“How are you going to learn to do all that stuff?” Travis asked.
Instantly, an image of Eric’s hazel green eyes popped into Taylor’s mind.
“Some guy over at Westheimer’s is going to work with us,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice nonchalant, as though what she was telling him was unimportant. Taylor wasn’t sure why she was making this extra effort to seem disinterested. Travis was her best and oldest friend; they’d been friends since third grade — but he wasn’t her boyfriend. It had never been anything like that. Still, she felt awkward about discussing Eric with Travis.
“Why would a guy from Westheimer’s work with Wildwood?” Travis questioned.
“He says it’s fun.”
“It does sound fun,” Travis agreed.
“Why don’t you take a lesson on Mandy?” Taylor suggested. Travis didn’t ride, but Taylor was dying to get him started.
“No money,” he replied. “There was a great online auction on Spider-Man graphic novels. Mom let me use her PayPal and now I have to pay her back. I used all my birthday money, but it was worth it.” Travis’s greatest thrill in life was to get a new or rare superhero graphic novel or comic.
“You don’t have to take a lesson with Daphne right away. I could get you started, and, of course, you don’t have to pay me.”
“Naw. I’m not the horseback-riding type,” Travis declined.
“You’re just chicken,” Taylor challenged him.
“Am not!”
“Then get on a horse,” Taylor insisted. As she spoke, Taylor was suddenly looking at her mother’s sneaker-clad feet.
“This room is a mess, Taylor,” said Jennifer Henry, pushing her blonde curls from her face. “And now you have a soaking wet towel on the floor.”
“I have to go,” Taylor said, pulling herself onto her bed.
“Parental unit in need of attention?” Travis guessed.
“Yep. Talk to you later.”
“Okay, later.”
“It smells like a stable in here, Taylor. Your dirty clothes reek of horses,” Jennifer chided.
“Sorry.”
Jennifer began picking up the dirty clothes strewn across the floor and tossing them into Taylor’s neon green pop-up hamper. “You have to keep this room neater,” she said. “Now that I’m so busy with the business you have to help me out more.”
Taylor’s parents had divorced at the beginning of the previous spring. Even though Taylor assumed her father must pay her mother some money to help with Taylor’s expenses, their household money seemed to have dried up after her father left. There were no more dessert treats in the fridge or weekend movies, and her eighth-grade back-to-school shopping had consisted of a new pair of sneakers.
A tight budget was the reason Taylor had stopped taking riding lessons over at Westheimer’s Ranch. But now her mom’s new catering business was starting to do well, thanks in large part to the great word of mouth from a luncheon Jennifer had catered over at the swanky Ross River Ranch.
“Mom?” Taylor asked as she bent to pick up more dirty laundry. “Did you ever go down to Wildwood Stables when you were a kid?”
“No. I didn’t ride. Your dad did, though. I thought he told you that.”
“He did. It’s just that Mrs. LeFleur thought she knew Dad, and Mr. Romano, too.”
“I don’t know. Ask him about it.”
“Did you ever see Mrs. LeFleur around town when you were a kid?”
Sitting on Taylor’s bed, Jennifer tilted her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her before. You could call Grandma and ask. Why is it so important?”
“I did an Internet search and found an old photo of Mrs. Ross and Mrs. LeFleur. Mrs. LeFleur was in Mrs. Ross’s wedding party. It said she was the matron of honor. Why didn’t they say maid of honor?”
“She must have been married already when she was in the wedding party. If the woman is married they say matron instead of maid. But what’s this about?”
“You know how Mrs. LeFleur dislikes Mrs. Ross so much? And Mrs. Ross just up and gave Shafir to her. I was just wondering what happened between them.”
“Hmmm, now you have me curious,” Jennifer admitted as she stood up and lifted the now full hamper. “Straighten the shoes you’ve tossed in that corner,” she instructed.
