That Horse Whiskey! Page 4

  “So how would you like a good grooming, Whiskey? Want somebody to fuss over you a little?” He dipped his head to her hand, but she hadn’t brought any treat for him. Tomorrow she’d start winning him over with carrots or bread or something tasty. “Come on, Whiskey, you and I, we’re going to be good friends,” she said.

  As if he understood her intention, he cooperated when she put the halter on him and led him to the rail outside the barn where she tied him. Telling him what she planned to do at each step of the grooming, she began roughing out the caked dirt and grime on his near side. She wanted him to get accustomed to the sound of her voice, and judging by the alertness of his ears, he was listening to her.

  “I know you’re not going to just let me get on your back and ride you past your quarter-mile limit just because I give you a little attention, Whiskey. But maybe if you start liking me. Just maybe.… Anyway, whatever I do, I don’t plan to hurt you. Do you believe me?”

  She laid her hand on the smooth slide of his neck. “I’d rather never ride you at all than dig a spur in your side or beat you with a quirt. I’m not going to maul your mouth with that nasty bit either.” His big brown eye attended her with interest. “So what do you think, huh? Think I’m going to be a good horse trainer? Or do you think I’m a fool? I realize I don’t know much. I mean not like Lopez, but I’ll learn, won’t I? Hmm?”

  Whiskey ducked his head as if he were answering her, and she laughed at herself for half thinking he might be. His throaty sigh sounded as if he were enjoying the currying. She worked on him for over an hour before she put him back in the corral. Now his woodsy hide gleamed red in the sun and his black mane shone. As he stepped with a fluid grace to the feeding station to scrounge a few stray bits of hay from the manger, smooth young muscles worked under his unmarked skin.

  He looked like the best horse Mr. Dodge owned, Lainey thought. Why should a quarter of a mile be his limit? Had something happened to him at that point in the road? Had he been scared there? As soon as she got her parents to sign the permission slip Mr. Dodge wanted, she could test to see if it was just that particular place that Whiskey wouldn’t pass.

  Meanwhile, she had a free ride coming to her, and why not take it? Lady was gone, but Badger had been left behind this morning. He was fat and old, but sweet tempered. She saddled him and rode him down the road past her own house and up into the mountains. Beside the canyon trail she was following, a spring still trickled into a pool of water on a wide rock basin by the white branches of a dead sycamore. It was late enough in the morning so that she felt as if she were moving through a sauna bath except in the shade of the rocks. A lizard skittered across her path. A hawk circled high against the dense blue sky.

  Mr. Dodge said it was hard to retrain a horse, Lainey thought, and Chick had told her once that horses were brainless. He had said even Lopez believed that. But Whiskey seemed so intelligent—the way he took notice of her, his alertness. And some horses had to be smarter than others. At least, they certainly had different quirks and habits.

  Chester chewed on things. Lopez’s horse bit other horses when they crowded him. Lady preferred her spot under the mesquite tree to the shade of the shed roof where the other horses rested. Didn’t having a preference show intelligence? And if Whiskey was intelligent, he could change. He could learn that a long walk into the mountains was more fun than being in a mucky corral all the time.

  Swaying comfortably in the saddle as Badger plodded along, Lainey thought how exciting, how wonderful, how fantastic it would be if she could train Whiskey to be as good as he looked. It would be great for her and better for him, too. First, though, she had to convince her father that it was safe for her to train a horse nobody else could deal with.

  She thought regretfully about their breakfast conversation. He didn’t like the idea of her buying her own horse. Well, if he wasn’t able to bring down the moon when she asked for it, he should at least be willing to let her try for it herself.

  Chapter 5

  Dad strode into the kitchen that evening, head up and grinning. “Spoke to the bank,” he told Mom. “Looks like they’ll give us a little leeway after all.”

  “There,” Mom said. “Didn’t I tell you you could talk the spots off a leopard if you set your mind to it, Randall?”

  “I said a little leeway,” Dad said. “We still need to get some serious buyers around here.”

  “Well, a young couple came asking about the model houses today. Could be our luck’s about to turn.” Mom bent to baste the roasting chicken.

