Helping Hands (2 page)

Chapter Three

D
avid makes putting the corral together look easy.

“You connect the panels with the metal pins, like this. See?” he asks. “Do those over there the same way. It should look like an octagon once it's finished.”

I try to pin two panels together and manage to drop everything. It's a good thing David's here to help. The kids in line are getting impatient, and Gus still hasn't gotten the second pony out of the trailer. All we can hear is his muffled voice and a lot of pony stomping and clomping. It doesn't sound like either one of them is happy.

“That guy is not very good with horses,” David says, concerned. “No wonder it doesn't want to come out.”

We finally finish pinning the corral panels and weigh them down with heavy sandbags from the truck. I'm sweating from all the unexpected work.

“Do you have a gate?” David calls to Gus.

“Do you
see
a gate?” Gus snarls.

David makes a face at me. “We'll leave a little space between those last two panels for kids to get in and out of the corral.”

By now, a crowd of people has gathered in the parking lot. Jules is trying to keep the little kids entertained, but a couple of them have started to fidget.

“Do we need to put a saddle on her or anything?” I ask David.

“Of course,” David says. “How else are the kids going to ride?”

I don't really want to explain to him that I know absolutely nothing about ponies. Or horses. I'm not even sure what the difference is.

A noisy commotion in the horse trailer saves me from having to answer him.

Gus squeezes out the side door of the trailer and kicks the door closed. “Dog meat!” he shouts. “You're gonna be dog meat if you don't back your rump out of there!”

“Hey there, Mr. Gus,” I say loudly, hoping none of the little kids heard what he just said.

David must be thinking the same thing. He jogs over to the trailer. “May I try?” he asks.

“Suit yourself,” Gus grumbles. “That pony's so stubborn, he might as well be a mule.” Gus stalks over to the far end of the parking lot and lights a cigarette.

David pokes his head in the trailer window. “Hey there, boy,” he says gently. “Having a rough time this morning? I would be, too, if I were stuck in this stinky trailer.” He turns and whispers to me, “This trailer is disgusting. Looks like it hasn't been cleaned out in months.”

I don't know what to say to that. I'm in way over my head. I mean, I love animals, but I've only ever been around little ones, like bunnies and cats. Ponies or horses—whatever—they're way bigger than bunnies and cats. They seem to be a lot more trouble, too.

David strokes the brown and white pony through the window. “Let's see if we can get you out here in the fresh air. Come on, buddy.” He turns to me. “Can you get some carrots or maybe an apple? We can use them to lure him out.”

Now there's something I can help with. I run past Babe, go inside the store, and snag some of Cuddles and Lolli's carrots. But it's no use. Buster still won't move, not even for a yummy treat.

“Horses and ponies are creatures of habit,” David says. “And some don't like walking backward. I helped Mr. Quinn's horse, Trickster, get used to his trailer. He didn't like going in or out, either. Maybe Babe can help us out. Josh, bring her over here.”

“Me?” I ask.

“I don't think Gus is going to help, do you?”

I swallow hard and hope David doesn't realize how nervous I am. Babe watches me carefully as I untie her lead. “Just don't bite me, okay?” I whisper. Once she's untied, I walk her to the trailer, and her hooves
clip-clop
on the asphalt behind me. She smells horsey: dusty and sweaty, with a hint of hay and Mom's basil. Suddenly, she head-butts me right in the middle of my back and almost sends me crashing to the ground.

“What the heck are you kids up to?” Gus shouts from across the parking lot. “I already got that one out.”

“Buster shakes every time that dude yells,” David says, annoyed. “It's okay, buddy, look, here comes Babe.”

I hand him her lead and rub my back. “Careful. She thinks she's a goat.”

“Yeah, I saw that,” David says. “I think she likes you.”

David leads Babe back into the trailer. The two ponies nuzzle each other's necks, and Buster lets out a big sigh.

“Okay then,” David says. “Let's try this again.” He clicks his tongue. “That's it, Buster. Just do like Babe is doing. Easy does it.”

And sure enough, David manages to coax Buster to follow in Babe's footsteps and back out of the trailer. “Good boy, Buster! That wasn't so bad now, was it?”

Buster snorts and looks around the parking lot, taking everything in: the corral, the back of the store, the Dumpster, and the line of excited kids sitting with Jules, their parents standing behind them. He keeps looking back to Babe, as if he wants her to tell him that everything is going to be okay.

I understand the feeling totally.

Buster has a small white star of fur on his forehead and a white patch on his muzzle, like Babe's. His coat is a pretty combination of reddish-brown and white patches, but it's matted down and dirty. His white legs are splattered with dried mud and manure. I was hoping that Buster would be younger and perkier than Babe, but he's even more of a mess.

David notices, too.

“Hey buddy,” he says, touching the pony's tangled mane. “When was the last time you were groomed?” He pats Buster on the head and the pony shies a bit. “It's okay, we'll take care of you.”

David tells me to lead Babe into the pipe corral, and he follows right behind with Buster. The waiting kids clap, and Sophie starts singing her pony song again.

“Thank you. Thank you.” David bows to the crowd and hams it up. “I'm a certified horse genius, if I do say so myself.”

