Dude Ranch (5 page)

Stevie heard the whistle again. It
hadn’t
been part of her dream. It had been for real. There was something familiar about the sound, but she couldn’t recall what it was or why.

Silently, Stevie crept out of bed and went to look out the porch window of the bunkhouse. It took her a few seconds to focus in the dim light of the very early morning. Her eyes identified the main house and the barn as well as silhouettes of a few trees against the horizon, where the first dim light of dawn was appearing. Then there was motion.

Stevie realized that there was another silhouette—this one of a horse and a bareback rider. She squinted her eyes. The horse stood motionless. The rider leaned forward ever so slightly, as if peering into the distance. Then there was the whistle again. It was the rider’s whistle that had awakened her in the first place. Then, from behind the horse, a dog joined the horse and rider. The dog’s tail wagged eagerly. The whistle was familiar; the dog looked familiar. Could it be the dog who had befriended Stevie in Two Mile Creek after the “bank robbery”?

Then, silently, the horse turned and moved off slowly. The dog trotted easily behind. Soon the threesome was completely out of Stevie’s view.

She scratched her head and returned to her bunk. What kind of person would go riding at this hour of the day? What kind of person rode bareback?

“Oh,” she whispered to herself.
Native Americans rode bareback
. Had she just seen one? She sat on the bunk and then lay down and closed her eyes. Stewball broke into a canter. Stevie smiled as her horse tried to catch up to the mysterious visitor and his dog in the predawn morning.…

“Y
OU KNOW
,” S
TEVIE
said two hours later when she and her friends were sitting at the breakfast table, “I always have blueberry pancakes on my birthday. It’s going to be funny eating steak and eggs this year.”

“Your birthday?” Lisa said. “Is that coming up soon?”

“Yeah, it’s on Saturday,” Stevie told her, though she thought it was odd that Lisa didn’t remember, since they’d just talked about it yesterday. “It’s Alex’s birthday, too,” she said, turning to Kate. “He’s my twin brother. Did you meet him when you were in Willow Creek?”

“No, I don’t think I did,” Kate said. “Pass the salt, will you?” she asked Carole. Carole handed her the saltshaker. “Eli tells me he needs some help forking hay this morning. Anybody want to pitch in?”

“I can’t,” Carole said. “I promised your mother I’d
show her my father’s barbecue-sauce recipe right after breakfast and before we go riding.”

“Me, neither,” Lisa said. “I’ve got to get a postcard off to my mother before she starts calling every day.”

“I can’t, either,” Kate said. “I promised lariat lessons to the Baker kids before we go on our ride. I guess Eli’s stuck with the job himself.” She looked meaningfully at Stevie.

If there was one thing Pine Hollow’s riders learned, it was that taking care of horses was a lot of work, and they learned to help with it. Stevie couldn’t believe the lame excuses her friends were coming up with to duck a fairly simple job. “
I’ll
do it,” she said. “I don’t mind pitching hay. It’s better than mucking out stalls.”

“That’s another advantage to keeping the horses in the pasture,” Kate remarked, and they all laughed knowingly.

Stevie ate the last bite of her breakfast and cleared her dishes. If she was going to pitch hay, she might as well get to it. The sooner that was done, the sooner she and her friends could ride some more.

“See you guys,” she said, and headed for the barn.

Three pairs of eyes watched her leave the mess hall.

“Mom’s waiting for us in the kitchen,” Kate said, pushing back from the table and grabbing her own dishes. The girls hustled, clearing quickly, and took their plates to the sink.

“Okay, now how are we going to do this?” Carole asked once the three of them and Phyllis Devine were seated at the large kitchen table. “And, most important, how are we going to keep her from knowing about it?”

“The way we’ll keep her from knowing about it is easy,” Phyllis said. “We just won’t tell her. The bigger question is, how are we going to get that birthday cake from this kitchen to the barbecue site on Saturday without having the layers fall apart?”

