Centaur Rising (5 page)

“You're
not
telling,” I called after her.

“
What
situation?” Martha growled at the same moment.

Mom stopped, turned, hands on hips. “I'm not spelling anything out, just saying we're under vet's orders to move all the horses to the front of the barn away from the new foal. That there's nothing to worry about for any of
their
horses. They can come on Wednesday when things will be up and running smoothly again. That gives us four full days.”

I thought about those four days and a bubble of panic rose up into my throat as sharp as stomach acid.

“We'll have to expect some of them to be hysterical,” Mom continued. “Some will probably try to come over today.”

“The Angottis,” Martha and I said together.

Mom nodded. “We'll tape off the back area and come up with a better explanation later, if needed. Gerry is driving over for lunch.” And then she was gone.

“Gerry,” I said softly, the way Mom had. Trying it out. Thinking of possible weddings and a dad.

“
Dr. Herks
to the likes of you and me,” Martha said.

The wedding bubble burst. We had more important things to deal with.

*   *   *

Martha told me to give the horses their water and new straw bedding, and to hand out apples and carrots as if it was a holiday. That took me the rest of the morning, since I had to do it by myself. Because instead of helping me, Martha stayed in the stall with Agora and the foal and Robbie, who refused to leave.

Once I was done giving out horse treats, I went back to Agora's stall, knocked on the door, and waited till Martha grunted an invitation.

Robbie never takes naps, and yet he was fast asleep in his wheelchair, a blue horse blanket over him, pulled up around his neck. With his legs and arms covered, he looks just like any other six-year-old.

The pony boy was lying down with his head in Martha's lap. He had long, dark lashes, rosy cheeks, and a sprinkling of freckles over his nose. His hair was curly and thick, a roan's red.

“Martha,” I whispered, “he's magic, isn't he?”

“Magic? I dunno. A bunch of trouble, more likely. All babies are. And heartache to come. But isn't he a little beaut.”

And I suppose he was. Thumb in mouth, he was just as fast asleep as Robbie. If you didn't notice the horse part of him, the long, spindly legs, the hooves, the tail, the long barrel torso, he looked normal. Not a baby exactly, more like a toddler, as if he'd grown a year between when he was born earlier this morning and now.

Did I marvel at how fast that had happened? In a day of miracles, what was one miracle more?

*   *   *

Later in the house, because he had to eat and then read his next assignment, Robbie complained about not being allowed back in the barn to see his “new brother.”

“No,” Mom said firmly.

Since he couldn't go out to the barn without someone helping him cross the gravel driveway, Robbie was stuck doing the last of his homework in the kitchen.

“It isn't fair,” he began. “Ari doesn't have any homework today—”

Mom cut him off. “Ari has chores.” She didn't point out that I didn't have any school in the summer. Since she schooled Robbie year-round, and not just during school term, it was better to let that issue alone. Teaching him throughout the year gave her more time for the farm each day and kept him busy. Usually that suited them both fine.

But not this time. And an hour later, when Dr. Herks arrived carrying two shopping bags full of our quarantine outfits, Robbie tried to complain to him.

“I agree with your mom, kiddo.”

“Rats!” Robbie said, which was not like him at all. “Nobody cares about
me
.”

“Pitiful you,” I whispered, making my thumb and forefinger cross as if playing a miniature violin.

*   *   *

Martha came back in for lunch. That meant I was supposed to go take her place in Agora's stall, suited up and feeling like an idiot. Robbie had insisted on being pushed into his room, where he was probably sulking. Since sulking was not his way at all, it made us all extra edgy.

Dr. Herks said he'd have lunch back at his office because he had to perform emergency surgery on a border collie. “The rest of my afternoon's patients I'm leaving in the hands of my two assistants and Dr. Small,” he told us.

Dr. Small was his veterinary partner, and the one thing she wasn't was tiny. But she was terrific with little animals, so in a way, her name fit her, while Dr. Herks handled most of the large animal stuff like horses and cows. Once—so he said—he delivered a baby elephant in Vietnam. I didn't know whether to believe him.

