Corey and the Spooky Pony (Pony Tails Book 9) Read online

  “Oh,” May said. “I thought dachshunds sounded boring. But these are cute.” She leaned over and touched one of the babies’ backs. It was silky and warm. “I can’t believe they’ll ever be big enough to run around the barn.”

  “Just wait,” Corey said. “Babies grow really fast.”

  May remembered the foal at Pine Hollow. “I can’t wait to see that foal,” she said.

  Corey looked sad. “His mother died.”

  May sat back on her heels. Suddenly she didn’t feel very cheerful. “I heard she was sick, but I thought she’d get well.”

  “Everyone did their best,” Corey said. “Max was there.” Max Regnery was the owner of Pine Hollow Stables. “Judy was there.” Judy Barker was the veterinarian who took care of the horses of Willow Creek. “But when the mare was giving birth things went wrong, and there was nothing they could do.”

  Corey looked so miserable that May put her arms around her. “I guess that’s why you didn’t want to talk about the foal in front of Jasmine,” May said. “You didn’t want her to know that sometimes mothers die.”

  Corey nodded.

  “Me and my big mouth,” May said. “Sometimes I think I should have an On-Off switch so people can stop me.”

  “You didn’t know,” Corey said. “How could you?”

  “I bet her owners miss her,” May said.

  “They were building a special new stable for her and the colt,” Corey said. “That’s why she was staying at Pine Hollow when she had her baby.”

  “She’ll never see the stable,” May said sadly. She thought of the empty stall waiting for a horse that would never come.

  “The owners can’t take care of the colt, so he’s going to stay at Pine Hollow,” Corey said. “Another mare just foaled, and she has milk enough for two. But she won’t let the colt near her. So Max says we’ll have to milk the mare and then put the milk in bottles for the colt.”

  “Hey, I could help,” May said, feeling better. At least there was something she could do.

  “We all will,” Corey said. “Max says the foal is going to need all the help he can get.”

  A wind blew through the magnolia tree next to the barn, scattering petals toward the ground. The petals had a soft, sweet smell.

  From inside the Grovers’ barn in the yard next door came a whinny.

  “That’s Mac,” May said, recognizing her own pony’s voice. She cocked her head. The whinny came again. “I get the feeling that Macaroni is dying for a ride.”

  Corey’s pony was in the paddock behind the Takamuras’ barn. He answered Macaroni’s whinny with one of his own.

  “I have the feeling Samurai feels the same,” Corey said.

  “Coming,” said May and Corey at the same time. They would have given each other high fives and said “Jake” because they had said the same thing at the same time. But Jasmine wasn’t there. So instead Corey and May grinned.

  Ten minutes later they met on ponyback at the gate behind Corey’s barn. Macaroni, May’s pony, was as yellow as macaroni and cheese. Usually Macaroni was easygoing and slow, which was how he got his nickname, Mellow Yellow. But today he looked positively frisky. Samurai, Corey’s pony, had a blaze on his face like a samurai sword. Sam danced from one foot to the other.

  May opened the gate that led to the field behind the barns. After Sam and Corey had ridden through, May closed the gate. The people who owned the field didn’t mind if the Pony Tails rode there as long as they closed the gates.

  Samurai snorted and shook his head, ready to take off.

  “Walk!” Corey said. She knew the ponies had to warm up first. Otherwise they might pull a muscle.

  Even Macaroni wanted to run.

  “I know it’s spring,” May said. “But we’re walking.”

  First the ponies walked. Then Corey and May let them trot. When Mac and Sam had worked up a light sweat, May and Corey looked at each other and grinned. “I think,” Corey said.

  “Totally,” May said.

  Corey tightened her reins.

  May leaned slightly forward.

  All of a sudden the ponies were cantering alongside each other in a wonderful rocking motion. They cantered along the edge of the field, under a big oak tree, and to the bottom of a hill. Then the girls pulled the ponies into a walk and rode slowly up the hill.

  At the top, they stopped their ponies and took in the view. Looking as tiny as a picture in a book were the barns of Pine Hollow Stables. May and Corey could see Red O’Malley, the stable hand, forking hay into a wheelbarrow. They could see Max Regnery riding a horse in the paddock.

  Corey and May turned the ponies around to look back at their own houses. On the left was Jasmine’s house, looking as small as a doll’s house. Pink tulips bloomed next to the steps. A wreath of forsythia hung on the door. Everything looked pretty and peaceful.

  But something mysterious was happening inside.

  3 A Long, Lonely Wait

  “Don’t cry,” Jasmine said. “I’ll take care of you.”

  The doll’s expression didn’t change. She stared at Jasmine with blank blue eyes.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Jasmine said.

  The doll didn’t look upset. In fact, the doll didn’t look very much of anything. Jasmine was practicing. Her parents had given her the doll a couple of weeks earlier. They said she could hold it and pretend to feed it.

  The doll wasn’t very good company. It didn’t talk. It didn’t know anything about ponies. It just lay there and stared.

  Down the hall, Jasmine could hear her parents talking.

  Her father was saying, “Breathe, breathe.”

  Her mother was making puffing sounds. It reminded Jasmine of a book she used to love called The Little Engine that Could. She remembered that in the book the engine had to puff its way up an enormous hill. Jasmine thought it sounded as if her mother was doing the same thing.

  Jasmine had gone into her parents’ bedroom a couple of times. Her mother looked fine. She was a little sweaty, and her father kept wiping her forehead with a damp washcloth. Her long, curly hair was tangled on the pillow, but she didn’t seem to care about her hairdo right then.