  The spicy scent of the chicken blended with the heady aroma of optimism in the room. The time was right to get their signatures for Mr. Dodge, Lainey figured. She set the table, laying the permission slip she’d typed and a pen beside Dad’s plate.

  “What’s this?” he wanted to know when he came back from washing up and sat down to eat.

  “It’s for Mr. Dodge,” Lainey said. “No big deal. He just doesn’t want to be blamed if I fall off a horse or something like that.”

  Dad read the sentence which she had paraphrased for him and picked up the pen, but then he hesitated. “How come Dodge is getting fussy about liability all of a sudden?”

  “Oh, because a man broke his leg this week. It was his own stupid fault, but Mr. Dodge is afraid he might sue. He worries about everything since his wife died.”

  “Dodge is getting pretty old,” Dad said. “Must be up in his seventies.” His fingers did the flourish in the air he performed before he signed anything important, and he bunched his broad shoulders to the task.

  Lainey was about to let out her breath when Mom asked, “Is something different about the riding you’re going to do now? Is that why Mr. Dodge wants a permission slip?” Mom had put on her glasses and was standing behind Dad reading the one line Lainey had typed. Lainey clenched her teeth. With glasses or without, Mom was sharp-eyed.

  “It’s just that I’m training this particular horse,” Lainey explained casually. “If I train him well, I’ll get part of the profit when Mr. Dodge sells him. I’m hoping it will be enough so I can buy my own horse.”

  Dad winced but Mom said, “Well, aren’t you the enterprising one!”

  “I guess it runs in the family,” Lainey said, nudging Dad’s arm.

  Dad ignored the flattery and asked, “Why does this particular horse need training?”

  “Just because Whiskey’s got a bad habit.”

  “Such as?”

  Lainey squirmed a little before explaining casually, “He turns around and goes back to the ranch before he’s supposed to. He’s not mean or anything, just stubborn.”

  “You mean you’re going to ride him and try to force him to keep going?” Dad asked. “Is that it?” He put down the pen decisively.

  “There’s no danger. I’m not going to get hurt,” Lainey hastened to assure him. “Whiskey’s a good horse. Really. He just needs more attention than the wranglers have time to give him.”

  “Lainey,” Dad said, “I know how bad you want a horse, but I won’t have you risking your neck for one.”

  “You let my brothers go rock climbing and motorcycle racing, didn’t you?” she demanded.

  “They’re boys. You’re a girl.”

  “So I’m a girl. I’m as good at riding as they were at climbing or racing.”

  “Boys are different,” Dad said. “A boy needs to learn to take risks. Girls grow up to get married and raise babies. They don’t—” He ran out of words under Lainey’s glare. “Connie, you tell her,” he begged.

  “I don’t know.” Mom’s lower lip rolled out as she considered, and Lainey held her breath. At least Mom could be trusted not to let emotions rule her judgment. Lainey was jubilant when Mom finally said, “You never know what a woman might have to deal with, Randall. And Lainey’s not reckless. As long as this horse isn’t mean—”

  “He’s not, Mom. He’s just stubborn. Really. And the minute it looks like I can’t handle him, I’ll give it up, I promise. Is it all ri
ght with you, then?”

  Mom nodded. “So long as you’re really careful.”

  Lainey turned to her father. She expected he’d give in easily now that she had Mom’s support, but instead he said, “Well, it’s not all right with me.”

  He banged his chair back from the table, making Mom wince as his heavy work boots came down hard on the brittle Mexican tiles. “What if she gets knocked off and a thousand pounds of horseflesh falls on top of her?” he asked Mom. “What if she injures her head, or—no. No way. I want my pretty little girl to stay pretty.” Dad’s lips curved down in a firm negative.

  “Is that all you think I am, Dad? Just pretty and little?” Scorn singed Lainey’s voice. “Pretty and little—any fool can be that.”

  “Now, now,” Dad said. “Don’t get mad, honey. I’m not insulting you. I’m just saying—”

  “You are insulting me,” she shouted in a fit of temper that had been building ever since Dad hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the truth about her birthday present. “I’m tougher than you think, and I can do plenty of things that don’t have anything to do with my being a girl.”

