If Wishes Were Horses. Carolyn McSparren

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      Halfway up the ladder, Pat stopped and glared over her shoulder at Liz. “You really hurt?”

      “I am stiff and sore, thank you.”

      Pat said nothing for a moment, then she started down. “Get out of the way.”

      Liz stepped off the ladder and stood waiting in the aisle with her hands on her hips. “Come into the lounge so we can discuss this properly.”

      Pat slouched ahead of her, dropped onto the leather couch, crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.

      “Did we or did we not have an agreement about tantrums?”

      “You gave that stuck-up Janey my Traveller. How could you?” Pat wailed.

      Liz blew out her breath and sank gingerly into one of the chairs. “Janey is an experienced rider. I’m too big to work Iggy, and Vic doesn’t ride. Every step Janey takes on that pony teaches him.”

      “But I want to ride him now.”

      “Forget it.”

      Pat set her jaw and glowered. Liz did not react.

      After a moment Pat sighed and said, “Okay. But only if I can stay late for an extra lesson every day this week.”

      “God, you drive a hard bargain. Anything for a peaceful life.” Liz pulled herself to her feet. “So go get Wishbone tacked up and get yourself into that arena.” She walked out.

      Pat uttered a deeply put-upon sigh and heaved herself off the sofa just as Vic stuck her head in the door.

      “You’re in my class today,” Vic said. “I warn you, I don’t put up with bad manners. One fit and you’re out.”

      “Everybody’s always trying to throw me out.”

      “No, we’re trying to keep you in. You just make it darned difficult for us.” She put her arm across Pat’s shoulders. “Listen, you’ve got the makings of a good rider.”

      Pat shook off the arm. “How come you don’t ride? You’re scared, right?”

      Vic caught her breath. “Boy, you go for the jugular, don’t you? Okay,” Vic continued. “I used to think I stopped riding because I was scared for myself. That’s not it. I’m terrified that somebody else will do something stupid and will get hurt because I’m not good enough to get out of the way. I can’t take that chance again.”

      “That’s silly.”

      “You asked. I told you. Now get Wishbone ready. We’re ten minutes late.”

      

      PAT’S LESSON WENT smoothly enough. She did everything Vic asked of her including trying to post at the trot. Toward the end she seemed to click into the rhythm. She did have the makings of a rider.

      Janey, meanwhile, handled Traveller beautifully. At the rate she was taking him, he’d be jumping small fences in a week.

      At four o’clock Liz found herself hanging around inside the barn waiting for Mike Whitten to pick up Pat. When the silver Volvo pulled into the parking lot ten minutes later she felt her heart lurch. It sank as a plump lady climbed out of the driver’s side.

      “Hey, I’m Melba Hannaford come for Pat.” She presented a note from Mike.

      “Oh? Where’s Mr. Whitten?”

      “Had to go out of town for a couple of days.”

      Pat saw Mrs. Hannaford, and after a moment’s hesitation, took her on the same tour of the barn she’d dragged her father on.

      She wasn’t so lucky at dragging out her visit, however. “No. I’ve got to stop by the store and get dinner in the oven,” Mrs. Hannaford said. “You’ll be back tomorrow.”

      Pat stormed off to the car, climbed in and slammed the door. Through the windshield, Liz, Vic and Mrs. Hannaford could see her staring bullets at them.

      “I hope he’ll be back in time for the barbecue and sleepover Friday night,” Vic said.

      “Sleepover?”

      “The parents are all coming for dinner, then the kids will stay over in sleeping bags on the lounge floor.”

      “Oh, dear, I don’t think Mr. Whitten would allow that. Pat has never slept over at anybody’s house.”

      “Time she started, then,” Vic said.

      Mrs. Hannaford smiled. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him. Oh, can he bring a date?”

      “Sure,” Liz said. Her voice sounded like a croak. “Now, I’ve got to go work out my jumper before my next lesson shows up. Nice to have met you.”

      Of course Mike Whitten would bring a date. He must have dozens of women—beautiful, fashionable, clean women. Why did it bother her so badly? She turned to find Vic at her elbow and asked, “What’s this about a barbecue? We can’t afford it.”

      “We can’t afford not to. Albert and I have everything arranged.”

      “I should have guessed.”

      “This is a family barn, Liz. Time we started treating it that way again. Show Whitten what a marvelous atmosphere it is for kids.”

      “He’ll never let her eat barbecue in the open. He probably prefers pheasant under glass—suitably disinfected, of course.” Liz stomped off with Trusty’s halter in her hand.

      Vic raised her eyebrows at Albert, who was straightening the wash rack and surreptitiously watching Liz. He nodded and grinned. “Uh-huh. Thought so.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      FRIDAY THE CAMPERS brought sleeping bags and paraphernalia for the sleepover. All except Pat. Mrs. Hannaford explained to Vic. “Mr. Whitten gets in from San Francisco at noon. I’ve talked to him on the telephone about the sleepover and the party, but he hasn’t made his decision yet.” She patted Vic’s arm. “I think I can persuade him to let Pat stay. I’m off to buy Pat a new sleeping bag. He can bring it with him tonight.”

      Because all the kids were staying late, there was no extra lesson for Pat in the afternoon. She really didn’t need one. She had worked hard all week, and was progressing as well as everyone else.

      Much to Liz’s amazement, Pat and Janey were becoming a team. They giggled together, ate together, played with the kittens together. Pat had become accustomed to Wishbone, but Liz caught her looking at Traveller wistfully, particularly now that Janey had progressed to trotting the pony over poles on the ground and cantering low jumps.

      Liz knew Pat was still scared, although she hid it well. She did fine at the trot, but so far she’d categorically refused to try to push Wishbone into a canter. Each day she told Liz she’d try, and each day she reneged.

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