Quarter Horse (2 page)

Suddenly she grinned. “I’ve got it,” she whispered. “The perfect solution. It’s endless and boring enough to put me right to sleep.” She fluffed her pillow for the final time and rolled over on her side. Smiling, she closed her eyes and began counting softly to herself.

“The first annoying thing Gabriel did was stand up and brag about how only brave
men
opened up the West.… The second annoying thing Gabriel did was to insinuate that I didn’t know how to hitch up a team of horses to a wagon.… The third annoying thing Gabriel did was to tell me that in the old days menfolk never relied on womenfolk.… The fourth annoying thing …” Stevie was just about to recount what the fourth annoying thing was when her eyelids fluttered once and she finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

“S
TEVIE
!” T
HE NEXT THING
Stevie heard was a voice, calling from somewhere above her head.

“Hmmmpf,” she replied, snuggling back down in her
sleeping bag and trying to reenter the dream she was having about Phil.

“Stevie, wake up! We’re going to delay the whole wagon train if we don’t get going!”

Stevie opened one eye. Lisa stood above her, already wearing the pioneer dress she’d worn throughout the trip. Her hair was combed back behind her ears, and her blue eyes looked rested from a good night’s sleep.

“What time is it?” Stevie croaked.

“It’s almost six. Everyone’s already eating breakfast.”

Stevie rubbed her eyes. Carole and Lisa, dressed in their pioneer clothes, were looking down at her. “You guys go on. I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”

“You won’t go back to sleep, will you?” Carole asked dubiously.

“No.” Stevie shook her head. “I’m awake. I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed.”

Stevie crawled out of her sleeping bag while Carole and Lisa walked over to the chuck wagon. On the far side of the circle she could see Shelly Bean, the camp cook, dishing out the hot cornmeal mush that everyone ate for breakfast. Quickly she rolled up her sleeping bag and climbed into the wagon. After she stashed her pillow and blankets, she pulled on her own scratchy dress and brushed her teeth in the bucket of water that Lisa had hung behind the driver’s seat. Stevie gave her hair a quick brushing, then jumped out of the wagon. As she walked
over to join her friends for breakfast, she noticed that an air of excitement hung over the wagon train. Today was their last full day on the trail. That afternoon they would roll into Clinchport and start preparing for the local rodeo.

“Morning, Stevie,” Polly Shaver called from the back of her wagon. Polly was a dance instructor from Cleveland and one of the new friends the girls had made on their trip. She pointed her camera at Stevie, then lowered it again. “I was going to take your picture, but you look a little tired.”

“I didn’t sleep too well,” Stevie replied with a yawn.

“You must have been dreaming about the rodeo,” Polly teased.

“I wish.” Stevie shook her head as she walked over to Lisa and Carole.
More like I was having nightmares about the dumb old assistant trail boss
, she thought glumly.

“Hi, Stevie. Glad you made it.” Carole stepped forward as Stevie slipped into line behind her. Carole wore her long dark hair in a single braid so that her cowboy hat would fit easily on her head. “Did you have trouble sleeping last night? I vaguely remember you sitting up and mumbling something about counting sheep.”

“I had a terrible night last night,” grumbled Stevie as she grabbed a tin cup and plate. “Sheep were only a few of the things I tried to count.”

The breakfast line inched forward. “Why, here come
my three favorite girls from Virginia.” Shelly grinned through his curly gray beard as the girls neared his steaming pot of mush. “Step right up here and let me give you a good, hot breakfast. You’ll need lots of energy if we’re gonna roll into Clinchport today.”

Shelly loaded their plates. Then they dipped out some milk from the bucket on the chuck wagon and sat down close to the fire. Though the sun was up, last night’s chill had not left the air. The girls ate quickly and hurried back to their wagon to get ready to go. Lisa packed up their gear while Stevie and Carole went to the corral to get Yankee, Doodle, and Nikkia, their horses. The girls had just started to lead them back to the wagon when they saw Gabriel walking toward them.

“Oh, brother,” Stevie sighed as she pulled Yankee and Doodle along behind her. “Here comes Mr. Know-It-All.”

