Horse Games (10 page)

“Yeah, I am,” she said. “And I want to have more fun, too. Can we trot?”

“No way,” Carole said. “I promised Max and your mother on a stack of Bibles that this would be the safest trail ride anybody ever took. So, there is nothing you can say to convince me that we ought to go any faster than a very sedate walk”—she paused for effect—“at least as long as we are within sight of Pine Hollow. Come on, follow me.”

With that Carole led the way around a small hill and
obscured the stable from their view. “Ready?” she asked. Marie nodded. Carole gave Starlight a little nudge. It didn’t take much encouragement. He began trotting right away. As soon as Marie gave Patch the signal, he broke into a trot, too.

Carole let Patch come up beside Starlight so she could watch Marie carefully. As she had seen when the girl was in class, Marie knew what she was doing. She posted with the two-beat gait of Patch’s trot, rising slightly and sitting, still keeping her back straight and her hands still.

“Nice,” Carole said, genuinely admiring Marie’s position. “You do know what you’re doing.”

Marie just smiled. It wasn’t clear to Carole whether that was because she was pleased by Carole’s compliment or simply happy to be trotting. It didn’t matter. A smile from Marie was a very welcome thing.

Carole drew Starlight back down to a walk. She patted his neck reflexively. It was a way she could always tell him how much she loved riding him. Marie did the same with Patch.

“You’re right,” Marie said, walking side-by-side with Carole. “I have changed. I’m happy now and I’m beginning to think it’s all right to be happy.”

“I know. All of a sudden, there comes a time when you realize you don’t have to feel guilty about being happy and having fun. That’s when you can really start living your life again.”

Marie looked at her strangely. “How did you know?”

Carole remembered then that she’d been keeping a secret from Marie. She’d never told her new friend about her own mother’s death. At first, it had seemed as if it would be sort of phony to tell her—as if Carole were trying to prove something, or as if she expected Marie to feel sorry for her, too. That wasn’t how Carole felt, but she’d been afraid it would be how Marie would react. Now, however, the fact that she hadn’t told her made her feel dishonest, as if she’d been withholding something. Carole had to come clean and she wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Well, my mother—”

“Your parents are divorced, aren’t they?” Marie asked.

Carole shook her head. “No,” she said. There was a long silence. Then she said the words. “My mother died.”

“A long time ago?” Marie asked.

“Just two years. Seems like yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Why? It sounded so strange even to her that Carole couldn’t explain it. Why not?

“I don’t know,” she began.

“You were holding out on me,” Marie said accusingly. “Did you think it was some kind of dirty secret?”

“No,” Carole told her. “I guess it seems that way. It’s just that—well, I didn’t know
how
to tell you.”

Carole pulled Starlight to a complete stop. Marie stopped Patch next to her. The two girls stared at each
other, looking for clues and answers. Carole wished that she had told Marie when she’d first met her, wished she hadn’t kept the secret, which wasn’t a secret at all and certainly wasn’t a dirty secret. She just hadn’t wanted to talk about it and now she had to, but she didn’t know what to say.

“It’s not fair, you know,” Marie said. “Having my father die is bad enough without people trying to lie to me about things. For a long time when I was in the hospital, they lied to me about him. ‘He’s still sick,’ they said. ‘He’ll come visit you when he can.’ Once a nurse even told me he’d been there but that I’d been asleep and they hadn’t wanted to wake me up. I knew it was a lie. That was when I knew he was dead.”

“I hate lies, you know. I hated it when the doctors told me things wouldn’t hurt—and they did. I hated it when they told me I’d be up and walking in no time, and I wasn’t. I hated it when they said physical therapy would be easy and fun, but it wasn’t either. I hate lies, Carole, and you told me a lie!”

The lines in Marie’s face hardened with anger. Carole wanted to speak, wanted to reach out with her heart, but there were no words. Before she could say anything at all, Marie gave Patch a big kick and the two of them bolted off—not at a leisurely walk, but at a trot that rapidly turned into a canter.

