Summer of the Wolves (4 page)

I
started getting better at horseshoes. I finally beat Nick once.

“Pay up, buddy-ro!” I said, giving his arm a light smack.

“Hey, I didn’t know we were betting. How come we weren’t betting all the times I won?”

“I changed the rules.” I started giggling.

“Just like a girl. Change the rules on me.” Nick sat on the picnic table. “So, your dad and stepmom just got married a month ago? Is that weird or what?”

I shrugged. “Not everybody can say they got to be a junior bridesmaid twice in one year.”

“Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”

“No, really,” I said. “At my mama’s wedding we got to ride in a horse and carriage. And in the front hall at the country club there was a swan four feet tall that was made out of ice. And there were huge strawberries that were decorated with chocolate. It was so funny—the strawberries looked like they were wearing little tuxedos. And Daddy’s wedding was like a backyard thing. Daddy just wore a nice suit and Lynn wore a tea-length dress. But it was still real nice.” I could tell Nick was getting kind of bored, so I changed the subject. “
And
now I’m going to have two bedrooms. And I have a stepbrother who’s a freshman in college.”

“That would be cool. What about the stepsister that’s here, what’s her name? Diana? You get along?”

“Sure.” I picked at a string on my jeans.

Nick’s mama and daddy came out of the dining room. It had gotten pretty dark, and I could barely see them. “Nick!” His mama called. “We’re heading back to the cabin.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he called back.

“All right, don’t be too long.”

I could see the whites of Nick’s eyes as he rolled them in my direction.

“Such protective parental units,” I whispered, smiling.

“When you’re an only child, it’s like they’re focused on you like a laser beam, you know.”

“Yep,” I said. “I know.” I could tell he liked me.

Later that night, I couldn’t sleep, and I stared through the shadows at the lump in the next bed that was Diana. She’d barely said a word to me all night. I’d been right in the middle of telling her a story about playing horseshoes with Nick, and she’d crawled into bed and switched off the bedside lamp. If Diana was a normal person, that would have really hurt my feelings.

At youth group, my teacher, Aunt Lana, had led a discussion once about what God would want us to do in certain relationships. We had actually talked about the movie
Toy Story
, about how Woody never gave up on friendship. We had talked about when it was time to give up on someone, and Aunt Lana had said, with God, the time is “never.” God never gives up.

So, I need to keep trying with Diana. Daddy would want me to keep trying. I shouldn’t give up, even if she doesn’t respond yet.

I wish I could talk to her about the horses. One of
them had stared at me today. Its big brown eye had a white rim around the edge that made it look wild, kind of out of its mind. It had a thin stream of snot running out of its nostril, and flies kept buzzing around. What if my horse reared tomorrow, like the one three years ago? What if I fell off again? I hoped Maggie gave me the oldest, most decrepit horse in the barn. I didn’t care if I rode a horse that could hardly walk.

I couldn’t fake being sick. Mama fell for that sometimes but Daddy never did. He would make me go. Daddy was always saying stuff like he did at supper tonight. Tough it out, sport. I turned over my pillow and pulled the covers up over my shoulders.

I
climbed the split rail fence, swung my leg over the top, and watched the wranglers bring out the horses. I’d eaten about two bites of breakfast, grabbed my riding helmet, and then raced down to the barn. Halfway down here, I realized I’d forgotten my pill, but there was no way I was going back. Besides, it would make me feel all fuzzy again.

The Appaloosa came out first, with his giant white legs and long silky tail. Maggie would ride him.

They brought out a frisky quarter horse and a Palomino mare. The mare shoved past the quarter horse, and I could tell that she was ahead of the quarter horse in the pecking order.

I loved finding out about the pecking order in every barn. Who was the alpha, the number one mare? Who was the beta, or the number two? Who was the omega, the lowest in the pecking order? I loved finding out which horses were friends. Most barns had two that had to stay together because they were best buddies. Like Seabiscuit. Here he was, this moody racehorse who half the time didn’t even feel like running. Then they found him a steady little pony to be his buddy, and they stayed together in the same stall until Seabiscuit died. That was so sweet. I loved that story.

And usually there would be another two horses you couldn’t put together because they hated each other’s guts. Usually there was one mare, probably brought in from another barn, who hated all the other horses, and the other horses would hate her. Once Josie, our barn manager, told me that having a barn full of horses was like having a classroom full of kindergartners.

Maggie, wearing her floppy hat, led Copper out. There he was! His legs weren’t exactly spindly; they were delicate. And his head was small and chiseled. Definitely had some Arabian in him. Copper shifted his
weight, tossed his mane, and switched his tail. He’d canter and maybe even gallop easily. I jumped down from the fence and hurried over. I felt in my pocket for one of the carrots I’d stolen at dinner last night.

