That Horse Whiskey! Read online

  “Early mornings are nice,” she said.

  “Early mornings I’m sleeping. Unless I’ve got a date with a horse. I guess it’s what you’re used to.… Have you always lived here?”

  “Always,” she said. “I don’t mind the summers. And I love the sunshine and mountains in the distance wherever you look.… I visited a cousin in upstate New York once. She lives near mountains, the Adirondack, but they’re too green.”

  “Better too green than the dead brown around here.”

  “You should see the desert in bloom in the spring. It’s full of color then.”

  “Cacti just don’t do it for me,” Ryan said. “Give me a nice old maple that I can lean against without getting speared.”

  She laughed. “So when are you going home?”

  “I don’t know. I may stick around until I get a handle on what my father’s like.… He talks to me after dinner usually. He has his coffee, and we sit out on the patio and watch the lizards scarfing up flies, and he talks. There’s an owl in a big old tree near the pool. I’ve never seen an owl in the wild before. We sit there until the stars come out. Then he watches TV and I read some more.”

  “What does he talk about?”

  “Oh, how great he runs the hospital. Or about the West and what Tucson was like when he first came out here. Or what he thinks is going to happen to the old U.S. of A. He’s pretty interesting, really.”

  “What does he think is going to happen to the country?”

  “Well, he figures we’ll come out on top because we’ve got what he calls ‘vision’ and we’re natural-born risk takers. Not me, though, I’m not a risk taker.” Ryan chuckled. “I guess you could tell by how quick I got out of Chester’s way, huh?”

  “Chester’s pretty big,” she said, trying to be fair, “and you’re not used to horses.”

  “Thanks for not laughing at me, Lainey.”

  “I almost did,” she had to admit. “You were pretty funny.”

  He grinned amiably, showing a dimple in his broad cheek. “I bet I was.” Then out of the blue he asked her, “How come you got your hair cut?”

  “Why? Don’t you like it?”

  “Well, sure. I mean, you’d look good anyway, but your hair was special, so long and shiny, kind of like Whiskey’s tail. Not that I’m comparing you to a horse. I mean—” He groaned in embarrassment.

  To rescue him, she confided, “I cut it off to show my father I’m not his little darling anymore. I’m an individual, and I’m going to grow up and do things because I want to and I can—just like my brothers. You know what I mean?”

  “All that from a haircut?” he asked.

  She shrugged.

  He said, “Well, I guess I can see it. There’s a kid in my school who got sent home for having four-letter words shaved onto his head. I guess he was using hair to make a statement, too.”

  Lainey gave a start. She couldn’t believe it. They’d walked past the entrance to Cobb Lane, and Whiskey was still stepping right along. “Ryan, he did it!” she shrieked.

  “Who did what?” He looked around in confusion.

  “Whiskey.” She forced her trembling hands to steady so that Whiskey wouldn’t feel her excitement through the reins and start acting up again. “This horse,” she practically whispered to Ryan, “always—I mean always, no matter who’s riding him—turns around and heads for the stable in a quarter of a mile. We’ve gone at least half a mile already.”

  “Must be my influence,” Ryan said. “Or maybe it’s Chester. Hey, Chester, you distracting old Whiskey from his turnaround act?” Ryan leaned slightly forward in the saddle and patted Chester’s neck.

  Lainey was irked that he wasn’t taking this breakthrough seriously. To her it was amazing that Whiskey had become obedient so suddenly, and for no reason. Unless he was responding to the hours she’d spent grooming him and giving him treats he didn’t deserve. Or did Ryan have it right? Could it be Chester’s companionship?

  “You know what this means, Ryan? It means I may be able to buy myself a horse soon. At least, I will if Whiskey’s broken his bad habit and Mr. Dodge can get a good price for him.”

  “You want Dodge to sell the horse?” Ryan shook his head as if he were mystified. “I thought you liked Whiskey.”

  “I do,” she said. “But there’s no way I can afford him once he’s trained. See, then he’ll become valuable because he’s also young and strong and beautiful.”

