Sali’s hide, the color of bittersweet chocolate, gleamed in the mellow sunlight. I kept her to a walk until we passed Gray, who was checking Flash’s front legs. I looked into my middle brother’s sky-blue eyes, but all I saw there was anger and resentment. “You’d better put him in his stall before I get back with her.”
I tapped Sali’s sides with my heels, and we took off. Normally I would keep her in her walking gait to start off a ride, but we had to catch Rika. Sali raced easily across the pasture at a smooth, gliding lope. I spotted some fresh clods of dirt and grass and guided her to follow them.
One hundred and forty acres around the old farmhouse belonged to us, so Sali and I had a lot of ground to cover. At first I worried the Arabian might have made for the woods bordering our land so she could hide; the density of the trees and the brush growing there would force me to go after her on foot, and I didn’t feel like playing hide-and-go-seek. But the tracks she’d left made a beeline to the open back pastures, where only a handful of enormous, ancient black oaks still grew.
Sali lifted her head to sniff the air, and then turned as we both saw a reddish blur of movement along the back fence.
“All right, girl.” I reined in Sali, reaching for my coil of rope and adjusting the slipknot. “This has to be quick but careful. You ready?”
Sali snorted a small cloud of white breath in the chilly air. She was always ready.
I leaned forward and hooked the reins over the horn to free both my hands. “Now.”
Sali took off toward the fence, and once we were within sight of our runaway I released two coils of rope.
Rika’s sides already bulged with the bulk of her unborn foal; now sweat and foam made dark diagonal streaks over it. As soon as she saw us she veered away from the fence; she was smart enough to avoid getting boxed in between Sali and the wire. But the burden of the foal slowed her, and she couldn’t keep ahead of us. As soon as we got within ten yards I tossed the end loop of my lasso high over her head. As the loop came down I jerked my wrist, pulling it back so that it fell over her head. Immediately I hauled back the slack, tightening the slipknot.
Rika fought to free herself from the lasso, and jerked the line across the back of my wrist. I ignored the rope burn and her caterwauling as I came alongside her and hustled her over toward the fence.
“Okay, okay,” I said in a soft, soothing voice as I swung off my saddle and got in front of Rika’s head. “You’ve had your fun, now it’s time to think of the baby and settle down. Settle down,” I repeated as she kicked out with her hind legs.
Sali whickered her annoyance with Rika as I kept a tight hold on the rope. I also kept talking as I inspected the Arabian. Her dark red sorrel hide made it hard to make out fresh wounds, but I found some scratches on her forelegs and her right flank, and a bald spot on her tail. I didn’t see any signs of the edema at the bottom of her belly, and she didn’t have any fluid streaks on her hindquarters that would mean she was delivering the foal too soon.
“I’ve got bad news, girl,” I told her as I kept my hand on her back and made my way around to her nose again. “You’re going to live.”
Rika’s head drooped, and her nose touched my shoulder briefly.
“Believe me, I feel the same way.” I stroked her short nose before I looked into her eyes. I knew it was safer to put the blinders on her, but she looked so defeated I didn’t have the heart to. “Listen, I know you don’t like it here, and my brothers scare you, but there’s no place else to go. So come back to the barn with me and Sali now, okay?”
Rika looked as if all the fight had gone out of her, but I knew better, and kept her tethered until I was mounted again. She fussed a bit more, nipping at Sali, who showed her dominance as lead mare by head-butting Rika until she quit.
“Here we go, ladies. Let’s take it nice and slow.”
I kept both horses at a walk all the way back to the barn. Rika didn’t give me any trouble until we came within sight of the pen, but fortunately Gray had put Flash away. I led the Arabian to the back of the barn instead of the front, where I dismounted and led Rika into the treatment pen where we put the horses for vet checks and vaccinations. I couldn’t give her too much water, which would have made her sick, but I put enough in the trough to keep her occupied while I put Sali away.
“You’ll be next,” I promised my mare, giving her an apple cookie and kissing the white blaze on her nose before I went to the supply cabinet.
It was too expensive to call the vet for every little thing, so we did a lot of simple doctoring ourselves. First I checked the rope burn on my wrist, which wasn’t bad, and then grabbed the horse kit. After bathing the Arabian with a lukewarm spray, I rubbed her down and smeared some salve over her scratches. Once I finished I put a little of the special pregnancy formula feed in the fence bucket as a treat. Rika shuffled over, giving me one last suspicious look before dipping in her nose.
