I turned to Mrs. Bartlett. “So, who gets him? Me or the guy who thinks The Godfather was a great movie?”
She eyed me, then looked at Mom. “Do you really want him?”
“I’ll be honest with you,” Mom said. “I prefer horses to the teen boys who chase my daughters and most of the girls who constantly call and text my son. This is the first horse we’ve seen all day that Robin has wanted. She’s got a mean mouth and a crappy attitude, but she’s the best person I’ve ever seen with a sick or needy critter.”
“She brings home every stray in the world, and then she visits them when she finds places for them to live. None of them ever go to the pound or shelters.” Felicia picked up Twaziem’s left front foot, inspecting the hoof. “I was really surprised she hadn’t found any more puppies or abandoned dogs when I got home from college.”
“I probably will before too much longer,” I said. “What are you looking for now?”
“Stone bruises, abscesses and chipped or cracked hooves.” When she finished with the hooves, Felicia moved onto the horse’s legs. He continued to ignore her, hassling the old guy for more grain. “Well, he doesn’t have splints.”
I dreaded the next lecture, but I really wanted to know. “What are those?”
Mr. Johnson answered before Felicia could. “They’re bruises or swellings that become permanent growths on the cannon bones. And they’ll limit what he can do.”
My sister nodded agreement, but before she could add to what he said, Mr. Johnson hurried on, “I sympathize with your desire to save this horse, but it’s not very economical.”
“My husband’s an accountant,” Mom said. “He’d probably agree with you about the cost of saving him.”
Felicia and I shared a look. Was she talking about our father—the guy who always quoted Sir Winston Churchill at us? “The outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man...” Before either of us could say anything or argue with her, Mom gave us the evil eye and we shut down.
She turned on Mrs. Bartlett. “I’m sure you’ll agree that the horse hasn’t done anything to deserve death, and if he did, he’d have a more humane end if you just turned him in with your cougar.”
I almost cheered, but I didn’t. Go, Mom!
“You have a point.” Mrs. Bartlett glanced past us to Mr. Johnson. “I appreciate you coming out, but Twaziem should have a chance for a happy life. And Robin will give him one.”
“Got that right,” I said. “Nobody will ever hurt him again. I swear it.”
Chapter Five
Saturday, September 14th, 5:05 p.m.
Mom went off with Mrs. Bartlett to sort out the registration papers. Mr. Johnson handed me the can of grain. “You got yourself a horse, missy. Take good care of him. Don’t water him for at least two hours.”
That was a weird thing to say. I watched him leave, and then turned back to Twaziem. “What do you think?” I asked Felicia. “Should I give him the rest of this?”
“Sure. It can’t hurt him, and he’s already had enough that he has to stay away from water anyway.”
“I don’t get it. Why?”
“Colic, Robin. If he waters up, it’ll flush the grain into his gut and cause an impaction. So, we’ll feed him when we get him home, but we’ll wait to fill his tub.” She headed off to the truck and came back with the halter and lead I’d gotten for my birthday. “Okay, he’s all yours. Get him ready to go.”
She held the barbed wire strands apart so I could climb through them. I walked up next to Twaziem and slid the noseband of the halter over his face, buckling the headstall behind his ears. The whiskers on his nose tickled my hand when I offered more grain. He didn’t care who fed him. He kept nuzzling me. Now, I was his best buddy.
Felicia walked away to meet Mom, and while she was gone, I told Twaziem about not particularly liking horses or really wanting one. “I want my car. Well, it’s not mine yet, but it will be. I just have to start earning money for it. No offense, Twaz, but I stopped loving horses when Cobbie died. Even if I don’t love you, I’ll never let somebody kill you or starve you or abuse you. Deal?”
He nosed me for more food, and I figured we understood each other. I scooped out more grain. He wouldn’t ask me for a lot of emotional stuff, and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. He’d been hurt enough. He nickered softly and nudged my arm. I gave him the last of the grain from the coffee can and began talking about the Thunder Kittens, who lived in the hayloft and stomped around on the ceiling above the stalls.