  “Hey, now.” Dad reached out a hand toward her. “Take it easy, honey baby. I’m glad you’re a girl. When you were born, you should have heard me crowing to everybody about what a sweet, cute little daughter we got.” He stopped and looked at his wife pleadingly, as if he realized he’d said the wrong thing again.

  Lainey was furious. Every muscle in her clenched, and she had an urge to do something violent. Dad smashed things when he got mad. Mom turned to ice. What Lainey did was jump up from the table and race down the hall to her bedroom.

  There she was in the mirror above her dresser, the way her father saw her—a smallish figure of a girl with an oval face, a nothing nose, and hair that flowed luxuriantly over her shoulders down to her waist. That hair! It took as much trouble to keep it shining and smooth as it took to groom Whiskey. And it was hot having long hair in the summer. “I hate it,” she said to her mirror image. “I hate the way it makes me look.”

  She grabbed a handful of hair on either side of her face and pulled it back. Without the hair to advertise her femininity, she looked more competent and capable. More like a boy, Dad would say. How could he be so old-fashioned? He’d swear he considered women the equal of men, “and more,” he’d protest, boasting about his wife’s business sense and bookkeeping skills. But the truth was he saw women as the weaker sex—not as physically strong, not as brave, not as daring. Pretty and little! Kittens were pretty and little, and baby chicks. It was maddening.

  Lainey marched to the hall closet and took out a pair of sharp scissors from Mom’s sewing box. Then she locked herself in the main bathroom, even though she had it all to herself since her brothers had gone. Standing in front of the sink on tiptoe, she began lopping off long swatches of hair. When she finished, her hair hung chin length on either side of her face, a little longer in back. And she looked plainer—not so female. Maybe now her father could begin to respect her.

  Her heart was pounding. To calm herself, she went back to her bedroom and found the biography of Sally Ride that she’d begun reading for English class this spring. Thinking of Ryan, who could spend a whole vacation on books, she read fifty pages before Amber interrupted her with a phone call.

  “You busy tomorrow morning?”

  “I may be,” Lainey said.

  “What do you mean ‘may be’? Something to do with that boy?”

  “No, Amber. I’m trying to convince my father to let me train a horse for Mr. Dodge.”

  “You’re going to train a horse? What do you know about that? You never even had your own horse.”

  “I’ve read about it, and I’ve watched.”

  “I can’t believe Dodge would let you be a trainer. Is he going to pay you for it?”

  “Maybe. If I’m successful.”

  “This I’ve got to see,” Amber scoffed. “Is it a colt or a filly?”

  “A grown horse with a bad habit. It’s Whiskey.”

  “Whiskey? You’re going to train that outlaw? You’ve got to be kidding, Lainey.”

  “Amber,” Lainey said, “you’re supposed to be my friend. What are you my friend for if you think I’m such a dud?”

  “Sheesh,” Amber said. “Ill talk to you when you’re in a better mood.” As usual, she hung up without a good-bye.

  Amber got more blunt and tactless all the time, Lainey thought irritably as she set the receiver back on the hook. If they didn’t see each other for a while, that would suit Lainey just fine. She drew her feet up under her and went back to her book.

  In the morning, Dad’s expressive eyes widened in horror when he saw her hair. “Why’d you have to go and do that, Lainey?” he cried. His face creased as if he were in pain. “Never mind telling me. I know,” he said, and without another word he signed the paper that was still lying at his place at the table.

  Mom said the hair looked fine. “It’ll be cool for the summer. And it’ll grow,” she added. Lainey couldn’t tell if the comfort was meant for Dad or her. After Mom also signed the paper, she said, “You just better take care you don’t get hurt now.”

  “I’ll be careful, really, Mom. And thanks.”

  Lainey put her hand on her father’s sleeve to thank him, too, but he wouldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t speak to her either. She’d hurt him again, and it hurt her that she had. She hoped training Whiskey would be worth all this emotional turmoil in the end.

