Shamrock Stable, Washington
Saturday, December 28th, 10:15 am
The snow continued to melt in a slow, but steady thaw. That meant we had lesson customers again, even if the trails weren’t clear enough to ride. I’d groomed and saddled up about six horses in the top barn while I supervised the beginning level students preparing theirs. I helped the group lead the mares and geldings to the indoor arena so they could ride with Vicky. Grandpa had offered to assist with the class so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed and Mom went for the idea. It would give her time to organize the rest of the day.
I stuck around long enough to make sure everyone had tight cinches and stirrups that fit. Once the exercises were underway and Vicky was in charge of her lesson, I returned to the top barn to put together Nevada for the advanced session. He needed to return to work and since Mom would be teaching the next class, that made it a perfect time for me to hit the ring.
I carried in my groom kit and conditioner. Two carrots later, Nevada wore his halter. I began turning my favorite mud monster into a horse. It wasn’t an easy process. It felt like the more dirt I removed from him, the more I ended up wearing. I heard the other horses begin nickering and I glanced toward the front of the barn in time to see Tom walking toward me. He wore jeans, a sweatshirt and a helmet so he must plan to ride. He wasn’t here for a casual visit.
“What’s going on?” I asked, struggling to sound halfway polite. I knew customers came from everywhere and he wasn’t the first to use horses to chase girls. Why did he bother me so much? “Did you need help?”
“No, I’m just hanging out until the next lesson,” Tom said. “Rhonda has Shiloh in the ring now and your mom told me that I get her for the next class. Isn’t that too much work too soon?”
“Not really.” I stopped brushing Nevada’s left side to talk to Tom. “It’d be different if you and Rhonda did a lot of trot and gallop work, but you both do more walking than faster gaits. Afterwards, Shiloh gets lunch. She’ll be fine.”
Tom handed over a carrot to Nevada, paying the toll to stand outside the stall. “What would happen if we worked her harder?”
“You could make her sweat, lame her, cause a stress colic, but we won’t let that happen. Shiloh’s a good horse. She won’t over-do.”
“Why does she trot for me when she won’t for Rhonda?”
“Look if I’m going to spend my life answering questions, come in and help me finish my horse,” I said, suddenly impatient with the guy. “If he’s ready, I can warm him up in your class and then really work him in mine.”
“Okay, I never thought you’d ask.”
Another carrot and he took what looked like a giant hairbrush to Nevada’s thick flaxen mane. I kept my focus on the horse’s body. “So, how did you get a Saturday off?”
“By volunteering to work Christmas Eve, the actual day and the rest of the week,” Tom said. “I have a good boss. He tries to be fair.”
“Making you work the holiday doesn’t sound fair to me.”
“It’s easier for me than other people who have families,” Tom said. “I don’t get along with my stepdad, so it wasn’t like I had anywhere to go.”
I stopped brushing and glared at him. “Are you playing me? You didn’t even visit your mom or sibs?”
“There wasn’t any room at the inn.” Tom tried a smile, but it didn’t touch his dark chocolate eyes. “She’s his wife first and the kids are more his than my half-brothers or half-sisters. Her new family means more to my mom than I do.” He didn’t sound pissed, just matter-of-fact. It reminded me of that old cop show where the guy keeps saying, “just the facts, ma’am.” Nothing else.
“I don’t know how people can stand being dumped on,” I said. “I always want to kick tails and take names. I’d have taken presents to the house and Gibbs slapped the witch if she gave me any sass.”
“Gibbs slapped?” Tom stopped untangling Nevada’s mane and stared over the top of his neck. “What’s that?”
“Oh come on. You’ve seen NCIS. When his male investigators act stupid, Gibbs bops them on the back of the head to get their brains working.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that now. Is that show still on?” Tom smoothed out my horse’s mane and started brushing again. “My TV died before I got kicked out and I haven’t made enough money to replace it. They should get a bunch of stuff in at the thrift store this week when people donate their old things. Maybe, I can find a cheap one there.”
Fury swept through me and I shut up before I totally lost it and told him what I thought of his spineless mother and her dirtbag husband. Okay, so I’d bet Tom could be a pain in the backside as Grandpa put it, but what teenager wasn’t? It wasn’t like he drank or did drugs or partied with a bunch of losers. I’d heard enough of his anecdotes when we were at the at-risk group to know that he had a job and was an officer in the Honor Society before he got kicked out on his eighteenth birthday. Some present!
It reminded me of what Vicky said about her stepdad. Even if it wasn’t from personal experience, I knew that all step-parents didn’t suck big-time. I certainly saw enough of the decent kind around the barn, the ones who brought the kids for lessons and paid for them too. They were the ones who loved their partners’ kids and chose to help raise them.
Tom moved onto Nevada’s tail and I took a deep breath. “We’ve been living here forever and we have all kinds of things stored up in the attic. After your lesson, we could look up there and see if we have an extra TV. My last stepdad left a bunch of junk here. One of his old TVs won’t be fancy, but you could have it.”
“I don’t take charity.” Tom shot me a dark-eyed glare.
Unimpressed, I shrugged. “Okay, then pay my mom the same amount you would if you got it at the thrift store. It will save us a trip down to Marysville. Grandma’s griping about all the stuff we throw upstairs in the spare room. She thinks we should give the house as much attention as we do the barns.”
“How could she say such a thing? Isn’t that heresy on a horse farm?”
My turn to glare at him and he turned on his charming smile. “Okay, so we don’t do a lot inside, but it’s not our trip. The barns are what is important around here. You won’t find a single cobweb even in the hay-rooms, or a speck of dust on a bridle or saddle in the tack-rooms.”
