Mom, Dave and my grandparents left shortly after we arrived at the house. Mom told me to make sure I kept my cell with me in case I had an emergency. Hello, I was a teenager. Did she honestly think I ever let it out of my sight or reach? Autumn loved it when I had friends spend the night because she got to hang out with us. We ate pizza, played board games and set up the living room with our sleeping bags. If I only had one friend over, she slept in my bed with me, but more than one meant a camp-out.
The farmhouse really wasn’t that big. The downstairs had a small living-room in the front and the kitchen was directly behind it. The hall off it held three bedrooms and a bath. Mom had told me it was a major deal when my great-great-grandfather installed indoor plumbing. My great-great-grandmother was a city girl who refused to go to the outhouse first thing in the morning or any other time of the day. Grandpa told me that when her soon-to-be father-in-law offered to buy her a new chamber-pot, she threatened to call off the wedding.
It didn’t happen. She got her bathroom or none of us would be here and Shamrock Stable would be a housing development by this time. Okay, so my grandpa had turned the family homestead into a riding stable, but at least it wasn’t wall to wall split-level houses. That was another thing that totally ticked off the various guys my mom married. They always thought they’d be the ones to convince her to sell off the hundred-plus acres to the developers. It was so not happening.
Back to the present and my sleepover. When we got bored, we went upstairs to pull the supplies for tomorrow’s party games out of the attic. We needed plastic Christmas ornaments for relay races, holiday CDs for musical cones and gold tinsel garland for the advanced pairs contest. Robin looked around the attic, actually a small storage area with a sloping loft ceiling and the double bed on the far side of the room. “Who sleeps up here?”
“Meredith on weekends,” I said. “My grandparents have the guest-room on the other side of the staircase. It’s smaller so we don’t store anything over there.”
“So, where will I live when I graduate and move to Shamrock?” Vicky asked.
“Up to you,” I said, passing a plastic tote-box to Dani. “You can have the room where my grandparents stay or you can take the apartment in the arena.”
“I have to think about it,” Vicky said, “but I’m pretty sure that Meredith will totally freak out if we’re neighbors.”
“She’s not coming back till after New Year’s,” Autumn announced. “She didn’t like our contest and she’s no fun at the party, so I’m glad.”
That brought smiles all around, but Robin was the only one who laughed. Then, she told us it was time for banana splits so we headed back downstairs with our loot. We changed into our pajamas before we made the sundaes, mostly to make it easy when my little sister zonked out. She wouldn’t stay awake forever. We took our ice-cream in the living room and watched King of the Wind, an old movie about the Godolphin Arabian, one of the foundation sires of the Thoroughbred breed.
Autumn fell asleep halfway into it. I carried her off to bed. Once I tucked her under the covers, I turned on the nightlight. I left the hall door open so she could find us if she woke up again. I stopped by my room and picked up the catalog for Lincoln High. Then, I returned to my friends. “Okay, are you ready to help me pick classes?”
“Sure. It’ll be easy,” Robin said. “We just get you into the same ones we take.”
“I know I want choir and drama. Do you take those?”
“Not me,” Robin said. “Dani does.”
Vicky grabbed a pen and pad of paper to act like a secretary. We worked through the courses, organizing it so I would have at least one friend in each classroom. I’d start with English which Robin told me was the worst period of the day and Vicky said was the best. I figured my experience with their teacher would fall somewhere in between.
When Robin called the woman a troll, Vicky traded the pen for a pillow and bonked Robin over the head. “She isn’t. She totally stood up to my mom last Wednesday.”
“She’s evil,” Robin insisted, going for her own pillow. “She makes me do my work a thousand times before she accepts it.”
“Well if you did it right the first time, she wouldn’t have to call for do-overs.”
That led to a major pillow fight. Dani and I had to jump into the fray. We dashed around the recliners and couch. I darted in and nailed Robin, which of course was when Mom walked in with Dave and my grandparents. Trying not to laugh, Mom heaved a sigh and Grandpa closed the door behind the four of them.
He grinned at us. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the family tree. Do I want to recount the number of pillow wars your grandma and I saw?”