“You just have to remember that to them it is the floor. They like to make noise. If you ignore them, you’ll be fine. They love to annoy Singer because she always has conniptions.” He didn’t care about kittens or my talking. He pushed at me with his head. “There’s no more grain, but we have a lot of hay in the trailer. Come on. Let’s go find that instead.” I led him over to the gate, unlatched it, and gave it a push away from me. The bottom hinge let go and the thing fell partway on the ground. Twaziem looked at it like the gate was some kind of performing clown. He snorted, but he didn’t spook. He just stepped around it and followed me to the back of the horse trailer.
Loosening the rope so he could graze beside the driveway, I unlatched the door and opened it. I stepped up into the two-horse trailer and gave him a little tug. “Hey, you. Step up here.” He did. He balked at the opening, but I pretended not to notice. I could reach the hay in the net and grabbed a handful. I held out the alfalfa to him. “Want it? Come here and get it.”
He stretched out his neck and tried to reach the hay in my hand. When he couldn’t quite get it, he hesitated. Slowly, he lifted one foot and cautiously placed his left front hoof up inside, on the trailer floor. He tried again. The hay was still too far out of his reach. He picked up his right front, put it beside his left. Okay, so now he was halfway in the rig. I held out the hay, and he got a taste. He wanted more and I wanted him to come the rest of the way so I backed up. With a sudden scramble of his hindquarters, he followed. I gave him the handful of hay. Crunch, munch, and it was gone. Then, he found the hay net and the rest was history. He started pulling out a mouthful and chewing. If a horse could look blissful, he did. I praised him, ducked under his neck, and tied him securely to the ring on the wall. He not only had the net of alfalfa grass hay, the manger was full too.
How far had Jack thought we’d have to go to find a horse? Canada? Petting Twaziem’s neck one more time, I eased past him to the back door of the trailer. Mom waited for me, Felicia beside her with a file folder of papers. “What do you have?” I asked.
“A bill of sale,” Felicia said. “I made sure that his poor condition was detailed. We don’t want a hassle from the Animal Control people. And his papers are in order. You just have to send them to the registry to transfer him to your ownership. His registered name is actually Twa Ziemlich Sonne, which is a bit strange. Twa means ‘two’ in old Scots and Zeimlich Sonne is ‘pretty sun’ in German, but normally you’d say...”
I tuned her out again and locked the trailer door. Hmm. I wanted to make money, but I didn’t have to buy a lottery ticket. I could just sign her up for Jeopardy. She’d win thousands. Would she give me enough for my car? While she blathered about Twaz’s name, I eyed Mom.
“Can we go now? Or do we have to stay forever? And do we have to take her? Maybe, they could feed her to the cougar.”
“I don’t think so.” Mom patted my shoulder. “And I’m proud of her. When she and Mrs. Bartlett got to talking about cancer, Felicia provided some very good resources.”
“Who has cancer?” I blinked and looked back at the trailer. I could hear Twaziem chewing away. “Is that why he didn’t get fed? Was she in the hospital? Now, I feel really bad for getting on her case.”
“That’s kind of you,” Mom said, “but she could have had someone check up on her grandkids and make sure they were feeding the horse.”
“Well, who fed the cougar?” I asked. “And why?”
“He hasn’t been here that long,” Fe
licia said. “The animal rescue people brought him when he was injured in the woods. They fed the horse when they came to take care of the cat. It’s the only reason Twaziem made it. And can you imagine what would have happened if they hadn’t fed the cougar, and he got loose? He’d have gone hunting, and it might not have been your colt that wound up as dinner.”
Those were all good points, but I didn’t tell Ms. Knows-Everything. Her head was big enough. She didn’t need me saying she was smart. She already knew it. In our family, Felicia was the brilliant one, Jack was the brave one, and I was the beautiful one. We all had our roles to play, and they didn’t change.
We climbed in the pickup, and Mom started the engine. “I think we found the perfect horse for you to ride, Robin.”