“Ha,” I say. “I wouldn't go that far, but you don't completely stink at pony handling.” I punch his shoulder, not too hard, just friendly. This could have been a nightmare without his help.

“Ow, ow, ow!” David rubs his shoulder and fakes that he's in pain. “You're just jealous of my amazing horse-taming skills.”

I try to smile because he's just teasing, but the truth is I
am
jealous. It's like David was born to deal with these ponies. Jules is a natural with rabbits—that's why we call her the Bunny Whisperer. At Dr. Mac's clinic, Maggie's in charge of dogs, Sunita is the cat expert, and Brenna, well, she's the nature girl who connects with all the wild critters. I like animals, too, but I don't have special skills the way they do. In fact, I'm not sure I should be a Vet Volunteer at all.

Gus slams the back door of the trailer closed. Buster startles and pulls at his lead rope.

“Whoa there, buddy,” David says. “Everything's fine.” Buster relaxes as David pets his neck. “You should have seen me with Trickster,” David says. “He was terrified of the trailer because he'd been in an accident in one. He's a lot bigger and more powerful than these old ponies. He's more than sixteen hands high.”

“Hands?” I ask, confused.

“Horses are measured in hands, didn't you know that? Each hand is four inches. Buster and Babe are maybe ten hands high. You weren't here at Thanksgiving, were you? I got to ride Trickster in the Ambler Thanksgiving parade. We looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. But you should really see my dad's horse, King's Shadow—”

“Let's get the pony rides started,” I interrupt. “You can tell me that other stuff later.”

Mom pops her head out the back door and calls to me. “How's it going out here?”

“Great,” I smile and wave. “We're just about ready.”

Babe lifts one foot in the air like she is waving, too. Mom smiles and goes back in. Good thing she didn't notice what Babe ate for breakfast.

Chapter Four

W
here's the grooming gear?” David asks Gus.

Gus grunts and jerks his thumb toward the trailer.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I ask, following David.

“We have to groom Buster.”

“No, we don't. Look at all those kids. We need to get the saddles on.”

David takes a faded plastic crate out of the back of the trailer and carries it to the corral. “Nobody rides until the ponies are ready.”

I had no idea it was going to be this complicated. Gus should have showed up two hours early instead of half an hour late.

David pulls a weird-looking thing the size of a hockey puck out of the crate.

“This is a currycomb,” he says, working it through Buster's coat. “You need to groom them, especially here, where the saddle goes. If you don't pick out the burs and stickers, they'll really hurt once the rider is on.”

He trades the currycomb for a brush. “Most horses like to be groomed. Look how Buster is leaning into this. He's already happier, which will make the pony rides safer for the kids. No one wants to ride a cranky pony.”

Some of the kids in line are whining. I hear some parents grumbling, too, until Jules drowns them out by starting a sing-along to “Old MacDonald Had a Hardware Store.”

Buster looks a whole lot better after he's been brushed. I comb his mane clean while David starts on Babe. By the time I'm done, Buster stands a little taller, as if he knows he looks better and he's proud of it.

“Anytime now!” an impatient dad calls from the long line of waiting kids.

David carries the saddles and bridles from the truck as I'm finishing Babe's mane. I watch as he sets the saddles over the saddle pads and cinches up the girths. “Tacking up,” he calls it. The ponies take the bits in their mouths, and the bridles are buckled up around their jaws.

“There's a mounting block in the back of the truck,” Gus calls.

David and I lift it down together and set it up inside the corral so kids can climb on and off the ponies.

“Not that I mind,” David says, “but isn't that guy supposed to be doing all this?”

“He is,” I say. “But the whole point of the pony rides is to bring families to the store and to keep their kids happy. I think Gus would scare them all away.” I pause. “Look, you've already helped a lot and I really appreciate it, but you don't have to stay if you don't want to.”

“You're kidding me, right?” David stands. “Helping is what the Vet Volunteers are all about. We have to, or we face the wrath of Dr. Mac.” He grins so I know he's joking. “My dad can't pick me up until later this afternoon, and you could use a hand, so . . . can I stay?”

It's my turn to grin.

“The Wrenches and Roses First Annual Pony Ride is officially open,” I shout. “Who's first?”

Sophie sprints across the parking lot before I can say another word, and David helps her onto Babe's saddle. Sophie is singing as loudly as she can. I hope David's grooming made Babe happy enough that she won't mind the off-key tune.

I hang back, unsure what to do.

“Go ahead,” David urges. “That little guy at the front of the line, I think his name is Malik. He was in my sister's class last year. Pick him up and put him on Buster.”

“Right,” I say, trying to look more confident than I feel.

I wave Malik over, and he runs to the corral and jumps up onto the mounting block. Buster stands perfectly still while I help Malik into the saddle. He shuffles his feet a bit as the little boy pats his neck.

David has already walked Sophie and Babe halfway around the corral. “Go ahead,” he calls. “Take his lead.”

I lead Buster and Malik slowly around the corral. Both boy and pony seem to be having fun. So far, so good.

