The Penny Pony (2 page)

“Dan, there’s a beagle that just came in
that’s having convulsions.”

“Put it in Room 2, Sue. I’m coming. See you
later, Piper. Bye, Addie.” Dad picked up the pup and left the room.
Addie and I walked out into the parking lot and looked at each
other.

“Wow, your dad is really busy. I want to be a
veterinarian when I grow up, if I don’t become a marine biologist.
But who else can help us?” Addie wondered.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t like to
count on adults too much. If we have to, what about your
mother?”

“Not mine,” said Addie. “She’s working on a
big project that’s late and said not to call her unless I break an
arm.” Addie and I had a lot in common, since we were both horse
lovers and had divorced parents. We would both start high school
this fall. Addie’s dad lived in Wisconsin and she only saw him a
few times a year, so I felt lucky that my parents were at least in
the same town.

“My mom is still mad at me,” I said, bending
over and picking up a penny off the sidewalk. “I think she’ll yell
at me about the plates I broke. They were my grandma’s Haviland.”
It wasn’t just the plates, although I shouldn’t have tried to
juggle them. Mom was really angry that I fibbed about them and
generally mad at the world because she was trying to find a job and
nobody seemed to be hiring.

“Well, we don’t have a Humane Society in
town,” said Addie. “Maybe the sheriff? We have to get help
somehow.” So off we hiked to the sheriff’s office. I was kind of
frustrated and angry that my dad didn’t have time for us, but the
fairness side of my brain reminded me that he really was awfully
busy and didn’t know how bad the pony looked.

We sat in the air-conditioned law enforcement
office for twenty minutes, waiting for Sheriff Harvey Martin to see
us. The office was in the old courthouse on the town square. The
jail was right underneath it in the basement, but I don’t think
anyone had been in that jail for years. Maybe Stinky Jake would be
the one to go there next. The sheriff’s office smelled of
century-old wood, dust and Harvey Martin’s cigar.

“Hi, little ladies. What can I do for you
today?” said a gravelly voice. Sheriff Martin was tall, thin and
old, probably in his forties.

“We want to report a case of animal neglect,”
I began.

“Aren’t you a Jones? Doc Jones’s girl?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. Adults always responded
better when I was ridiculously polite. “I’m Piper Jones and this is
Addie Davis.”

“Just saw your dad yesterday in the coffee
shop and asked him about my old yellow lab. How’s your mom doin’?
Shame about that divorce. They’re both good people.”

“Thanks, just fine,” I said. Why didn’t
people let it go? “Um, we appreciate your time and we want to
report a case of animal neglect. That guy giving pony rides across
from the drugstore. He’s not taking care of his horse.”

“Animal neglect?” the sheriff said,
scratching his neck. “First of all, has it happened more than once?
And second, can you prove it?”

Addie and I looked at each other. “Well, you
see, sir,” I began, “we just saw the pony today and realized that
her owner isn’t taking good care of her, so we—”

“So you decided to come and tell me about
it,” he interrupted. His mother evidently hadn’t told him about
politeness. “Well, you girls can quit worrying. He’s got a license
to give pony rides. Came in and showed me yesterday. I’m watchin’
out for everything that goes on in this town and if that guy breaks
any laws, I’ll take care of it. You just go home and try on some
makeup, and leave the law up to the grown-ups.” He held the door
open for us, so what could we do but leave?

We left the sheriff’s office very discouraged
and walked back to the vacant lot where Rosie was tied. We hid
behind a green pickup truck parked near the drugstore and peeked
around the back of it. The late afternoon shadows had lengthened;
the pony was still tied in the sun, without a saddle now, and we
couldn’t see any water near her.

“We’ve got to do something, the poor thing,”
I said. I was ready to fight the world if I had to, but I hoped
that I wouldn’t have to talk to Icky Jake again to do it.

Chapter Three

~ The Great Escape ~

I only meant to get
some food and water for that pony, really. Like I said to Addie, if
someone wouldn’t help an animal in distress, well, that person
wasn’t much of a person. I had to help this pony right now. We
couldn’t wait for an adult to decide to help. So we watched
carefully for a few minutes and didn’t see any sign of
Jake.