“Maybe he won’t be such a jerk today,” Carole whispered, holding Nikkia’s halter as Gabriel sauntered up to them wearing his usual smug smile.

“Hi, ladies,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I noticed you were late for breakfast. Is your wagon going to be ready for the final push to Clinchport?”

“It is,” snapped Stevie.

“Well, you’ll be driving behind Mr. Cate’s wagon today,” he said. “It’s your turn to ride drag.”

“No kidding,” Stevie muttered.

Gabriel smirked. “And you might want to consider wearing a bonnet and a bandanna over your nose. I’d hate for all that nasty dust to mess up your hair.”

“Thanks for thinking of us, Mr. Assistant Trail Boss,” Stevie said. “I don’t know what we womenfolk would do without you.”

“My pleasure,” he said, striding off to help Karen Nicely with her horse’s bridle.

“Ugh.” Stevie clenched her fists. “Sometimes he makes me so mad I don’t know what to do.”

“Just take it easy, Stevie,” said Carole. “We’ve only got one more day to put up with him as assistant trail boss.”

“You’re right,” Stevie said as she led the two big quarter horses to the wagon traces. “How bad can it be?”

A few minutes later, The Saddle Club was ready to roll. Stevie took her usual place driving the wagon, and Carole rode Nikkia alongside. Lisa was in charge of Veronica, the milk cow, who more or less ambled along behind her. In the past five days the girls had grown accustomed to their pioneer jobs and now did them easily and well. Stevie watched for Jeremy’s signal to roll forward as she gathered the reins in her hand.

“Oooh, do you have to ride in the back today?” a small voice called. Stevie peered down in front of the horses. There stood Eileen, the eight-year-old brat whose wailing over a lost teddy bear had caused a cattle stampede two nights before. It was only through Carole’s quick thinking and The Saddle Club’s great teamwork with Gabriel that
an entire herd of rampaging longhorns had been diverted away from the wagon train encampment.

“Yes, we are,” said Stevie. “And I thought you were supposed to be riding in the back of your parents’ wagon.”

“I was,” replied Eileen. “But I apologized so hard for everything I’d done and I cried so many tears over it that they let me out.” She gave Stevie a sly grin. “They said now I can go anywhere I want.”

“Oh?” Stevie raised one eyebrow.

“Yes. I could even stand here in front of your wagon all day if I wanted to.”

“You might get run over,” Stevie pointed out.

“I would not! You wouldn’t dare run over me!”

“Oh, brother,” Stevie said to herself. She was just about to reply when Eileen’s mother called to her daughter in an irritated voice. In a flash, the little girl had turned and was running toward her own wagon. “Saved by the bell,” Stevie muttered.

Slowly the wagons began to move forward. Stevie popped Yankee and Doodle’s reins and took her place at the end of the line. Farther ahead, Lisa and Veronica were posing for Polly’s camera, and Carole had ridden Nikkia forward to help someone sort out a nervous horse. At the head of the wagon train, Stevie could see Gabriel, leading the way.

“Why am I dreaming about him, of all people?” she began to wonder out loud. She frowned. “I don’t even like him. And if I’m dreaming about somebody I don’t even
like, then who in the world is Phil dreaming about?” Ever since the trip had begun, Stevie had fought a niggling worry that Phil might have met a new girl on his rafting trip—a cuter, smarter, more fun girl than she was. Even though Carole and Lisa had told her that she was being silly and that it was just not possible, she hadn’t been able to shake the uneasy feeling from her mind.

She yawned, then clucked to Yankee and Doodle. “If I’m dreaming about somebody I can’t stand, then Phil must be having cyberoptic, digitized visions of his dream girl,” Stevie said grumpily. “He’s probably so sleepy every morning, he can barely stay on his raft!”

T
HE WAGON TRAIN
rolled into Clinchport late that afternoon, making its usual wide circle on a grassy plateau that overlooked the rodeo grounds. Stevie drove Yankee and Doodle up just behind Mr. Cate’s wagon and pulled on the parking brake.