  “So don’t tell Dodge you’ve trained him, and he’ll sell Whiskey to you cheap.”

  “I couldn’t do that,” she said immediately. “It wouldn’t be honest.”

  Ryan smiled and nodded. “That’s what I figured you’d say.”

  “Would you do it?”

  “No,” he said.

  She gave him one of her mother’s level-eyed special looks. He was an oddball, Lainey thought, and not easy to know even if he was an easy talker. Still, she liked him.

  They clip-clopped across the road and entered a dirt path, bordered by a rock fence, that led to the state forest trails. A rider came loping toward them. Lainey recognized Amber on Belle. “Amber!” she called out, but her friend pounded on by without a nod or a wave.

  “Who’s that?” Ryan asked.

  “My friend. Or, anyway, she used to be.” Lainey looked after Amber in dismay. She’d been too busy to call Amber, and they hadn’t seen each other since Lainey’s birthday. No wonder Amber didn’t want to speak to her.

  “I thought it was a boy,” Ryan said. “She mad at you or something?”

  “Maybe,” Lainey said. Then she added hopefully, “Or maybe she didn’t realize it was me because I’m with you.”

  “You mean she doesn’t expect to see you with a boy?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…”

  “Don’t you even have a boyfriend in school?”

  “No. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Well, sure. That is, I have friends who are girls. It’s no big deal. I mean, it’s easier to have a conversation with a girl. Especially the ones that like to read.”

  She considered what he’d said and decided that she liked his attitude. At least he was a male who gave girls credit for concerns beyond their own looks and feelings. She was wishing she were more of a reader herself when suddenly Whiskey started reversing direction.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” She reined him through the turn and past it, trying to force him back onto the trail. He snorted and began to rear right above a pile of boulders and the barbed spines of a bristling teddy bear cholla. “Whiskey,” she said keeping her voice calm to control him, “don’t start in now. Look at how far we got. Come on, settle down. Don’t you want to see what’s up the trail?”

  The third time Whiskey rose up on his back legs, neighing as if demanding his release, she heard Ryan cry out her name in terror. It did seem that Whiskey was about to fall backward. Lainey made ready to jump.

  When Whiskey came down safely on his front legs, her fear dropped with him. She simply gave him his head and let him gallop for home, leaving Ryan alone on the path behind her. Nearing Cobb Lane, Lainey was afraid her mother might be looking out the window of the trailer, so she tried reining Whiskey in. To her relief, he slowed to a trot.

  Chick was coming toward her. He was leading what she had expected—a gaggle of little girls, probably another birthday party group. Into the face of his knowing grin, she said stiffly, “Ryan’s back there at the trail head alone.”

  Chick nodded. “I’ll look out for him.”

  She hoped Ryan wouldn’t be humiliated to be stuck with a group of elementary school age girls, but she couldn’t do much about it if he was. The best she could manage was to coax Whiskey from a too-fast bouncing trot to a walk.

  When she dismounted at the barn, she went as usual to get him his oats and she gave him a thorough grooming. If nothing else, he was looking handsomer from all the attention she had been giving him.

  �
��I treat you a lot better than you treat me, you big trickster,” she complained to him. “That wasn’t nice, to let me think I had you trained and then show me who’s boss. You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

  Playfully, Whiskey bumped her shoulder with his nose.

  “Oh, Whiskey, you crazy horse,” she said. “Don’t you know Mr. Dodge could sell you for dog meat unless you behave?” She put her arms around his neck and hugged him. He kept his head still and snuffled as if her affection pleased him.

  Well, she told herself, he had gone past his limit today. What if tomorrow she could get him to go a little farther? What if Chick and Lopez were wrong and Whiskey did get trained her way? For a moment she stood still, embracing Whiskey and hoping for a miracle.

  Chapter 8

  It was late Saturday afternoon, and Dad was sprawled on the couch watching the sports channel on TV with a near-empty bottle of bourbon on the cocktail table beside him. He’d been in the same position when Lainey had left for the ranch that morning, but the bottle had been full then. The last time Lainey remembered her father trying to drink away his misery had been on the weekend his oldest son had chosen the air force instead of joining him in the start-up of Cobb Builders.