“What does your grandmother say about that?” Tom asked.
“I left when she suggested my mom would really like it if I organized the kitchen cupboards. Grandma and Autumn had already decided they’d declare war on the dust bunnies and then go see the latest Disney flick.”
“Your little sister is a good sport.”
“She’ll do anything to get movie popcorn and see one of her cartoons.” I wouldn’t tell Tom that I’d do anything for the kid. She was my weakness, but I’d learned a long time ago to hide those. He gave me a solid onceover before he concentrated on Nevada’s tail again.
Early that evening, Grandma and Autumn returned with a huge bucket of the Colonel’s chicken along with all the fixings. While she loaded up a plate with potato salad and baked beans, Mom flicked a sideways glance at me. “So, tell me again. Why are we having a New Year’s Day party, Sierra? Are you taking a page out of your grandfather’s book? Do I have to worry that we’re turning into regular party animals?”
“It doesn’t have to be fancy,” I said, ignoring the way that Grandpa tugged on her long French braid. “Tom was telling me that he’s off for the day and he doesn’t have family. Dave’s kids are still out of state. Vicky’s mom is working and her sibs will be off with their dad. I’m thinking an “open house” with snacks, sandwiches, easy stuff down in the party barn.”
“That wouldn’t take much cooking.” Grandpa snagged a thigh, then a drumstick from the cardboard bucket in the middle of the kitchen table. “We could even have it catered by the sub shop.”
“And activities, Sierra?” Mom went for a piece of chicken. “What did you plan to do? We have to entertain our guests.”
“I’m thinking we clean and organize the tack-rooms,” I said. “We have fences to repair, signs to wash, the feed-room to rat-proof again and a lot to do to be ready for next year. It’ll be fun, a work party. Then, nobody thinks they’re here because we feel sorry for them. I’ll stop at the bakery and we can have a carrot cake to celebrate Nevada’s birthday too.”
“And it isn’t a make-work project,” Grandma said. “Those are things that all need to be done, Rocky. It will save you time. You’ll be able to promote spring programs because you won’t be doing a lot of maintenance.”
“It makes sense.” Mom smiled at me. “When your friend offered me money for that old TV set, I told him I’d rather have his muscle when we got in the next big load of hay. Then, we won’t have to visit the chiropractor after we tussle hundred pound alfalfa-grass bales.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” It was my turn to fill a plate. “I told him that he could have it, but he wouldn’t just take it. What do you call that?”
“Pride,” Grandpa said. “It’s an old-fashioned notion these days, but back when I was growing up, a man didn’t take freebies. He didn’t have “a handful of gimme and a mouthful of much obliged.” He worked for what he got. If he couldn’t afford something, he waited until he could. That’s how we built our own indoor arena. My dad bought the kit and we rounded up all the relatives to swing hammers.”
* * * *
Marysville, Washington
Monday, December 30th, 2:30 pm
Since the weather remained warm, the snow kept melting. The roads cleared enough for me to drive to Marysville and buy groceries. Okay, it wouldn’t be a big deal for some people, but I got to take my new car, new to me and go on a road trip. Whoo-hoo! It wasn’t much of a trip, only twelve miles but it was still majorly awesome.
On the way home, I pulled into Sink-A-Sub to get a sandwich and place the order for the party. Vicky had promised to pick up the refreshments and bring them to the farm on New Years’ Day. She was also bringing her puppy. That way Charlie would have company that was his size and Queenie would undoubtedly be in doggie heaven.
I waited in line behind a cluster of teenagers from Mount Pilchuck, a couple others that I didn’t recognize and then three more came in the glass door. I recognized the Native girls because we’d played ball together last year, but I hadn’t seen them at school in ages. “Hi, Cedar,” I said, nodding at her friends. “Long time since I’ve seen you. Where have you been?”
“My parents transferred me to Lincoln last fall because they liked the emphasis on academics.” Cedar rolled her dark eyes. “It’s cool. Rumors are that you’re joining our basketball team. We’ll kick tails if it’s real.”
“No way.” One of the Mount Pilchuck kids spoke up, a hanger-on of my arch-rival, Lauren Jamison who was into stealing everything that was mine including my choir solos. “Sierra’s at our school. She was the point guard last year.”
“Not this year. Not in January,” I said, knowing it’d get back to the clique I hated and from them to the new choir director and this year’s basketball coach. “My mom transferred me to Lincoln.”
The others turned and stared. Then, Inez, a tall dark-haired girl who always played forward on the team said, “I wondered why you weren’t at practice today, but Coach told us she’d call your house and remind you about the schedule.”
“I hope she didn’t,” I said. “My grandma is a retired teacher and she says I’m attending Lincoln, or Centennial Mid-High, or Stewart Falls Academy. She wants me somewhere with an emphasis on academics.”
I heard Cedar choke behind me and I glanced over my shoulder at her. “Does your team have practices during break?”
“No. Our coach said the holidays were for family and friends. We start practicing next Monday. Want to eat with us?” Cedar asked. “We’ll tell you everything about the team. You can’t screw up at all or we’ll be running lines freaking forever.”
“They’re messing with you, Sierra.” Inez moved up toward the counter. “Nobody would blame a new player for not knowing the rules on the first day.”
“And that’s why Lincoln goes to State every year,” Cedar said. “We bust our tails in class and on the court. Want to join us?”
I flicked a wary glance at her quiet friends and one of them smiled at me. “If it’s okay with the rest of you, I’d love it. I like knowing what’s expected ahead of time.”