Purebred (13 page)

“The banana knock-knock joke,” Carole said. “You know, the one that goes on and on. It was the only knock-knock joke I could think of, and I wanted her to have to talk to me.”

“Oh, you should have told her the other long one,” Stevie said, with a disappointed shake of her head. “It’s much better.”

“The other one? I don’t remember it.”

“How could you not remember it?” asked Stevie. “It’s only the greatest knock-knock joke of all time. Knock, knock,” she said severely.

“Who’s there?” Lisa and Carole asked obediently.

“Will you remember me tomorrow?”

“Will you remember me tomorrow who?”

Stevie frowned. “No, you’re supposed to answer the question,” she said. “Try it again. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” they asked in chorus.

“Will you remember me in the morning?”

“Yes,” they said.

“Knock, knock,” repeated Stevie.

“Who’s there?”

“I thought you said you’d remember me,” Stevie said, rolling with laughter. Carole and Lisa giggled and groaned.

“How was the family-tree project?” asked Lisa. “Did you find any great and famous ancestors that you’re destined to take after?” She leaned forward, her chin in her hand. She was partially joking, but she thought it would be nice if Carole did come from someone famous. Lisa’s mother was interested in ancestry.

Carole shook her head. “No. I learned a lot of history, though, and a lot of good stories I don’t want to forget.”

“What was your family like?” Lisa asked. “My mom’s always talking about our heritage and traditions, but she means I have to have good manners and act ladylike.” Lisa grimaced. “She never tells me anything about people.”

Carole thought about Jessie and Jackson, Grand Alice and her almost-forgotten sister Sophie. She thought about all the pictures that she’d seen. How could she explain it all to her two best friends?

“My family is just like most other families,” she said at last. “Mostly full of people who tried to do what was right, only some of them did a better job than others. People are people, no matter what.” She struggled for a way to make Stevie and Lisa understand. “I learned that who you’re related to or descended from doesn’t change who you are. The only thing that matters in your life is what you do and how you do it.”

She pulled the wooden amulet out from where she’d tucked it into the top of her sweater. She wouldn’t wear it every day, but she’d worn it today to show Lisa and Stevie. “My great-grandmother gave this to me,” she said, stroking the little animal softly with her fingertip. “Her—I don’t know, great-great, lots of greats—her ancestor wore it when she came to this country on a slave ship. It came from Africa.”

“Wow!” Stevie and Lisa leaned close. “And she kept it safe,” Stevie marveled. “It hardly even looks old.”

“It must give you shivers to wear it,” Lisa said, looking at Carole closely.

“It does,” Carole admitted. “I feel so close to that woman, even though I’ll never know anything about her except that she was a slave and that she gave this to her daughter. Her life must have been harder than anything I can imagine, but she saved this and passed it on to her family. It makes me feel like I can do anything with my life. It reminds me that anything’s possible.”

“It reminds you of how much you love horses,” Stevie added softly. Carole nodded and tucked the amulet safely away.

“I’ll let you look at it again later,” she promised. “I’ve got a lot to show you. Grand Alice gave me one of her oil paintings—a really pretty one of Lover’s Point in the summertime—and Jessie and Louise gave me a whole bunch of photographs. There’s one of a row of icicles, and there’s a whole bunch of pictures of the family, even some of me and my mom when I was a baby. And Louise gave me the picture of me and Christina on the snowmobile—”

“Wait a minute,” Stevie cut in. “You rode a snowmobile?”

“I
drove
a snowmobile,” Carole corrected her. “It was fun, but I’ll take Starlight any day. He’s easier to steer, and he never runs out of gas.” They laughed. “That reminds me. I brought a bunch of treats for him, to make up for being gone so long.”

“He deserves them too,” Lisa said. “He never got his share of the birthday party, remember, Stevie? Because Karenna was riding him on the trails. We meant to give it to him later, but we forgot.”

Carole was quick to ask what birthday party. Wasn’t Prancer’s party just for Thoroughbreds? “Starlight’s not a Thoroughbred,” she said.

“Oh, we decided that it wasn’t fair to ignore the other horses,” said Lisa. “We gave them all treats. Luckily,
Stevie’d brought enough carrots to feed all of Pine Hollow. We sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to them all too.”

“You sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to every horse?” Carole asked.

“We couldn’t think of a better plan,” Stevie said apologetically. “My mind’s been so preoccupied lately.” She glanced significantly in the direction of No-Name’s stall.

“But that’s exactly what I did!” Carole told them how she’d sung to all four of the Foleys’ horses on New Year’s Day.

“Weird,” said Stevie, shaking her head. “I mean,
weird.
The same idea, over one-thousand miles apart—”

“Not weird,” Lisa corrected her firmly. “After all, we’re all best friends and we all think alike. What could be more natural? Now, let’s go give Starlight his share.”

They sang to Starlight and petted him, but he seemed to like the apples better than their singing. “Ungrateful horse,” Stevie said. “Now, my mare, on the other hand, loves to hear me sing—”

“Stevie’s horse is perfect,” Lisa said, teasing her.

“Yes,” agreed Carole, “but does she have a name?” Stevie groaned and shook her head. They went down the aisle to visit No-Name.

“Still No-Name,” Stevie said sadly. “I haven’t had any brilliant ideas. I think the cold must be affecting my brain.”

“If you think this is cold …” said Carole, remembering
her night at Lover’s Point. “Trust me, Stevie, you haven’t been to Minnesota!”

Stevie played with No-Name’s forelock and pretended not to hear. “I have progressed to the point of abandoning a completely Arabian name,” she said. “Lisa was right. She’s half American—half southern American at that. I don’t want to ignore either side of her.” She looked at Lisa mischievously. “Do you remember suggesting Scarlett O’Hara and Robert E. Lee?”

“Sure,” said Lisa.

“Well, I’ve been thinking maybe a combination name would work. How about Muhammad O’Lee?”

Lisa leaned against the stall, shaking her head with laughter. Carole reached into her coat pocket and handed Stevie a pen.

“What’s that for?” asked Stevie.

“For you,” said Carole. “Back to the drawing board.”

The rest of The Saddle Club agreed.

B
ONNIE
B
RYANT
is the author of more than sixty books for young readers, including novelizations of movie hits such as
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
^®
and
Honey, I Blew Up the Kid
, written under her married name, B. B. Hiller.

Ms. Bryant began writing The Saddle Club in 1986. Although she had done some riding before that, she intensified her studies then and found herself learning right along with her characters Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. She claims that they are all much better riders than she is.

Ms. Bryant was born and raised in New York City. She lives in Greenwich Village with her two sons.