you shouldn’t be buying from my stock anyway. Now, tell me, uh—Lizzie, is it?”
“Lisa,” she said.
“Right, Lisa,” he said. “Have you been riding long?”
“Just a little while,” said Lisa. “And I really love it. I just want a pretty horse that’s all mine. Mom, I promise I’m going to love it to pieces! Have you got any white ones?”
“White? Well, if that’s what you want, then that’s what you must have!” he said.
“One with a silky mane,” said Carole. She nearly choked on the words as she uttered them, though. The problem was that she couldn’t think of anything less important about a horse than what color his coat was or if his mane was “silky.” Manes became silky when they were properly brushed and combed.
“A silky mane, too?” Mr. Denver said. “Boy, you girls sure know exactly what you want, don’t you? You must have been doing a lot of studying!”
“We sure have,” Lisa said.
“Well, I think this is your lucky day,” said Mr. Denver. “Because I happen to have just exactly the horse you are describing. Mind you, this horse has been in my family for a long time. She was my daughter’s favorite horse when she was learning. She rodeher in dozens of shows—do you ride in shows?” he asked Lisa.
“Well, I’d really
like
to,” Lisa said. “Would I win ribbons with this horse?”
“You’d have to buy a whole glass cabinet for your ribbons, Liz—er, Lisa,” he said.
“Blue ones?” Lisa asked.
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” said Mr. Denver.
“Oh, Mom, I want to see this horse!” said Lisa. Her voice was eager and breathless—just the way she wanted to sound.
“Then you shall,” said Deborah. “Let’s meet him, Mr. Denver.”
“Her,” Mr. Denver said, correcting Deborah’s assumption. “Blondie is a
her
,” he explained unnecessarily.
“Oh, you mean, like a
mare
?” Carole asked.
“Wow, you know that term?” Mr. Denver said.
Carole swallowed her pride and nodded, smiling broadly at the man.
Mr. Denver took the girls and Deborah through the barn and out to a paddock on the far side. And there was Blondie. Mr. Denver whistled. The horse’s ears pricked up. He whistled again.
“Here, girl,” he said. “There are some nice young ladies to see you!” He kept talking and whistling while the horse came over to them.
Carole and Lisa both studied everything they could about the mare while she approached them. The hard part was that they didn’t want to look as if they were studying the mare with practiced eyes. They wanted to
look
as if all they cared about was a white coat and a silky mane.
“This way, girl,” Mr. Denver said. “See how pretty her coat is. Now, she’s been out in the field, so there’s some dirt on her, but you won’t see a prettier white than that coat, I promise you. And the mane? It’s like pure silk!”
Blondie arrived and waited obediently while Mr. Denver gave her a little piece of carrot. Carole tried not to frown. Giving a horse a treat was okay as long as the horse had done something to deserve it. Walking over to her owner didn’t really qualify in Carole’s book. She covered her frown with a smile.
“Oh, she’s beautiful!” said Carole.
“Mom, I’ve just got to ride her!” said Lisa. “Can I, Mr. Denver?” she asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t think of selling a horse to someone without letting her ride it first. Of course you can. You wait just a minute and I’ll put the tack on Blondie—you know what tack is, don’t you?” he asked.
“Is that, like, the saddle and the rein thing?” Lisa asked.
“Very bright girl you’ve got here, Mrs. Hale,” said Mr.Denver. “That’s right. Tack is the saddle and the rein thing. It’ll just take me a minute,” he said. With that, he took Blondie by her halter and led her into the barn.
“The
rein thing
?” Carole whispered to Lisa.
“So far, you’re perfect,” Deborah told the girls. “Both of you. I personally
loved
the ‘rein
“Lisa,” she said.
“Right, Lisa,” he said. “Have you been riding long?”
“Just a little while,” said Lisa. “And I really love it. I just want a pretty horse that’s all mine. Mom, I promise I’m going to love it to pieces! Have you got any white ones?”
“White? Well, if that’s what you want, then that’s what you must have!” he said.
“One with a silky mane,” said Carole. She nearly choked on the words as she uttered them, though. The problem was that she couldn’t think of anything less important about a horse than what color his coat was or if his mane was “silky.” Manes became silky when they were properly brushed and combed.
“A silky mane, too?” Mr. Denver said. “Boy, you girls sure know exactly what you want, don’t you? You must have been doing a lot of studying!”
“We sure have,” Lisa said.
“Well, I think this is your lucky day,” said Mr. Denver. “Because I happen to have just exactly the horse you are describing. Mind you, this horse has been in my family for a long time. She was my daughter’s favorite horse when she was learning. She rodeher in dozens of shows—do you ride in shows?” he asked Lisa.
“Well, I’d really
like
to,” Lisa said. “Would I win ribbons with this horse?”
“You’d have to buy a whole glass cabinet for your ribbons, Liz—er, Lisa,” he said.
“Blue ones?” Lisa asked.
“Sure thing, sweetheart,” said Mr. Denver.
“Oh, Mom, I want to see this horse!” said Lisa. Her voice was eager and breathless—just the way she wanted to sound.
“Then you shall,” said Deborah. “Let’s meet him, Mr. Denver.”
“Her,” Mr. Denver said, correcting Deborah’s assumption. “Blondie is a
her
,” he explained unnecessarily.
“Oh, you mean, like a
mare
?” Carole asked.
“Wow, you know that term?” Mr. Denver said.
Carole swallowed her pride and nodded, smiling broadly at the man.
Mr. Denver took the girls and Deborah through the barn and out to a paddock on the far side. And there was Blondie. Mr. Denver whistled. The horse’s ears pricked up. He whistled again.
“Here, girl,” he said. “There are some nice young ladies to see you!” He kept talking and whistling while the horse came over to them.
Carole and Lisa both studied everything they could about the mare while she approached them. The hard part was that they didn’t want to look as if they were studying the mare with practiced eyes. They wanted to
look
as if all they cared about was a white coat and a silky mane.
“This way, girl,” Mr. Denver said. “See how pretty her coat is. Now, she’s been out in the field, so there’s some dirt on her, but you won’t see a prettier white than that coat, I promise you. And the mane? It’s like pure silk!”
Blondie arrived and waited obediently while Mr. Denver gave her a little piece of carrot. Carole tried not to frown. Giving a horse a treat was okay as long as the horse had done something to deserve it. Walking over to her owner didn’t really qualify in Carole’s book. She covered her frown with a smile.
“Oh, she’s beautiful!” said Carole.
“Mom, I’ve just got to ride her!” said Lisa. “Can I, Mr. Denver?” she asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t think of selling a horse to someone without letting her ride it first. Of course you can. You wait just a minute and I’ll put the tack on Blondie—you know what tack is, don’t you?” he asked.
“Is that, like, the saddle and the rein thing?” Lisa asked.
“Very bright girl you’ve got here, Mrs. Hale,” said Mr.Denver. “That’s right. Tack is the saddle and the rein thing. It’ll just take me a minute,” he said. With that, he took Blondie by her halter and led her into the barn.
“The
rein thing
?” Carole whispered to Lisa.
“So far, you’re perfect,” Deborah told the girls. “Both of you. I personally
loved
the ‘rein
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