A hurt horse
David stands in front of me, arms crossed. Buster pushes more of his weight against me, and I have to move my feet a little so he doesn’t knock me over.
David stares at the pony, frowning. “How long has he been doing that?”
“See, there you go again, being Mr. Horse Expert,” I said.
“Please, Josh,” he says. “Is this why you took him out of the corral?”
“Duh! I tried to tell you that, remember?”
David slowly kneels, petting Buster’s side. “Can I check this out?” he asks the pony, slowly moving his hands down Buster’s left foreleg. When he reaches the hoof, Buster flinches and pulls away from David.
“Oh no,” David groans.
Collect All the Vet Volunteers Books
Fight for Life
Homeless
Trickster
Manatee Blues
Say Good-bye
Storm Rescue
Teacher’s Pet
Trapped
Fear of Falling
Time to Fly
Masks
End of the Race
New Beginnings
Acting Out
Helping Hands
PUFFIN BOOKS
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First published in the United States of America by Puffin Books, an imprint of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2013
Copyright © Laurie Halse Anderson, 2013
Title page photo copyright © Bob Krasner, 2011
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Puffin Books ISBN 978-1-101-59549-7
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Contents
Also in the Vet Volunteers Series
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Pony Care and Fun Horse Facts
Join the Vet Volunteers on another adventure!
Chapter One
I’m straightening up the hammer section in the back of my family’s hardware store, Wrenches & Roses. A boring job? You bet, but Dad was so busy getting ready for this weekend’s big sale that he just dumped the new shipment of hammers into one big bin.
If you ask me, there’s not much difference between a claw hammer and a ball peen, but customers can be fussy. I sort them by type, and then by weight, and then by manufacturer. You never know: someone could walk into the store needing the perfect hammer. By the time I’m done, they’ll be able to find it.
Dad calls out, “Check again, will you, Josh?”
I open the back door to check the alley and the parking lot. No sign of Gus, the pony handler. No ponies, either.
“Not yet,” I say for the hundredth time.
Dad frowns, glances at the customers lining up outside the front door and then at the big clock on the wall. Gus stopped in a week ago when he saw our signs for the “Leap into Spring” sale. He showed us pictures of his two ponies, Buster and Babe. The names were cheesy, but the ponies were cute. Once my little sister, Sophie, saw them, she wouldn’t let up.
“Please, Daddy, please?” she whined. “Ponies, ponies, ponies, ponies!”
Dad glanced at me and my twin sister, Jules, and asked what we thought.
“Free pony rides?” I asked. “The whole town will show up.”
“It’s a sure thing,” Jules added.
After Dad booked Gus and the ponies, he ordered extra ads in the newspaper. Jules and I spent the last few days plastering all the telephone poles up and down Main Street with flyers: FREE PONY RIDES FOR KIDS AGES 8 AND UNDER. SATURDAY FROM 9 A.M. TO 2 P.M. SUNDAY FROM NOON TO 4 P.M.
The flyers and ads must have worked. We’ve never had people in line waiting for the doors to open before. That’s a beautiful sight.
We moved here from Pittsburgh after both of my parents were laid off. They had just enough in savings to buy this old store and fix it up, but money is really tight. Too many people want to shop at the big box stores instead of supporting local business, Mom explained. We haven’t gotten our allowances in months, and we have to shop for new clothes at the thrift store, not the mall. Jules and I are the only kids in our grade who don’t have cell phones. Last week I heard our parents talking about canceling our cable and Internet, which will completely ruin my life.
This weekend’s big sale has to work.
Mom comes up from the basement carrying a small cardboard box, followed by Sophie, hopping around like Jules’s pet rabbits, Cuddles and Lolli.
“Ponies, ponies! Pony rides today!” Sophie sings out. “Hip hip hooray, pony rides today!”
Mom double-checks the flower- and vegetable-seed display, filling in the missing packets. “Any sign, Josh?” she asks quietly.
I open the back door again. Still no Gus. Jules walks by me with a broom, her eyes wide and worried.
“Maybe he’s stuck in traffic,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
At the front of the store, Sophie presses her nose against the big glass door. “Look at all the kids,” she says.
She’s right—the line out there is getting longer.
“I still get the first ride, right, Daddy?” Sophie asks. “You promised.”
Dad nods, but his smile is tight. “Did you try that number?” he asks Mom. “I put his card by the register.”
“It’s disconnected, honey,” Mom says. “No matter how many times I call, that’s not going to change.”
Jules sweeps over to where I’m standing and whispers, “Do you think he stole Dad’s money?”
