Rose's Story Read online

  “Has everyone finished?” Kat asked. “Let’s go to the tower.”

  Rose followed the other girls as they hurried along the short path to the lighthouse. Rose couldn’t shake the uncanny feeling that she was meant to be there. And that somehow she was coming back to a place where she had been before—though she knew she hadn’t! She had certainly never climbed up a long ladder in a narrow dark shaft surrounded by curved stone walls. When she finally reached the tower at the top of the ladder, she was blinded by the sunlight flooding into the round room. Huge windows curved all around.

  Rose caught her breath. Below, the ocean stretched as far as she could see. The steady beat of the waves lapping at the shore was hypnotic. With miles of sky all around, the tower seemed to float above the clouds.

  “Well, what do you think?” Kat watched her, grinning. “It is a special place,” Rose whispered. “Our place. The tower is really for standing watch after dark,” Kat said, “to make sure that the light is on and rotating and that no ships are in trouble. That’s my family’s job.”

  “But Kat, Amanda, and I—we meet here whenever we can,” Lizabeth said.

  Rose spotted some watercolor paintings propped up on a shelf. They were amazing depictions of the scene from the windows. “These are wonderful. Where did you get them?”

  “Kat painted them,” Lizabeth said.

  Rose looked at Kat in surprise. “I thought…I thought a professional artist had come up here. I can’t believe how good they are!”

  “Thank you.” Kat smiled, coloring with pleasure.

  “Kat dreams about being a famous artist,” Amanda said.

  Kat shook her head. “Not famous, so much. A good artist.”

  “Come on, Kat, admit it,” Lizabeth said. “You intend to be great. The greatest artist who ever lived, woman or not!”

  “Lizabeth dreams about silk and satin and the latest fashions from France,” Kat said.

  “I think about other things, too,” Lizabeth protested.

  “Oops, sorry,” Kat said. “I left out lace and feathered hats and—”

  “Oh, stop!” Lizabeth laughed.

  It was mild, affectionate teasing, Rose thought, that showed what very good friends they were. They were lucky.

  Kat smiled. “And Amanda dreams about a certain boy—”

  “Who stares at her in church, “Lizabeth continued.

  Amanda stood up and went to a window, quickly turning her back to them. “Let’s do something. Play jacks or—”

  “She doesn’t want us to see her blush.” Lizabeth giggled. “In fact, ever since the barn dance, they’re madly in love!”

  Amanda whirled around. “I’m not in love! I’m much too young to even think of courting!”

  Rose could see that the teasing was bothering Amanda. Don’t they see the sadness in her eyes, Rose wondered. But Lizabeth continued with, “Well, Jed Langford certainly thinks of…”

  Impulsively Rose interrupted to deflect their attention. “I’m the one who’s in love,” she announced.

  “You are?” Amanda asked. “Do your parents know?”

  “With someone in New York?” Kat asked.

  “Tell us!” Lizabeth’s eyes were wide. “With who?”

  Rose laughed. “With horses!”

  “Oh, please.” Lizabeth groaned.

  “No, really,” Rose said. “It happened here at Clayton Stables, when I was ten. I just fell for them. I wasn’t the least bit afraid. I just loved their soft muzzles, and the way their ears and nostrils flutter, and their whinnies. And the flowing manes, and the large eyes with those lovely lashes. When we came back to the city, I kept dreaming of the smell of the stables: the hay, the molasses feed—”

  Lizabeth rolled her eyes. “And the manure.”

  “Even that. I just wanted to be there.”

  Kat smiled. “You really did fall in love.”

  “I started riding lessons as soon as I came home. And now for the best thing! Uncle Ned promised I could pick a horse, one special horse for me to ride!” Rose couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

  “But if you rode in the city, isn’t that the same thing?” Amanda asked.

  “Oh, no, not at all! At riding class I had a different horse every time. There’s no chance to really get to know one. It’s like renting a dog for an hour! Those horses have to put up with riders who yank too hard on their reins and hurt their mouths, and riders who don’t know how to post and bounce on their backs. The horses just want to get back to their stalls.” Rose sighed. “It was the only place I could take lessons. I was learning to jump. I love that! And I needed to learn, so someday when I have a horse of my own…”

  Rose bit her lip. She had been going on and on. “I’m sorry. Honestly, I never talk this much.”

