Nickel-Bred by Patricia Gilkerson Page A

I
walked over to her house and tossed a pebble at her window. I
thought it would be better to apologize in person for hanging up.
And also she couldn’t hang up on me back. Sometimes we both got
hotheaded. I guess I was like my mother about that. When Addie
stuck her curly head out, I said, “Sorry I hung up on you,
Adds.”
    “Why did you?”
    “I wanted you to try riding Dotty. You love
horses and she’s part yours.”
    “What if I’m too chicken?”
    I snorted. “As if!”
    “No, really, Piper. I’m scared.”
    “I didn’t know you were scared of
riding.”
    “Well, I didn’t think about it when we were
rescuing Dotty. She was this poor pony and needed our help. And I
do love horses. I was just embarrassed to admit to you that I was
scared to ride one.”
    “Dotty’s not hard to ride, she just bucks
sometimes. What if we could somehow find you another horse to ride?
One that doesn’t buck. One that is gentle and easy-going?” The idea
seemed better and better as I said the words.
    “I think I could maybe ride a safe one, but
my mom would never spend the money for a horse,” said Addie. “She
complains about buying everything, and a horse isn’t something I
need. And she’ll say I already have half of a horse now.”
    “Then we have to figure something out,” I
said. “Want to go get a Slushy Slosh?”
    “Yeah!”
    So Addie slipped out her window—she said it
made her feel mysterious-- and we walked to Main Street and the
Dairy Dog Drive-in, home of the best frozen drinks in the world. I
ordered my usual raspberry and Addie ordered a cherry Slushy Slosh.
We sat at a picnic table and considered what to do.
    “Here’s my plan,” I said. “Someone is always
selling animals, and sometimes they give them away free to good
homes because they can’t take care of them anymore. Usually they
give away kittens, but once in a while a dog or a horse. They put
up index cards on my dad’s clinic bulletin board.”
    “Why would you get a dog or a horse and then
give it away?” Addie wanted to know.
    “It’s the bad economy,” I said, quoting my
father. “Hard times. People can’t afford the feed.”
    I knew the clinic was open until 8:00 that
night, so we had about an hour. The problem was, I didn’t want my
dad to know I was already looking for another horse. We hiked the
three blocks to the clinic and I checked the back entrance. No cars
or trucks out front, and my dad’s truck wasn’t parked in back.
Excellent! He was gone and there were no clients, so I led the way
in the back door.
    Dad’s assistant and receptionist, Sue, was
cleaning dog cages, making the whole clinic smell like Pine-Sol on
top of the doggy smell. She was getting the place spruced up before
she closed for the night.
    “Hi, Piper! Hi, Addie! Whatcha doin’?” she
asked.
    “Oh, we came to see if there are any horse
magazines left in the waiting room. We’re looking for some riding
tips.” I didn’t like telling lies-- it always made me feel guilty.
I told some big ones when we were saving Dotty and promised I would
never do it again. But sometimes I just had to. Sue would tell Dad
if she knew I was checking out horse ads, he would ask why and then
the secret would be out.
    Addie nodded her head, agreeing with me and
reinforcing my lie.
    “Take what you want, Piper, just don’t take
them all. Leave some for the clients to read. Hey, how is that pony
doing?”
    “She’s great. We love her,” I said. Sue went
back into the laundry room with an armful of dirty scrubs.
    We went through to the waiting room and
grabbed some magazines--that way I wouldn’t be lying. Addie took
Western Horseman, I took Horse & Rider, and we began checking
out the bulletin board by the front door.
    “Look, Piper! Here’s a purebred Arabian horse
to give away to a caring owner.”
    “How old is it?”
    “Nine months. Is that bad?”
    “That horse can’t even be trained for riding
yet. It’s too young. We have to find an older horse