Then the grown-ups all started talking business stuff, like grain prices and how much we actually owed Dr. Herks for the delivery since the foal had already been born when he arrived, and would he take payment in
increments
—a word I knew from a spelling bee, meaning little bits at a time.

All of a sudden, Mom said, “Go check on the barn, Ari,” in a voice that offered no room for discussion, so I left.

But about halfway across the gravel drive, I suddenly had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach and I tiptoed back to the kitchen door to eavesdrop, just in case they were making plans without me.

Sure enough, the three of them were discussing the next steps for keeping the pony boy safe. Mom and Martha often talk about important business matters without me, believing a thirteen-year-old doesn't need to know that stuff. And usually they're right. But I was seriously ticked off at Dr. Herks for joining them this time, especially because this was about the most important thing that had ever happened to us.

I could understand keeping the difficult business from Robbie, who was only six after all, and not able to help even when he wants to. But I was a big part of what makes the farm a success and now that something truly magical had happened, I was being treated like an outsider.

*   *   *

The trouble with listening in on a conversation you aren't supposed to hear is that you often find out stuff you never wanted to know. And once heard, no amount of wishing can make you unhear it.

Mom said, “I've been thinking about moving Agora and the foal—”

But Martha interrupted. “First he needs a name. A boy's name.”

“Focus, Martha, focus,” Mom scolded.

“I'm
always
focused.
On the horses
. And that boy needs a name.”

That's when Dr. Herks said, “I think Hannah means we have to make him safe first, Martha. So how do we accomplish that?”

Martha said in that particular way she had, “Miz Martins told me she wondered about putting Aggie and the pony boy in the old washroom at the back of the house. But it's not nearly big enough, so somebody'd have to build it bigger. Hire somebody, and the secret would be all over town by lunchtime.”

“Well, maybe I could board them both at the clinic's barn. I've got extra space where large animals stay after surgery.”

“Gerry, would you?” I could hear soft hope in Mom's voice for the first time.

“And
then
how many people would be in on the secret?” Martha said.

Dr. Herks' grumbling answer came instantaneously. “My assistants to begin with and … Dr. Small, but I can vouch for them. We're used to keeping secrets about our patients.”

“Ha!” Martha said. “Secrets like what cat has cancer and what dog can't keep control of its bowels—”

“Well, Aunty Dark Cloud,” Mom said to Martha, “what would
you
have us do?”

I could hear the scrape of a chair. Martha must have stood up. “Since you've asked, I say close down the farm and send the horses that aren't ours back home with their owners while we figure this all out. That'd be the only sensible and sure way to keep him secret. And safe.”

“You
know,
Martha, what keeps this farm running is the money we get from boarding other people's horses and giving their kids riding lessons. Every penny I have is invested in the farm, and the small check Wolf sends goes to pay off the mortgage. How would we eat or pay your salary or—”

“Hah! Wolf. That what he calls himself now? Lesley wasn't good enough?”

“Ladies,” Dr. Herks said calmly, “we need to have a Plan A for dealing with things right now and a Plan B for when this gets out. Because like it or not, it's only a matter of time before the secret is blown.”

I thought about going back inside, though it would mean they'd all know I'd been listening in. I even put my hand on the doorknob.

Dr. Herks ended lamely, “We can't keep him hidden forever.”

“We can try!”

“Martha, we have to be realistic,” Mom said.

I was listening so hard at this point, I was breaking out in a sweat.

“What's
real
here, Miz Martins, is that little newborn out in the barn. And the fact that you and me and Ari work so hard to keep the place running while that Lesley slithered out from under as soon as he could, not wanting to have anything to do with his poor little son that he called a monster, leaving you with nothing but the farm. You know all that, Dr. Herks? Well, there's a tale I could tell.”

“Wolf? Lesley?”

