Kestrel arrived just as we were finishing. She dismounted her old bay mare, Twitchy, tied her to the porch, and helped us with the last chunks of wood. When we were done, I asked Mom if I could put off my homework until that evening and Kestrel immediately said she’d help me.
Mom agreed, a little too eagerly. She knew we wanted to get out for a ride, and I’m guessing she wanted some peace and quiet for herself too. She’d been working on a new painting, one of Tumpoo trying to graze. Yes, you’re right, moose don’t graze. But Tumpoo doesn’t know that. His legs are way too long and so he has to keep them sprawled wide, plus bend them at a weird angle. Mom, of course, was painting him to perfection. I wondered what her agent, Edward, was going to think about this one. She’d recently switched from landscapes to mustangs, which he hadn’t seemed too thrilled about. And now comedic moose? He’d probably have a fit.
Mom told us to either take Tumpoo with us or put him in his stall, and as we walked out to the pasture to get Rusty, I had every intention of taking him with us – until I found the water trough tipped over.
“Do you want me to help you fill it again?” Kestrel asked, sounding completely unenthusiastic.
“No. I can do it when we get back. I want to get out of here.”
“Won’t Cocoa and Tumpoo get thirsty?”
“They have water in their stalls, so Cocoa will be fine. Tumpoo will be okay for about ten minutes, which is how long it’ll take him to splash it all over.”
“He’s kind of a brat, isn’t he?” Understatement of the year.
I laughed – not a ha-ha-funny laugh, but the I’m-growing-bitter kind. “Know what scares me? What’s he going to be like when he gets older and bigger and smarter?”
“Well, where do you want to ride today?” Kestrel asked, wisely changing the topic.
We discussed it as I lured Tumpoo into his stall with some corn and hay, plus some of the twigs, in case he decided to eat like a moose. He didn’t seem to mind as we rode out of the yard, or I heard no heartbroken calls anyway. I guess he was ready for a rest after his morning of mischief making.
Twilight, however, wasn’t remotely tired. She danced and leapt around us as Rusty and Twitchy carried us sedately away from the cabin.
Eventually, we decided to go to Cartop Meadow, where I’d seen mustangs in the past. If we were lucky, they’d be there, waiting to be quietly watched – another good reason to leave our naughty moose behind. Maybe we’d be really lucky and get to see Twilight’s old herd. She’d love that.
As we rode, I caught Kestrel up on our news, which mainly consisted of seeing the mustang stallion. I was sick of talking about Tumpoo’s pranks. I told her about the stallion focusing on Cocoa and how I was afraid he’d come back. She asked all the right questions and made all the right comments, but something was missing. She seemed distracted and kept staring off into the distance with a frown on her face. When I finished my spiel by saying I didn’t know what to do, there was silence. She didn’t offer her usual solutions to my problems. Something had to be wrong.
“So what’s happening at your house?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Yeah, right. Like I believed that. “Well, something’s different. I’m not stupid, you know.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“You know what I mean. Your body’s here, but your brain’s in fantasyland.”
“I was just thinking, that’s all.”
“Exactly. Thinking about what?”
“Well…”
I waited for her to continue. She didn’t. “Well?” I prompted.
Kestrel sighed, finally accepting that I wasn’t going to let her get away with saying nothing. “I wasn’t going to tell you until after I decided.”
“Decided what?”
“I’ve been thinking about going away to school next year.”
“What?” My entire body went cold. Kestrel couldn’t leave. She was my best human friend, my only human friend. I swallowed my fear so I could squeeze another word out between my clenched teeth. “Where?”
“A boarding school in Vancouver. It’s supposed to be really cool, and I’d get real teachers instead of just Mom and Dad. I’d get to go on field trips, see movies, go shopping, and all sorts of things.”
“But, but… ” But what could I say? It would be awesome – for her anyway.
“Except I’d miss it here. I’d be gone until next June, not counting Christmas vacation, and you’d probably have a whole bunch of adventures without me.” She sighed again. “But going away could be good too. I don’t know what to do.”
And I didn’t know what to say. Of course she’d have fun, plus she’d get to do all sorts of things that we never do here, normal things like watch TV and hang out with friends and go to the mall. Even though I’ve never seen a mall, I imagine they’re fantastic with lights and colors and noise and people, people, people everywhere.
But she was right about missing out too. She’d miss visiting me, or at least I hoped she’d miss visiting me. Okay, who was I kidding? My entourage of pesky animals and I don’t compare to movies and parties and tons of friends.