“Not until he turns three,” Felicia said. “That’s next April, a little more than seven months from now.”
“Works for me. He has to be old enough and strong enough,” I told them. And a lot could happen in that amount of time. By then, I’d convince my parents he was ready to move onto a new home. I’d get him the best one I could find. Maybe Rocky would help with that. She always had people looking for safe, sane mounts for her beginning riders and Twaziem might turn out to be perfect for them. All anyone had to do was feed him and he obviously thought the person was a friend.
It took over an hour for us to get home because of the traffic. Mom always drove carefully, and when she hauled a horse, she took more precautions. She signaled for turns early, slowed down before she braked, stayed five miles under the limit and pretty much ticked off every speed demon in forty miles. It didn’t bug me as much as usual, not with Twaziem on board.
We pulled into our drive, and she tapped the horn. “Now your brother and dad will know we’re home.”
Suddenly, I was nervous. What if Jack made fun of my horse? Twaziem looked awful. And Dad? Would he be disappointed in me? He never complained when I brought home stray cats or their kittens or dogs and puppies. A starving horse was different. He was going to eat more than the other horses, and he’d need a lot more care.
Mom gave me a quick sideways glance before she focused on maneuvering up the driveway, past the house to the barn. “It’ll be fine, honey. We know how you are when it comes to animals.”
“You always pick the ones who need you most,” Felicia said. “It’s heroic even if you are obnoxious about it.”
“So, sue me.” I tossed my head. “They pick me too.”
Mom laughed. “Either way, the result is the same. I always have a houseful of your critters. Bottom line, we’re all human, Robin, and you could learn to be patient with the rest of us when we don’t live up to your expectations.”
“What’s that mean?” I stared past Felicia at my mother. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m proud of you.” Mom stopped in front of the barn. “It took a great deal of courage for you to stand up to your sister, me, and two other adults. You insisted we do what was right, not what was easy. Good job.”
I felt warm all over. Mom rarely praised me, or anything I did. As the baby of the family, I came in third-best most of the time. No way I’d tell her that she’d made me feel good for once. Instead, I pushed open my door and slid out of the truck. I hurried around to the back of the trailer and opened the back end. Twaziem cocked his head around and looked at me, but kept eating. Despite the long driving time, he had plenty of hay left.
“Are you getting him out?” Felicia asked.
“I think he wants to finish the hay first,” I said.
“He can finish it in the stall. I’ll bring it in for him,” Felicia told me. “Mom went to get Jack to put a bale of grass hay in the manger.”
“You mean a couple of flakes, not a bale.”
“No, she meant a bale, all right. She’s not going to have him open it, but if Jack stands it on end, your horse can pull it apart and eat twenty-four seven.”
“Where did she come up with that? It’s a brilliant idea.”
“Rocky suggested it when I called her from Mrs. Bartlett’s.”
“Why did you get to call her?” I glared at my sister. “I wanted to tell her about Twaz.”
“You still can,” Felicia said. “I wanted to settle Mrs. Bartlett’s concerns about the training. She needed to be sure that Rocky understood Twaziem was a good horse so she wouldn’t use whips or spurs on him.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked, referring to Twaz’s previous owner, not the stable owner.
“Well, she’s in remission, but there aren’t any guarantees. I got her email address so you can keep her posted on how Twaziem does. I think she’ll do better now that she doesn’t have to worry about him.”
I eyed my sister. In jeans, a WSU sweatshirt and her never-removed Ropers, she didn’t look much like an angel, but she was really kind to people, even the ones I thought were totally stupid. “Thanks, Felicia. I’ll send her pictures every week. I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“Hey, I’m your big sister.” She beamed a sunshine grin. “That’s what I do.”
Chapter Six
Saturday, September 14th, 6:45 p.m.
I eased my way into the trailer next to Twaziem’s left side. There was a lot more room beside him than there was by the other horses that belonged to my family. When I reached the front, I untied the rope and tried to back Twaz out, but he didn’t budge. He pinned his ears flat against his head and stomped one foot, then kept eating, pulling hay from the manger. I reached around and pushed on his chest. He ignored me.