“Shhh,” I say, but I’m thinking that exact same thing. Gus had insisted that Dad pay him half of the appearance fee ahead of time, in cash. Dad was reluctant, but it was the only way Gus would agree to the deal. It’s only a few minutes till opening time. Things look bad.
A heavy knock on the back door startles us all.
“Finally!” Dad says.
I rush to open it.
“It’s just David,” I announce. David Hutchinson is one of the Vet Volunteers with Jules and me at Dr. Mac’s veterinary clinic.
“Just David?” he repeats. “I deserve a little more credit than that, don’t you think?”
He goes to throw a fake punch to my shoulder, but I shake my head.
“I’m not in the
mood to play around,” I say.
“What’s wrong?” David asks, looking around. He smacks his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Is it the ponies? Did that guy bail on you?”
“Shhh,” I warn. “Keep it down.”
“Well, that’s it,” Dad says with a sigh. “Nine o’clock. We have to open.”
“But—” I start.
Dad takes the big key ring off the counter and selects the key that will open the front door. “We don’t have a choice, son.”
Chapter Two
Wait!” Jules shouts. “I have an idea! We can stall them with Cuddles and Lolli until the ponies get here.”
“How?” asks Mom.
“We can make a display in the middle of the store,” Jules says. “Like a habitat.”
“No,” I say with a grin. “A rabbitat!”
David punches my shoulder and cracks up. Even Dad smiles.
“I’ll show the kids how to handle them the right way,” Jules says, “and try to teach them a little bit about caring for pets.”
“Good idea,” Mom agrees. “But make it fast!”
Dad opens the door and greets the first customers as the three of us—David, Jules, and me—set up some sections of plastic fence in the middle of the store. A few minutes later Jules, Cuddles, and Lolli are in the middle of the “rabbitat,” ready to charm the children of Ambler.
It’s a good thing Cuddles, the dwarf rabbit, has mellowed in the last few months. She’s still very hoppy, of course. I mean, she is a rabbit after all. But since she’s been spayed and Jules started to train her, Cuddles doesn’t chew on as many non-toys as she used to. She’ll sit still longer when you’re petting her, too, probably because Lolli (who is so big she should be called the Bunny Beast) tires her out every day.
The first group of little kids enters into the rabbitat. Cuddles sits up on her hind legs, twitching her floppy ears and sniffing the air before hopping over to them and lying down to be petted. As Jules shows the kids what to do, Cuddles tugs and nibbles on one boy’s shoelace.
“Hey!” he giggles.
“Okay Cuddles, that’s enough,” Jules says, distracting her from the shoelace with a pink chew toy.
Mom sets up a small activity table with paper and crayons to keep the other kids busy while they’re waiting to pet the bunnies—well, waiting, actually, to ride a pony. People wander around the store, browsing. A few pick up things like seed packets and light bulbs, but those don’t cost very much. Mom and Dad look more than nervous; they’re scared. Maybe our money situation is even worse than I thought. If the ponies don’t show up, we’re in big trouble.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on,” David asks, “or do I have to ask Jules?”
I motion for David to follow me out the back door. The parking lot is empty because this is where the pony rides are supposed to be. I quickly bring David up to date on the growing disaster.
“What if he never shows up?” David asks.
Before I can answer, Gus pulls his beat-up old truck and rusty red horse trailer into the parking lot. He parks behind the row of planters that Mom filled with flowers and herbs. The driver’s-side door of the truck creaks open but gets stuck halfway. Gus kicks it, shouting a few words that are definitely not kid-friendly. He better not talk like that around Sophie.
Gus finally gets out of his truck and spits on the ground. “Pipe corral’s back there.” He points to the bed of the pickup. “You two stop staring and unload. I’ll get the ponies.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just walks to the back end of the horse trailer, grumbling to himself.
The truck, the trailer, and Gus all look like they’ve seen better days.
“Man,” David mutters. “I hope he’s nicer to the ponies than he is to people.”
“At least he’s here,” I say. “Let me run in and tell my folks, then I’ll help unload.”
• • • • •
Everyone in the store cheers when I announce that the ponies have arrived and the rides will begin soon. My dad cheers the loudest, his face relieved.
I hurry back outside. David hands the panels of the corral to me one at a time. They’re made out of hollow metal pipes, so they aren’t too heavy, but they are kind of awkward. I’m not exactly sure what to do with them. Luckily, David knows, probably from all the time he spends at Quinn’s horse stables.
“Do you want us to set up all eight of these for one enclosure?” David calls to Gus.
“Yeah,” Gus grumbles from inside the trailer.
“What’s he doing?” I ask.
“Probably undoing the pony’s lead,” David explains.
