him how the policeman had chased her and how she’d fallen again.

  “We’re taking you to a doctor,” Dad announced when she’d finished her story. “See you later,” he told the others, who had been listening in. Before Lainey could protest, he hustled her into his truck.

  She hadn’t even said good-bye to Whiskey, she thought. But maybe that was just as well. She’d already shed too many tears.

  “Looks like you’re going to get quite a chunk of cash from that horse,” Dad said as he maneuvered them through the city streets to the hospital.

  “I don’t care about that anymore, Daddy.”

  “I know, honey. I know. Listen, I was so proud of you, the way you handled that animal. I can’t remember when I was so proud of anybody.”

  “Good for a girl, huh, Dad?” she asked slyly.

  He glanced at her. “Now, why are you twisting what I’m saying? Did I ever think less of you because you’re female?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You did. You did.”

  “Not so.”

  “Then how come you never thought to ask me if I wanted to be your business partner, like you asked Lon and Pete?”

  “Why—because.”

  “Because what, Dad?” she pressed him.

  He frowned and gunned the engine at a red light. “Never mind,” he said, and he looked at her hard. “Just you grow up. And if I’ve got any business then to offer you a partnership in—and if you still want it—it’s yours. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she said.

  She turned toward the window to hide the sudden wash of tears. Crybaby, she taunted herself. You got what you wanted, didn’t you—not just Dad’s love, but his respect. So what are you crying about? Stop it now. But the tears kept brimming over, and she hurt. Despite all she’d gained, she hurt for what she had lost. Her horse, Whiskey, belonged to somebody else.

  Chapter 14

  Sunday morning Lainey managed to open her eyes and grab the receiver on the first ring. “Did you see your picture in the morning paper?”

  “I just rolled out of bed, Amber.”

  “Well, check the front page. You’re on it. The photographer caught Whiskey in midprance with his foreleg up, and you’ve got a winner’s smile. Boy, you’re lucky, Lainey! You should thank me for making you go to that parade.”

  “Thanks,” Lainey said. “You were right. It was a good idea.”

  There was silence on the line. Then Amber said, “You don’t sound too thrilled. How come? Didn’t Whiskey get sold?”

  “Yes. A man bought him for his wife. He said she knows horses.”

  “You get a good price?” Amber asked.

  “More than Mr. Dodge expected.”

  “Then what’s the matter with you?” Amber sounded annoyed.

  “Nothing. Not a thing.” Lainey was even more annoyed that Amber, the horse lover, couldn’t figure out what was wrong without being told.

  “Oh, I get it. You had a fight with your boooyfriend.” Amber drew out the last word in a mocking way.

  “Amber,” Lainey said, “Ryan isn’t my boyfriend. Really.”

  “Well, he likes you a lot. You can’t say he doesn’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He likes you, Lainey.” The accusation in Amber’s voice made everything clear to Lainey.

  “Amber, you have Belle,” she said. “How can you be jealous of me because you think some boy likes me when you have your own horse and I’ve lost Whiskey?”

  “Oh!” Amber said. “Oh, yeah.” There were two beats of silence, and then Amber added, “I’m sorry.”

  Lainey nodded at the phone, relieved that they finally understood each other again. “Okay,” she said. “So I’ll see you later?”

  “Yeah,” Amber said and hung up.

  Lainey got dressed and dragged herself to the kitchen, feeling as old as Mr. Dodge. Dad was busily cutting up the newspaper. He greeted her with an outsize smile. “Look at this, Lainey. I’m going to hang a copy in my truck. Impress everybody with my famous daughter.”

  The photo of Whiskey was wonderful, Lainey thought, but she was all grin and hat. “I look like a little kid,” she said.

  Dad hugged her and teased, “Yeah, but you got to admit it’s a good picture of the hat.”

  Mom sauntered into the room and over to the coffeepot in her Sunday attire—zoris, queen-size shorts, and an extra large man’s T-shirt. She, too, had a big smile for Lainey. “Congratulations,” she said. “I only wish I’d known you were going to be the star of that parade. I would’ve put those customers off till later and gone to watch you, especially since they weren’t serious lookers.”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal, Mom,” Lainey said. “Just a kind of thrown-together parade that anybody could enter.”

  “But your father says you were really something to see,” Mom said.

  “Not me,” Lainey said, �
��Whiskey. He was the big surprise. I didn’t even know he could prance. He stayed in step with the marching band the whole way.”

