No Small Thing (5 page)

The bulb casts an eerie light across the barn. I look around quickly to make sure Clem isn’t glaring down at me from some beam up in the ceiling. The horses stare back at me with curiosity. Clem is nowhere to be seen. A radio is softly playing from somewhere in the back of the barn. I breathe a sigh of relief and laugh at my silliness.

“Okay, bring Smokey in.”

Cid leads Smokey into the barn, Queenie in tow. She has her hand on Smokey’s neck again.

“Let Smokey go,” I tell her. “I don’t want him hurting you if he gets too excited by the other horses.”

Queenie moves over to where I’m standing. Smokey greets the other horses with a low, excited nicker. The horses stretch their necks over their stalls, sniffing the air. We move along the far aisle to reach the stalls in the middle of the barn. A big chestnut gelding with the name Flag tacked over its stall pins back his ears when Smokey walks by. Smokey pays no attention.

I open the stall door and Cid walks Smokey inside. She lets him sniff around a bit before removing his bridle and halter. The pony is curious and calm, not at all wild like you would expect a stallion to be. He nuzzles the water bowl. It’s empty and dry. I push on the mechanism with my hand, but no water comes out.

“What do you expect for 10 dollars a month?” I grumble.

Queenie perches like a bird on the edge of a concrete trough while Cid looks for a bucket.

“I’m going to get some hay,” I tell them.

“From where?” Cid asks.

“From the loft, where do you think?”

“Did you pay for it?”

I ignore her and climb the rickety ladder to the loft. I have no idea how much hay there will be. There used to be lots of it here when we were kids. When I reach the loft I let my eyes adjust to the light. I can see the stars through the slats in the barn walls. To my relief, there is a big pyramid of hay stacked almost to the ceiling and lots of loose hay all over the floor—just like I remember. In fact, it’s probably the same hay. It’s obviously old and smells a bit mouldy. I can’t believe Ted Henry wanted to charge us for it. I gather a big handful of the loose hay, inspect it for mould, then toss it down the hole to the floor. I find some straw and throw it down too. By the time I climb down the ladder, Cid has filled Smokey’s feed bin with hay and spread the straw on the floor of his stall with her feet. Smokey is drinking out of a red plastic bucket that Cid found and filled with water.

“There’s tons of hay up there,” I tell her. “No one will even miss it. Besides, half of it is mouldy. We’ll have to be careful not to feed Smokey any of the rotten stuff.”

“You’re just going to take it?”

“There’s tons of it!”

Cid stares at me reproachfully, then holds up a small wooden box.

“I found this too,” she says.

The brushes and hoof picks that the daffodil lady gave us are arranged neatly inside. Queenie watches from her perch on the trough, her face pale and serious.

I nod with approval, then sprinkle water on Smokey’s hay.

“Can we get him a plaque with his name on it?” Queenie asks. This is the first thing she’s said in hours. “There’s a lady at the fair who makes them.”

“You don’t know that she’ll be there this year,” Cid says.

“We’ll get him one,” I say. “But we’d better get home now. Smokey is all settled in. He’ll be fine until we can come back tomorrow after school.”

I’d like to stay to make sure Smokey is okay, or to look at the other horses, but I know Queenie’s collarbone must be sore and we have to get home. Besides, Ma’s used to us going off on our own, but we’ve never been out this late without telling her where we were going.

I secure the latch on the stall. Smokey watches us as we move along the aisle. I stop to admire him one more time. He looks serene and almostunreal standing there. I feel my heart swell up in my chest. I watch him for a little while longer before I click off the light and close the barn door.

We make our way down the lane in silence. I don’t think any of us can believe the pony is ours. The whole day seems like a crazy dream. I look over at Queenie. Her lips are pursed and she’s got one hand on her sore shoulder. I put my arm around her waist. “We’ll be home soon.”

When we reach the road, a passing car slows down, then drives on. Right after that, another car slows down and the driver looks at us too. Maybe they’re wondering why Queenie looks so bad, I think. Or maybe they’re just wondering what three kids are doing this far outside of town this late at night. I wave to let them know that we’re fine. The second car stops. The driver rolls down her window and sticks her head out.

“You those Estabrooks kids?”

I nod because I know not to talk to strangers.