Gus backs a stocky pony out of the trailer. She has a creamy grayish coat and a solid gray mane and tail. It looks like she’s wearing short white socks on three of her legs. On the front right leg, the white goes all the way up to her knee, like she put the wrong sock on.
“Must be Babe,” I say. She looks older and more worn out than the pony photos that Gus showed us. Maybe it’s not even the same animal.
Jules and Sophie lead a line of kids to the parking lot and get them to sit down and watch us finish unloading the panels. They’re so excited that they can barely sit still.
Gus drops the lead of the gray pony. “Wait there, Babe,” he says gruffly.
Babe turns her rump to him and plops a big pony poop near his feet. The little kids squeal and shout. Then she lifts one of her front legs up and clomps it on the asphalt, like she’s counting. Sophie and the little kids start clapping.
“Why is she doing that?” I ask David.
“Maybe she’s hungry,” he replies.
Sure enough, Babe takes two steps toward Mom’s planters and starts munching on the brightly colored zinnias.
“Whoa there, girl!” David runs to Babe, pats her neck, and picks up her lead. Then he gently walks her away from the plants and ties her to the first corral panel. Babe yawns, showing huge boxy teeth, and shakes her gray mane, which makes the kids squeal even louder.
When David kneels to connect the corral panels, Babe heads back toward the planters, dragging the panel she’s tied to behind her. This time she starts in on the young basil plants.
“Oh no, you don’t!” I say.
I don’t really have any experience with horses, but I run over and grab the lead. The basil plants are already gone, and Babe has started in on the dill, crunching loudly.
“Just give her a gentle tug,” David calls.
“Dill’s gross,” I mutter to the pony as I pull on her lead. “You really don’t want to eat that.”
She tosses her head, and her forelock falls to the side, revealing splotches of white on her forehead, face, and muzzle, and deep brown eyes with long eyelashes. She snorts through her big furry nostrils, then stares up at me. She’s got a little wrinkle of creamy gray and white fur at the edge of her mouth that reminds me of Sophie’s dimples. It’s almost as if the pony is smiling at me and planning more mischief.
“No,” I warn, “we don’t have time for fooling around.”
Babe sniffs at me, then tilts her head and makes a funny noise vibrating her lips like she’s blowing me a raspberry.
“Forget it,” I say. “No more plants. Mom is going to flip out when she sees what you’ve already done.”
“Come on, Josh,” David calls. “I need your help.”
We tie Babe to the first two panels that he pinned together. They should be too heavy for her to move, but I keep an eye on her, just in case.
Chapter Three
David makes putting the corral together look easy.
“You connect the panels with the metal pins, like this. See?” he asks. “Do those over there the same way. It should look like an octagon once it’s finished.”
I try to pin two panels together and manage to drop everything. It’s a good thing David’s he
re to help. The kids in line are getting impatient, and Gus still hasn’t gotten the second pony out of the trailer. All we can hear is his muffled voice and a lot of pony stomping and clomping. It doesn’t sound like either one of them is happy.
“That guy is not very good with horses,” David says, concerned. “No wonder it doesn’t want to come out.”
We finally finish pinning the corral panels and weigh them down with heavy sandbags from the truck. I’m sweating from all the unexpected work.
“Do you have a gate?” David calls to Gus.
“Do you see a gate?” Gus snarls.
David makes a face at me. “We’ll leave a little space between those last two panels for kids to get in and out of the corral.”
By now, a crowd of people has gathered in the parking lot. Jules is trying to keep the little kids entertained, but a couple of them have started to fidget.
“Do we need to put a saddle on her or anything?” I ask David.
“Of course,” David says. “How else are the kids going to ride?”
I don’t really want to explain to him that I know absolutely nothing about ponies. Or horses. I’m not even sure what the difference is.
A noisy commotion in the horse trailer saves me from having to answer him.
Gus squeezes out the side door of the trailer and kicks the door closed. “Dog meat!” he shouts. “You’re gonna be dog meat if you don’t back your rump out of there!”
“Hey there, Mr. Gus,” I say loudly, hoping none of the little kids heard what he just said.
David must be thinking the same thing. He jogs over to the trailer. “May I try?” he asks.
“Suit yourself,” Gus grumbles. “That pony’s so stubborn, he might as well be a mule.” Gus stalks over to the far end of the parking lot and lights a cigarette.
David pokes his head in the trailer window. “Hey there, boy,” he says gently. “Having a rough time this morning? I would be, too, if I were stuck in this stinky trailer.” He turns and whispers to me, “This trailer is disgusting. Looks like it hasn’t been cleaned out in months.”