“I guess that’s where the action’s going to be.” Mr. Cate hopped off his wagon and shielded his eyes as he gazed down at the flat plain where a wide horse-racing track adjoined a large arena. Red, white, and blue bunting hung from the grandstand and American flags fluttered festively from every available pole. He grinned over at Stevie. “Are you excited about the rodeo?”

“I sure am,” Stevie replied as she began to unhitch Yankee and Doodle. “But right now I’m more excited about not having to drive that bumpy wagon anymore.”

“They could use some shock absorbers, couldn’t they?” Mr. Cate drawled in his soft Alabama accent. He rubbed his back. “Maybe the pioneers were just better padded than we are.”

The wagon train made camp. Working smoothly as a team, The Saddle Club soon had their horses unhitched and their campsite ready for the night. Carole unsaddled Nikkia and helped Stevie take Yankee and Doodle to the makeshift corral, while Lisa gave Veronica some hay and brought a fresh bucket of water from the creek. They had just finished their chores when Jeremy’s voice rang out from the center of the encampment.

“Congratulations, all you pioneers!” he said as everyone gathered around him. “We’ve made it to the end of the trail, and our worst catastrophe was the dousing of one teddy bear!” Everyone laughed except Eileen, who crossed her arms and pouted.

Jeremy continued, “We can relax and enjoy ourselves now, but I wanted to remind you that the day after tomorrow the town of Clinchport is hosting a rodeo. If some of you now expert horsemen want to try your luck at calf roping or steer wrestling—well, as part of your Wagons West experience, a local stable will provide horses to anyone who wants to give it a try.” He grinned. “I would suggest first, though, that you check out what events they’re having. If you still want to participate, the Rocking S stable is directly behind the west grandstand. Just
tell the head wrangler you’re with Wagons West, and he’ll help you choose a horse. Any questions?”

Karen Nicely held up her hand. “What if we don’t want to ride in the rodeo? I’m still sore from riding all day on the trail.”

Jeremy chuckled. “Then you can join me in the grandstand and watch while your fellow pioneers bust some broncos.”

“Or some other parts of their own anatomies,” Mr. Cate added with a smile.

Everyone laughed again, and then the crowd broke up. Though there would be several more hours of daylight, most people returned to their wagons. The Saddle Club, however, headed straight for the rodeo grounds.

“Let’s go choose our horses first,” said Stevie, pulling up the hem of her long brown pioneer dress and hurrying down the grassy slope.

“Why?” asked Lisa as she jogged along behind. “We don’t even know what events they’re having.”

“Because if we get good horses first, we can win anything. If we sign up for the events first and wind up with plugs, then we’re doomed before we’ve even started.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Carole laughed. “Only you would come up with a strategy like that.”

They hurried across the large arena, which had been covered with loose, fine dirt. Though it was dusty to walk
on, the dirt would cushion the falls the rodeo riders took from the bucking broncos and gyrating bulls. The girls threaded their way through the west grandstand, then crossed the racetrack over to the Rocking S ranch, a long log building that had several horses tied in front.

“Howdy.” A tall cowboy wearing short-fringed chaps greeted them as they entered the piney-smelling stable. “I’m Pete Parsons,” he said, his thick black mustache drooping over his mouth as he talked. “Can I help you?”

“We’re with Wagons West,” explained Stevie, “and we’d like horses for the rodeo.”

“You would, eh?” The cowboy smiled. “You ever ridden horses before?”

“Yes,” replied Carole. “Back in Virginia we ride practically every day.”

“And we’ve all ridden Western before, too,” Lisa added.

“Well, then I guess you know what you’re doing. Come on back here with me and I’ll show you what we’ve got. We raise mostly quarter horses at this barn.”

The girls followed Pete to a small corral behind the stable. Half a dozen muscular quarter horses grazed contentedly in the long green grass, their tails lazily swishing at the few flies that buzzed around them. About twenty feet away two other cowboys leaned against the fence, looking over the same horses. Stevie made a choking noise. One of the cowboys was Gabriel!

“I don’t believe it,” she muttered in frustration. “It’s like wherever we go, he’s there first!”