  The nurse-midwife looked confident and smart, so Jasmine was sure she was doing a good job. Down the hall Jasmine could hear the midwife’s low, friendly voice. Then she heard her mother saying something Jasmine couldn’t understand.

  Jasmine noticed that the doll was staring at her.

  “I didn’t forget about you,” she said to the doll. “I was just listening. You know how it is when something really exciting happens. You can’t help listening.” She picked the doll up and held it to her chest. “You’re number one with me.”

  Jasmine liked her model ponies better, so this was not really true. But she didn’t want the doll to feel bad.

  She crossed her legs Indian style and put the doll in her lap. Her bed was covered with books about babies and baby-sitting. She picked up her favorite, Babysitters Club #102, Mary Anne and the Little Princess.

  “You’re really going to like this,” she said to the doll. “The plot is a zinger.” Jasmine wriggled until she and the doll were comfortable, and then she started to read out loud.

  Before Jasmine knew it, she had read an entire chapter. “I guess you liked that,” she said to the doll. “Your concentration is excellent.” Jasmine grinned because her teacher was always telling her class that they had the attention span of fleas.

  “How about another chapter?” Jasmine asked. The doll seemed to feel that this would be fine. Jasmine’s back was tired, so she lay on her side with the doll next to her. She began to read more and more slowly. She yawned. The words in the book seemed to stretch out forever.

  The next thing she knew, something sharp was poking her. She opened her eyes and saw that she was lying on a corner of the book. She had fallen asleep, she realized. She looked at the doll and saw that she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.

  “I’m really sorry,�
�� Jasmine said. “I must have dozed off.”

  She sat up and pulled the doll into her lap. “You know what I was dreaming about?”

  The doll didn’t answer.

  “I was dreaming about riding,” Jasmine said. “I was having this really wild ride. We were galloping down the road.”

  The doll stared.

  “We didn’t even warm up,” said Jasmine with a grin. “If Max had been in my dream he would have been furious.”

  There was a knock on her door. It was her father.

  “Progress report,” he said.

  “Is everything okay?” Jasmine said with a sudden stab of worry.

  “More than okay,” Mr. James said. “Superbly okay. Stunningly okay.” One of the things about Jasmine’s father was that the more excited he got, the longer his words got.

  “She’s here!” he said. “The baby.” He let out a huge sigh of relief. “The most beautiful baby on earth.”

  “She?” Jasmine said.

  “Your new sister,” Mr. James said. “Sophie.”

  Jasmine leaped to her feet. And then she realized she was standing on the bed. She jumped down and ran over to her father and hugged him. He leaned down to hug her, and she felt something wet on her cheek. She looked up. Her father’s eyes were shiny. He was crying because he was so happy.

  “Come on,” he said, and took her hand.

  The hall with its shiny wood floor seemed long. Jasmine and her father tiptoed along it as if someone were asleep.

  “Why are we tiptoeing?” Jasmine whispered.

  Her father looked surprised. “Um …” He grinned. “Good question.”

  Jasmine giggled, and they both took regular steps the rest of the way.

  Jasmine stopped in the doorway of her parents’ bedroom. Her mother was sitting up in bed. Her hair had been brushed, and a pink ribbon was holding it back. Her face was shiny and clean. In her arms was the baby.

  At first all Jasmine saw was a white flannel bundle. It was large, bigger than Jasmine had expected. She stepped closer. At one end of the bundle was a tiny, grumpy red face surrounded by messy brown hair.

  “Oh,” Jasmine said. She thought there must be something wrong with the baby because it was so ugly.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” her mother asked.

  “Totally,” Jasmine said, feeling sorry for her mother. Imagine giving birth to something like that! Jasmine looked up at her father. He was gazing at the baby with pride.

  Wait a second, Jasmine thought. If there was something wrong with the baby, her father wouldn’t look so proud. Jasmine stepped closer to get a better look. The baby had spiky brown hair that was all different lengths. Among other things, this baby needed a haircut.

  “Say hello to your new sister,” Mrs. James said.

  “Hello, Sophie,” said Jasmine.

  Sophie made a sound like a grumpy cat.

  Jasmine leaned closer because she knew that newborn babies can’t see very far.

  “I’m Jasmine, your sister.”

  Sophie let loose an ear-piercing scream. Jasmine couldn’t believe that someone so small could make such a horrible sound.

  “I was just trying to be nice,” Jasmine said.

  “It’s probably her diaper,” Mrs. James said. “Maybe it needs changing.”

  “Let me do that,” said Mr. James, rushing forward.

  Mrs. James gave Mr. James the baby. The nurse-midwife rushed over with a package of baby wipes. Mr. James laid Sophie on the changing table and unwrapped her clothes. First there was the white flannel layer. And then a yellow cotton one. And then another white one. And then Sophie was wearing a cotton T-shirt with an undershirt beneath it. Talk about the layered look, Jasmine thought.

  Inside was a tiny body with wiggling arms and legs.

  Sophie let out a yell. She waved her fists and kicked her feet. Her face turned purple with rage.

  Sophie might be little, Jasmine thought, but she sure knew how to get attention.

  Buy Jasmine Helps a Foal Now!

  About the Author

  Bonnie Bryant is the author of over one hundred forty books about horses, including the Saddle Club series and its spinoffs, the Pony Tails series and the Pine Hollow series. Bryant did not know very much about horses before writing the first Saddle Club book in 1986, so she found herself learning right along with the characters she created. She has also written novels and movie novelizations under her married name, Bonnie Bryant Hiller. Bryant was born and raised in New York City, where she still lives today.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 1996 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller

  Cover design by Connie Gabbert

  ISBN: 978-1-4976-5361-0

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

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