“Oh, definitely.” Dave chuckled. “We brought back a sampler from The Cheesecake Factory in Bellevue. If there’s a cease-fire in the near future, come join us.”
Dani dropped her pillow on a sleeping bag. She hooked her arm through mine. “Okay, let’s go. I’m voting for keeping him. If my parents or au-pair saw that, I’d be grounded for the rest of my life.”
“It was just for fun,” Robin said. “What’s up with your folks that they don’t get it?”
“Some people don’t like kids acting like kids,” Vicky said. “Come on. If we don’t hustle, we may not get any cheesecake.”
“Oh yes, we will. My mom will see to that,” I told them and we hurried for the kitchen.
* * * *
After morning chores, we came back to the kitchen and found Grandma making pancakes. Normally, we’d have headed to church at this point. Since I had a sleepover on Saturday night and we’d be hosting the annual Shamrock Stable holiday party on horseback today, Mom had said we’d go to services on Christmas Eve instead. I was good with that and so were my grandparents.
I was in the middle of pouring apple juice into eight glasses when the phone rang. Mom answered it and listened for a moment. Then, she covered the receiver with her hand. “It’s Tanya Jamison. She said that you’re supposed to visit the senior center today with the 4-H club for community service.”
“No way,” I said. “I told her I could do it any weekend except this one.”
“Be nice,” Mom told me. “It’s probably a mistake.”
“It is and I’m not going.” I took the phone from my mother and pasted on my nicest tone. “Hi, Mrs. Jamison. How are you?”
“We’re waiting for you, Sierra. When will you be here?”
“There must have been a breakdown in communications, Mrs. Jamison.” I tried to sound super-polite. “I told you several times that I had to be at home for the Christmas party today. I emailed the club secretary the date three times too.”
“I announced the date of this visit at the last meeting and reminded everyone that attendance was mandatory. If you choose not to come today, then don’t ask to attend the next horse training clinic.”
I walked over and looked at the wall calendar. I’d missed the meeting two weeks ago, because we were snowed in and I had to wonder how many other members made it. Probably it was just her daughter and that clique of snotty friends I hated. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come now.”
While she sputtered, I hung up the phone. Robin had taken over with the juice, so I got the bottle of syrup out of the cupboard. I glanced at Mom. “The Silver Spurs was a lot more organized and a lot more fun when Herb and Virginia Weldon ran it. I don’t know why they retired or turned it over to that twit.”
“Because Herb is older than I am,” Grandpa said. “He and Virginia wanted to have some time to spend together in their golden years.”
“Yeah, well they understood that I have responsibilities here and Tanya doesn’t,” I said. “She reminds me of those city slickers that Grandma talks about and it’s totally bizarre because Tanya is supposed to be in charge of a horse 4-H club.”
“She is in charge.” Mom carried the platter of pancakes to the table. “However, a lot of volunteers really don’t like people who have riding stables. They’re sure we’re making a million dollars off our customers. I wish that was true.”
“I think you better buy that lottery ticket and win one of those huge jackpots if you want mass bucks,” I said. “It’s the only way we’ll ever get rich.”
* * * *
By the time most of the students arrived at ten, we’d groomed the horses and saddled them with their Christmas blankets. These were thin red or green fleece ones that covered their regular pads. The little bells Mom and Grandma attached to bridles lent a festive air. Nevada kept tossing his head to listen to the jingling sound. He wasn’t afraid of the noise. In fact, he seemed to like it.
So far, there were twenty attendees. We might still have a few late arrivals after church, but for now it was a fifty percent turnout and that was pretty good. I organized the first round of students, seven younger beginning riders to lead down to the indoor arena. Robin walked with Tina and Sagedust, a dainty gray Arabian mare. Five horses later, I brought up the rear with Eddie and Houston.
Grandpa waited by the main door for us to exit the barn. He had a clipboard in his hand. I gestured to it. “What’s up?”
“Your momma put me in charge of judging the stalls and collecting accounts.”
“All at the same time? What about bribery?”