“He’s gone. Let’s get some water for her,” I
whispered.

“Okay,” said Addie. “But where? I don’t see a
bucket or anything.”

“Well, there’s the fountain and pool by the
bank. We could take her there.” The bank was about a half block
away. She could drink and eat some grass. We’d put her back and no
one would know.

“Yeah, Jake’s probably in a bar somewhere for
a couple of hours,” Addie said. “He’s probably planning to get
drunk, swindle everyone in town out of all their money, and steal
all their pets.”

I tiptoed over to Rosie, untied her lead rope
and clicked softly to her. “Let’s go, girl.” She followed me calmly
across the vacant lot and down the sidewalk to the bank building,
hoofs clip-clopping on the cement. Looking around, I didn’t see
anyone at all. That made me brave. We walked right across the lawn
of the bank and up to the fountain’s pool, Addie right behind.
Rosie put her lips close to the water, heaved a big sigh and
started to drink. She drank for a long time. Addie and I smiled at
each other and watched. Rosie lifted her head, looked at me and
sighed again. She stood there with water dripping from her mouth
and her eyes closed, kind of like my mom with iced tea on a hot
day.

I tugged on her halter and led her to a patch
of grass under a tree. She tore at the grass with her teeth, as if
she was afraid someone would take it away. My eyes filled with
tears. “You poor baby,” I said.

Right then, two things happened. Jake
appeared from inside the bank, waving his arms and yelling, his
lime-green Hawaiian shirt flapping like a flag in the wind. At the
same time, a siren went off in the fire station on the other side
of the square. Rosie had evidently never been around fire engines
or lime-green Hawaiian flags. She jumped and pulled the lead rope
out of my hands with a bug-eyed look of pure panic.

“Whoa!” I yelled, but Rosie was headed away
from all that scary stuff as fast as she could go. Who would have
thought that scraggly horse could move so fast?

“You stole my horse,” hollered Jake as he
came puffing and wheezing up to me and Addie. “I’m calling the
police. You brats are juvenile delinquents!” He tried to grab my
arm, but I twisted away and chased after the pony, with Addie close
behind. We lost sight of Rosie, but could hear her hoofs ringing on
the pavement as she headed down the street.

We ran and ran; it seemed like for an hour. I
worried that Rosie would get hit by a car, but then Addie yelled,
“There!” and pointed. Addie had great eyes for finding things.
Rosie turned a corner and ran up Mulberry Street, past the post
office, past Rice’s Flower Shoppe. I saw her cut through some yards
and race down an alley, and then I lost her.

“I’m out of breath,” said Addie.

“Me, too,” I said, “and my side hurts. Let’s
just keep walking this way.”

We kept walking and panting, watching and
hoping that she would stop somewhere. I could hear dogs barking
ahead of us and a car honking. Stupid people. Didn’t they know that
honking would just scare her more? A frightened horse would react
by trying to get away.

The good thing was that she was headed away
from the middle of town, so there weren’t many cars. I looked
around and didn’t see Jake anywhere. We must have left him far
behind.

Finally, as we came out from behind a big old
two-story house surrounded by huge trees, we could see the pony
galloping across an open field at the edge of town. Thank goodness
there was no fence. Panicky horses didn’t do well with fences. We
ran again, across the field and into the woods on the other
side.

When we got to the woods, Addie and I
stopped, gasping for air, both of us hot in the face and dripping
sweat. Addie’s curly brown hair wound around her face like wet
noodles while mine just hung flat, dripping in my eyes. There was
no sound of hooves, no horse sounds at all. All I could hear over
our panting was twittering birds high up in the trees.

“What if she hurt herself?” Addie said when
she could talk again. “What if she broke a leg and they have to
shoot her?”

“They don’t do that anymore,” I said, feeling
kind of cross, because I was worried, too. “My dad can fix a broken
leg on a horse.” But I knew that a pony like Rosie might not be
worth the cost of setting a broken leg. I also knew that even
though she wasn’t my pony, I was going to be her caretaker. I would
find her and protect her. I could not let Nasty Jake get his hands
on her again.