When it came to words, Carole could often be tongue-tied, but when the subject was horses, she just about always
knew what to do. Marie was a pretty good rider. That was clear to anybody who’d seen her on horseback, but she was also a girl who was still recovering from some serious injuries and she had no business galloping off through the fields. No matter how angry Marie was at Carole, Carole had a responsibility to Marie, to Marie’s mother, and to Max. She couldn’t let Marie do something recklessly dangerous!

Carole turned Starlight around and bounded after her. Patch was a fine and gentle horse, but he was also a fast horse and once he got an idea about running free, it was sometimes pretty hard to convince him to stop. By the time Carole and Starlight were aimed in Marie’s direction, Patch was two hillocks away, and still going strong.

“Go, boy! Go!” Carole said, touching Starlight gently with her riding crop. He got the idea. He instinctively understood what Carole needed. Carole was grateful then for the fact that horses are naturally competitive. They love races and Starlight was no exception. As far as he was concerned, Patch’s head start was just all the more reason to go fast.

Carole gripped tightly with her legs and they flew after Marie and Patch. As they got closer, she was afraid that Marie was struggling with Patch. Riding a horse under control wasn’t always easy, even with strong legs. Riding a horse out of control was hard, even for an experienced rider, and nearly impossible for somebody with weak legs. “Help!” Marie shrieked. She was doing the best she
could but it was just too much for her. Her arms flailed over her head and the reins flew out of her hands.

“Grab his mane!” Carole yelled.

Marie’s fingers clutched at Patch’s mane.

Carole focused every bit of her concentration on reaching Patch and grabbing the loose reins. Every time her concentration slipped the least bit, her mind filled with a terrible image of Marie falling on the ground and hurting herself. If Marie had to go back to the hospital now, Carole didn’t know how she’d ever forgive herself—and she was sure Marie would never forgive her.

“Hold with your legs! I’m almost there,” Carole called out. She tried to mask the fear in her voice. She was sure it wouldn’t do Marie any good to think that she was scared, too.

Then, a funny thing happened. Starlight pulled up to Patch and the two of them ran neck and neck together. Carole tried to reach over to grab Patch’s reins. Before she could get them, however, Patch slowed down and drew to a halt. As far as he was concerned, the race was over. He probably even thought he’d won. Carole didn’t care what his motive was. She was just glad he’d stopped. Carole drew in Starlight’s reins and rode over to Marie.

Marie didn’t have the reins, and her feet were out of Patch’s stirrups, but she was still in the saddle. She was leaning forward against Patch’s neck, clutching it. Tears streaked her face. She gasped with the sobs that racked her body.

Carole dismounted. She took Patch’s reins and Starlight’s and walked the horses to a fence post nearby. She secured the reins around the pole.

“Come on,” she said gently, helping Marie out of the saddle. “Let’s get you down from there for a breather, okay?”

Without answering, Marie allowed Carole to help her down. Carole fished in the pocket of her breeches and found a rumpled handkerchief. She offered it to Marie. Marie wiped at her tears, but they kept coming. Carole led her to a small rock on the edge of the field, where they could sit and talk in peace. But first, Marie needed to cry.

Carole knew Marie wasn’t just crying about the fright she’d had with Patch. Nor was she crying about Carole’s deception. She was crying about everything awful that had happened to her in the last few months, but mostly about her father’s death. Carole put her arm around her to comfort her.

“It’s okay,” Carole said. “I know. I really do. About the only thing I can tell you is that it will get better. That’s not much comfort right now. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you about my mother before. I knew it wouldn’t help.”

“How does it get better? It doesn’t change,” Marie said. “Nothing can change the fact that he’s dead.”

“I know,” Carole said.

Marie’s tears finally subsided. She blew her nose a final time. “Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Carole asked.

“For knowing how I feel. A lot of people kept telling me not to cry. You knew better. A lot of people told me that things would change. You knew better. A lot of people kept telling me how to feel. You didn’t. You just let me feel what I felt. You knew you couldn’t change that. You should have told me about your mother, but I guess I understand and, anyway, you didn’t really lie.”

