Cutting Horse by Bonnie Bryant Page A

Maybe some of what she’d said the night before had sunk in. Maybe John realized howbadly he’d been behaving. Before she could wonder about it more, someone on the set screamed, “Quiet!” The filming had begun.
    At first it was exciting. Blake Pratt, Director, was truly in his element: barking orders left and right; doing retakes; screaming “Makeup!” when Skye needed a touch-up; and generally keeping things rolling. But even in this new scene, without the horse and cattle, it was next to impossible to get a perfect take. Skye was having a lot of trouble following the director’s orders. And as interesting as the whole process was, after watching Skye get out of a pickup truck, slam the door, whistle for his dog, and push his cowboy hat back on his head seventeen times, even his biggest fans, The Saddle Club, were getting a little fidgety.
    The dog was evidently bored, too. On the eighteenth take, instead of coming when Skye whistled, he began to yap and run in circles. Then he ran pell-mell for the director, growling and snapping. Blake Pratt was not a man to take the dog’s antics in stride. As John and The Saddle Club watched, he exploded into a rage. “Get that thing outta here!” he screamed. “Get it away from me! You shut your trap, you stupid cur! Scram! I said now!”
    Stevie leaned in toward her friends. “This guy isn’texactly the world’s biggest animal lover, is he?” she whispered.
    By this point the dog had the director backed up against the viewing platform. The crew, stifling laughter, had made no move to rescue their boss.
    “I guess everyone wishes they could be the dog,” Lisa said, “and finally give him a piece of their mind.”
    Finally, when it was clear that nobody was going to do anything, John stood up. He walked to the edge of the platform and spoke to the dog in a low, firm voice. The dog cocked his ears and sat back on his haunches, listening. John told him to lie down, which he did, his tail wagging.
    Now that he was safe, Blake Pratt started sputtering with anger. He turned on John, who had come down and was holding the dog. “You idiot! Why didn’t you come get him sooner? I could have been killed by that rabid hellhound! One bite from him and I’d be dead! You hear me? Dead! What were you thinking? Why, I oughta—!” Shaking his fists at John, the little man stomped off.
    A member of the crew yelled, “Fifteen-minute break for coffee!” and The Saddle Club scrambled down to join John.
    “What a jerk!” Stevie cried. “Here you were, trying to help!”
    “Listen,” John said quickly, “I’d better get back to the stables. I’ve already been away for over an hour. Make sure you get this dog to the animal trainer, okay?” Before the girls could think of a way to urge him not to go, John had slipped into the crowd.
    “Hey! Wait a minute!” Skye called, running up to join them.
    Seeing him approach, Lisa understood why John had run off. Even if Skye wanted to thank him, it would have made John feel awkward after he had been so rude the day before.
    “Where did John go?” Skye asked. “I wanted to tell him how much we appreciated his stepping in like that.”
    Carole began, “We don’t know, but we—”
    “He had some important errands to run for the Devines,” Lisa said firmly.
    “Oh. Well, if you see him, tell him thanks for me, okay? As you could see, everybody on the crew was paralyzed. I think we all secretly hoped Rex would take a chunk out of Blake’s leg,” Skye admitted.
    Silently Lisa was thankful that Skye still seemed willing to be friendly with John. Being in the movie business, Skye was probably used to dealing with rudeness. Evidently it didn’t ruffle his feathers.
    “So, Skye, exactly how many more times are you going to have to shoot this scene?” Stevie asked.
    Skye chuckled. “Sorry about that. It’s not usually quite this boring,” he said. “You see, this is a close-up shot, so we have to get everything perfect. If I