Gift Horse (8 page)

Stevie gulped. The anger that had been simmering inside her for the last several days seemed to gather steam. How dare Chelsea do this to her! How dare she come to Pine Hollow—the place Stevie loved most in the world—to see No-Name, and bring a vet to examine her.

As the group drew closer, Mrs. Reg caught Stevie’s eye and gave her a warning glance, as if the older woman knew how close Stevie was to losing it.

Before she did or said anything she would regret, Stevie backed into the stall and stood protectively next to No-Name. Maybe Chelsea was legally entitled to come here. And maybe she was even legally entitled to bring her father and the vet. But one thing was for sure. Stevie would never make it easy for the other girl.

C
AROLE AND
L
ISA
were still chatting about the rally when they turned the corner to return to No-Name’s stall. But when Carole saw the group of people standing around No-Name’s stall, she stopped talking in midsentence. “What’s going on?” she wondered. Then she spotted Chelsea and her eyes narrowed. “And what’s
she
doing here?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa replied grimly. “But we’d better get over there and find out.”

They hurried to the stall, arriving just in time to hear Mrs. Reg introduce Stevie to the vet whom the Webbers had brought to examine No-Name. Stevie was glowering furiously. Carole elbowed her way past the others to Stevie’s side.

“You don’t have to be here for this, Stevie,” she told her
friend, putting her arm around Stevie’s shoulders. She wasn’t sure it was a good idea for Stevie and Chelsea to be together right now.

“That’s right,” Lisa said, joining them and shooting Chelsea a dirty look.

“Your friends are right, Stevie,” Mrs. Reg told her quietly. “I’ll be here to keep an eye on everything. You might want to head home.”

But Stevie shook her head stubbornly. “She’s my horse,” she said between clenched teeth. “I want to be here for this. I want them to see what good care I’ve taken of
my horse
.” She stressed the last two words, staring at Chelsea defiantly. The older girl didn’t meet her gaze. She was staring at No-Name.

Mrs. Reg nodded. “All right, then. She stays.” Mr. Webber started to say something, but Mrs. Reg cut him off with a curt, “And that’s that.”

Mr. Webber shrugged. “Fine. Let’s get on with it,” he said. He nodded to the vet, who entered the stall and began to examine No-Name. The mare stood quietly, gazing out at all the people gathered outside her stall.

After a moment the vet stuck his head out over the door. “Could someone bring a bucket of fresh water, please?” he said.

“I’ll get it,” Stevie said quickly and a little too loudly.

Chelsea frowned. “No, let me,” she countered just as quickly.

“I said,
I’ll
get it,” Stevie insisted.

“And I said I want to do it!” Chelsea snapped back.

“I don’t care who gets it,” the vet said. “Actually, you could each bring one—I’ll probably need two buckets anyway.”

“You heard him, Stevie,” Mrs. Reg said. “Why don’t you show Chelsea where we keep the water buckets?”

“Fine.” Stevie stalked off toward the equipment room, not even looking to see if Chelsea was following. She couldn’t believe the way this girl was pushing her way into things, trying to take over. Wasn’t it bad enough that she was trying to take away No-Name?

Chelsea hurried after Stevie. “She
is
my horse, you know,” she said, sounding a bit tentative, as soon as they were out of earshot of the others.

“No she’s not,” Stevie said angrily. “She’s mine and always will be.” She tossed her head. “So you might as well give up on your pathetic attempts to get her away from me.”

“She’s
not
yours, and she never was,” Chelsea snapped. “And our vet is back there right now proving it. It’ll be a snap once he determines for sure that she’s allergic to weeds.” She gave Stevie a nasty smile. “And you for one know that she is. Weren’t you the smart one who figured it out?”

Stevie gasped. Chelsea knew about No-Name’s weed allergy! Stevie remembered how proud she’d been when she
had figured out the cause of No-Name’s allergic reactions. After No-Name had had several mysterious outbreaks of hives, Stevie had spotted the horse eating weeds and guessed they were the culprit. At the time Stevie had thought her detective work made her relationship with No-Name extra special and unique. But it looked as though Chelsea planned to use that against her. Stevie suddenly wished more than anything that she’d never even heard the word allergy before.

Chelsea continued to smile, obviously observing that she’d hit a nerve. “You see?” she said. “So you’d be better off saving your stupid insults for someone who deserves them. I’m just trying to get my horse back.”

By this time they had reached the equipment room. Stevie grabbed two buckets and shoved one of them at Chelsea. “Here,” she hissed. In silence, the two girls filled the buckets with water and headed back.

Chelsea started to whistle softly. Stevie gritted her teeth, hating the other girl more and more with every step.

When they reached the stall, Stevie set down the water bucket and then turned to face Chelsea, hands on her hips. “Just because you know about No-Name’s allergy doesn’t mean you’ve won,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady. But she could feel tears stinging her eyes and a sob creeping up into her throat. “No-Name and I are meant to be together. Even you should be able to see that.” She turned away so Chelsea wouldn’t see her wiping her eyes
on her sleeve. Stevie knew that Mrs. Reg had been right to urge her to go home. If she didn’t leave within the next few seconds, she had a feeling she would just explode. “I have to get out of here,” she whispered to Carole and Lisa.

They exchanged glances and nodded. “Let’s go,” they said in one voice. They each took one of Stevie’s arms and started off.

Then Lisa stopped. “Oh! We never cleaned our tack.…” she began.

Mrs. Reg came forward, shaking her head and shooing them away. “You’re too conscientious, Lisa,” she said. “Get Stevie home. I’ll take care of your tack this once.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Reg,” Carole called over her shoulder as they hurried away. “We owe you one!”