  “Hi, Dad,” Lainey said cautiously. “How are you doing?”

  He mumbled something without even looking in her direction. She let him be and joined her mother in the kitchen. “What’s happened now?” Lainey asked.

  “It’s just the same old money trouble, Lainey. Nobody’s sick or dying.”

  “But Dad’s drinking,” Lainey said.

  “Well it discouraged him that the couple who were going to buy a house changed their minds. Don’t worry, Lainey. He’ll have a hangover tomorrow, and by Monday he’ll have revved himself up to try again.”

  Mom’s fair face radiated her usual sunny-day conviction that life was good. She should be a newscaster, Lainey thought. Mom’s face would reassure viewers of the world’s survival, no matter what awful disasters she was reporting.

  Lainey made a bowl of popcorn and silently set it down next to the bottle on the cocktail table. “What’s that for?” her father asked.

  “For you, Dad.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Want me to bring you a sandwich?”

  “I don’t want anything. Not hungry.” He was dough colored, and his big body looked awkward flung there on the cushions. With his eyes receding into slits and his face puffy, he resembled a beaten boxer.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy, about the sale falling through,” she offered gently.

  His eyes remained fixed on the TV. “So how’s it going with the horse?”

  “Good. He went past his quarter-mile limit for me yesterday.”

  “Yeah? Well if you make any money on him, you can lend it to me.”

  “Okay.” She was pretty sure he didn’t mean it, but was willing to if he did.

  “Because you can forget about getting your own horse,” he said. “That’s for a rich man’s daughter, and you’re no rich man’s daughter, and never will be the way things are going.”

  Letting his bitterness bounce off her, she made her voice cheerful and asked, “Dad, would you come over to Dodge’s with me so I can show you how Whiskey comes when I call him?”

  “I’m not going anywhere today.”

  “Please, for me, Daddy.” Her idea was to lure him away from the bottle and his determination to make himself drunk, but the look he gave her clearly showed he knew what she had in mind.

  “Get out of here,” he growled. “You stink of horses. Who wants a daughter who stinks of horses?”

  That blow found its mark. She ran from the room as if he’d slapped her and went on out to the patio. So he was feeling terrible and she was just a child who couldn’t comfort him. But she had feelings, too. He had no right to mock them, not if he cared about her. She stared off into the desert with stinging eyes.

  “Lainey,” Mom said from the sliding door to the kitchen. “What now? What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “If he said something mean, it was just the drink.”

  “No it wasn’t,” Lainey said. “He doesn’t love me anymore. Maybe he never really did.” With an echo of her father’s bitterness she added, “How could he when I’m just a girl!”

  “Lainey, I don’t have the patience to deal with two miserable people at once. Why don’t you go visit Amber?”

  “She’s probably out riding.”

  “Well, call her. Maybe she isn’t.”

  It was sensible advice. Besides, it was time to make peace with Amber. They’d been friends for four years, and however annoying Amber could be, she had her good qualities. Plus she wasn’t just a friend until she could find someone who had more to offer her, like other girls Lainey had known.

  Lainey called Amber’s private number, and Amber picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing?” Lainey asked.

  “Hanging out by the pool. What are you doing?”

  “Nothing much.” Lainey waited for the invitation Amber had never failed to extend. She was proud to share her Olympic-size swimming pool. It was surrounded by cushioned lounge chairs under a thatch-roofed deck that provided shade even on the hottest day. But today Amber said only, “Well, see you around, then.”

  Lainey gripped the receiver in shock. Amber had hung up on her. Ignoring Lainey on the trail yesterday hadn’t been an accident, then. Amber was angry at her, really angry. Was it because they hadn’t seen each other in a while? Was their friendship over forever just because of that?

  So glum she didn’t feel like doing anything at all, Lainey dragged herself to the carport, where she’d left her riding boots. She pulled them on, set her cowboy hat square on her head, and started down the road toward Mr. Dodge’s ranch.