“And how are we going to get her presents there without her seeing them?” Carole added.

“I’ve got some ideas about that,” Lisa said. “If we can get her out of here before breakfast for an early-morning ride, I think we can stall her until lunchtime. As long as we keep her away from the road where the pickup will be bringing all the barbecue stuff, I think it’ll work. Only trouble is that it’s going to mean you’ll have to do all the work because
we’ll
be on the trail with Stevie.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kate said. “You two go with her. I’ll stay and help Mom. That way you can sort of get lost and she’ll believe it.”

Carole curled her lip in distaste. “What if we really get lost?” she asked.

“No way that could happen,” Kate assured her. “The barbecue’s going to be at Parson’s Rock. It sticks up out
of the prairie like the Empire State Building. You can find it from anywhere within miles of here.”

“Sure?”

“Only a total greenhorn dude could get lost out there,” Kate said. “And neither of you is that. Are you?”

Carole and Lisa exchanged glances, then giggled. There was just no telling.

“I
THINK
P
EANUTS
here needs some fresh hay,” Stevie said. She was glancing into one of the barn’s few box stalls where the horses needing special care were housed from time to time. “I’ll get him some water, too.”

“Good idea,” Eli said.

There was a lot of hay and straw kept in the upper loft of the barn and it had to be pitched down as needed for food and bedding. Stevie and Eli had worked side by side until the lower bin was filled. Stevie was good at pitching hay. She knew just how to use a pitchfork. It wasn’t that it was the hardest task in the world, but there were some tricks to it, and Stevie had learned them over the years at Pine Hollow. She couldn’t help notice that Eli had watched her carefully, then grinned when he saw how good she was at the chore.

Stevie put the fresh hay in Peanuts’s bin and filled his
bucket with cool water. While the horse took long gulps of water, she patted him comfortingly. He’d injured the tendon in his left foreleg and would be laid up for quite a while.

“It’s got to be tough on him to be boxed in here after all that time outdoors, doesn’t it?” she said to Eli.

He nodded. “Range horses just don’t like being indoors, particularly when they’re laid up like Peanuts.”

“He’ll get used to it, though,” Stevie said. “I knew a horse once who would fuss every time he was brought into the stable—until he discovered that every time he got there, there were oats and hay waiting for him! When he’d healed and was ready to go out into the pasture, he’d just hang around the gate by the stable until somebody took pity on him and gave him a handful of oats. He was quite a horse!”

Eli looked at her quizzically. “You ride a lot?” he asked.

“Almost every day,” Stevie said. “At least during the summer. In the wintertime, I usually can only ride twice a week.”

“I watched you on Stewball yesterday,” Eli told her.

Stevie was pretty sure he had been watching her until they’d gone around the rise behind the main house.

“You did pretty well. For a dude.”

It didn’t exactly
sound
like a compliment, but from Eli, Stevie suspected that it was high praise.

“I watched you cut out the riding horses yesterday,” she said. “How did you train the dog?”

“I think he was born knowing how to cut horses,” Eli said, taking the pitchforks and returning them to the equipment room. He took a large bucket and began mixing a blend of grains for Peanuts and the two other horses in the barn. “Wait until you see him working with cattle,” Eli said.

“I’ve heard that dogs are really great on roundups,” Stevie said. “Is it
really
instinct?”

“Some are good, some aren’t,” Eli told her. He poured two cans of oats into the bucket. “I’ve never been able to train one that wasn’t.”

“Have you trained a lot of them?” she asked, handing him a long-handled wooden spoon so he could mix the mash.

“Lots,” he said, stirring methodically. “Lots.” He seemed to be concentrating so totally on his mixture that Stevie didn’t want to interrupt him for more details. When he finished blending the grains, he hung the spoon back up and stored the mixture in a cool bin. Then he put his hands on his hips and regarded Stevie carefully. She felt as if she were being x-rayed.

“Come on,” he said finally. “Follow me.”

