Stable Hearts (6 page)

“You certainly don’t have to—” Mrs. Reg began.

“No, I’m happy to,” Mr. Stowe said. He put his hat back on.

“We’ll go get the wheelbarrows and find out which stalls to clean,” Carole said. She grabbed Stevie and Lisa by the elbows and propelled them out of the office.

“I can’t believe you said we weren’t riding,”
Lisa grumbled. “Clean stalls! As if we haven’t cleaned enough all week! And our horses don’t need the day off! If anything, Prancer could use the exercise!”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Carole answered. “Mr. Stowe is staying with us. Poor Mrs. Reg is being totally annoyed by him, and she shouldn’t have to go out on a trail ride with him. Did you see how she was dressed? In that nice blouse and her good riding jacket? If she went out in the woods, she’d get all messed up!”

“Maybe she wanted to ride,” Stevie said. “I know I did.”

Lisa sighed. “No, Carole’s probably right. I mean, I’m sure Mrs. Reg would have enjoyed a trail ride, but not with Mr. Stowe.”

“Yeah,” Stevie agreed. “He’d probably tell her lightbulb jokes the whole time. She’d be miserable.”

“Still, I can’t believe you said we weren’t riding,” Lisa said. “You could at least have said that we were riding after we cleaned stalls. Something.”

“I can’t believe Mrs. Reg didn’t like my ideas for the dance,” Stevie said. “A laser light show would have been really cool.”

Carole laughed. “I can’t believe that after spending yesterday showing Mr. Stowe how to clean tack, we’re going to have to show him how to clean stalls, too.”

I
T TURNED OUT
Mr. Stowe did know one end of a pitchfork from the other. “My uncle might not have cleaned his saddles too often, but he kept his horses’ stalls in shape,” he said cheerfully. “I was shoveling manure thirty-five years before any of you were born. Point me to the right stalls, ladies, and I’ll show you and Elizabeth a thing or two about work.”

Lisa had to admire his attitude. She wasn’t feeling nearly so perky. She gave Prancer an apologetic pat before moving her to the cross-ties.

Red had assigned them all stalls in the front portion of the stable. Mr. Stowe did Calypso’s stall in record time, and Carole, checking it, couldn’t help admiring the neat, fluffy mound of fresh bedding. He had done a thorough job, fast.

“Hey!” Mr. Stowe shouted. The girls came running. He was standing in Dime’s stall, holding the pony by his halter. “Durn pony tried to kick me,” he said. “Nearly succeeded, too.”

“Dime!” Lisa scolded. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’ve got him now,” Mr. Stowe said. “It’s okay.” He put Dime on the cross-ties in the aisle and started on his stall, and the girls went back to work.

A few minutes later Mr. Stowe came to the door of Starlight’s stall, where Carole was just finishing up. “I want to show you something,” he said. Carole followed him back to Dime’s stall, and Mr. Stowe pointed to the pony’s feed tub. “He didn’t finish his grain,” he said. “Do you suppose something’s wrong? I never knew a horse not to finish his grain.”

“Certainly not Dime,” Carole agreed. She went back to the office and told Mrs. Reg. Since horses can’t talk, they can never tell anyone when they’re sick. Carole knew to always watch for clues about their health. A sudden lack of appetite could be a sign of illness, particularly a digestive illness like colic; and colic could be very serious.

Maybe that’s why Dime’s been so horrid lately
, Carole thought.
He isn’t feeling well
. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the pony.

Mrs. Reg shook her head with concern when she heard the news. “I’ll take his temperature and check his gut sounds,” she said to Carole. “But Red told me he didn’t eat all his food yesterday, either, and we couldn’t find any other symptoms of illness.”

“But he’s been so strange lately,” Carole said. “Maybe—”

“We’ll keep a close eye on him,” Mrs. Reg said. “Probably he just hasn’t gotten enough exercise this winter. Don’t worry, Carole. Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it. He’ll be feeling fine soon.”

“I hope so,” Carole said. “And Mrs. Reg? Mr. Stowe’s working really hard.” She didn’t want Mrs. Reg to get too annoyed with him. He really was a nice old man.

To Carole’s surprise, Mrs. Reg made an irritated face. “Yes, he seems very interested in working, doesn’t he?” she said.