Mom said softly, “My ex.”

“And good riddance to the bad rubbish. He was mean as a snake and about as trustworthy.”

“Martha!” Mom's voice got a bit muzzy. “He was sweet a lot of the time. And in the beginning, well, he loved me.”

“When he wanted something,” Martha said, “he was sweet then like cotton candy at the state fair, make you choke on the sweetness. Full of love then, till he got what he wanted. And I ask no forgiveness for saying this, and I make no apologies.”

That's when Mom's voice got hard, her no-nonsense voice. “Apologies or not, don't you ever talk about Arianne and Robbie's father like that if they're in the room.”

“Well, they aren't in the room now, Miz Martins. But that doesn't change that snake's skin.
Snake
, whether he's sweet-talking or not.”

I could just imagine their faces.

Hmmm
 … that was the sound of Dr. Herks clearing his throat. “So, Martha,” he said, “what would you have
me
do about him, about the pony boy?”

“Keep him secret. Keep him safe. Give him a chance to grow up, poor little mite.”

Dr. Herks' voice got soft, as if he'd turned to look at Mom. “And what about you, Hannah?”

“Do?” she started and then her voice began to run downhill. “What do I want you to
do
? I don't … I don't know.” She started to cry quietly. And I hadn't heard her cry since … well, since forever.

I tiptoed away, but as I walked to the barn, I thought,
We're all taking baby steps here. Shakily, slowly. And someone—maybe everyone—is going to fall down.

 

6

Four Days

T
HE REST OF THE DAY WAS CHAOS
. Mom had already called everyone who was boarding a horse or riding, and she only had to leave messages with two maids. The two boarders who called back wanted to make sure:

1. It wasn't a prank call.

2. Their horses weren't in danger.

3. They didn't have to move their horses to a more expensive farm.

4. Riding lessons would continue after the short break.

Everyone agreed to give us the four days' grace, so Mom relented and let Robbie have an hour in Agora's stall watching the pony boy sleep.

“Why does he sleep so much?” Robbie asked me when I'd pushed him in. “I want to play with him.”

“Babies sleep a lot,” I said, reminding him how he'd been when Mom brought him back from the hospital. “All day and hardly at all at night.”

“Then I want to be here at night, too.”

“Mom will never allow it.”

He knew that was true and didn't say a word more about it.

*   *   *

I left him in the stall and then put four sawhorses across the driveway. Mom said it was to prevent anyone else possibly trying to come in.

For the first three days the sawhorses worked.

For those three days, I balked at wearing the quarantine outfit. It was too big, and I kept tripping on the long pants. I hated the mask.

But I kept the outfit close. We just didn't know when someone might show up.

Surprisingly, no one did.

Oh, we still got mail, and one package, and a grain delivery. But Mom managed to keep them from coming anywhere near the barn, even though we had to haul the grain in from the front porch ourselves.

“Breathing space,” Martha called it. None of us expected it to last any longer than that.

And honestly, with the extra amount of barn work I now had, mucking out the additional stalls, I wasn't sure I wanted it to last any longer. But we had no other option but to try for more time.

We did get occasional help from Dr. Herks, who checked in every day and never balked at picking up a hammer or taking a turn with the oats buckets or straw bedding. He had hauled most of the sacks of grain in the wheelbarrow. It helped that there was a ramp off the porch for Robbie's wheelchair. But the rest of the work was done by Mom and Martha and me.

*   *   *

On that first day, Mom and Martha strengthened the barriers to Agora's new stall. Instead of blankets for the windows, Dr. Herks bought blinds at a shop in Springfield, which Martha hung on the inside of the windows. At the same time, Dr. Herks put up spotlights, a new lock, and an inside bolt. The lock had five sets of keys.

The next day, Martha gave us lanyards she'd made for the keys, all in different colors. Hers was deep blue, Mom's yellow, mine pink, Robbie's light blue, and Dr. Herks' green.