Ranch Hands by Bonnie Bryant Page B

wasn’t anybody for me to talk to. Even if my parents had been there (and they were still at the hotel then), they wouldn’t have understood what they were watching. Mom judges horses by their looks and their pedigrees, rather than by their performance, and Dad tends to want to know how much money they’re going to win and who is betting on them—that is if he’s not preoccupied with where he’s going to eat his next meal.
    ANYWAY—this is the really interesting, nearly unbelievable, but absolutely true part. I wandered over to the area where the junior competitors were having their events. They were doing hunter jumping and they were pretty good. There was one boy
who was far and away better than any of the rest of them. I was really impressed. He went through the first round with flying colors and then when he brought his horse out for the conformation judging, I couldn’t believe my eyes.
    Enrico. It was actually
Enrico.
Remember him?
    “Enrico? You mean like one of the Italian boys?” Stevie asked.
    “I guess so,” said Carole.
    “Incredible!” said Stevie. Enrico was one of the four Italian boys who had come to Pine Hollow. Stevie remembered how Lisa had said she might run into them and how she and Carole had laughed at the idea. Now, it seemed it had actually come true. It amazed Stevie and Carole. Out of all the millions of people in Italy, their friend Lisa had just happened to run into one of the four Italian citizens she actually knew!
    I didn’t want to upset him during the judging, but as soon as he brought his horse over to the side of the ring, I started yelling and waving. I only made a slight idiot of myself before he saw me. He told me to wait right there—until the ribbons were handed out. Of course, he got a blue. Then he came over and gave me this most gigantic hug. He
asked me what I was doing there and how you guys are and what was going on and everything. I couldn’t answer all his questions at once, but the minute I told him about the hotel, he got this wonderful look on his face.
    “But you and your parents—you will stay with us!”
    “You have room for all of us?” I asked. He told me that of course he did. Little did I know.
    Right then my parents showed up. They were as mad as could be and Dad was on the verge of saying all sorts of things about Italian innkeepers. I introduced them to Enrico and told them we had a place to stay.
    I won’t bore you with all the details now—I’ll have months and months to do that when I get home—but I will tell you that as I write this, I’m sitting at an antique Italian secretary (that’s a fancy word for a small desk) in Enrico’s family
mansion.
This isn’t just a house. Oh, it also turned out that the horse show wasn’t being given in any funky old public park. It was being given on Enrico’s family estate. I mean
estate.
It goes on for acres and acres and it’s been in his family for many generations. My parents and I are in our very own wing or something. I’m not sure exactly because the place is just too big for me to be completely oriented. I do know that when we want
breakfast, we’re supposed to ring for a servant who will either bring it to us or show us the way to the dining room. I’m telling you, you’ve never seen anything like this.
    Now I think I’ll take a bath. The bathtub is about the size of a small swimming pool. Of course, the one in my parents’ bathroom is much larger.…
    Just kidding. Still it’s all pretty grand.
    It’s hard to believe this vacation is almost over.
    It’s been so interesting. When I think about it, before I left, I was scared to death about being in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar languages. I’ve realized that people are people, and if you try to be nice and try to speak to them in their own language, no matter how badly you mangle the phrases from the phrase book, they want to be helpful and welcoming. I’ve enjoyed the trip. I’m a little sorry it’s almost over, but I