  Before she’d finished eating the celebration pancakes Mom insisted on making her, Ryan called. “I didn’t think you knew my phone number,” Lainey said.

  “I didn’t. I called Mr. Dodge. And before we forget, you better write down my number.” He dictated his telephone number and email and home address in New York and she dutifully wrote them all down.

  “My father thinks you’ve got the right stuff,” Ryan said then. “In fact, my status went up a notch just for being your humble student.”

  “Ryan, you teach me things, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Umm, I don’t know. Don’t bug me this early in the morning when I can’t think straight.” The praise pouring in from every direction was making her cranky for some reason.

  “Sorry. So anyway, congratulations. You were splendid, as the English would say.”

  “No,” she said. “Whiskey was.”

  “How come you sound so low?” Before it could burst out of her, he answered himself. “Yeah…oh…sure.” Ryan packed a heavy weight of sympathy into each separate word. “It’s too bad Dad’s bid was low.”

  “Why did he bid on Whiskey?” she asked.

  “Remember I told you he had a surprise for me? The surprise was he wants to buy me a horse. He figures now that I’ve begun to like riding, it’d be a bribe for me to spend my vacations out here with him. In fact, he came right out and said so.”

  “He must really love you, Ryan.”

  “Think so? I guess he must want me around for some reason, huh?”

  “Yeah, some reason,” she said. “Unless he just wants to save you from an overdose of literature.”

  “That’s the girl!” Ryan said. “You’re feeling better already. I can tell.”

  She wasn’t, but she chatted with him for a few more minutes before she ended the conversation. Afterward, she considered what would have happened if Ryan had become Whiskey’s owner. The good thing about it for her would have been that she might have seen Whiskey again. The bad thing would have been for Whiskey to get only a part-time master. Who would have taken care of him when Ryan wasn’t around? Unless Ryan’s father meant to do that. But it didn’t matter now, anyway. The skinny blond man had been the higher bidder, much higher. And his wife knew horses. Whiskey would be better off with a full-time owner like her.

  The next caller was Mr. Dodge. “Did you see yourself on the front page of the paper?” he asked. “I’d send you my copy, but I’d sort of like to keep it for myself.”

  “That’s all right, Mr. Dodge. We got a copy.” And Dad had just left to buy more, saying he wanted to send them to Lainey’s brothers.

  “Well, fine,” Mr. Dodge said. “Now when are you coming by to collect your money? Young feller gave me a check. Him and his wife come this morning with a horse van to take Whiskey away. Thought we might have trouble getting Whiskey into that van, but he climbed right up the ramp like he’d done it before. Maybe he had. Don’t know how his life was before I bought him.”

  “So Whiskey’s gone?” Lainey’s heart lurched. “Do they live near here?”

  “The young couple? No. Out by the Desert Museum someplace.”

  “Oh,” Lainey said. The Desert Museum was way on the other side of town. “Did she seem nice?”

  “Eh? Well, she liked the look of your horse. Rode him around and said he was a nice stepper.”

  “And did Whiskey seem to like her?”

  “I couldn’t say, Lainey. He behaved himself though.… You know, I don’t know how you managed to train that animal, spoiling him the way you did, but it sure worked. Can’t say it didn’t.”

  “I’ll be by, Mr. Dodge,” Lainey said. “I don’t know just when.”

  Days passed. Lainey kept delaying going to pick up her money from Mr. Dodge. She didn’t want to see the emptied corral without Whiskey in it.

  “You know,” Dad said, “we could fix the fence around the backyard in the new place and rebuild that old shed so you could stable a horse in it. How much is Dodge giving you? Enough to buy a horse?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know exactly, Daddy.” How could she think about another horse when she was still mourning the loss of the one she’d had?

  Thursday, Mr. Dodge called her. “You better get over here, Lainey. We got a problem.”

  She was helping Mom pack dishes for their move, which was to take place on Saturday, but she left the packing and hiked down the road. It was eleven o’clock in the morning, and the temperature was already up to 105. Her perspiration dried before it could dampen her shirt. She hustled along, feeling nauseous and lightheaded in turn. So close to high noon, she should have brought water with her on even this short a walk. But for once she’d forgotten.

  The instant she spotted Whiskey standing in the shade of the open shed roof with four or five of the oldest horses, her spirits rose. She didn’t stop to wonder why he was there—she was too glad to see him. The old two-note whistle brought him ambling to the corral fence. He was as calm as if they had never been parted.