Taylor got to work sorting out the sneakers, flip-flops, and bedroom slippers. Her new brown cowboy boots with the embossed western designs stood on their own, already cleaned with spray-on leather cleaner and buffed to a shine. “Mom, we’re going to have a games event sometime soon,” Taylor said, and went on to tell Jennifer about the different types of games. “This guy Eric, who works at Westheimer’s Ranch, is going to come over and show us how to play.”
“That sounds great,” Jennifer said as she carried the hamper to the bedroom door. “Hopefully, it will bring in a lot of business.”
Taylor nodded and went back to sorting her shoes. As she worked, she thought about what it would be like to learn the games from Eric. “Mom,” she said, catching Jennifer just as she was about to leave, “when was the first time you liked a boy?”
“You don’t mean in the way that you and Travis like each other,” Jennifer clarified.
“No,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “You know what I mean. When did you first like like a boy?”
Jennifer’s eyes drifted to the ceiling as though she were trying to see back to a memory buried deep in her past. “I liked Andy Kelly in the eighth grade,” she recalled. “I thought about him day and night.”
“Was he nice?”
“I don’t know. He never spoke to me. Why do you ask? Is there someone special you like?”
“No,” Taylor said, turning her attention back to her shoes. “I was just wondering.”
On Monday, Taylor walked into Pheasant Valley Middle School with Travis. “Does my hair look okay?” Travis asked Taylor, rubbing the flat, bristly top of his white-blond crew cut self-consciously. The stocky boy’s wide, pleasant face looked particularly moonlike since he’d just cropped his hair even shorter than usual over the weekend.
“It looks good,” Taylor assured him.
They turned a hallway corner on the way to their lockers and nearly crashed into Plum and the crowd of girls she always traveled with. “Watch it,” one of them sneered.
“You watch it,” Travis shot back.
“Sorry,” Taylor apologized. “How was the rest of your training session with Shafir?” she asked Plum pleasantly. Even though she desperately wanted to give Plum an earful about just leaving Shafir with a lead line dragging behind, Taylor forced herself not to.
“Great,” Plum replied in a flat voice. “Fine. Whatever.” Plum angled away from Taylor, signaling that their conversation was over.
Taylor pretended she didn’t notice the snub and stepped to the side so she was back in Plum’s sight line. “Shafir’s a great horse, and you’re doing a terrific job with her.”
Plum’s head snapped around. “I said, yeah, whatever — can you drop it?” Hands on hips, eyebrows raised disdainfully, all of Plum’s friends stared at Taylor with annoyance.
“Okay. See you later,” Taylor said, walking away quickly with Travis by her side. When they were far enough away, she fanned herself to cool down the burning blush of embarrassment she knew was flaming on her cheeks.
“Before you think I’m crazy, there’s a good explanation,” Taylor said to Travis as her fingers flapped in front of her red face.
“Yeah, I know what it is already.”
“You do? What?” she questioned.
“It’s obvious I’m still in bed dreaming,” he said, not smiling. “There is no way what I just saw really happened. It was too weird.”
“I know it was,” Taylor agreed. She explained to him how she felt responsible for Shafir being leased by Plum and that she had to stay close to Plum to ensure the horse’s safety.
“Oh, yeah, Plum the horse killer,” Travis murmured, recalling what Ta
ylor had told him about the two equine deaths Plum was suspected of having caused.
Just then, Mr. Romano came walking toward them. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Travis answered. “I’m just having a strange dream and you’re all in it.”
Mr. Romano stopped short. “What?”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy,” Taylor said.
Travis pressed his hand on his chest in an expression of shock and dismay. “I’m crazy? I don’t think you should talk about anyone being crazy.”
Taylor overlooked Travis’s comment as the two of them fell into step with Mr. Romano and moved down the hall with him. “Mr. Romano, when you used to go to Wildwood Stables as a boy, was there someone named Bernice LeFleur who worked there or rode there?”
“Wait a minute,” he said, slowing his pace. “I do know that name. I remember her very well — Jimmy LeFleur’s mother.”