“Sort of,” Carole admitted.

“And mostly thank you for saving me when I let Patch run wild. That was scary!”

“You can say that again!”

Marie shivered with the memory and the girls laughed. It helped to release a lot of the fear they’d both had when Patch was on the run. They felt better when they were done laughing.

“Phew,” Marie said. “Now what do we do?”

“Next, we get you back in the saddle and walk slowly and carefully back through the fields to Pine Hollow. And as we walk, I’ll tell you more about how I felt when my mother died, if you want to hear it. I’ll tell you how much I love horseback riding and what a comfort it was to me when I was saddest. It’s still a comfort to me. Then I’ll tell you I think you can get as much out of it as I do. And, finally, I’m going to try to talk you into joining our polocrosse team.”

“Really? You think I’m good enough?”

Carole cocked her head as if she were thinking hard.

“Well,” she began, “we lost our last game by about thirty points. I think that, with you on our team, we ought to be able to change the odds. This time, I hope we’ll only lose by half that. Want to join up?”

“Sure,” Marie said. “But it depends a bit on my mother.”

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about her,” Carole began.

“L
OOK AT THIS
,” Stevie announced in Pine Hollow’s locker area eight days later. “My ankle is getting small enough now for me to put on my boots today!”

She displayed her new footwear for anybody who was interested.

“Is it still the awful orangey-purple color you tried to get us to look at last week?” Lisa asked.

“Nuh-uh,” Stevie said. “I’m into green now. A nice sort of olive color, tinged with yellow.”

“Gross!” Carole grimaced.

“Can I see it?” Adam Levine asked.

“It’ll cost you a quarter,” Stevie said. She’d found her natural-made color schemes were her main source of income these days, especially among her younger brother’s friends. She was just trying it out on Adam.

“Forget it.”

Stevie didn’t mind. Unbandaging and rebandaging was a real nuisance. She’d want at least seventy-five cents for that.

“So, what techniques are we going to work on today, O master coach of polocrosse?” Carole asked, changing the subject. “After all, the rematch is tomorrow.”

“Piece of cake,” Stevie declared. She looked stern, but the fact was she was flattered that Carole had called her the master coach of polocrosse—even jokingly. They had had four practices since the last match and they were actually and truly getting better. Stevie was very proud of what they’d learned and accomplished.

She checked her list. “Today we’re going to work on stealing the ball. And then, if we have time, dribbling, and then, we have to go over crossing fouls, and then we need to review goal shots.”

“Ah, we’re going to have a three-hour practice session!” Lisa said brightly.

Stevie tossed a bootjack at her. “No, you’re safe there. Max showed me that the rules make it illegal for any horse to participate in more than fifty-four minutes of polocrosse a day. That should go for practices, too.”

Marie finished tucking in her shirttails, took her boots out of her cubby, and sat down on the bench next to Stevie to put them on.

“Thanks,” she said.

“For what?” Stevie asked.

“For letting me join up.”

“I’m not sure we exactly
let
you join,” Stevie said, musing about the situation. “I think the correct verb is shanghai.”

Marie smiled. “Maybe,” she said. “But I’m still glad you did it.”

“Lisa and Carole and I are meeting after practice at TD’s. Want to come along?”

“Great,” Marie said. “I’ll be there.”

Stevie stood up then. “Practice begins in ten minutes. Get your horses ready, guys!” Then she picked up her crutches and headed for the playing field where they would practice. She wanted a few minutes to herself before they began.

Stevie had found that being a coach was very different from being a player. For one thing, she wasn’t doing the exercises herself. She was telling the players what to do. She’d learned that if they found something hard to do, it was probably because it
was
hard, not because they weren’t trying hard enough. She’d also learned a lesson in the first disastrous match against Cross County, and that was that yelling only made the team angry—at her. There had been lots of times in practices when she’d wanted to yell and scream, but the only time she had done it was when the riders were across the field and she didn’t think they could hear her. For Stevie, that was a victory. She knew it and she was proud of it.