“You kids are in a heap of trouble. It’s all over the radio. The whole town is looking for you. Your mother is worried sick.”

The radio? That’s why those cars were slowing down to look at us. Now I know we’re done. Ma’s been worried before but she’s never called the radio station. Usually she just puts on herhouse robe and starts walking up the street to find us….

“What’s wrong with that girl?” the woman demands, pointing at Queenie.

“Nothing. She’s fine. We’re just on our way home now.”

“You’d better get in the car. I don’t want your mother worrying any more.”

I hesitate because I’m thinking it might not be safe. Cid looks at me and we both look at Queenie. “Come on,” I say. “It can’t get much worse than this.”

We shuffle over to the car and I help Queenie in and snap her seat belt on.

“We live at 251 Light Stree—” I start to say, but the woman cuts me off.

“I know full well where you live. Everyone knows where you live now. You kids must be out of your minds tearing around ‘til all hours. If you were my kids, I’d teach you a thing or two.”

I’m tempted to smart back at the woman, but think better of it. “Yes, ma’am,” I say, hoping this will appease her. But it doesn’t. She just keeps at us, and I suppose we deserve it.

“It’s hard enough trying to keep a house going under the best circumstances, let alone when a woman is fending for herself. You kids must sitaround thinking of ways to drive your mother crazy.”

She natters on and on like this the whole way home. I nod once in a while to let her know I’m minding, but Cid and Queenie just stare at the floor of the car. I’d like to stare at the floor of the car too, but somebody has to take responsibility.

To my horror, Ma’s waiting on the porch smoking a cigarette. I haven’t seen her smoke since we lived in Illinois. She throws the cigarette to the ground and rushes over to the car, pulling the tie of her robe tight around her. I don’t have to look at her to tell she’s hysterical. I’m not even out of the car before she starts boxing and slapping me on the head.

“What are you trying to do to me? What’s the matter with you? I was worried sick. The whole town is out looking for you. I had to call the radio just to find you. Do you know how embarrassed I am? You’re just like your father. You’re going to kill me!”

I put my hands up to cover my face. I try to explain, but I can’t get a word in edgewise with Ma cuffing me like that. She hits me so hard my ears start to ring and I feel like I’m going to be sick. The woman in the car just sits there watching, and I hate her for being so nosy. I wish she would drive away and leave us alone.

When Ma finally stops hitting me she bursts into tears. It may sound funny, but this hurts me more than all the slapping and yelling ever could.

“I’m sorry, Ma. We didn’t mean to scare you….”

Ma’s sobbing into her hands like she’ll never stop. I’ve only heard her cry like this once before, and that’s when Dad left us. I feel so ashamed I can’t even look at her. Ma keeps sobbing until she sees Queenie.

“Good God, what happened to you, child?” She rushes over to Queenie.

Queenie finally breaks down because she is tired and scared and she can’t be strong any more, not with Ma crying and all.

“What have you done to her?” Ma screams at me.

“It was an accident…. She fell.”

Ma runs her hands over Queenie. “My baby, my poor baby …”

Cid is crying now too, but softly, sniffling into her shirt, her face crumpled like an old tin can. She moves over to where I am and we stand mutely watching.

The woman in the car offers to drive Queenie and Ma to the hospital. They get in the car and drive off, leaving Cid and me standing in front of the house.

“They’ve been gone for an awfully long time,” Cid says, looking out the living room window. “I hope Queenie is okay. I’ve never seen Ma so mad before. I thought she was going to kill you.”

They
had
been gone a long time. I’m concerned about Queenie, but I have to admit, I’m not in any hurry to face Ma. I don’t mind so much that she hit me. I was more embarrassed than anything else. But I’m sorry that I made Ma worry so much. I never want to be like my dad.

While we are waiting for Ma and Queenie to return, I wash my knee in the sink. After the blood is cleaned up I can see that the dog only grazed the skin. It isn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. “We’ll have to tell Ma about Smokey when they get back,” I say, trying to thread a needle to fix the tear in my pants. My fingers feel like a tangle of thumbs and the thread goes everywhere except through the needle. Cid grabs it from me and threads it as easily as if the needle were the size of a wooden spoon, then hands it back to me.

“She’ll never let us keep him. What are we going to do? We can’t take him back. That would be just awful.”