  Amanda smiled. “When we’re in the tower, we all talk a lot.”

  “So your dream is to have a horse of your own,” Kat said, “and now it’s about to come true.”

  “It won’t really be my own horse,” Rose corrected. “Uncle Ned might still use it for riding classes or for breeding, but I’ll have the same horse to ride every time, and we’ll get to know each other and I’ll ride every single day and…It’s almost as good as having my own.”

  “When can you pick it?” Lizabeth asked.

  “Anytime. I can’t wait! I was going to the stables right after school, but then you invited me here and—”

  “Well, the afternoon’s not over and I want to see you choose,” Kat said.

  “Let’s all go,” Amanda said.

  “Riding clothes are elegant,” Lizabeth said. “I love the scarlet jackets and black velvet hats they wear for fox hunting.”

  Kat stared at her. “Who’d want to hunt a poor little fox?”

  “I saw it in a magazine,” Lizabeth said. “They have hunt breakfasts and wear the most elegant clothes.”

  “My mother bought a divided skirt for me so I don’t have to ride sidesaddle,” Rose said. “It’s a brand-new fashion that was introduced in Saratoga. You know, where the famous racetrack is in upstate New York.”

  Amanda looked shocked. “Does it look like wearing trousers?”

  “No, it’s wide and flared, mostly like a skirt, I guess. It’s much easier to keep your balance astride.”

  “Astride?” Lizabeth said. “You mean with your legs parted? Like a man?”

  “Just so you can use your legs to direct the horse,” Rose said.

  “And a divided skirt is all right with your mother?” Lizabeth asked. “She actually gave it to you?”

  Rose wished she had never mentioned it. Maybe it was acceptable for riding class in New York, but it would never do in Cape Light! What had she been thinking? “My mother was just…just showing me what funny things they wear in Saratoga. It was a joke.”

  “It makes sense for riding,” Kat said, “or biking—you could ride a boy’s bike—or if you need to climb a tree.”

  “Why would you ever need to climb a tree?” Lizabeth asked.

  “For the fun of it! I’d love a skirt like that,” Kat said.

  Kat’s not quiet and inside herself like I am, Rose thought. She’ll say anything!

  “Should we stop off at your house and get it before we—” Kat started.

  “Oh, no,” Rose said quickly. There was no telling what Momma might be up to! “I won’t even stop for my boots and hat. I…I guess I won’t ride today, I’ll just…Let’s just go straight to my uncle Ned’s and choose a horse!”

  four

  The smell of hay and the deep, moist breaths of the horses filled Rose’s heart.

  “Now Monogram here…I admit he’s not much to look at. His back is a little swayed and he’s a little cow-hocked.” Uncle Ned had led Rose, Amanda, Lizabeth, and Kat past a row of stalls.

  They had reached the last stall and they were looking at a plain brown horse, about sixteen hands high. Rose listened closely to Uncle Ned’s every word.

  “But Monogram is a nice horse, easy
to get along with, and a pleasure around the barn. Intelligent, always willing—”

  Monogram interrupted by leaning his head over the stall door and nuzzling Uncle Ned’s shoulder. Uncle Ned smiled and patted the massive muzzle. “A lot of heart in this horse, Rose.”

  The girls trailed Uncle Ned outdoors from the stable and along the path leading to the paddocks. In the sunlight, Uncle Ned’s deeply tanned skin looked leathery, with deep crinkles around his eyes. His light brown hair had sun-bleached streaks.

  He pointed to a corral in the far distance. “Yonder are the broodmares due to foal later this spring. You’ll want to see the colts.”

  Colts! And horses, horses, horses. This was heaven. Rose was sure the air smelled sweeter here and the sky was bluer.

  “Have you seen one you like yet?” Uncle Ned asked her. “I like them all!”

  The near paddock had horses of all sizes and colors. Some grazed peacefully, moving slowly to new tufts of grass. Some stood at rest in the shade of a tree. Others frolicked together, kicking up their back legs. It made Rose’s heart sing to see horses being—well, just being natural horses. She was sure they were enjoying this soft early spring day.

