The Great Pony Hassle Page 4

  “All right, I’ll do it myself!”

  Which she did. She ran a bucket of warm water and lugged it outside while the others watched through the window—as usual—in glum silence. She tied Noodles to a small tree. She brought the garden hose and sprayed Noodles. She shampooed Noodles. And while she was doing it, Noodles thought of several ways to make her wet all over. Noodles whisked her with his long, sopping tail. Noodles shook himself like a big dog and showered her with soapy water off his mane. Noodles nudged her with his bony nose so hard that she fell down in the mud puddle they were both making. Noodles took hold of the edge of the suds bucket with his teeth and tipped it and poured the suds all over Paisley’s sneakered feet.

  “Noodles!” Paisley screamed, sloshing up out of the mud, furious.

  “She’s going to hit him!” Inside the bedroom, Staci jumped up as if she were going to crash through the window like a TV cop hero to save Noodles.

  But Stirling put a hand on Staci’s arm. And as they watched, Paisley started laughing and put her arms around Noodles’s neck, sopping wet as he was, and hugged him.

  “She wouldn’t ever hurt anything,” Stirling told Staci, her voice like a sigh. “She doesn’t really mean to hurt us either. She just doesn’t think, that’s all. She’s kind of gung ho. My dad says he used to be the same way.”

  As soon as Paisley put Noodles back in his paddock after his bath, the pony went and rolled on the ground (fat belly wobbling, stubby legs waving in the air) and covered himself with dirt again.

  “Noodles!” Paisley protested. “Jeez! All that work.”

  The girls in the bedroom laughed at the rolling pony so loudly that Paisley heard them and thought they were laughing at her. She looked around and scowled. Then she looked back at her pony again. “Noodles! Oh, no.…”

  Noodles had trotted to his bucket of drinking water, eager to have more fun. He nudged the bucket and tipped it over. He pawed at the puddle of water now on the ground, making himself a wonderful mud hole. He tossed the empty bucket into the air with his teeth and watched with pricked ears as it thudded and clattered to the ground. He bunted it with his nose. He tossed it again, so high it landed outside the fence. He looked at it, then looked at Paisley like a little fluffy-maned white-and-golden angel, waiting for her to come refill his water bucket so he could do it all again and make his paddock a muddy mess just like the rest of the backyard.

  Paisley slumped to the ground, shaking her head. Noodles had settled in.

  8

  In Which an Expert Speaks

  Even after Noodles was settled in, Paisley didn’t ride him because of all his sore places. Every time she curried him, more sores appeared. On toward the end of the week she got so worried about them that she phoned her aunt Caledonia, Bruce McPherson’s sister, the one with twelve horses of her own—all of them always too hot-tempered or too old or too young or too something-or-other for a kid to ride, Stirling told Staci. Aunt Caledonia lived more than an hour’s car ride away, anyhow. And she was always busy. Paisley and Stirling didn’t get to see her very often.

  Most of this Stirling whispered to Staci and Toni while the three of them eavesdropped on Paisley’s phone call.

  “But Aunt Cal, I don’t know whether I’m helping him or hurting him! Sometimes it seems like brushing him just makes things worse!” Paisley listened. “Uh-huh.… It’s because they let him get so dirty? You’re sure it’s not my fault? Okay, I’ll just keep piling on the ointment. Antiseptic spray? Right, I’ll get some.… But do you think it’s okay for me to ride him when he has sore places on his back? I could put a towel or something over them … no, there isn’t any saddle. Nuh-uh. No bridle. Just a halter.… What? Hey, that would be great!” Paisley tilted her face away from the mouthpiece of the phone and bellowed, “Hey, Dad! Okay if Aunt Cal comes to visit this weekend?”

  “Aaak!” Staci complained, covering her ears. “Where does she think he is, China?”

  “Sure!” Bruce McPherson bellowed back just as loudly from the living room. He got on the phone and arranged the visit. All the McPhersons seemed excited. It was not often that Aunt Caledonia came to see them. She wanted to meet Bruce’s new wife, she told him.

  In fact, she had another reason as well. As Paisley admitted much later, what Aunt Caledonia had really said was, “Wait until I have a look at this pony before you kill yourself or him trying to ride him.”