He turned abruptly and left the feed room, closing the door behind him. He walked along the main aisle of the barn, past the horse stalls and the hay bins.
Almost at the end, there was an old rough wooden door, covered with cobwebs. Eli turned the handle and it swung open easily. After switching on a light, he led Stevie down some stairs into the lower-level cellar of the barn. Since the barn was built into a hill, there were only a few windows high up on one side. The floor was dirt, cool even through Stevie’s boots. There was the distinct musty smell of damp earth.

Stevie followed Eli through two more doors, passing some ancient buggy tack, and even an old ox plow. Eli didn’t offer any explanation of where they were going. Stevie didn’t ask. She figured she’d get her answer when Eli was ready to give it.

“Quiet now,” he said, but it was unnecessary. Stevie hadn’t said a word since they’d left the feed room.

“Okay, girl, I’m here,” he said softly, but he wasn’t speaking to Stevie. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she heard a gentle thumping sound.

Eli crouched, sitting on his heels. Stevie crouched down next to him. There, in front of them, was a dog, her long tail thumping happily on the ground in greeting. Next to her, on top of her, all around her, climbed a whole litter of puppies, tails flailing joyously every which way.

“Oh!” Stevie said in astonishment.

“This here’s Caramel,” he said, introducing Stevie to the proud mother, a golden-colored dog. “I just call
her Mel, though. And she’s got nine pups to take care of.”

“They’re adorable!” Stevie said. “How old are they?” She reached out to them. Three of the puppies came over and began sniffing her curiously. Stevie patted their soft fur. One of them began licking her hand. Another nipped at her knees. The third returned to its mother, soon replaced by another who wanted to be patted, too. Stevie couldn’t believe how cute they were.

“Five weeks now,” Eli said. “I’ve been keeping them down here because Mel can be fussy sometimes and if all those dudes get wind of the pups, they’ll be crawling all over the place and Mel won’t like that at all.”

Stevie could just imagine how difficult it would be for the mother to try and take care of her babies with a whole lot of people watching every move. She understood why Eli would want to keep this a secret. She also understood that it was a very special honor for her to learn his secret. She felt proud. She knew she had earned his trust and his respect. Maybe she wasn’t just a dude anymore.

“What kind of dog is Mel?” Stevie asked, looking at her.

“Oh, I suppose she’s got some shepherd in her and maybe some golden retriever. There were some huskies
around here a while back. Might be she’s got some of that blood. Then, that curly hair there makes me think there’s some English sheepdog. I guess she’s just some of everything. Everything good, that is. Mel’s the best herding dog I ever had, but she’s on vacation now.”

“Maternity leave?” Stevie asked.

Eli looked at her and burst into laughter. “Yep,” he said, nodding. “I guess that’s just what you’d call it. Pups’ll be ready for weaning in a week or so. Then Mel can get back to work.”

“Looks to me like she’s working pretty hard
now
,” Stevie said. As she and Eli watched, Mel rounded up some of her rambunctious puppies, nudging a few who were using their mother as a jungle gym.

“You could be right,” Eli said. “Maybe roundup will be her vacation, then. For now, though, let’s leave her alone.”

“Okay,” Stevie said, standing up. “See you around, Mel,” she said, giving the dog a final pat on her head. The dog watched as Stevie and Eli left her alone with her brood, then, just before they shut the door behind them, Mel returned her complete attention to her puppies.

“Listen, Stevie,” Eli began.

“I know,” she said. “It’s a secret. If I promise not to
tell even my best friends, will you let me visit Mel again?”

“Sure thing, pardner,” he said, and they shook hands to seal the deal.

Stevie found that very consoling. Maybe she was going to miss her birthday at home, but she had a secret and it was a nice one—a very nice one.

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, Stevie was up again in the gray dawn, awakened by the now-familiar whistle. She swung her feet to the cool wooden floor and stood up, wondering if she could make it to the window before her mysterious visitor disappeared.