When the girls reached Stevie’s house, Mr. and Mrs. Lake were waiting for them in the front hallway. “Mrs. Reg called to say you were coming,” Mr. Lake said, taking Stevie into his arms for a hug.

Stevie sniffled as she hugged him back. “I couldn’t stay there with them any longer, Dad,” she said. “I wanted to stay for No-Name’s sake, but I just couldn’t.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said soothingly. “It’s okay. Come on inside and have a seat.”

Mrs. Lake led them into the kitchen, where she had set out a plate of cookies. They all sat down around the table. Mr. Lake pushed the plate toward Stevie.

“I’m not hungry,” she said, taking a cookie and shoving
it into her mouth. She couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened back at the stable. She was burning with anger toward Chelsea Webber. And she was angry with herself, too, for not being able to stay with her horse. Instead, she’d run away again, just as she had when Chelsea had surprised her at the outdoor ring. But she was determined not to do it again. She would fight Chelsea, tooth and nail, to the bitter end. She would do anything to make sure she and No-Name could be together.

“Honey, you’ll be glad to know I’ve had all my junior partners scouring the statute books all day on your behalf,” Mrs. Lake said.

“Really?” Stevie said, taking another cookie. “Just the junior partners? Why didn’t you have the senior partners help, too?”

“Because they were preparing the arguments for the judge,” her mother replied. “Try not to worry, honey. We’re doing everything we can. So is Mr. Baker. He’s trying like crazy to figure out where No-Name came from. The only thing you can do is sit back and wait.”

“But that’s what I hate the most,” Stevie said plaintively.

Mr. and Mrs. Lake nodded sympathetically. Carole and Lisa did, too.

Stevie’s brothers came into the kitchen and joined them.

“Hi, Stevie,” Alex said shyly. He nodded at Carole and
Lisa. None of the boys seemed to know what to say. Chad sat down and shoved two cookies into his mouth. The other boys just stood there, shifting their weight from foot to foot.

Just then the phone rang. Stevie jumped. Mr. Lake got up and answered it. “Yes?” he said. “Oh, yes, hello.”

By the expression on her father’s face, Stevie could tell it was about No-Name. She held her breath.

“I see,” Mr. Lake said into the phone. “Yes. I see. Yes, I recall. Mmm-hmm. Well, all right then. We’ll be in touch. Of course. Yes. Good-bye.”

He hung up, and Stevie jumped out of her chair and hurried over to him. “Who was that?” she asked anxiously.

Mr. Lake ran one hand through his hair. “That was the Webbers’ lawyer,” he said. He walked over to the table and sat down. “Have a seat, Stevie.”

S
TEVIE DID AS
her father said, and sat down, but it was as if someone else were going through the motion. When she looked back at her father her head felt thick and foggy. Maybe she was dreaming or sleepwalking. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening to her.

Stevie barely paid attention when Carole spoke up. “What did he say, Mr. Lake?” she asked. “Was the lawyer calling about the vet’s visit?”

Mr. Lake nodded. He stared at Stevie, a serious look on his face. “After the preliminary results from the vet, it looks as though No-Name and Punk are indeed one and the same horse.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Carole whispered, taking her friend’s hand.

Stevie didn’t even seem to notice the comforting gesture. Her face had turned white and she stared at her father. She gripped the edge of the table. “Why are they so sure?” she asked.

Mr. Lake sighed. “Several reasons,” he said. “For one thing, No-Name’s markings are rather unusual.…”

“But that’s not enough proof!” Stevie cried. “You said it yourself. They need more evidence than that!”

“Stevie,” Mrs. Lake said quietly, “let your father finish.”

“Yes, Stevie, there is more evidence,” Mr. Lake said. “Not only does No-Name resemble Punk exactly, but there’s also the matter of the identical weed allergies.”

Stevie groaned. “I can’t believe I ever boasted about figuring that out,” she said miserably, burying her head in her arms.

“That doesn’t matter, Stevie,” Mrs. Lake reassured her. “The vet would have known to check for it anyway.”

“The other major piece of evidence,” Mr. Lake continued, “is the bone splint.”

Stevie looked up, and her eyes widened. Pine Hollow’s vet, Judy Barker, had declared No-Name’s bone splint perfectly harmless before the Lakes had bought the mare. “You mean Punk had the same thing?”

“That’s right,” her father said. “The Webbers’ vet just re-X-rayed it. It’s identical.”

“So No-Name’s real name is Punctuation Webber,” Stevie said. She felt tears welling up uncontrollably, but
she didn’t care. She couldn’t fight the facts—or the law. “I have to go see her!” she wailed. “I have to say good-bye to her one last time!” She jumped out of her seat.

“Stevie, calm down,” Mrs. Lake said, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her back down. “I admit, the proof does seem rather conclusive, but it has to be approved by the court before the Webbers can reclaim the horse.”

“Your mother’s right,” Mr. Lake agreed. “And that can’t possibly happen before next week, so you’ll have No-Name at least until then. You’ll have plenty of time to say goodbye.”

Stevie nodded, too brokenhearted to answer. She knew one reason she would be at Pine Hollow between now and next week—the rally. She had been looking forward to it so much. But now it was ruined. She wouldn’t be able to ride No-Name—
her
horse. Not in the rally. Not ever again.

Never. The unspoken word echoed in her ears. Never.

W
HEN
S
TEVIE ARRIVED
at Pine Hollow after school the next day, the first person she saw was Veronica diAngelo. Almost before she realized it, Stevie had blurted out the whole story to her.

Veronica was sympathetic. “I know exactly how you feel,” she told Stevie. “I know just how much you can love your horse, and how much it hurts when you know someone is trying to take her away. It’s how I feel about Garnet.”