Now, what
, wondered Carole,
is the matter with that?

“S
O
, C
AROLE
, I’
M
glad you didn’t tell Mrs. Reg that we weren’t riding today,” Stevie said, a touch sarcastically, as she went into Belle’s stall. It was Tuesday afternoon. Stevie’s horse had apparently lain down in her stall overnight, because her back was covered with manure stains and pieces of sawdust bedding. Stevie sighed as she began to brush it off.

Carole ran her hand affectionately down Starlight’s nose. “No, I wouldn’t give up a riding lesson, not even for Mrs. Reg!” She thought for a moment, then corrected herself. “Well, I would, but only if she asked me. I wouldn’t volunteer.”

“I haven’t seen Mr. Stowe today,” Lisa said. “Maybe it will be a nice, normal day.”

Just then someone screamed. It was a long, sad scream, more of a wail really, and it came from the indoor arena. The Saddle Club dropped their brushes and ran to investigate. They got to the gate of the arena just in time to see Dime careening past, riderless, with a wild look in his eye. The stirrups of his empty saddle banged against his sides as he ran.

“Oh, no,” moaned Lisa. “Not again.”

“Who fell off?” Stevie asked.

“One of the little kids,” Carole realized. “Look. It’s Jessica.” On Tuesday afternoons Max taught a group of younger riders before he taught the lesson that The Saddle Club took. Inside the arena, five little kids were carefully holding their horses or ponies at a halt while Dime galloped in circles around them. In the center of the arena, Jessica was sitting on one of the fences, sobbing, while Max tried to console her.

Carole opened the gate. “Max, is she hurt?” she called. “Shall I get Mrs. Reg to call an ambulance?” They’d never had a serious accident at Pine Hollow, but Carole knew it could happen.

Max shook his head. “She’s okay, she’s just upset,” he said. “Could you three catch that pony before he spooks someone else’s horse?”

“Dime bucked Jessica off twice,” Liam informed them. “He bucked her off, and she got back on, and he bucked her off
again.
”

It’s no wonder she’s crying
, Lisa thought. Falling off was always embarrassing and sometimes scary; poor Jessica had to be completely demoralized. Lisa walked toward Dime quietly, making soothing noises. Carole and Stevie did the same thing. Dime didn’t want to be caught, but with three people after him he didn’t have much choice. As soon as Carole grabbed his reins, he gave up the fight and stood quietly. Lisa and Stevie ran the stirrups up on both sides of the saddle; then they led Dime back to Jessica.

“Okay,” Jessica said, gulping back tears. “I’ll try again.”

Max put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m proud of you for saying that, and I think you’re a very good rider,” he said. “I also think Dime is not going to behave today, and I don’t think you’re going to be able to have a good lesson with him. It’s not your fault. I’d like you to get a different pony for the rest of the lesson.”

Jessica looked relieved. “Okay, Max. But I would ride Dime.”

“I know you would, I just don’t think you should have to.” Max looked up at The Saddle Club. “Could you guys take Dime in and get Peso for Jessica? That way she could catch her breath for a few more minutes.”

“Of course,” Stevie said instantly. “Carole, you take Dime in. Lisa and I will get Peso.”

“I’ll get his tack and meet you by his stall,” Lisa said, hurrying into the stable. Stevie went to Peso’s stall and started grooming him quickly. They didn’t want Jessica to have to miss too much of her lesson.

Carole didn’t need to hurry the way Stevie and Lisa did, and she was increasingly worried about Dime. What could spark such a huge behavioral change? In all the years Carole had ridden at Pine Hollow, she’d never known Dime to throw anyone deliberately, and here he’d done it three times in one week. Something had to be wrong.

Carole replaced Dime’s bridle with his halter and fastened him to the cross-ties in the stable aisle. She was certain Dime couldn’t be lame, because he’d looked perfectly sound every time he’d
been galloping riderless in the last week. If his feet or legs were hurting, he would limp.

He could, however, be hurting somewhere else, and the most likely place seemed to Carole to be his back, because he kept bucking. She took his saddle off and carefully examined both it and Dime’s girth for anything that could hurt him—any worn or broken places, any sharp edges, anything at all. Everything looked normal. Next she removed his saddle pad and went over it even more carefully. It was possible for a burr or a splinter or even a sharp piece of hay to get lodged in the pad. The saddle pad looked freshly laundered, and again, she couldn’t find a thing.