David and I lead the pony rides for the next hour, while Gus sleeps in a folding chair with his hat over his face. Jules helps by entertaining the kids in line. The kids are all happy, and their parents are smiling. I cross my fingers and hope that means they'll turn into Wrenches & Roses customers.

“So when was the last time you rode a horse?” David asks, once we've both settled into the routine.

“Um . . . never,” I admit.

“Never?” he asks. “
Never
, as in, not once in your entire life?”

“Yeah, that's usually what ‘never' means.”

“Man”—he pats Buster's neck—“I don't know if I could handle that.”

“If you'd never been on a horse, you probably wouldn't think it was such a big deal,” I point out.

“I can't remember a time when I wasn't on a horse,” he says. “My dad was supposed to go to the Olympics, but it got canceled that year. We have pictures of me riding with him when I was two years old.”

“My dad taught me how to play soccer,” I say, even though it isn't exactly the truth.

“That's cool,” David says. “Dad and I are going riding tomorrow. He'll be on King's Shadow. When my dad is riding him, it looks like the two of them are flying.”

“I help my dad with the store a lot,” I say. “You know, the family business.”

I'm secretly wishing that my dad could afford a horse, or that he had the time to take me to the stables, or a soccer field, or anywhere.

“You have to work here a lot, don't you?” David asks.

I'm saved from the need to answer him by Maggie and Zoe, who walk up to the corral, grinning and checking out our work with the ponies. They're both granddaughters of Dr. Mac, our town veterinarian and the leader of the Vet Volunteers. Maggie's lived with Dr. Mac since she was a baby, and now Zoe lives with them, too, since her mom is an actress working in Hollywood.

“Looks like you have this under control,” Maggie says.

“Thanks to David,” Jules says. She's left the line of kids under the watchful eye of a mom with a baby in her arms.

Zoe rolls her eyes. “Don't say that too loud—you'll make his head swell even bigger.”

That makes David laugh. Babe swishes her tail like she's joining him.

“Did you guys hear about Ranger?” Maggie asks.

“Mr. Fedor's dog?” I ask. I haven't met him yet, but the other volunteers say he's a nice old man whose dog, Ranger, is always getting into trouble.

“What happened this time?” David asks.

“He tried to make friends with a porcupine,” Maggie says.

I wince. “Ouch!”

“Totally,” Zoe agrees.

“Poor Ranger,” Jules says. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Nothing keeps Ranger down,” Maggie says. “Gran said the hardest part was removing the quills stuck in his nose. He won't go near a porcupine again, that's for sure.”

Just then, Buster lifts his tail and leaves a huge pile of poop on the parking lot.

“Ewww!” says the little girl riding him. I'm thinking the same thing, but I try not to show it. Pony poop smells even grosser than it sounds.

“I'll get the shovel,” says Jules.

“This is the perfect time for us to leave,” Maggie says, laughing. “Remember, guys, the clinic closed at noon today. Gran is taking us camping on the Lehigh River.”

“Sounds like fun,” I say.

“Not really. We have to sleep in a tent,” says Zoe, wrinkling her nose. “On the ground.”

Zoe is more of a hotel kind of girl. A five-star hotel, if you please. With room service and a view.

“What about the animals?” I ask.

“Ranger went home with Mr. Fedor last night. Gran's been planning this camping horror for months, so we don't have any boarders,” Zoe says. “Sherlock Holmes is staying with a guy from Gran's book club and Socrates will be very happy to have twenty-four hours of peace and quiet.”

The first time I met Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Mac's old basset hound, he drooled so much on my sneakers that I had to change my socks when I got home. Socrates, the clinic's cat, still won't let me get close enough to pet him. Maybe he senses that I'm not sure if I really belong with the group.

“Is Dr. Gabe on call?” David asks.

Dr. Gabe is the other vet who works with Dr. Mac.

Maggie nods. “He's at a conference in Philly right now,” she says. “But he'll be back tonight.”

“Gotta go, cousin,” Zoe says. “I'm not done packing. Gran says all we need are old T-shirts and shorts, but I think my clothes should match even if we're in the middle of nowhere.”

Maggie rolls her eyes. Zoe loves fashion. Maggie, not so much. Zoe likes to cook bizarre, healthy foods that smell gross and taste worse, while Maggie is a pizza, burgers, and wings girl. As far as I could tell, the only thing they have in common, besides their grandmother, is that they care about animals more than anything else.

“Just remember, you have to carry what you pack,” Maggie says. “See you guys. Have fun!”

“This would be a great weekend to go camping,” David says. “My dad's taking me to the Chester County Horse Show tomorrow. You want to come with us?”

“I can't,” I say. “The ponies are going to be here tomorrow, too. It looks like Jules and I are going to be stuck working.”

The words come out meaner than I'd planned, but the truth is, I'm getting a little fed up with David's bragging about his horse experience and his father.

Out on Main Street a car revs its engine and beeps its horn loudly. Buster startles, almost jerking the lead out of my hands.

“Hold tight,” David calls. “If you're calm, he'll be calm.”

I won't miss David's bragging tomorrow, but I sure will miss his help. I hope Jules and I can handle it.