“Anybody brings in ten tons of hay or forty bags of grain or a truckload of shavings can have my vote,” Grandpa said. “I don’t know about Dave’s or your grandma’s or Robin’s mama.”
“That’s way expensive,” Eddie piped up. “Nobody will do it.”
“Then, I guess I’ll have to stay honest and not upset Sierra by ruining her first contest,” Grandpa said. “It will be tough, but at least I’ll have Dave on my side.”
I laughed and kept the group moving toward the ring. I liked the judging committee Mom had chosen and I’d have to remember to tell her that. Vicky had brought in the four beginners from the bottom barn so we had a total of eleven riders. It wasn’t the biggest class our indoor arena had seen, but still it was a good number.
I gaped at the big, tall, blond guy helping Rhonda lead Shiloh around the ring. Catching Vicky’s eye, I signaled for her to come join me by Houston. The students made a few more circles around the ring before she did. “What is Tom McNeely doing here?”
She gave me a big-eyed, innocent look. “He takes lessons and the party’s for all the students.”
“Since when? I haven’t seen him here.”
“On Saturdays or Sundays or when he’s off from the restaurant during the week.”
“You did this on purpose.” I hissed. “I’m so paying you back. Who is his horse?”
“Shiloh for now. He’s riding with the intermediates. He was working on his trot last time.”
“No way,” Eddie said, from the other side of Houston. “My mom says that Shiloh can barely walk. She never trots or gallops.”
“She does in the pasture,” Vicky said. “If she can do it there, she can do it with a rider. She just likes to be asked.”
“How do you ask? I give Houston lots of carrots and he never trots for me.”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t snarl at the kid for being a waste of time, space and oxygen. I mean, come on, Eddie. How dumb did he have to be? He’d ridden in camp and lessons for two years. I’d taught him about moving the horse. Mom had when he was in her classes and so had Meredith. Vicky sounded just as super sweet when she explained about collection, seat and leg aids to him as she did when she talked about Tom.
When Eddie asked more questions, I left him to Vicky and went to help with saddle checks. I managed a smile when I got over to Tom. “This was a surprise. I didn’t know you liked horses.”
He shrugged a broad shoulder. “You do. Vicky, Robin and Dani do. I figured it might be like dancing.”
“What does that mean?” I walked around Shiloh, a big, golden Appaloosa mare, looking at her saddle. “I don’t get it.”
“Girls like guys who can really move on the dance floor,” Tom said. “I thought if I learned all about horses, it would make me more date-able.”
“What?” I whirled to face him, amazed when I had to look up to meet his chocolate brown gaze. I’d forgotten he was taller than I was. Most guys weren’t. “You can’t be serious. You’re using my barn to improve your social life?”
“Well, I can’t do it at the restaurant since I made night manager,” Tom said. “It wouldn’t be fair to ask the girls out there. Somebody might think I was using my influence in the wrong way. My boss explained it to me two years ago when I got promoted the first time to shift leader.”
I tightened Shiloh’s cinch so I wouldn’t lose it and kick the guy off the farm. I’d heard a lot of silly reasons for learning to ride, but girl-chasing was the ultimate in ridiculous. “Well, leave the middle school contingent alone.”
“They’re safe,” Tom told me, “and so is the mom squad.”
“Really?” Rhonda smiled at him. “Here I was, getting my hopes up.”
“Sorry,” Tom told her. “I don’t chase other guys’ girls and you brought your husband to watch you and Eddie ride today.”
I left the two of them with the horse and went to the next mare, struggling to control my temper. It was hard to smile at the little boy with Colorado, but I managed to keep my brain on the job at hand. This event was to make money for the barn. Losing it and yelling at Tom would cost us in more than one way.
“You look miffed,” Dave said, behind me. “Is something wrong?”
I shook my head, eyeing the pads on the small black horse in front of me. “No, everything’s fine.”
“Except this saddle,” Dave said. “She must have twitched her muscles during tack-up. Those pads aren’t going to stay in position for much longer.”
I took a deep breath. He was right. There was barely an inch of blanket in front of the saddle and way more covering Colorado’s haunches. “Looks like a redo to me.”
