One Unhappy Horse (8 page)

In gym that day, the teacher made the whole class run the mile for the quarterly fitness tests, and Jan ran the fastest.

Lisa appeared at her side in the hall on the way to lunch. "Did you get so strong from riding your horse?" Lisa asked.

"More likely from ranch work," Jan said, thinking that
even if riding could strengthen her, it wouldn't have, because she hadn't done any for weeks.

"Aren't you too young to be 'working'?" Lisa asked.

"Why? My mother needs help on the ranch. And I like doing it."

"I guess that makes sense," Lisa said. Then, with a sympathy that hadn't been in her voice before, she asked, "Is your horse any better?"

"No."

"Well, I'm sorry. I guess I don't know a lot about horses. Maybe you could introduce me to yours sometime? I mean, I'd be interested. Back East, we didn't have real ranches. Not where I lived in Connecticut, anyway."

"Okay, sure," Jan said quickly. She was delighted that Lisa was still offering her friendship even after all Jan's inept rebuffs, but only after Lisa had turned off into the girls' bathroom did Jan think about setting a date. "What's the matter with me?" she asked herself out loud. "Can't I even ask someone to come over?" Lisa had made it clear enough she wanted to come. Tomorrow, Jan told herself. Tomorrow she'd practice the fine art of making friends.

That afternoon after school, Jan found her mother in the big arena exercising a spirited paint on a lunge line. The paint was a young, partly schooled animal that belonged to a ten-year-old girl whose doctor mother couldn't always drive her to the ranch to work with him. Jan let herself in
the gate and greeted Mom quietly so as not to upset the high-stepping black-and-white horse.

"You have a good day?" Mom asked.

"Okay. How's Dove doing?"

"I called Dr. Foster and asked if we could have the operation and pay her off in installments. She said
she'd
be willing, but she'd need to use the surgery facilities. That's where the major cost is. And she has no control over those charges. She sounded like she felt bad about not being able to help us out." Mom threw Jan a worried glance.

Jan pressed her thumb to her lip, thinking. Desperation made her say, "Mattie made an offer the other day. Did I tell you she has this ring her husband gave her that's worth a lot of money?"

Mom shrugged. She was concentrating on keeping pace with the frisky horse, who was kicking up his heels and tossing his head as he moved. Besides, she had no interest in jewelry. The only thing Mom ever wore was her thin gold wedding band.

"Well, Mattie said she could hock her ring and lend me the money for Dove," Jan continued.

"Do you think she meant it?"

"I don't know. Probably." Jan was recalling the feisty way Mattie had insisted on her right to do what she wanted with her own property. It had sounded as if she wanted to prove that she wasn't totally under her daughter's control.

"Well, even if she wasn't just talking," Mom said, "you
couldn't let her do it, Jan. She's an old lady and she may not be—you know, all there. It would be wrong to take her money."

"I know."

"Anyway," Mom said, "she's probably already forgotten she said it."

"Maybe," Jan said. But she wondered. Did having spells and forgetting things occasionally mean that Mattie had lost her mind? It seemed to Jan that Mattie made too much sense to be senile. Still, her spur-of-the-moment offer might not have been serious. Or she might have been boasting out of a passing anger at her daughter, and thought better of it later. In any case, they couldn't take her money when Mattie had so little herself—nothing but the ring, not even her own room.

"I bought another lottery ticket today," Mom said.

"You're wasting money, Mom."

"Somebody's got to get lucky. Why not us?"

"I guess," Jan said. A lottery ticket was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.

Mom slowed the paint to a standstill and began stroking his neck. "Imagine ... your Mattie offering to hock her ring for you," Mom said. "That lady sure must like you a lot. Even if she didn't mean it, it was nice of her."

"Mattie is really nice," Jan said.

"One of these days I'd like to meet her." A smile creased Mom's sun-worn face. "Tell you what. How about we invite her for a cookout?"

"A cookout?" They never entertained. Jan wasn't even sure what her mother meant.

"Sure," Mom said cheerfully. "It'll get our minds off our troubles. I'll buy a steak and we can cook it outdoors. We still have that old charcoal grill of your father's. It doesn't have to be fancy. Mattie'd probably be glad to be invited out."