  “If I’d known you were here, I’d have brought you some bread,” Lainey told him. “I missed you, Whiskey. I missed you so much.” She kissed his forehead.

  “Lainey, come in here. I got to talk to you,” Mr. Dodge called from his office.

  She left Whiskey reluctantly and went to the office. “Why’s he back, Mr. Dodge?”

  He switched off the TV and offered her the narrow chair Dad had sat in. “Seems Whiskey’s acting up. The wife called. Said all the neighbors is mad at them because he keeps leaping the paddock fence and getting into their yards and eating their plantings. Also, he’s gone back to his old tricks of turning around when she wants to take him on a trail ride. She says he shies when she whips him.” Mr. Dodge rubbed the back of his neck. “I give the feller his money back, Lainey.”

  “Good. Whiskey shouldn’t be whipped. No wonder he won’t go for her.” Lainey was indignant. “I thought her husband said she knew horses. Some horsewoman she must be!”

  “Yeah, but now we got a horse and no money. I was thinking you could call your friend Ryan, maybe. See if his dad still wants to buy Whiskey. I’d take that bid now and be glad to get it. Of course, you wouldn’t be making much on his offer.”

  “Do you have Ryan’s dad’s telephone number here?” she asked. High on a wave of newfound energy, she couldn’t wait to ask Ryan.

  The phone rang, and rang again, and rang a third time. She fidgeted anxiously. Wasn’t he there? If he spent all his time reading the way he claimed, he should be there.

  Finally, Ryan answered. He sounded glad to hear her voice. “Lainey, hi. How’re you doing?”

  “Fine, but there’s a problem with Whiskey.” Without trying to hide anything, she explained it. “Do you think your father would buy him anyway? I mean, would you want him even with his tricks?”

  “I’ll talk to Dad tonight,” Ryan said. “He might still be willing. He’s been looking into other horses for me.”

  “But Ryan, what if Whiskey runs away on you, too? And what if you can’t make him go more than a quarter of a mile, either?”

  “Don’t worry. I know the way to his heart. I’ll stuff him with apples and carrots and bread, and curry him just like you did.”

  “And talk to him. He likes to listen.”

  “Sure. I’ll read him Shakespeare. Or would he prefer someone more modern? Dr. Seuss, maybe?”

  “Oh, Ryan! But even if your father says okay, what happens to Whiskey when you go back to New York?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll think of something. Let me talk to Dad and see what he says.”

  Lainey couldn’t help worrying. She worried her way back home to continue helping her mother with the packing. While Lainey’s hands put things in cartons, her head was busy working out Whiskey’s future. One idea she had was to pay for an ad in the paper that would mention his parad
e fame and offer him for sale to an owner—subject to Whiskey’s personal approval. People who really loved horses might consider that a challenge. Unless they thought it was weird. And who would pay money for a horse that obeyed only when he felt like it?

  Ryan’s phone call caught her as she was about to leave the house to take Whiskey for a sunset ride.

  “Okay,” Ryan said after they’d exchanged greetings, “here’s the deal. Dad will make good on his original offer to Dodge if you can take care of Whiskey for us when I’m not in town.”

  “Are you serious, Ryan?”

  “You like it, huh?”

  “I can’t believe it. That’d be so great! But we’re moving, and how would I get to your place? It’s too far to walk.”

  “Listen, Dad’s going to bring me over to Dodge’s on his way to the hospital tomorrow morning, and we’ll work out the details. There’s got to be a way to do this. Maybe you can keep him at the ranch.”

  “I won’t be close enough to walk there anymore. But you know what? There’s room behind the house we’re renting. There’s even an old shed and a fence. It needs repair, but I could use my own money for materials and Dad would do the work. Oh, Ryan!… But what do you get out of this?”

  “What do you mean? Don’t you think I can train Whiskey to like me? I’m a nice guy. We’ll get along. You just tell him I’m a friend of yours.”

  “You are my friend,” she said.

  Amber was right, Lainey realized after the phone call. Ryan did like her a lot. And he was a boy and smart and cute. And even if he came from New York and read novels for fun, they had something in common, something important—Whiskey, her horse, their horse. She gave a joyous shout and ran to tell her mother, who was sorting linens, and then her father, who was packing tools from the utility closet. Finally, she flew down the road to the ranch.