“Did he ride with you down at the ranch?” Taylor asked.
Mr. Romano nodded. “He was a good rider, too. And Mrs. LeFleur was an instructor there. I saw her jump once at a show they gave. She was amazing. Her uncle owned the place, I’m pretty sure.”
“Mrs. LeFleur inherited the ranch — so the woman you’re remembering is definitely her,” Taylor said. “When was the last time you saw them?”
Mr. Romano stopped and a serious expression came over him. “I can tell you the exact day,” he said. “I was there the afternoon Jimmy LeFleur got thrown from his horse and had to be taken away in an ambulance. I never saw Jimmy or his mother again after that.”
* * *
Mrs. LeFleur and her son were on Taylor’s mind as she rode her bike on Wildwood Lane and turned into the ranch at the new sign. In black swirling writing against a sky blue background, the sign announced:
WILDWOOD STABLES
HOME OF HAPPY HORSES AND PONIES
ALL EQUINE LOVERS WELCOME
Horses Boarded * Riding Lessons * Trail Rides Available
The sign made Taylor smile every time she passed it. She was always tempted to take a marker and add The best place in the world!!! at the bottom, but she didn’t have the nerve. It was the way she thought of Wildwood Stables, though — as a magical place full of happy energy.
Taylor’s smile faded as she continued pedaling past the sign and into the ranch. Mr. Romano’s story about Jimmy LeFleur didn’t go with Taylor’s idea of only good things happening at Wildwood. What had happened to Jimmy? Why hadn’t he and Mrs. LeFleur ever come back after that day?
Leaning her bike against the big maple with the knobby roots, she looked into the corral. Daphne was leading a little girl of about five on Pixie’s saddled back. Two of the girl’s friends stood off to the side with a woman, waiting their turn. Nearby in the corral, Prince Albert grazed along the fence posts, casually watching the ranch’s first pony ride.
Prince Albert noticed Taylor’s arrival and walked over to greet her, sticking his head over the fence. Taylor kissed his nose, rubbing his soft muzzle. From her sweatshirt pocket, she took out one of the baby carrots she’d sneaked from the raw vegetable platter her mother would be serving at a party she was catering that evening. Prince Albert instantly grabbed it in his teeth.
“Don’t act like you’re starving,” Taylor teased him as she presented him a second carrot. “You’re getting fed.”
“He’s a nice-looking horse.”
Taylor jumped, startled as she turned to face Eric. “Wow! You scared me. I didn’t realize you were there.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to creep up on you,” Eric apologized.
Taylor’s lips were suddenly parched and her mind had gone blank. Even though Eric was looking at her expectantly, assuming she was about to reply, she somehow couldn’t speak.
Prince Albert whinnied and stomped the ground. “I guess I startled him, too,” Eric said.
Letting out a shrill neigh, Prince Albert turned and kicked the fence with his back legs.
“Stand back,” Taylor told Eric. The boy took a few large steps backward.
Prince Albert kicked the fence again. “Albert, stop that!” Taylor commanded. “It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt us. Calm down, boy.”
“I didn’t mean to upset him. What did I do?” Eric asked.
“It’s not you. He doesn’t like guys. Good thing you’re not wearing a baseball cap. He hates those.”
Eric walked toward the main building, checking over his shoulder as he went.
Prince Albert turned back around so he was facing the fence again. With ears still flattened, he bared his teeth in Eric’s direction and neighed fiercely once more.
“Is something wrong?” Daphne called over to Taylor.
“It’s just the guy problem,” Taylor shouted back.
Daphne looked to Eric standing by the main building and nodded her understanding. “I almost forgot about that,” she said, returning to her third pony ride.
Taylor stepped onto the bottom rung of the split-rail fence and petted Prince Albert’s forelock. With the other hand she took out another carrot.
At the sight of the carrot, Prince Albert’s ears perked up straight again, and his rapidly swishing tail slowed and then stopped.
