Horse Trade Read Free

control.
    “Osay ivegay erhay a reakbay,” Phil said. “On’tday akemay nyaay napsay udgmentsjay.”
    That was it! Stevie had heard all she cared to. “Coming in,” she called, to warn Phil and the horse that she’d be entering the stall. As she carefully entered, she noticed the horse’s tail was switching alertly.
    Working her way along the side of the stall, Stevie checked the horse’s legs and saw that on her left side she had long white socks—knee socks. And on the other side she had short white socks, anklets. The markings were unusual and very striking. By the time Stevie got to the horse’s nose, she was so taken with the beauty of the animal, she forgot to be angry with Phil.
    The horse was a light bay mare with an unusually rich brown coat. From her large, intelligent eyes, her small muzzle, and the
mitbah
curve of her head and neck, Stevie could see that she had Arabian blood. But from her rich, thick tail and mane, and her long legs, Stevie could also tell that the horse was part Saddlebred.
    “Don’t listen to Phil,” Stevie said softly, moving slowly around to the front so that she could go eyeball to eyeball with the horse. “He doesn’t know a
piaffe
from a
passage
.” The
piaffe
and
passage
were the most advanced of alldressage steps. Stevie was excellent at dressage, which was a form of very precise riding.
    At this moment the horse pranced in place, doing a step that was very close to the graceful, fluttering motions of a
piaffe
.
    “I think she has a sense of humor,” Phil said. “And she definitely understands English.”
    But Stevie was hardly listening. She was looking at the horse’s face, which had a long white stripe with a snip above it, so that it looked like an upside-down exclamation point.
    “A horse with punctuation,” Stevie remarked. “This is unusual. What’s her name?”
    “She doesn’t have a name. We’re boarding her for Mr. Baker, who got her in a bulk lot, and her tag said fifty-seven, so we call her Heinz—after Heinz’s fifty-seven varieties of sauces,” Phil said.
    Stevie put her hand under the mare’s nose to let her smell it. The horse nuzzled her hand and snorted and then looked directly at Stevie. Those eyes. They were liquid and brown, but with a hint of—
    “Yikes,” Stevie exclaimed as the horse interrupted Stevie’s thoughts by neatly fishing a carrot out of the pocket of her shirt.
    “Smart horse,” said Phil.
    “With a personality like that, you can’t call her Heinz,” Stevie said. “You might as well call her Miracle Whip.”
    “I like it,” Phil said. “It’s much better than Heinz. We’ll definitely change her name to Miracle Whip.” Stevie turned, about to make a withering remark, when she saw that he was grinning at her.
    Stevie tried to think of a name with personality, but she couldn’t come up with anything on the spot. “Let’s call her No-Name until we can think of something truly great.”
    “No-Name it is,” Phil agreed.
    “Mind if I take her outside for a look in the evening light?” Stevie asked. She was dying to watch the Arabian’s movements.
    “There’s no harm in the two of you getting acquainted,” Phil said with an extra-casual shrug. Stevie took a closer look at him, because when Phil acted unconcerned like that, there was usually something going on.
    Stevie backed No-Name out of the stall and into the corridor and then out into the Marstens’ ring. In the twilight the upside-down exclamation point on No-Name’s nose gleamed with a pale-blue, almost neon shine, and her white socks flashed in the gathering dusk.
    “It looks like she stepped in a bowl of milk,” Stevie said.
    “I know what you mean,” Phil said. “She’s so beautiful. But there’s something mysterious about her, too.”
    Stevie ran her hand up No-Name’s neck to the end of her mane and then under the mane toward her ears, looking for her special spot. All horses have this spot, the one place they most like to be