“You said I could ride him, right? Can I?” I begged Maggie.

“He’s a mite high-strung,” said Maggie, as she checked his saddle and stirrups. “But if he trusts you and he knows you’re boss, you’ll do fine. Just wait by the fence while we finish bringing out the rest of the horses.”

“Can I give him a carrot?”

“Well, he’s already got the bit in his mouth. Here, give him a sugar cube.” Maggie handed me one from the pocket of her jeans.

“Hey, Copper, c’mere, I brought a treat for you.”

I could feel Maggie watching as I held my flattened palm under Copper’s velvety lips. He gobbled the sugar cube. Butted my shoulder for another one.

“When Copper butts you that means he likes you,” said Maggie. “That’s good.” She moved away.

I leaned close. Rubbed my hands over the smooth dark fur on Copper’s head and neck. He watched me from under thick, angled lashes at least three inches long. Oh, man, he was so beautiful.

“Is he for sale?” I asked.

“Shoot, no,” Maggie snorted. “We just got ‘im.”

Foamy slobber dripped from the metal edges of Copper’s bit as he finished the sugar cube.

“Oooh, gross!” Stephanie stood by the fence, leaning up against Mom. Held one hand over her mouth as she watched the string of slobber stretch from Copper’s mouth to the ground. She was wearing her little rhinestone-studded blue jeans. She looked like she was getting ready to go audition for the country music station or something.

Norm hadn’t even come down from the lodge yet.

“Okay, the trail ride for the young people will be saddling up and leaving in about five minutes. Everybody go to the tack room and find a helmet.” Maggie pointed to the doorway just inside the barn.

“I brought my own helmet,” I showed how I’d threaded the chin strap through one of the belt loops of my jeans.

“Well, put it on,” Maggie said. She didn’t seem as impressed as I had hoped.

Stephanie ducked into the tack room with Nick. What a prepster. They were laughing and acting like they’d known each other a million years.

“Have other people worn these helmets?” Stephanie asked one of the wranglers. “Don’t you wash them or anything?” She held the round black helmet out in front of her but didn’t put it on.

“We spray ‘em,” said the wrangler.

“Yuck.”

“You have to wear it,” said Maggie. “Ranch rules.”

I laughed and reached up to scratch Copper’s ears.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” said Maggie, as she led out a sleepy gray mare. “Be careful—he’s head shy.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I calmly rubbed my palms over Copper’s nose, forehead, ears, poll, crest, and neck. He never flinched. I could tell Maggie was impressed.

Ten minutes later everyone was mounted. I got right on and sat stroking Copper’s neck. Laughed to myself as I watched the rest of them slide down the saddles, get their boots twisted in the stirrups, and fall over the horses’ withers, which is sort of like their shoulder. Ballou, the mare Stephanie was supposed to ride, actually started walking away while Stephanie was trying to get on her. Maggie had to yell at Ballou and smack her on the rump. Nick was on Silver, the quarter horse, getting his stirrups adjusted. There were two younger girls, who looked about eight, on small geldings with droopy heads and knock-knees who looked like they barely had the gumption to walk fast. I seriously hoped they were going on a different trail ride.

“What’s your horse’s name?” I asked Maggie.

“Chief Tenkiller,” said Maggie.

“Is he mean?” asked Stephanie.

“Oh, he wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Maggie said, leaning back to give his rump an affectionate smack with the flat of her hand. A small cloud of dust and horsehair flew up.

“Can I go right behind you?” asked Stephanie. Her laugh sounded really nervous.

“No, I’ve got to put these two younger girls behind me,” said Maggie. “You can be third, then Copper, then Silver.”

This was looking less and less like an exciting trail ride.

“Can we gallop?” I called with one last shred of hope as we headed out of the barnyard and up the trail.

“Afraid not,” said Maggie, turning in her saddle and tipping her floppy hat. “Too many inexperienced riders today.”

Oh, man. This is going to be the most boring trail ride ever to take place on planet Earth
.

We headed up a dirt road beside a slanted mountain pasture dotted with white salt chunks and tiny yellow flowers. Horses grazing in the pasture looked up to watch us go by. The sky stretched above, a cool blue with wispy clouds.

Still at a walk, we wound upward from the pasture to a woodland path. Copper placed his small hooves carefully on the trail, avoiding roots and rocks. He
tried to eat some leaves from an overhanging tree branch, but I said, “Not now, buddy,” and he pulled his head away. Maggie led us at the speed of a slug, telling these stories about the Cherokee Indians who used to live around there. Blah blah blah. Stephanie’s horse, Ballou, was lazy, lagging behind, leaving lots of space between him and the two geldings ahead. Copper wanted to go faster. His muzzle was inches from Ballou’s tail. I knew I should hold him back. But it was just all so boring!