“You’re welcome,” I said, and turned to see my oldest brother leaning against the fence. “Not interested in helping?”
“You had everything under control.” Trick came and examined my handiwork. “Looks like she tangled with some wire. I’ll check her records and see when she had her last tetanus shot.” He took the dirty towels and jar of salve from me. “Now you need a bath.”
“Now I need to take of Sali,” I corrected him.
“I did that while you were washing Rika.” He smiled a little. “Thanks for catching her.”
“Anytime. And I don’t mean that.” I glanced over my shoulder at the Arabian before I added, “Trick, there is something wrong with that horse. She’s not just bad-tempered or wild. Something is setting her off.”
“Arabians are usually wound pretty tight,” he reminded me.
“No horse is that tight all the time.” I followed him into the barn. “And I don’t think it’s personal. I think she’d be this way with anyone, anywhere. It’s like she hates the world.”
He thought about it for a minute. “I haven’t found any scars on her that would indicate she was abused in the past.”
“Maybe her old owner didn’t beat her.” I knew how stupid that sounded, but my brother knew a lot more about horses than I did. “Could he have locked her up, or starved her?”
“She’s not underweight, she doesn’t have any significant scars, and her muscle tone is fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll call Dr. Marks and see if he still has her old records. He may have treated her for a fall or a bad injury.”
Severe stress could cause horses to misbehave, and getting hurt was extremely stressful. While the injury could heal in a few weeks or months, the memory of what caused it stayed with most horses. Some could never again be ridden or worked.
Rika had challenged me and Sali, but only after we had cornered her. She should have responded well to Sali’s presence, as horses had herd mentality and for them two were always better than one. Something else had made Rika run, something that made me wonder just what had happened with Gray and Flash.
“You should ask the vet if he knows who trained her,” I said. Some owners hired professionals who were harder on the horses than was necessary; the type who always referred to training as “breaking in.” If Rika had been bullied during training, she might always associate it with fear.
My brother nodded. “I’ll give him a call later.”
The slant of the sunlight through the barn windows made me glance at my watch. “It’s almost noon. I’ll take a shower before I fix lunch. You can still drive me into town for my interview, right?”
“I said I would.” Trick closed the supply cabinet door. “I don’t like the idea of you working through the holidays, though, especially in town by yourself. If you need money for clothes or Christmas gifts, just ask.”
“What I need is something to do besides clean the house, bake cookies and sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ until winter break is over.” Those weren’t the reasons I was applying for a job in town, but they sounded convincing enough. “It’s just part-time anyway, and whatever I earn will go right into my college account. Minus whatever I spend on you and Grim for Christmas,” I tagged on.
No one would ever call my oldest brother clueless or stupid, so I endured another of his silent, measuring stares. I kept my expression normal.
Just when I thought I might not have pulled it off, he patted my shoulder. “All right, little sister. We’ll see how it goes.” He went to look at Rika.
I smiled at his back. Oh no, you won’t.
Two
After fixing lunch for me and Trick (Gray didn’t come in from the barn when I called him), I went upstairs to pick out what I was going to wear to my interview.
I didn’t have a lot of choices; I was the only girl in the family, and living in the country all my life had never turned me into a fashionista. Most of the time I wore jeans, T-shirts and flannel shirts. Sometimes when it got hot in the summer I wore shorts and a tank top, but that was about it.
I’d have to break out my Justin case.
I took out the old garment bag and draped it across my bed to unzip it. Inside were seven outfits: three dresses, two blouse-and-skirt sets, one pants suit and Old Reliable. Girl clothes made me nervous. When I wore jeans and T-shirts, no one noticed how skinny my legs were. The stuff in the bag was just in case I needed a nice outfit (which is why I called it the Justin case).
I wanted to wear my dark purple pants suit, but it was made of silky material that didn’t seem right for a job interview. I looked at the dresses, which were pretty but kind of young, and the blouses and skirts almost shrieked schoolgirl. I wanted to look mature; someone who could be depended on to work by herself.
Finally I took out Old Reliable. The black dress didn’t have any frills or lace or girly stuff, and the fit and knee-length hem made me seem a little older. It wasn’t like I had anything better, so I carried it into the bathroom.