  Saturday morning Paisley was up and dressed and out tending Noodles—behind the garage, out of sight—while the other girls were still yawning in front of TV cartoons in their nightgowns. After a while, curious, Toni and Staci and Stirling got dressed and wandered out to the paddock. They found Noodles spotless (except for the already-healing sores) and Paisley dirt-covered and kneeling on the ground, brushing something clear and shiny on the pony’s hooves.

  “Is that, like, nail polish?” Toni exclaimed.

  “Hoof polish. Same idea.” Paisley lifted a smudged and excited face. “I want him to look nice for Aunt Cal.”

  “Paisley,” Stirling accused suddenly, “have you been spending your savings account money for all this stuff?”

  “So what? It’s my money. Want to help me braid a mane?”

  “Forget it,” said Stirling, though her glance lingered on the freshly washed, fluffy creamy-blond mane.

  “Toni? Staci?”

  Staci felt a strange sensation in her mind, a sort of click, as if something had either snapped into place or broken loose. She felt like saying, Sure, she’d help braid Noodles’s mane. She felt like saying, Hey, Paisley, you’re not so bad, you’re not an incredible brat after all. In fact, she didn’t say or do anything. But she didn’t go away either, and while she and Toni and Stirling were standing there, around the corner of the garage strode Aunt Caledonia.

  First she hugged and kissed Stirling and Paisley. Then Bruce McPherson came out of the house and she hugged him. Then she had to be introduced to Staci and Toni. All this took a little time and while it was going on, Staci noticed something. Aunt Caledonia was built just like Paisley: tall, stocky, strong. In fact, Aunt Caledonia looked a lot like her brother. And Paisley looked like Mr. McPherson too. But Stirling didn’t look much like any of the McPhersons. Stirling must take after her mother, Staci decided. Her mother, who was stationed in Germany or someplace. Staci wondered when she would meet her. She wondered if it had been hard on Stirling and Paisley when their mother left them with their father. He was nice, but it must have been rough at first. Maybe it was still hard on Stirling, because she was so different.

  “And this is Noodles!” Paisley shoved all the grooming supplies out of the way and urged Noodles forward by his lead line. “Isn’t he a sweetheart?”

  Aunt Caledonia patted Noodles, but she didn’t seem to be interested in his long mane or adorable forelock or big blinky eyes or pretty markings. She was a horsewoman.

  “He needs to have his hooves trimmed,” was the first thing she said. “Get a farrier out here.”

  Businesslike, she looked Noodles up and down, walking around him to study him from every angle. Then she started running her hands down his legs, then lifting his feet. She glanced at the sores on his belly and at the base of his tail. “You’re doing fine with him, Paisley. You might want to use some baby oil on a soft cloth to clean out his ears. Just be sure you don’t push dirt down into them.” She asked Paisley to lead Noodles around while she watched. “Make him trot for me.” The little pony jogged along gaily beside Paisley. “Now make him stop.” Noodles stopped when Paisley did. Aunt Caledonia walked up to him and pressed her hand against the bony top of his nose. She did not have to press very hard before Noodles took a few steps back.

  “Good boy,” Aunt Caledonia told him, and she patted him with more warmth than she had shown before. “Paisley, why don’t you go ahead and find something to throw over him? I want to see you ride him.”

  While Paisley ran to the house to ask Cathy for an old towel or throw rug, Aunt Caledonia looked around. She
walked the length of Paisley’s fence. She nodded when she saw how Paisley had wired the water bucket to a fence post so Noodles couldn’t knock it over.

  “See if you can get an old bathtub for a water trough,” she told Paisley when Paisley came running back out. “Even a little pony like this needs a lot of water. Are you going to build him a loafing shed? He’ll need some shelter this winter.”

  “That’s my assignment,” Bruce McPherson called. He stood smiling at everyone with his arm around his new wife. Cathy had come out to watch Paisley ride.

  Paisley, clumsy with excitement, stumbled over every pebble and grass tuft in the paddock trying to get the throw rug and herself on Noodles. Without comment Aunt Caledonia went and helped her. Toni, Staci, and Stirling stood silently watching, not laughing even when Paisley tripped over the hoof dressing and spilled it. Even Staci chose not to make fun.