“It’s all right,” Taylor soothed him. “You don’t have to be scared of him.”
Prince Albert snorted, as though blowing off the last of his aggressive anger, and then snapped the carrot from Taylor’s palm.
It made Taylor furious every time she remembered that some man, probably one wearing a baseball cap, had mistreated Prince Albert so harshly that now the gentle horse feared all men. It was the only explanation she could think of for Prince Albert’s reaction.
With a final fond stroke to Prince Albert’s head, Taylor hopped off the fence and approached Eric. “Sorry about that. Albert hates all guys.”
Eric looked over to Albert. “Hey, you! I resent that!” he called, although Taylor could tell he was joking.
“It’s nothing personal,” Taylor assured him. “Someone must have been harsh with him.”
“All horses have their little personality quirks. They’re not so different from people,” Eric said easily. “Maybe I can get him to like me.”
“Good luck on that one,” Taylor said skeptically, though she thought that if anyone could do it, it would be Eric.
“Are you ready to try some horse games today?” Eric asked. “Daphne said that as soon as she’s done with the pony rides, we can start.”
“Great. What horse will you ride?”
“Rick agreed to trailer my horse here.”
“What kind is she?”
“Jojo’s a he, a Tennessee walking horse gelding. I had to work for two summers to buy him. And I was only able to afford it because I got a good price for him from a guy who was moving and couldn’t keep him anymore.”
“Why don’t you board him here?” Taylor suggested.
“I work after school part-time for Ralph. I’d feel weird boarding Jojo somewhere else,” Eric explained. “Do you know if Prince Albert has ever played horse games before?”
“Daphne taught him to play halters recently.”
“I don’t know that one,” Eric said.
“It’s also called bandanna snatch,” Taylor recalled.
“Oh, bandanna snatch. Yeah, that’s a fun game. Does he know any others?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Taylor said. “He obeys voice commands really well, so somebody trained him. But I don’t know too much else about him.”
“Why don’t you call the American Quarter Horse Association?” Eric suggested.
“Mrs. LeFleur did, and they told us the name of his parents and who owned them. All we really know about him is that he’s pure quarter horse and he was born up in Saratoga Springs.”
“There’s a racetrack up there,” Eric said.
“Really? Do you think he might have been a racehorse?”
“Maybe. A quarter horse runs very fast for a —”
“— quarter of a mile,” Taylor finished. “Ralph told me that, too.”
“You know Ralph?”
“He taught me to ride.”
“Me, too!” Eric said, laughing at the coincidence. “He doesn’t say much.” Eric folded his arms and tilted his head, imitating Ralph Westheimer. “Back straight. Heels down.”
“That’s right! That’s just how he is.” Taylor also folded her arms in imitation of Ralph. “Chin up! Shoulders back!”
“He must say that stuff in his sleep,” Eric added, chuckling.
Eric’s really nice, Taylor decided, every bit as nice as she’d somehow known he would be.
Taylor was leading Pixie and Prince Albert but halted them outside the big paddock closest to the pasture. She ran to open the paddock gate and held it for Daphne to ride through on Mandy. Behind Daphne, Eric rode in on Jojo. His bay Tennessee walking horse had a large head with a straight profile. The gelding’s high-set tail was similar to Shafir’s high tail, though not as brushlike.
Mercedes and Travis were already inside the paddock, waiting for them. “Look what I found in the storage building over there,” Mercedes said. Behind her were three large barrels standing on end.
Taylor led Pixie and Prince Albert to the gate but stopped there. She was nervous about how Prince Albert would react to Travis and Eric.
“Yeah, you found them, but who dragged them out of the building?” Travis said grumpily.
“We both did,” Mercedes insisted, folding her arms.
Travis’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? You pulled them from the gate to here after I lugged them all the way over?”
“Oh, wah-wah, stop crying,” Mercedes dismissed him.
“Thanks, Travis,” Taylor said to smooth things over. “They must have had barrel races here back in the day.”