  When they approached the paddock, Rose’s attention was drawn by a sudden burst of movement. A dark horse galloped away to the fence on the far side of the paddock.

  Rose was riveted. He was a beauty, dark chestnut with a moon-shaped white marking between his eyes. His flowing mane and tail were inky black. His legs were slender, etched and muscular. He stood still as a statue, shining in the sunlight, a breathtaking picture against the green of the grass and the white post-and-rail fence.

  “That horse,” Rose breathed. “The chestnut.”

  “Midnight Star,” Uncle Ned said. “Beautiful, isn’t he? I’m selling him next week.”

  Uncle Ned pointed. “The Appaloosa there is American Eagle, a ten-year-old gelding. Very spirited, but a little immature.”

  Rose couldn’t take her eyes from the chestnut horse. Did Uncle Ned mean Midnight Star had already been promised to a buyer? She was suddenly heartsick.

  “Eagle doesn’t get scared, but he gets confused and he’ll stop cold,” Uncle Ned was saying. Rose forced herself to pay attention. “You have to find a way to make things clear to him.”

  Star’s silky black mane…Rose imagined burying her face in it as she rode….

  “Nellie is the little dappled mare under the tree,” Uncle Ned continued. “Now she’s a sweetheart. Obedient and gentle. She tends to shy sometimes, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

  Rose wrenched her eyes from Star to look at the mare.

  “I’d pick Nellie,” Amanda said.

  “I’d take American Eagle,” Kat said, “or that spirited one we saw back in the stalls. Clayton’s Comet.”

  “You can take your time and see which horse you get along with best, Rose.” Uncle Ned’s eyes swept her from head to shoes. “Though I won’t let you ride without boots and a hard hat, you know that.”

  “I’ll bring them tomorrow,” Rose mumbled.

  As they reached the fence, American Eagle whinnied and trotted toward them. “Hoping for a carrot.” Uncle Ned smiled. “That horse has no manners.”

  Maybe Star wasn’t definitely promised to someone else, Rose thought.

  “Now next to Nellie, that’s Toby Boy with the white stockings, part Arabian and a little rambunctious, but—”

  “Wait, Uncle Ned, tell me about Midnight Star,” Rose interrupted.

  “Star? He’s a five-year-old thoroughbred, bred to race.”

  “Has someone already bought him?” Please say no, Rose thought.

  “No.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad, Uncle Ned!” She wanted to jump and dance and whirl around. “I choose Midnight Star!”

  “No, Rose. He’s not the right horse for you.”

  “But why not?” Rose asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Take my word for it. Forget him.”

  “But…why?”

  “From what I understand, he was pushed into racing too early, before his joints had developed properly.” Uncle Ned boosted himself up and sat on the top rail of the fence. “Star was fast and as long as he won, no one especially cared if his training caused him suffering.”

  “Suffering?” Amanda whispered.

  An uncomfortable tingle started in the small of Rose’s back.

  “He had a strained tendon—that’s when they say a horse is broke down—and maybe they cold-hosed it to lessen the swelling and worked him again too soon. He was still a moneymaker. Though I heard they had a devil of a time forcing Star into the gate.”

  Rose dreaded hearing more. She wanted to close her ears and her mind from whatever else was coming. But she couldn’t turn away.

  “He won a fair number of races for a while,” Uncle Ned continued, “but then—my guess is he couldn’t handle the pain anymore—he started losing. If you touch his flanks, you can feel the scars from the whip.”

  Rose winced.

  “Pretty good records are kept on racehorses. But after he was sold off, that’s where I lose the trail. No telling how many times he changed hands. By the time I saw him, he was skin and bones; someone had half-starved him.”

  Rose couldn’t help picturing him with protruding ribs, bones jutting through the unkempt chestnut hide, the stomach caved in with aching hunger. Oh, Star!

  “I was at a horse fair downstate and he was in a group with some old, lame carriage horses, bought up for slaughter. A sad thing to see. And you know, there was something about Star in the middle of that group—class in his conformation, some kind of dignity—that made me go ahead and buy him from the slaughterer. A foolish impulse, I guess. I was betting that with quality feed and plenty of rest out in the field, he might be all right.”