Jan was sure she would be, especially since her daughter didn't take her anywhere. "That'd be wonderful, Mom. But I think hamburger would be better than steak. I mean, in case she has false teeth or something."

"Right," Mom laughed. "Hamburger and buns and some salad is enough. Want to invite her for tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday."

"So?"

"It's your busiest day," Jan said.

"You can help me get the horses done early, and we've got to eat, anyhow. How about it?"

Jan smiled. "Sounds good to me. I'll go invite her right now."

"Be sure you say that it's only going to be a light supper. I don't want her expecting a gourmet feast."

"Don't worry. I'll tell her you can't cook."

"Who says I can't cook?" Mom yelled, but Jan just laughed as she ran off toward the big house. It felt good to be doing something sociable for a change.

Stella greeted her at the back patio door. When Jan said
she'd come to see Mattie, Stella said, "Mattie's taking a nap. I'm just about to go home for the weekend, but I could leave her a message for you."

"Well, my mother and I want to invite her for supper tomorrow night."

Stella clapped her hands in delight, as if the invitation were for her. "Terrific! Mattie'll be in seventh heaven to be invited out. She loves to party. I'll tell the woman who works here weekends to see to it she's ready at...?"

"Five o'clock?"

"Perfect. You'll come to pick her up, won't you?"

"Sure," Jan said.

"I wish I could see her face when she gets the invitation. She'll be so thrilled," Stella said.

Jan walked away from the house smiling at how pleased Stella had been for Mattie's sake. Mattie's daughter might not care about her as much as she should, but other people in her life did.

Cleaning the house and making a salad in preparation for Mattie's visit distracted Jan from brooding about Dove on Saturday. That morning she had found him lying down again. Mom had wrapped his leg to try and give him some relief, and he had finally risen and hobbled to his feeder to eat.

"Looks like he hasn't lost his appetite, anyway," Mom said. She patted Dove on his rump and went back to work. Jan had waited patiently for him to finish chewing his hay and drinking. Then she'd tried walking him around his corral on a lead line. She was still going by her father's belief that a horse needed exercise no matter what. But Dove followed her reluctantly.

It pained her to see him limping, this horse who had been so playful that he'd toss lengths of rope and chase them all by himself. He'd watch what was going on around the
barn and follow anyone walking past his corral as far as he could. Dove had only lain down voluntarily to sleep at night.

"Come on. You'll feel better if you exercise," Jan coaxed as she tugged at the lead line.

He didn't seem to feel better, though. He hobbled along with his head hanging, and when she gave up after a few yards of tugging at him, he sighed with relief. Was he getting worse? Jan asked herself anxiously. Without the operation, how long would it be until he couldn't stand up and move at all? Dove gave a pathetic groan and settled back down on the ground. The sound cracked open Jan's heart.

By a quarter of five, every horse had been fed and watered. Jan told her mother, who was washing up at the kitchen sink in their casita, that she was going to pick up Mattie.

"I'll start the fire in the grill," Mom said. "I bought a fresh bag of charcoal in case that stuff of your father's is too old to burn."

Jan nodded. She hoped Mattie wouldn't be disappointed with hamburgers and beans, plus the tub of macaroni salad and brownies her mother had bought at the deli. "Thanks for doing this, Mom," Jan said.

"Haven't entertained since your father died," Mom said. "Not that I was much good at it before. But he was always bringing home people he liked."

"I know," Jan said. Those unexpected social occasions had been fun. Dad had not only made the fires but also kept
up lively conversations with the guests. She and Mom needed only to be stagehands for his performance. Jan wished he were here to run the show tonight.

"We used to keep beer in the refrigerator for guests," Mom said anxiously. "I hope Mattie won't expect any. I didn't think of buying alcoholic beverages when I was shopping."

"I'm sure she'll be too polite to ask, Mom. Don't worry. Mattie's easy."

And she was. When Jan was ushered into the living room of the big house by a white-uniformed woman she'd never met, Mattie was there, sitting on the couch. She was decked out in a blue silk dress with red buttons and a red belt, so intent on chatting away at two other old ladies that she didn't notice Jan had come.

"I'm Jo. I'm here weekends," the heavyset middle-aged woman told Jan. "Mattie's been twittering all over the place about going out with you."

