The Thanksgiving Treasure by Gail Rock Page A

to it, I spit on my hand and held it out for him to shake. Much to my surprise, he spit on his hand too and slapped it up against mine and shook. I drew back my hand, all wet and sticky, and tried not to make a face.
    Then Carla Mae and I got up and cleared the table and gathered up the glass jars, because I knew Grandma would miss them. As we went out the door, Rehnquist said it was the best dinner he’d et in some time. He didn’t exactly thank us, but we decided that’s what he had meant to say.

Chapter Nine
    I went back to rehnquist’s the very next afternoon. I leaned my bike up against the front porch, but didn’t knock on the door, so he couldn’t accuse me of disturbing him. I thought I saw him watching from behind the curtains as I went toward the barn.
    Treasure was standing quietly in her stall, munching hay. I had brought her carrots and sugar again, and when I showed them to her, she came right to me. I talked to her, and let her get used to me a bit, then I found a brush and started to work on her. She was a little fidgety at first, but finally settled down and seemed to enjoy being groomed.
    After that, I was out there almost every day after school and on weekend afternoons. I told my folks that I was going bike riding, which was partly true. Carla Mae came with me once or twice, but she wasn’t much interested in horses, and was still a little afraid of Rehnquist. Eventually she stopped coming with me, but swore to keep my secret.
    At first, Rehnquist had come out to the barn to see that I knew what I was doing, and then when he saw that I had the hang of it and wasn’t going to kill myself, he left me pretty much on my own. I arranged a nice little tack room in the back of the barn, with all Treasure’s things—brushes, liniment, saddle and bridle. Once Treasure was used to me, I saddled her up and walked her around behind the barn. As we got better acquainted, I rode her farther and faster, until we were galloping around like Roy Rogers himself.
    Sometimes I would come into the barn and Rehnquist would be there, rubbing Treasure’s nose and talking softly to her. When he saw me, he would look embarrassed and pretend that he had been talking to himself, and he’d suddenly get real busy with some chores somewhere else. I could tell the horse was a real pet to him, and that he missed riding her, now that he was too old.
    I always took my sketch pad out to Rehnquist’s, and would draw Treasure. One cold day I was sitting on the porch drawing, when I heard him playing his concertina inside. I wanted to go in and warm up, so I went up and knocked on the door. He grumped about how I was pestering him, but he let me in.
    â€œYou do play your concertina, don’t you?” I said.
    â€œNo!” he said.
    â€œI heard you!” I said, going over to the table where he had left it.
    â€œHands off!”
    â€œI wasn’t touching it.”
    â€œYeah, well, don’t!”
    â€œYou don’t have to be so rude about it,” I said.
    He sat down with his face behind a newspaper and paid no more attention to me, so I went over and showed him my drawing of Treasure.
    â€œWhat do you think?” I asked.
    â€œNot bad.”
    I sat down in a chair facing him. “I’m going to draw a picture of you.”
    â€œOh no you ain’t!”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œGo home!” he said, irritably.
    â€œJust let me draw your picture!” I said, and started to sketch the outline of his face.
    He squirmed away from me in his chair. “Stop that …”
    â€œSit still!” I ordered him.
    â€œYou’re going to make some man a terrible wife someday!” he said angrily. “You’re too bossy!”
    â€œI’m not going to be a wife! I’m going to be a painter! ” I kept on drawing.
    â€œWhen you grow up, you’ll get married,” he said.
    â€œWant to bet?”
    â€œHow will I know if