Kids' Book Club

I had gone into the house to change my jeans, and I was only about halfway out of my boots – which were very muddy – when the phone started ringing. And it kept ringing, all the time I was pulling off my boots and hanging up my hat and pushing my hair out of my face. I was really wet – I’d been riding Happy in the arena when the rain fell out of the sky like water out of a bucket, and we were drenched so fast we just started laughing.

Dad was in the barn, and Mom jumped off of Jefferson and ran in there with him – she was right by the gate, so she didn’t get as wet as I did. I could barely see my way across the ring, the water was coming down so hard. But Happy didn’t care. All of our horses lived outside anyway. Rain was just a bath to them.

And then it all stopped. There we were, standing 1in the aisle of the barn, looking out at the clouds blowing off and the sun shining through the misty air. Mom said, ‘Oh, I love California. The weather just comes and goes. And there are no tornadoes. I love that the best.’ Back in Oklahoma, where Mom and Dad had grown up, there were tornadoes every day, or at least that’s how they made it sound when they talked about it.

But I had to change my jeans at least – my jacket had kept my shirt a little dry.

The phone rang and rang, and I knew because of that it would be Jane Slater, and it was. Jane was a trainer at the big stable on the coast; she had helped us sell a horse there in the autumn. She said, ‘Oh, Abby! How are you? I do so miss talking to you. What’s it been?’

I said, ‘We saw you at New Year’s. How—’

But she was excited about something, so she in- terrupted me. She said, ‘Then I didn’t tell you that Melinda is back, did I?’

‘No,when...’

‘She hasn’t grown an inch, and Ellen Leinsdorf thinks she’s her worst enemy! Their lessons are back to back, and they’re both riding Gallant Man, be- cause, you know, there’s been a big brouhaha about Melinda’s parents’ divorce, and they have to half-lease him to the Leinsdorfs to afford the board, which is fine, but, goodness! What am I talking about?’

Ellen and Melinda were two students she taught; I’d helped her with them from time to time. Melinda was older – about ten – but Ellen was tougher. I laughed to think about them and said, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, Abby, I miss you. I feel surrounded by little little girls!’

I said, ‘I miss you, too.’ ‘Well, why don’t you come over here and look at

this horse, and I can see you.’ ‘What horse?’ ‘Such a sad story. But he’s a nice horse. His name is True Blue. Very pretty dappled grey, black mane and tail, black points. Is your dad around?’

Just then, Dad came in. I handed him the phone and ran upstairs. That was the first I heard of Blue. While I was looking for a clean pair of jeans, the rain came again, and by the time it was over, the arena was too soaked to ride any more that day, because even if there was no more rain for the rest of the weekend, it would take twenty-four hours (‘Only a day!’ Dad always said) for the arena to drain. This meant that our work in the winter could be a little in- termittent, but at least there were no blizzards.