  “Here, let me give you a leg up so the blanket stays put.” Aunt Caledonia boosted Paisley onto Noodles, handed her the rope they had looped to the halter like reins. “Okay, just walk him. I want to see how he behaves.”

  Paisley rode Noodles around the paddock, and a big smile kept widening on her plain, dirty face, and Noodles behaved beautifully. He turned when she asked him to turn, went straight when she wanted to go straight, circled, stopped, walked on, all with just the halter. But Toni (of all people) could not help whispering to her twin, “She looks dumb on him!”

  It was true, and Staci could see it too. Paisley’s feet were hanging down way below Noodles’s belly. Paisley’s head towered above the pony’s. A week before, Staci would have shouted bitterly at Paisley, Hey, you big lunk, you look stupid on that little pony! But now she hushed Toni and stood watching.

  “Okay, Paisley,” Aunt Caledonia called, “bring him over here.”

  Paisley rode up, beaming, and slipped off Noodles. She patted his neck while he stood sleepily nodding. “Isn’t he super?” she exclaimed to her aunt.

  “He is a very, very nice pony,” said Aunt Caledonia firmly. She patted him too. “He’s quiet and yielding and very mannerly. So often people buy a pony because it’s pretty and it turns out to be a brat, not safe for a child to ride … yes, he’s very sweet, Paisley. He’s just like you said, a sweetheart. And you’ve done a terrific job with the paddock too, and with taking care of him. Your father says you’ve made arrangements to have him vetted and wormed, that’s great. And you’re introducing him to grain carefully. I’m really impressed, Paisley.”

  Aunt Caledonia was going so heavy on the praise that everybody could tell there was something unpleasant to follow, something she didn’t want to say. The adults, Bruce and Cathy, stiffened and listened hard, sensing something coming. Even Paisley sensed it. Paisley looked wide-eyed. Scared.

  Finally it came. “But there is a problem, Paisley.”

  “What?” Paisley spoke with far less than her usual volume.

  “Noodles isn’t very big.” Aunt Caledonia spoke so gently, everyone knew this was going to be bad. “In fact, he’s quite small even for a pony. With some ponies that might not matter except for looks, but Noodles is just not built to carry much weight. You can see he’s long, and he has a bit of a swayback.”

  Paisley was beginning to get the picture. “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  “It was all right for you to ride him at a walk today,” Aunt Caledonia continued, “but I’m really afraid if you were to ride him faster, or ride him very long even at a walk, it might hurt him.”

  Paisley didn’t make a sound, but her face tilted down, and two tears showed on her smudged cheeks, and Staci felt so awful she couldn’t look at her.

  Aunt Caledonia said, “He’s a lovely pony. But you can’t ride him if it might hurt him, can you?” Without looking up Paisley shook her head. “Of course not. I really think the best thing would be for you to take him back where you got him, before you get any more attached to him.”

  9

  In Which Noodles Becomes a Fontecchio

  “No!” Paisley shouted.

  “Paisley,” her father spoke up softly, “don’t scream at Aunt Cal. It’s not her fault Noodles is too little.”

  “But we can’t take him back there!” Paisley yelled at her father. “Those people kept him in barbed wire! They let him get sores all over!”

  “Paisley.” Her aunt’s calm voice made Paisley stop shouting. “I just thought it might be easier for you to have Noodles out of your sight. But if that won’t do, perhaps you could get yourself a larger pony to ride and let your sister ride Noodles. She’s small enough that she won’t outgrow him for a few years yet.”

  Paisley’s wet eyes widened and she looked at Stirling. Everybody looked at Stirling.

  And Stirling looked down at her little Cinderella-slippered feet—small and slender, like the rest of her, just the right size for Noodles—and mumbled, “I don’t want a pony.”

  Staci felt as if her brain was going to explode. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She liked Stirling, she knew Stirling was unhappy, and … how could Stirling be so stubborn, saying she didn’t want a pony when somebody was offering to give her one? “Stirling,” Staci burst out, “you do too!”

  Staring at the ground, Stirling shook her head.

  “Stirling, you do! I know you do! I—”

  Stirling jerked her head up, and her face was wet, like Paisley’s, and twisted with crying. “What about you!” she flared at Staci. “You should talk, you’re the one who wants Noodles so bad you hate everybody!”