“We’re not going to take him back. I don’t care what Ma says. I know she’s mad now, but I’ll convince her once she cools down. I have my paper route. She won’t have to have any part in it. She doesn’t have to pay for a thing.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince with this delivery, me or Cid, but it makes me feel better to say it and it seems to make Cid feel better to hear it.

Cid’s just about to turn on the t? when we hear the sound of the car crunching the gravel in the driveway. We can hear Ma thanking the woman, then the doors slamming and the car driving off. I take a deep breath because I’m afraid of what will happen next. I tie a finishing knot in the thread, then break it with my teeth. My sewing is terrible compared to Ma’s. But I sure wasn’t going to ask her to mend my pants.

Ma walks in, helping Queenie through the door. Queenie looks tired but she’s smiling. Her eyes are kind of glazed over—probably from the painkillers they gave her at the hospital. She has a small stuffed bear in her hands and a plaster cast that runs thick and white over one shoulder, across her chest and under her arm. There’s a

Scooby-Doo sticker on the front of it. Her shirt had been cut to make room for the cast, and she looks like a little football player just coming in from a hard game.

Ma kisses Queenie on the forehead, then walks right past me without saying a word. This is not good. I’m more afraid of her silence than her yelling. Ma can freeze you out forever. Once, she didn’t talk to Dad for three months, she was so mad at him for something. I can hear her clattering pots in the kitchen. Cid and I rush over to where Queenie is standing.

“What was wrong with you?” Cid asks. “You’re so lucky to have a cast.”

“The doctor said I broke my collarbone,” Queenie says, touching the cast reverently. “Feel it. It’s hard as anything.”

Cid taps lightly on the cast.

“The hospital people were really nice. They gave me this bear and this sticker too.”

“Did it hurt?” Cid asks. “Can I sign your cast?”

“I’m sorry, Queenie,” I finally say. “It’s my fault. I should have known better.”

I don’t know what I could have done differently, but it makes me feel better to apologize. I’m proud of Queenie for being so strong. The whole way home with that broken collarboneshe didn’t cry once. I feel ashamed, all of a sudden, and honestly, just a little bit jealous. If I had broken my collarbone, Ma would be fussing over me instead of hating my guts.

“Ma knows about Smokey,” Queenie says softly. “I had to tell her. She didn’t say much but I think she’s really mad. She’s gonna make us take him back, isn’t she, Nat?”

“I won’t let her,” I say, trying to sound confident the way I did before with Cid. But somehow, it doesn’t come across that way. I know I have to go into the kitchen and talk to Ma. I’d rather have a million needles jabbed in my eyes, but I know I have to do it or the whole thing with Smokey will fall apart. And after all we’ve been through, I can’t let that happen.

I stand in the doorway to the kitchen. Queenie and Cid hover behind me. Ma is mixing something up on the stove. It smells like hot chocolate. Probably for Queenie, since she broke her collarbone and all. Ma has her back to me, and although she’s not a big woman, she seems gigantic right now.

“Ma …”

She doesn’t answer me but just keeps mixing the hot chocolate.

“Ma … I want to explain to you—”

“You’re taking that horse back tomorrow, Nathaniel.”

“It’s a pony, Ma, not a horse …”

“Pony—horse, I don’t care. You’re taking it back tomorrow all the same.”

“Just let me explain, Ma. The pony didn’t cost us a thing—”

“It cost Queenie a collarbone already!”

She got me there. I stare at the floor. I know I’m going to have to be fast on my feet if I’m going to win her over. “Ma, if you could just see him you would want us to keep him—I know you would. He’s beautiful and white and gentle as a puppy. He’s just like a picture, Ma. Queenie loves that pony to death. You know how long she’s been waiting to get one. It wasn’t Smokey’s fault she broke her collarbone.”

“It’s a bloody stallion, Nathaniel!”

Ma blindsides me with this one. How did she know Smokey is a stallion? I should have told Queenie not to mention that little detail.

“But he’s really gentle, Ma. We were chased by a dog and Smokey was just trying to get away. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It won’t cost you anything for us to keep him. I have my paper route to cover the expenses. And with Cid, Queenie and me taking care of him, hewon’t be any trouble. You won’t have to worry about it at all. I promise.”