Copper’s withers pulled even with Ballou’s flank.

I saw it happening. Ballou swung her head sideways at Copper. Showed the white of her eye and pinned back her ears. A second later, she kicked. Copper reared. I grabbed my reins and kept my seat with no trouble, but Stephanie screamed, and then Ballou broke into a trot.

Stephanie started sliding off. In a minute she’d fall. She was crying like a baby.

Well, I didn’t think it would go that far. I dug my heels into Copper’s sides, cantered up alongside, and grabbed Ballou’s reins, pulling her back to a walk.

Stephanie was shaking.

“Get yourself back up in the saddle, Stephanie,” I said. “I’ve got the reins; she’s not going anywhere.” Somehow I managed to lean over and help her back up on top of the horse.

Maggie was watching from farther up the trail. She couldn’t come back to help us because of the two younger kids in between. “Can you keep riding, or do you want to go back?” she called.

Stephanie pushed the hair that had slipped from her braid off her wet face. “Go back.”

Maggie looked at me. “Can you take your sister back to the barn?”

Excuse me, Stephanie’s not my sister, and no, I don’t want to take her back to the barn, I started to say. Then I thought about it: once I got Stephanie back to the barn, I could go back out on my own. Just me and Copper.

“Sure, no problem,” I said. I dismounted. Held Ballou and Copper’s reins while Nick passed us on the path.

“Hope you’re okay.” Nick said to Stephanie as he rode by on Silver. He looked
so
concerned. Oh,
please
. “Hey,” he said. “I don’t mind taking her back if you want to keep on riding.”

“No, no, I promised the ‘rents I’d take care of her,” I said, giving him a really sweet smile. “I better do it myself.” I turned both horses around and remounted, using Ballou’s reins as a lead. “Hold on to the saddle horn,” I told Stephanie, as we headed back down the trail. “I thought you took lessons.”

“I did.” Stephanie heaved this big shaky sigh. “Thanks for taking me back.”

“It’s okay,” I said. That was amazing. Stephanie had no idea that I could have kept Copper from spooking Ballou. I would have liked it better if she’d yelled at me.

As one of the barn hands was helping Stephanie dismount, I turned Copper around and left. I mean, she was so pathetic, crying and shaking and stuff. Copper didn’t seem too excited about going out now that he’d been back to the barn, but I ignored him and made him go back out on the trail.

He was skittish at first, all confused about what was going on. I leaned forward, clucking to him. Got him into a smooth rolling canter on the wide, flat trail beside the pasture. The wind crossed my face and my hair bounced on my shoulders in rhythm with his rocking gait. His hooves pounded the earth like a heartbeat. I had no plans to catch the others at all. I could ride by myself all day.

I ended up on a trail I’d seen on the way out, a narrow, dark path leading farther up the mountain and deeper into the woods. I was hoping it would open up into one of those high mountain meadows where I could get Copper to gallop. But now I slowed him to a walk, telling him what a good job he’d done. His neck, when I slid my palm over it, felt smooth and solid. His hooves made hollow sounds on the occasional rock, and he flicked his ears when birds darted through the
shadows across the trail. I let my backbone relax. Settled more deeply into Copper’s gait. We moved almost like one living thing now, talking to each other with small nudges and pressures.

Suddenly Copper stood stock-still. His ears went back. The crest of his dark mane rose.

“What is it, boy?” I leaned forward, soothing him. I stroked his neck. His shoulder muscles bunched up under my legs. He stepped sideways, tossed his head, gave a nervous snort. My heart tripped and tightened.

And that was when I saw the wolf. Big wide paws planted on a high rock. Bushy fur covered its ears, head, and back like a gray hooded cape clasped at the neck. Peeking from beneath the cape of gray were an ivory snout and throat, a round black nose. Topaz black-rimmed eyes trained on me like lasers.

I locked eyes with the wolf for only an instant, but in that instant I felt a bizarre shock of recognition. I could feel Copper fidgeting, but I was frozen, not the least bit afraid. What passed between me and the wolf was like a bizarre beam of energy. I felt as if I was peering into the wolf’s soul, and the wolf was peering into mine. I stared until my eyelids burned. Finally, with the tiniest flick of its eyes, the wolf glanced away.

With extreme relief, I blinked. For the first time, I saw that between me and the wolf was a chain-link
fence about ten feet high. A black and red sign said
DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE.
The wolf was in a pen about the size of the dining room at the lodge. Behind the rock, the ground was bare and dusty. Two empty metal bowls were overturned, and there were some yellowing bushes and a couple of trees with the bark rubbed off. I smelled the wolf now—sharp and musky. I scanned the pen and saw a shadow behind one of the bushes that might be another wolf. Probably two of the most miserable looking creatures I’d ever seen.