  The heat of the afternoon sun still weighed heavily on the desert. Not enough air remained to breathe. The horses would all be resting in whatever shade they’d found. Well, she could say hello to Whiskey and chat with Mr. Dodge, or see if anybody was cleaning tack in the barn and offer to help them.

  The asphalt at the edges of the road was soft enough to chew. Ahead of Lainey ripples of superheated air made the road look like a gray lake—a lake without water. Inside the heat that was smothering her, the only sounds were the whine of a car speeding by and the creak of her boots.

  Suddenly she also heard hoofbeats, and there coming toward her was Whiskey. He was riderless, hooves barely touching the roadway as he galloped freely down the middle of the road. He whipped past her without any sign of recognition, although she called his name and held up the bread she was carrying.

  In her dismay, she dropped the bread and ran the rest of the way to the ranch. There she saw Lopez getting into Mr. Dodge’s Jeep with a rope in his hand while Mr. Dodge stood under the ramada, worrying his gnarled hands against one another.

  “Lainey,” he said, “you want to go with Lopez and help him catch that crazy horse of yours?”

  Without wasting words, she jumped into the passenger’s side of the Jeep. Lopez’s skill at handling horses didn’t extend to vehicles. He jerked her back in the seat at the start and nearly threw her out the door when he turned too sharply into the road.

  “Why did Whiskey take off?” she asked.

  “Who knows? First thing I saw was him sailing over the fence. That horse would have made a good jumper if he’d been trained.”

  “Something must have spooked him.”

  “With Whiskey you can’t ever tell. He does what he pleases. Let’s just hope he doesn’t run into a truck and kill himself,” Lopez said.

  It was the dust trail left by Whiskey when he veered off into the wash that alerted them. Lopez muttered “Madre de Dios” under his breath and cautiously eased the Jeep down the steep bank onto the dry riverbed. “Easy to get stuck in this sand,” he said.

  Fortunately, Whiskey hadn’t gone very far. They saw him under a mesquite tree, browsing on a growth of
green weeds that had taken hold in the dampness there. Lopez stopped the car and stepped out. Coiling the rope, he walked easily toward the horse, who waited until Lopez was within ten feet of him before bolting from his oasis and taking off at top speed farther down the wash. Lopez looked disgusted as he returned to the car.

  “Next time, you try roping him,” he said to Lainey. It thrilled her that Lopez, the expert, would think she might deal with a horse better than he could. She sat up straighter.

  They continued along the riverbed with Lopez weaving toward whatever appeared to be solid ground as they went. This time Whiskey had found himself a bank to hide against, and they didn’t see him until they turned a sharp bend in the river bed.

  The horse was watching them, ears forward, eyes alert, his dark head held high. Lainey took the coiled rope Lopez handed her. She listened to his instructions on how to use it and slipped out of the car. As she walked slowly toward Whiskey, she gave her two-part whistle.

  “I lost the bread I had for you,” she told him, “but if you come home with me, I’ll get you some oats. What do you say, Whiskey? Want some oats? Or water. I bet you’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

  It was so hot that the sweat had dried in a salty rime on his withers. So hot, Lainey could feel it scorching the back of her shoulders. But the horse seemed immune to the heat. He shifted from one front leg to another and tossed his head at her, nostrils flaring.

  “So,” she asked, ten feet from him. “You’re a good jumper, are you? Sometime maybe we could practice going over hurdles. I always wanted to learn how to ride a jumper. Want to teach me, Whiskey? Hmm?”

  She was five feet from him. Any second she expected him to break and run, but now she was close enough to reach out and touch him, and he didn’t budge. Even when she looped the rope over his neck to halter him, he stayed put.

  “There,” she said. “I guess you’re ready to go home. Had your fun, didn’t you?” She patted the long sleek neck. He bent his head and rested his soft nose on her arm, breathing quietly. “You are something, Whiskey. Playing games like this on such a hot afternoon. Bet you were looking for a swimming hole, weren’t you?”