Leaving: one point. Staying: a big fat zero.
The education would be better. Leaving: two points.
The seeing-more-of-the world factor was infinitely better. Three points.
And the mentioned adventures? Adventures could be had anywhere. They’d just be a different kind, that’s all.
Since pros and cons weren’t going to back me up, I resorted to whining. “If you leave, it will be so awful here. I’ll be stuck hanging out with Mom all the time.”
“I’d really miss you too.”
“But you’ll make new friends.”
“I’ll still miss you. We’ll always be best friends. And I’ll miss the animals.”
The animals. So I wouldn’t be left totally alone. I’d have my trusted Rusty, my sweet Loonie, my free-spirited Twilight, my irritating Tumpoo, and Cocoa, who liked me because I gave her oats and brushed her. What I wouldn’t have was my best friend.
A new thought struck me like a slap. If Kestrel went, she’d change. I’d stay the same. When she came back next summer, she might not even like me anymore. I mean, why would she? I’m not remotely cool or anything.
Why sad? asked Rusty.
Talk later, I answered. I couldn’t concentrate on two conversations at once, even when I wasn’t saying much.
“Anyway, I haven’t made up my mind yet,” Kestrel said in the silence I’d let linger too long between us.
“When do you have to decide?”
“August 10th.”
Less than one month.
For half a mile, all we heard was the thud of the horses’ hooves, the birds singing, and the wind flipping the coin-sized leaves on the Aspen trees. Usually our silences were relaxed. Not this time. But how could I speak? My tongue was glued to the top of my mouth, and I knew if I tried to say anything, it would end up being the wrong thing, and then she’d leave for sure.
“There’s one thing we can do to make sure we’re together,” Kestrel finally said.
“What?”
“You can ask your mom if you can come too.”
A tiny hope sparked in my heart and quickly swelled. “That would be so…” Words failed me.
“Great? Fantastic? Amazing? Fun?” Kestrel suggested.
“All of the above.” I laughed.
Kestrel’s voice became cautious. “I just don’t know how we can talk Laticia into letting you go. I know how much she, um, likes strangers.”
“Or hates them, you mean.” Reality bites. Mom would never let me go. She hates civilization and avoids other people as if they all carried the plague. Don’t ask me why though – she still hasn’t told me, despite my best and sneakiest efforts.
“Hello!” A distant voice reached our ears.
We looked to our right to see a flash of red between the trees – Charlie, the Wild Horse Ranger, and his amazing horse, Redwing. We called hello back and turned our mounts to meet him.
Charlie tipped his cowboy hat at us when he rode up to us. “How are you ladies doing today?”
“Not bad,” said Kestrel.
“How about you?” I asked.
Once the pleasantries were over, we got down to business. Charlie had heard about a mustang hanging around camps and trying to get friendly with the domestic horses. One man even had to shoot his rifle in the air before the wild horse was frightened off, and Charlie was worried about the horse’s safety in case it approached the wrong people and was hurt or captured or worse.
I told him about the palomino who’d been at our cabin that morning, leaving unsaid that the stallion had almost trampled me and Charlie should be more worried about the people than the horse. I didn’t say anything about the romantic feelings the mustang had toward Cocoa either. Charlie would understand how I knew since he knew about my “talent” but Kestrel still didn’t know. I didn’t want her thinking I was a freak – especially now that she might be meeting lots of normal, cool kids. We all concluded that it had to be the same horse, and moments later, Charlie and Redwing were loping back toward my place. Kestrel and I continued on toward Cartop Meadow.
As we rode, we talked about how fun it would be to go away to school together, but as the ground passed beneath our horses’ hooves and Cartop came closer, I felt more and more miserable. I did my best to hide my feelings but I think Kestrel could tell how I felt. By the time we reached Cartop Meadow, we’d been riding in silence for about five minutes, and when we discovered the meadow was empty we turned around and rode back the way we’d come.
Twilight disappeared on one of her adventures for a while as we rode home – again, quietly. I tried to keep my mind open to what she might be doing, but I couldn’t concentrate. This thing with Kestrel was grinding my peace of mind to bits.
If I asked Mom to let me go with Kestrel, she would say no and then I’d feel all mad and like I had to find some way to convince her. A massive task, judging from the secrets I’d been trying to wrestle from her for years.
And if I said nothing? If I didn’t ask? Then Kestrel would just go.
Sometimes, my life really sucked.