Mattie looked over her shoulder then and spotted Jan. She bobbed to her feet, caroling, "Here's my young friend! My date's come, everybody. You all have a good dinner, now. See you later." Smiling, Mattie waved at the silent assembly of women and took Jan's arm, as if she really were going off on an important date.

Once they were outside, Mattie said, "Imagine you inviting me to your house! It's just so nice. And I have a surprise for you."

For the first time, Jan noticed Mattie was carrying a thin rectangular box that didn't look as if it could hold more than a scarf or a pair of gloves or, most useless of all, a handkerchief. It was gift-wrapped and tied with a red bow.

"Don't frown, now," Mattie said. She patted Jan's arm. "You're going to like this present."

"Mattie, you don't need to bring us anything," Jan protested. "It's not that much of a meal. Mom just wants to meet you."

"Well, I'm looking forward to meeting her. Believe you me, I am. Imagine!"

Mattie's excitement made Jan anxious. No way could she and her mother measure up to such a high level of expectation. As they walked toward the casita, Jan worried that the invitation had been a mistake.

"Your horse any better, honey?" Mattie asked. Her hand trembled lightly on Jan's arm.

"Uh-uh. Dove's miserable. He keeps lying down and it's hard to make him get up and move."

"Oh, my! Lying down's no good for horse or human. It makes your muscles weak. That's why I try to walk every day. It's important to stay healthy." Mattie nodded in agreement with herself. "Well, we're going to get help for that poor animal soon. Don't you worry." More quick birdlike taps on Jan's arm followed.

Mattie greeted Jan's mother with a hug, as if they were old friends, never mind that they'd never met. "I just know
you're a lovely person because you're the mother of this sweet child. Did you know she made me a birthday present?"

Mom laughed. "I hope you didn't get sick from eating it. Jan and I aren't much for cooking. And you'd better be satisfied with hamburgers, because that's what we've got for supper."

"Oh, I love hamburgers. They're my favorite."

Mattie then went on to exclaim about how cute the casita was. "Just the right size for two women, isn't it?" she said.

Jan and her mother glanced at each other. "Actually, it's a pretty tight squeeze," Mom said honestly.

But Mattie wasn't listening. She was admiring the framed photographs on the wall behind the television: Mom on a bucking bronco in a rodeo, Dad with the first yearling they'd raised on their ranch, Jan sitting on top of Dove when she was seven and barely visible under her father's hat.

"Why, that hat almost fits you, doesn't it?" Mattie said with a sly grin.

The supper was a gourmet delight if Mattie was to be believed. Jan hadn't heard her mother laugh so much since Dad had died. Mattie was full of stories about her horse experiences and how her husband had spoiled her. All she said about her daughter was that Valerie had never taken to horses much and that she'd always been good in school.

"Don't know where she got it from," Mattie said. "I was never much of a student. Maybe my husband would have been if he'd had a chance, but he had to go to work so young. He
came from a poor farm family. Though you'd never know it to speak to him. He was a real old-fashioned gentleman, just like my daddy. In fact, those two got along real well.

She described with some pride the property her own family had owned in Mississippi. "Until my daddy lost it all. He was a gambler, you know. A good man, but he did like to gamble.

The stars were out when Mattie looked at the clock and exclaimed, "I can't believe how the time has gone. It's my bedtime, and here I am, still out partying. Oh, my! She turned to Jan. "You don't want to walk me home in the dark, honey. I'll just take off by myself and leave you to help your mama with the dishes."

"Jan will walk you," Mom said.

"Do you think she should be out alone this late?" Mattie asked anxiously.

"It's just on the ranch, after all. Like walking around your own property," Mom said.

"Well, I guess if you look at it that way, I'd be glad of an escort," Mattie said. "My eyes aren't good in the dark anymore. Thank you for this wonderful evening. I had such a lovely time. It's the most fun I've had in—oh, I can't tell you when.

She rose and Jan got up to take her arm. Then Mattie said, "I almost forgot. I have something here for you." She smiled and put the thin rectangular box, which she'd set down on the TV set, into Jan's hand.

"Now, don't be that way, honey," she said when Jan pulled back and shook her head. "You'll like this present. I know you will."