“Come on, Twaziem. Mom promised a whole bale of hay in your stall.”
He still wouldn’t move. I pulled on the rope, but he pulled back, and he was a lot bigger than me. When I pushed on his chest again, he simply leaned further toward the hay and continued chewing.
Finally, I gave up. I petted him to show there weren’t any hard feelings. If he didn’t want to leave the food, it was okay. Sooner or later, he’d figure out that regular meals were part of his life now and starvation was over. I put the rope over his neck. Squishing past him, I went back out of the trailer.
Jack and one of his good buddies, Bill, had joined Mom and Felicia.
“So, where’s your new steed?” Bill demanded. He was as tall as my brother, but he had auburn hair and eyes. “We loaded up his stall for him.”
“He wants to finish the hay in the trailer,” I said. “Then, he’ll come out.”
Jack laughed. “Robin, you’ve got to start out the way you mean to go on. You can’t let your horse be the boss.”
“Why not? Nitro is. You always say that he does all the work when you win at a gaming event and it’s your fault when you lose. Twaziem will come out when he’s ready.”
“Did he tell you that?” Bill asked.
Ever since I was little, Bill liked to pick on me. I always wondered why he and Jack were friends when Bill was such a jerk and my brother wasn’t.
“He didn’t have to tell me,” I said. “I could see that he’s hungry. You’d need a big sign with pictures.”
Jack laughed even harder and punched Bill in the arm. “She’s got your number.”
“Not yet.” Bill rubbed his arm. “Do you want me to unload him for you?”
Mom and Felicia looked at each other. Then, Mom said, “I will. I think you guys are too rowdy for him.” She stepped into the trailer, talking in a low voice so the horse wouldn’t be frightened.
“I don’t remember seeing a horse named Twaziem,” Jack said. “What does he look like?”
“He’s a bay paint with a blaze and three white ankle socks,” Felicia said. “I found an ad for him in the paper since Robin didn’t care for any of the ones that you and Mom selected.”
“What was wrong with the ones I liked?” Jack asked me.
“They all went too fast,” I said, “and nobody makes me ride a horse without brakes. Not anymore.” I saw my dad and Vicky coming from the house and went to meet them. “I did get a horse.”
Dad smiled
at me. “Is it what you wanted?”
“Is it better than the car?” Vicky asked.
I took the questions in order. “I didn’t particularly want him, but he was being starved, and then a guy showed up who planned to take him to slaughter so I had to bring Twaziem home. A horse is alive. It has feelings, and Twaz didn’t want to be dog food. To be honest, I’d still rather have my car. It’d be a lot more fun.”
“I’m sure it would.” Dad put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. “Remember, it’s like what Sir Winston Churchill said, ‘We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give.’ And I’m proud of you for giving this horse a home. You don’t have to worry about a car being butchered. Are you glad or sorry you saved him?”
“Glad, I guess. He needed me. I was the only one who really cared about him.”
“You’re the one who cared enough to save him,” Dad said, and hugged me again. “Let’s go see this wonder horse.”
I nodded, grateful that he hadn’t said a word about what it would cost to bring a horse back from the brink of starvation. I smiled at Vicky. “Wait till you see him. I think he has a lot of potential.”
Vicky pushed a strand of walnut-brown hair from her face. “I can’t believe you actually went through with it and got a horse after everything you said.”
I stopped to think. She was right. I’d complained a lot about getting a horse instead of my beautiful car. Things had looked different when I watched Twaziem eat grain and dirt, then beg a guy who wanted to kill him for more food. “I did gripe a lot, but I was really mad.”
“You sure were,” Vicky agreed.
I contemplated telling her to shut up, but it wouldn’t do any good. Vicky would keep talking until she wore out the topic. We arrived at the trailer, and she paused for breath. I counted my blessings. Mom had obviously succeeded in taking Twaziem away from the hay. He’d backed partway out of the trailer. His left hind foot hit the ground, then the right. Another step and he was half outside and half inside.