  “He is! He looks wonderful now, Uncle Ned.” There was a happy ending to Star’s story!

  “He does, Mr. Clayton,” Kat added.

  “He’s not all right,” Uncle Ned said. “It’s nothing physical beyond what you’d expect in an ex-racehorse. But this horse was bullied. His experience with people was all about fear and abuse. Did you see how he galloped as far from us as he could get when we approached the fence? He won’t bolt outright—my guess is that’s brought him painful punishment before—but he’s always anxious and on the verge of rearing, expecting the worst from you. He’s paralyzed with tension. I can’t use him for riding instruction, he’s a gelding so he’s no good for breeding, and…I have to get rid of him. I have someone coming for him next week.”

  “What does that mean?” Rose’s voice broke. “Does that mean he’ll be sold for slaughter?”

  “Could be.” Uncle Ned looked uncomfortable. “Look, I don’t like it, but what am I supposed to do with him? I tried. I saved him once. But nobody can reach him. I can’t palm him off on someone for pleasure riding.”

  “After all he’s been through, Mr. Clayton,” Kat said, “couldn’t he just stay here?”

  “I’m as sorry as anybody. But caring for a horse properly is expensive—the feed is the least of it. There’s the grooming—I have to tell you, the grooms don’t like dealing with his hostility—the shoes, worming, even the stall space. I board horses, too, and I have only so many stablehands. I’m sorry, but each horse here has to earn its keep or Clayton Stables fails.” Uncle Ned hopped off the fence rail and took a step forward on the path. “Come, I want to show you Cheyenne Princess.”

  Kat, Amanda, and Lizabeth started to follow along, but Rose couldn’t move.

  “Star is the one I want, Uncle Ned.”

  “Rose, take a look at Princess. She has a kind eye and—”

  “Star is the only one I want.”

  Uncle Ned looked at her, puzzled. “Why would you pick a horse like that over Nellie or Eagle?”

  “Why would you?” Lizabeth echoed.

  Star stood still and wary, far off in the field.

  “Because I have to save him,” Rose sa
id.

  Rose knew she couldn’t possibly see Star’s eyes from this distance, so how could she think he was looking directly at her? But he was! She felt it.

  Rose had always liked Uncle Ned. She was dismayed to think that he might be heartless.

  “If Star is difficult because he was abused,” Rose said, “are you going to punish him for that by letting him be slaughtered? For…for glue or dog food? That’s wrong!”

  Uncle Ned met her beseeching stare. “I’m running a business.”

  “It’s still wrong.” Rose locked her eyes into his.

  Uncle Ned looked both annoyed and defensive. “It would be very nice to run a rescue operation for abused and abandoned horses. That takes funding. Do you have the funding, Rose?”

  Rose forced herself to keep from looking away. She wouldn’t let herself be intimidated by his sarcasm! But she softened her tone. “Please let me try to turn him around. Please, Uncle Ned, give me some time with him.”

  Uncle Ned dropped his gaze first. “You’ll change your mind when you get a closer look,” he said. “Let’s lead him in.”

  The girls waited while Uncle Ned picked up a bridle and reins. Then they went into the paddock and across the grass.

  As they came closer to Star, Rose could see how stiffly he held himself.

  “Stay away from his back legs, you never know,” Uncle Ned told the girls. “Fear could make him dangerous.”

  The horse made no attempt to kick or run, but he seemed to be shrinking from them.

  “Do you want to put the bridle on?” Uncle Ned asked Rose.

  She nodded.

  “Always work from his left side,” he said.

  “I know.”

  Star, motionless, allowed her to put the bridle in place and adjust the bit. Anyone watching, Rose thought, would think this was an easy horse to handle. But Rose felt the trembling and the tension in his body. She sensed his clamped-down quiet terror.

  All horses’ eyes are large and dark and set in the same place on their heads, Rose thought, but they’re all completely different. Star’s eyes weren’t curious or outgoing. His gaze was inward, as though he was trying to be far away from everything around him. Dear God, she thought, one of your most noble creatures has been horribly damaged. Please, God, if there is any way to heal him, help me find it.