Oscar frowned at us, worry in his tense, eight-year-old frame. “Am I going to lose points, Sierra? I saddled by myself today.”
“And you did an amazing job,” I said. “The placement is good. Your latigo knot is perfect and so is your breast-collar and the tie-down. Colorado just likes to shimmy around between you putting up the pads and the time you put on the saddle.”
“Really?” Oscar asked.
“Hey, she does it to me and Autumn all the time.” I unsnapped the clip from the cinch ring, unbuckled the left hand side of the breast-collar and went onto the latigo. “We have to do the hustle when we put her together.”
“Okay. Next time, I’ll go a bit faster because when I can do it myself, I get to do the pre-owner classes with her. Mom and Dad both said.”
“I’ll have Grandpa talk to them,” I told Oscar. “I still need help when Nevada acts like a bugger during saddling and we’d like you to be challenged, not wait until you’re sixteen, almost seventeen to move to the next level.”
“Wow. Awesome. You’re the best, Sierra.”
I wish, I thought. I was fudging with the kid and I knew it even if he didn’t have a clue. Oscar wasn’t a hassle. He was a kind boy who always tried hard in lessons, but riding didn’t come easy for him. His folks could afford to spend more and I was thinking about the bottom line of how to feed the horses.
Dave lifted up the saddle and I adjusted the blankets, lifting them into position. Colorado started shifting from hoof to hoof and he lowered the saddle before the pads slipped. I petted the horse’s neck. “Got any carrots left, Olly?”
“One.” He fished a piece out of his coat pocket and handed it over for his horse to munch.
I snugged up the cinch, careful not to pinch the horse. She flicked an ear at me and clicked her teeth in warning. I glanced at Oscar. “When did she start that? I’ve never cracked her ribs. What’s she giving me heartburn about?”
“Meredith says horses just do that and to bump Colorado in the mouth with my elbow if she turns to look at me when I saddle. I don’t do it because it hurts. One of the guys did it to me at school when we played basketball and I cut my lip. I had to go to the nurse for an icepack. That was an accident. I wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose, ‘specially not Colorado.”’
“Me either,” I said, re-buckling the breast collar. “I think you get just as far with treats as you do with being mean.”
“Further,” Dave agreed. “If everybody was nice to their animals, I wouldn’t have a job and I’d be good with that. If a guy gave his horse treats all the way through saddling up, she might stop thinking that riding was going to be painful.”
Oscar nodded. “I can do that. I will from now on.”
“Great,” I said.
Dave and I walked away. I glanced sideways at him. “You better let me tell Mom about Meredith teaching horse abuse, or it could backfire on you. Mom doesn’t like anyone trying to run the barn except us.”
“Not happening, Sierra. When I see something wrong, I say so. Right now, it’s just a kid who could have misconstrued a direction that his instructor gave him. If I’m somewhere and I see danger, I react. I protect people.”
“I know. That’s why we like you,” I said. “You take care of the four-legged people too.”
“That’s my job and it’s why I like you.” The lines deepened around his mouth when he smiled and the humor landed in his eyes. “People like you make my job much easier.”
For a moment, a lump grew in my throat. I had to swallow hard. None of my mom’s guys ever liked me. My last stepdad suggested I go to boarding school more than once. It cut me down to the bone, but I never said so. Instead, I was sarcastic and as nasty to him as he was to me. By the time he left, I’d have paid his rodeo queen to take him.
I stepped back, blinked to control the tears and glanced around the ring. Mom had told the students to put a knot in their western reins and a few struggled with the concept. I went to help Eddie, but he did it by himself. I managed a smile. “Great job.”
“Vicky says I have to pretend to be confident and Houston will believe me,” Eddie said. “Is that right?”
“Absolutely,” I told the kid for the umpteenth time. “He needs you to be the leader of the herd so he feels safe.”
I took a deep breath and thought about feed, vet bills and shoeing thirty horses. Thank heaven, the boarders paid the daily expenses for their horses. Then, I said, “I know you can do it, Eddie, or you wouldn’t be in the pre-owner group.”