  With the fuss about the permission slip still on her mind, Lainey set off for the ranch, forgetting to bring a treat for Whiskey. She dropped the signed paper on Mr. Dodge’s desk, and said, “There you are. I’ll start with Whiskey this morning.”

  “Well, well, well.” Mr. Dodge was eyeing her rather than the paper. “Got a haircut, did you?”

  “Yes,” she said defiantly. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, a pretty girl’s a pretty girl however she does up her hair.” Too much of his teeth showed when he smiled. “Be careful with Whiskey, now. Remember Lopez tried to break him when we first got him, and Whiskey reared up and fell over backward. Would’ve killed Lopez if he hadn’t jumped free in time. That horse starts rearing, you stop trying to make him do whatever you’re trying to make him do. Just stop cold, hear?”

  “Yes,” Lainey said. “I hear.”

  “Okay, then. Go to it.”

  She paused in the doorway of the office to ask, “Did Ryan go back East, do you know?”

  “No. He’s still in town. His dad claims he told Ryan he could laze around the house all day if he liked, but not to expect him to stay home from work to keep him company. Funny kid, that Ryan.”

  Lainey nodded. “He likes to read. He won’t mind being alone all day.” And it wasn’t likely he’d get bored and come back to the ranch, she thought regretfully. No, it wasn’t likely she’d see him again.

  Chapter 6

  Whiskey was in a crowd of horses near the manger, which had just been filled with hay. Lainey set a saddle and blanket outside the barn and carried a bridle to him in the corral. “Whiskey,” she called. Then she whistled two notes that she hoped he’d learn to recognize as his. “Whiskey, want to go for a ride?”

  She began by stroking him as he ate. Then she looped the reins over his neck, talking to him all the while. “This morning we’re going for a nice ride, just you and me. It’ll be fun, Whiskey. Give you a chance to stretch your legs out. You don’t want to spend all your time in this corral, do you? Of course you don’t. You need your exercise.”

  His head was turned back so he could eye her as he chewed his hay. She kept smoothing his hide, which was the brown of a tilled field in spring, and talking until he had eaten his fill. Then she held the leather headstall up with one hand and slipped the bit in his mouth with the other.

  He opened his mouth to take the bit, showing big, square teeth in his upper and lower jaw, but he jerked his head and backed away from her. She stayed alongside him, ea
sing the bridle over his ears, as he pushed his way backward into the other horses, who sidestepped out of the way. “There,” she said. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Still moving slowly and talking to him, she led him out of the corral, being careful to shut the gate behind her. At the hitching rail outside the barn, she flipped the saddle blanket onto his back and heaved the light saddle she’d chosen neatly on top of it. A quick duck under his belly and she grasped the cinch, which she tightened snugly. It pleased her that at least Whiskey would let her saddle him. So far so good. He still had his head turned so he could see her. His ears twitched back and forth, but he didn’t have the mean look of a horse that intends to bite.

  “You’re just interested, aren’t you?” she asked him. “Just want to know what I’m planning to do. Well,” she said, “what we’re going to do is try riding along the road to the right instead of left. That way you can’t tell when you’ve gone a quarter of a mile because we won’t be walking past my house, see? And if it was something there that scared you, well, we won’t be passing it. So what do you think? Think I’m smart to figure that out, huh?”

  She put her foot in the stirrup and lifted herself lightly into the saddle. Whiskey stood still as he was supposed to and snuffled softly. She smiled to herself. What if he behaved for her? What if he acted like a perfectly trained horse in her hands? That would be wonderful in one way, but not so wonderful in another because Mr. Dodge wouldn’t owe her anything if she couldn’t prove she’d trained Whiskey. She clucked and directed the horse toward the road. The light touch of her heels against his ribs was enough to get him walking.

  Lopez was leading a lame horse to the barn. He turned to ask, “What are you doing on Whiskey, girl?” The sun glinted off the silver in the triangular beard he was growing. It made him look like a Spanish conquistador straight out of a social studies book.

  “Mr. Dodge gave me permission to train him,” Lainey said. “I’m going to ride him down the road to the right. Did you try him in that direction, Lopez?”