Next Carole examined Dime’s back, where the saddle rested, and his girthline, where the girth fastened around his middle. She looked for sores, scratches, bumps, clods of dirt, and anything else that might cause him discomfort when he was wearing a saddle. Nothing. Dime was well groomed and his skin was smooth.

Carole put her hands on Dime’s back and pressed down. Could Dime have a pulled muscle? She couldn’t find a single spot where he flinched or seemed to feel any pain.

“Dime,” she said to him, “this would be so much easier if you could talk. What’s the problem?”

Dime cocked one ear forward. He looked a little sulky, but other than that he seemed okay. He didn’t have a runny nose or runny eyes, and he didn’t cough.

Carole went to the tack room and came back with Max’s stethoscope and horse thermometer. Even though Max always called the vet, Judy Barker, when one of the horses was sick, he kept these instruments on hand to help determine whether he should call her. Every responsible horse owner knew how to take a horse’s vital signs. They were often the best clue to the horse’s health.

Dime’s temperature was 100 degrees, perfectly normal. Carole used the stethoscope to listen to his heartbeat and count his pulse. Those were normal, too.

“Just like Mrs. Reg said,” Carole told him. “We can’t find anything wrong with you.” She counted the number of times Dime breathed in a minute, because if he was panting he could be in pain, but that, too, was normal. Finally she used the stethoscope to listen to Dime’s gut.

Bra-AAP!
The loud rumble made Carole giggle. She was always amused by how loudly horses’ stomachs grumbled when heard through a stethoscope.

“You don’t have colic,” she informed the pony. When a horse colicked, its entire digestive system shut down, and its stomach and intestines made no noises. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with you. Dime, you’ve got to start behaving again.”

Carole tried a little pep talk. “You’re such a good pony. I know you can do it.” While she brushed the sweat marks off Dime’s back and the arena sand off his legs, she told him what a good pony he had always been, and how happy he had made the little boys and girls he helped teach to ride. She told him how valuable he was to Pine Hollow.

“We need nice ponies like you,” she said as she unclipped the cross-ties and led Dime into his stall. “Look here, look out the window,” she told him. “You can see the riding ring. Isn’t your new stall nice? Max gave it to you because he wants you to be happy.”

Dime turned and bared his teeth at her. Carole jerked her hand out of his way, and he sank his
teeth into the sleeve of her coat. “Dime! Stop that!”

Lisa and Stevie came back up the aisle toward their horses. “Peso rolled in the pasture this morning, and it took ages for us to get him ready. We hurried as fast as we could.” Stevie went back to Belle’s stall and gave the mare a hug. “We’ll have to hurry now to get ready for our own lesson.”

Lisa saw the strange expression on Carole’s face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Dime just tried to bite me,” Carole said in amazement. “He seemed okay, and I was telling him what a good pony he is, and how much Max depends on him, and when I put him back in his stall he tried to bite me.”

Lisa looked into the pony’s stall. “He hasn’t finished his grain today, either.”

Carole sighed. “I guess I’d better tell Mrs. Reg. Something has to be wrong with him.”

Stevie shook her head. “I wish we knew what it was. I don’t think he’s going to shape up until we fix whatever it is. Do you think his back hurts, Carole?”

Carole shook her head. “I checked, as well as I could.”

Lisa looked again at the grain bucket. “And he’s not colicking?”

“I don’t see how he can be,” Carole said in exasperation. “His stomach is rumbling like a freight train!”

“Well, it must be something,” Stevie said with a sigh.

Carole bit her lip anxiously. She was starting to really worry about the little pony.

L
ISA DIDN
’
T HAVE
the best lesson of her entire life, but she enjoyed the chance to ride Prancer again. Much as she loved trail rides, she also loved lessons, because they gave her the chance to improve specific skills. Of course, on the trail she had plenty of opportunities to improve her general riding and horse handling, but there she rarely thought about the finer points of body control; for example, whether her heels were down as much as they could be or whether Prancer’s neck was curving gently through the turns.