20

More Waiting

At the Pages’ house a deep male voice answered the phone. Sarah listened for several seconds before she realized it was an answering machine.

“Please leave a short message after the tone.…”

Sarah hung up. Now what?

She dialed again, and after the tone she said, “This is Sarah Miles. I came to see Roy twice and … please don’t sell him to anyone else. I want to buy him.”

Mom had come in behind her. “Answering machine? Did you leave your number?”

“Oh, no.” Now she had to call back again—Sarah shifted the receiver to her other ear. They were going to think she was an idiot. I don’t care, she thought. As long as they haven’t sold him …

Now it was time to wait, again. Sarah wandered to the kitchen window and stood looking out at the barnyard. She still had that sense of loss. Her insides hadn’t caught up with reality yet, and she felt as if she were longing for something she couldn’t have. This must be the way Jill felt all the time.…

“Mom? Do you think Jill could ride Thunder sometimes when she comes over?”

“I should think so,” Mom said. “Yes, I’d be happy to let Jill ride him.”

Well, that was something, anyway.… But Sarah’s imagination wouldn’t carry her out along the logging trail on Roy, with Jill alongside on Thunder. She didn’t dare start dreaming yet.

Midmorning on Sunday the phone rang. Sarah’s stomach had clenched in a hard knot around her cornflakes by then, and at first she didn’t recognize the voice.

“Hello, may I please speak with Sarah?”

“Um, that’s me.”

“Hello, Nancy Page. And you want Roy, I understand.”

Sarah clutched the receiver hard. “Yes. Is he—you haven’t sold him yet?”

“Oh, no—and I’m delighted that you want him. I think he’ll be ideal for a person your age. Now, where do you live? Because I have a riding lesson this afternoon, and if you’re nearby, I could drop him off.”

Sarah nearly dropped the receiver. “Uh, maybe you’d better talk to my mother.” She beckoned frantically to Mom, who was in the kitchen squashing blueberries for jam. Drop him off? As if he were a kitten or a library book?

Mom, too, seemed stunned. She listened for a few moments and then she said, “Yes, we’d be on your way. I could certainly write you a check, but you wouldn’t want to cash it before Tuesday afternoon.… I see. Not a problem …” After a second she clamped her hand over the mouthpiece and said, “Sarah, are we ready?”

Sarah drew a complete blank. Ready? She had had all summer.…

“Fine,” Mom said into the telephone. “We’ll expect you around one then.” She hung up the receiver carefully, as if it might be a bomb. “Sarah—Sarah, this woman loads up her horse every week and drives an hour and a half to a riding lesson, just the way I’d run down to the store for a loaf of bread. Sarah, what have we gotten ourselves into?”

The blueberries stayed half squashed on the table while Mom and Sarah frantically cleaned the barn. There were going to be two horses, so the few bits of horse equipment Sarah owned must be moved out of the second stall. Bedding had to be put down. “And what are we going to do with her?” Mom asked, looking at Goldy.

“She can stay in this stall for a few days, till Thunder comes.…” Did Roy like goats? Did he get along with other horses? And how was he to handle and approach, loose in the pasture or in a stall? She knew almost nothing about him, Sarah realized. She had ridden him twice, she had led him in a bridle, and she had patted him as he stood in the crossties. He might be a perfect monster in all other situations … and he was coming!

Everything was different from the way she’d expected—everything! She’d waited ages for Barney to arrive—endless hours of waiting. She’d expected that again, and she’d imagined savoring it. A little pause, a time for thought seemed more suitable to the importance of the moment than this scramble.

“Did you check the pasture fence?” Mom asked. They were picking up rocks now—as if Roy had never stepped on a rock. But it seemed important to do something.

“Not yet,” Sarah said. “He’ll stay in the barnyard for a few days anyway.” And when I do fix it, you’d better help, she thought. Your horse will be out there, too.… Now she heard the sound of an engine down at the bottom of the road.

“Mom! Your apron!”

Mom looked down at herself, snatched off her apron, and threw it into one of the stalls. Sarah led Goldy into the other stall and locked the door. Then she and Mom waited, trying to appear calm, while the powerful engine sound grew louder.

Nancy Page had a beautiful horse trailer, maroon and silver and shining new. She handled the matching maroon and silver pickup with perfect ease, swinging the whole rig around in the yard and backing up close to the barnyard gate. Mom was visibly impressed.

When the trailer backed, Sarah could see the two rumps, one high and dappled silver, the other much lower, gingersnap-colored. At the front end two heads turned, craning to look back.

Nancy Page hopped out of her truck. “Hello, nice to see you again! Is this where you want to unload?”

“Well, yes,” Mom said. “There isn’t anyplace else.”

“Fine.” The tailgate was let down, and in another moment Roy stood there in the yard, looking around.

He had seemed small next to the gray horse, but once outside the trailer he looked large again. His nostrils flared wide to take in the strange scents, and his little ears moved constantly.

“Where do you want him?” asked Nancy Page.

“In the barnyard. I’ll get the gate.” Sarah opened it, and Nancy Page led Roy inside and unclipped the lead rope.

“Oh, don’t you want to take your halter off?”

“His halter and bridle go with him. They’re too small to fit anything I have.”

Now Mom was dealing with payment, with the bill of sale and the transference of registration papers. Sarah knew she should be paying attention, but she was unable to turn away from the gate. Roy in that little barnyard looked like a king, graciously visiting a poor neighborhood. Calmly, but with an expression of great interest, he started to explore, sniffing the water tub, the wooden feedbox.…

Inside the stall Goldy bleated, and Roy leaped sideways with an explosive snort. He turned toward the stall and blasted a breath, a sound like the air brakes on a truck, so loud and sharp that Sarah heard it echo off the side of the barn. He stood for a moment, gazing intently, then took a cautious step forward.

Goldy reared up, craning her neck to see. Roy snorted, his tail sticking straight up over his back, and trotted in a circle. His stride was as lofty as a carousel horse’s, and with each step he seemed to hover a second in midair.

“What have you got in there?” Nancy Page asked.

“A goat.”

“Poor Roy, I don’t think he’s ever seen a goat!” Roy stopped again and blasted snort after snort at the barn, bobbing his head in an effort to bring Goldy into focus. Every time her hooves scrabbled against the door or she bleated, he jumped.

“Good-bye,” said Nancy Page. “Have a good time together, you two!” Roy didn’t look away from Goldy, and Sarah didn’t look away from Roy.

It took him half an hour to creep up on the stall, one suspicious step at a time. Finally he arrived, though, and with the first sniff Goldy seemed to win his heart. He sighed, his whole body relaxed, and he stood there with his head over the door, for a long time. Sarah sat on the gate and watched. Nobody paid any attention to her.

She had a horse now, a horse of her own—what she’d been wanting all her life. She’d imagined feeling wildly happy. Instead she felt the way she had when she was very little, the first time she climbed to the top of the giant slide in the park. It was a long way down, but somebody was behind her on the ladder, and it was too late to go back.