“Let’s just find her,” I said, kicking
through the dry leaves that covered the ground.

After maybe five minutes of wandering through
small, scrubby trees, listening and straining our eyes, Addie said,
“Piper, look.” And there was Rosie. She stood in a clearing,
nibbling grass and violets. The sun shone on her, turning her white
mane to snow and making her beautiful.

Chapter Four

~ A Safe Haven ~

Rosie looked so happy
nibbling grass in the sun that I hated to make her move. She was
frothy with sweat, which stained her brown patches even darker. But
with Jake still somewhere behind us and mad, we had to hide her. I
eased up to Rosie and picked up her lead rope. She looked at me
with a mouthful of grass and flowers and blew a hello through her
nostrils.

“I think she was waiting for us,” said Addie.
I thought so, too, because she didn’t try to move away.

“Where can we take her that’s safe?” I
said.

“What about that shed that we used to play
Haunted House in?” Addie said. “It’s way back on the old Applegate
place and there’s a little fenced field beside it.”

That’s why I liked Addie. Sometimes she
seemed like she wasn’t paying attention and then she came up with a
great idea. She was real smart, just afraid to show it. Me, I
didn’t have that problem. People usually wanted me to quit talking
about what I knew.

We walked deeper into the woods, leading a
limping Rosie, who stopped every few minutes to snatch a mouthful
of juicy-looking grass. I let her do that, even if it wasn’t good
horse manners. She was just so hungry. I started talking softly to
her, real close to her head. I told her how Addie and I were going
to take care of her and make sure she had lots of water and food to
eat. I whispered to her while we walked and sometimes her eyes
would look into mine as if she understood me.

“What are you talking to her about?” Addie
asked.

“I’m telling her all the good things that are
going to happen from now on.”

“Why are you telling her? She doesn’t
understand.”

“If I’m going to be a horse whisperer, I have
to start sometime.”

“A what?”

“A horse whisperer. It’s a horse trainer that
is special. They whisper to horses and get the horses to calm down
and do amazing things. It’s really cool. I have a book about it
that I’ll lend you.” Addie didn’t like to read as much as I did,
but if it was a good book about horses, she’d wade through it.

Beyond the woods, a hilly field opened out
and at the far edge of it was the shed, about the size of a one-car
garage and missing a door. The best part of that shed was that it
was out of sight of the highway and the old Applegate house and
barn. Miss Julie lived in a retirement home now and probably
wouldn’t care if we were there. She was the one who made my
bracelet for me out of Dotty’s mane. Her son, Sam, was a lawyer in
Louisville, and came back to Serendipity Springs a couple of days
every week. The board fence around the little field was strong and
would keep a pony in. It had the kind of wired-together gate my dad
called a family gate, meaning it took the whole family to open or
close it. We had to work to undo the gate, which was tied shut with
a piece of hay rope. Addie undid the knot using her teeth and
dragged it open, while I led Rosie into her temporary home. Addie
dragged the gate closed again and we both watched as Rosie started
munching on the thick, tall grass in the shade of a big oak
tree.

“We should find some water for her,” Addie
said. I pulled up a foxtail and chewed on the end.

“Maybe there is a tank and hydrant at the
house,” I said, so we walked up the hill on the dirt track that
would take us to the Applegate house. We stood behind a maple tree
and watched the house for a while. Its white boards and green
shutters looked dirty, but it was in okay condition. All the
windows were shut, and there were no signs of anyone living there
now. Nothing in the yard moved. We looked at each other, and then
ran across the yard and into the big red barn. The late afternoon
sun slanted in through cracks in the ceiling, and dust hung in the
air above what looked like a hundred bales of hay. Here was food
for Rosie if the grass got eaten down.

“This will be good hay for Rosie. It’s not
moldy at all,” I said. My dad had taught me about hay.

“Hey, look,” I heard as Addie wandered
outside. Around the corner of the barn was a water tank and
hydrant, as I had hoped. “Do you think it works?” I said. I lifted
the red handle, pulled up hard and—goosh!—water came pouring out
into the tank. Addie and I grinned and high-fived each other.

Addie started to pace around the barnyard.
“It’s too far to carry it to Rosie.”