  “Well, what about me!” wailed a third voice. Toni suddenly couldn’t stand it any longer. “Doesn’t anybody think I want a pony too?”

  Bruce McPherson stood with his mouth open. His sister turned to him and said mildly, “I thought you had an odd situation here, with four girls and only one who wanted a pony.”

  “Told you you didn’t know what you were getting into,” Cathy teased her new husband.

  He goggled at her, and she smiled at him. “Never mind,” she said. “We’ve got one pony in the backyard already. What’s a few more?”

  With an effort Mr. McPherson closed his mouth. Then he started to smile. “Right!” he said to his wife. “Okay, line up, take a number, one at a time,” he told the girls. Making a show of it, he got his notepad and Parker Brothers pen out of his shirt pocket. He poised the pen. “Staci. Put in your order now if you want a pony.”

  He was grinning like a kid, he was having fun, he really wanted to buy her a pony of her own! Suddenly it was easier for Staci to smile, to say the words, though her voice wouldn’t quite behave. “I’d love one,” she told him. “Thanks.”

  “You’re very welcome. Toni! One pony coming up, with trimmings?”

  “Wow. Yes. Thank you.” The Fontecchio twins glanced at each other with shining eyes. All at once they knew they were going to like their new stepfather someday. In fact, they liked him already.

  “Sure thing, Toni! Now, Paisley?”

  She stood looking lost, though not crying any longer. When her father caught her eye, she grinned wanly and nodded.

  “That’s my girl. And last but not least, Stirling. Do you want a pony or not?”

  She stood silent.

  “Stirling,” Staci urged.

  She was looking at the ground again. Her father cupped her chin in his hand and made her face him. “Truth,” he told her gently. “Do you want a pony?”

  “Stirling,” Staci pleaded.

  And finally Stirling shouted, almost as loud as Paisley could shout, “Of course I do! But you always give everything to Paisley first! You like her better than me!”

  “Aw, c’mon, hon, you know that’s not true!” Stirling’s father hugged her. “It’s just that Paisley and I have a lot in common, but I don’t always understand you. I can’t read your mind. You’ve got to tell me what you want. Okay?”

  “Okay,” mumbled Stirling into his shirt pocket.

  “Whew,” said Staci.

  “Turning human, Sis?” Toni
teased.

  “Oh, shut up,” said Staci.

  It took most of the day for things to really sort out. First Paisley and her father went off and had a talk, and then Mr. McPherson took Stirling somewhere for a chat. Cathy and Aunt Cal were making potato salad and getting acquainted, and the girls hung around the kitchen. None of them went near Noodles. And then it was lunchtime.

  Staci was the one who dared to ask, over lunch, what she couldn’t have said a week before: “Is Noodles going to belong to Stirling now?”

  “We were talking about that,” said Mr. McPherson. “Paisley and Stirling and I. This pony business has caused a lot of hard feelings already. I don’t want it causing any more.” His glance took in all four girls.

  Paisley said, “It was dumb of me to ask for a pony just for myself. I should have known it would cause all kinds of hassle.”

  “But, Paisley”—it was only the second time Staci had spoken to her since they found Noodles—“it’s not your fault. Your father only promised a pony to you.”

  “That’s because of the way I asked. He was watching the Super Bowl, and I said I wanted a pony, and he just sort of grunted.” Paisley gave her father a big grin. “Grunts mean ‘Yes.’”

  “You rascal,” Bruce McPherson said. “So that’s how I ‘promised’ you a pony.” He could not help smiling. Aunt Caledonia clicked her tongue. Cathy rolled her eyes. Staci and Toni gawked at Paisley, impressed, but Stirling seemed unsurprised.

  “Don’t you girls get any ideas,” Mr. McPherson told them. “Now I’m stuck buying ponies for all of you. I don’t get fooled by the same trick twice.” He seemed not at all unhappy. “But as far as Noodles is concerned—”

  Paisley interrupted. “We thought it would be fairest if you three pulled papers out of a hat or something.”

  Though she had convinced herself she didn’t care as much anymore, Staci’s heart jumped like an Olympic hurdler. Noodles might be hers after all! One chance in three …