Keeping Secrets (Timber Ridge Riders Book 1) Read online

  BOOK 1: TIMBER RIDGE RIDERS

  Keeping Secrets

  Maggie Dana

  Copyright 2011 Maggie Dana

  Timber Ridge Riders

  Chapter 1

  Kate McGregor skidded her aunt’s old bike to a stop and stared at the house—gray shingles, white shutters, and a ramp instead of steps. This had to be the right place. Kate pulled the ad from her pocket.

  Mature high-school student needed as summer companion for disabled teen. Prefer someone who can live in. Call Timber Ridge Stables at ...

  Beyond the house lay a sprawl of barns, paddocks, and riding rings. In the largest ring, three girls on horseback circled an instructor while another girl jumped a set of parallel bars. Kate stared at them and shook her head. Was she totally nuts? The last thing she needed was a job next door to a horse barn.

  Kate dumped her bike on the lawn and ran up the ramp. She knocked on the front door. No answer. She knocked again. The house was quiet ... too quiet. Had she got the wrong time? The wrong day? She tried the door, but it was locked. She turned to leave and heard somebody yell.

  “Help!”

  Kate froze.

  “Help me out of the water, please!”

  Sounds of splashing came from somewhere out back. Kate raced around the side of the house, slap bang into a solid stockade fence. No sign of a gate.

  “I need help!” More splashing. “Now!”

  Grabbing a fence post with both hands, Kate hauled herself up. Her foot slipped, and she landed in the dirt. Now what? She hunted around for something to stand on and found a rusty wheelbarrow lying beneath a bush. That would do. Kate leaned it against the fence, climbed on top, and peered into the backyard.

  A girl with hair the color of straw was treading water in a kidney-shaped pool. She raised an arm and cried, “Help me out. Please!”

  “You don’t need any help,” another girl said.

  Kate turned toward her. The girl was riding a sweat-covered bay in tight circles just beyond the back fence. The horse tossed its head and pulled at the bit.

  “Don’t be such a pain,” the girl in the pool yelled. “Help me out.”

  “No way,” the other girl said. “I’m not falling for that trick again.”

  “No tricks. Not this time. I promise.”

  “Forget it. Last time I helped, you pulled me into the pool.” The girl yanked her horse’s reins, dug her heels into its sides, and galloped off.

  Kate tore her eyes away from the horse and stared at the swimmer. She looked competent and strong. So why did she need help?

  Kate’s foot slipped again.

  Crash!

  “Garummmmph!” Kate yelled as she fell off the wheelbarrow.

  “Who’s there?” It was the girl in the pool.

  “Kate McGregor,” Kate said through clenched teeth. She brushed the dirt off her legs and stood up. “I’m here about the job.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Behind the fence.”

  “Can you climb it and help me out?”

  “I’ll try,” replied Kate.

  “Hurry.” Her voice sounded desperate.

  This time the wheelbarrow held. Kate scrambled over the fence and dropped into the backyard. The girl waved at her. Kate frowned. Why would someone who swam like a fish need help getting out of a pool? It didn’t make sense.

  Then she spotted the wheelchair.

  Of course! How could she have been so dumb?

  The pool didn’t have steps, just a metal ladder. No wonder the girl couldn’t get out. Kate dropped to her knees, grasped the girl’s arms, and hauled her out of the water.

  “Thanks,” the girl said, breathing hard. “I was afraid Mom would come back and find me swimming by myself.”

  Kate pointed at the wheelchair. “Should I help you with this?”

  The girl shook her head. “I’ll just sit on the edge for a while.” She reached for a towel. “I’m Holly Chapman. My mother put the ad in the paper. She needs a watchdog for me.”

  Kate waved toward the pool. “If you can’t get out, how do you get in?”

  “Easy,” Holly said. “I flop in like a seal. But getting out is always a problem.” She looked down at her legs. “They don’t work.”

  “Why wouldn’t that girl on the horse help you?”

  “Because she’s a selfish brat.” Holly grinned. “And because she doesn’t trust me.”

  “So you did pull her in the pool, then.”

  “Sure,” Holly said. “It was a pool party. Like, duhhh ... you’re supposed to get wet.”

  “Can she swim?”

  Holly bared her teeth. “Like a shark.”

  “So, what was her problem?”

  “New hairdo, new bikini. She didn’t want to get them wet.”

  “So you did it for her?” Kate said. She was starting to like Holly.

  “She deserved it. She’d just been mean to one of my friends. Told her she was too fat to wear a bathing suit,” Holly said. “And now I bet she’s back at the barn telling everyone about my crime.”

  “Swimming is a crime?”

  “Swimming alone is a crime,” Holly said. “I’d better get dressed. Mom will be here any minute.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At the barn.” Holly paused. “But she knows you’re coming.”

  Kate helped Holly into her wheelchair and watched as the girl wheeled herself up the ramp and through the kitchen door.

  “Promise not to leave before I get back,” Holly yelled before disappearing inside.

  “I promise.” Kate sat in the shade and waited for Mrs. Chapman to show up.

  * * *

  “You must be Kate McGregor.”

  Kate looked up to find a tall, fair-haired woman dressed in riding boots and breeches walking toward her.

  “I’m Liz Chapman, Holly’s mother,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “I had a few problems at the barn.”

  Kate nodded. She knew all about those.

  Liz waved toward the pool. “I’m just glad you were here to pull Holly out before she turned into a prune.”

  Kate bit back a smile. That girl on the sweaty bay gelding hadn’t wasted much time spilling the beans.

  “As you’ve probably gathered, my daughter’s a bit headstrong,” Liz said. “She needs someone to keep her out of trouble.” She paused. “How old are you?”

  Kate hesitated. “Almost fifteen.” A slight exaggeration. She’d turned fourteen three months ago.

  “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

  “Like babysitting?”

  Liz nodded. “Or looking after elderly people?”

  “Holly’s not elderly.”

  “No, but she’s just as much work,” Liz said. “She’s stuck in a wheelchair, she hates people doing things for her, and she takes chances when nobody’s looking.”

  Kate didn’t know what to say. She’d never had any kind of a job before that didn’t involve horses ... or her father. “I took care of Dad after my mother died.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Liz said.

  “It was a long time ago,” Kate said. “My father’s useless around the house.”

  “So am I,” Liz said. “Can you cook?”

  Kate shrugged. “Macaroni and cheese, fish sticks, peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.”

  “Fair enough,” Liz said. “Do you swim?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because swimming’s the best exercise for Holly’s legs,” Liz said. “It helps keep her muscles in shape.” She looked at Kate. “You’re
younger than I’d hoped for, but right now I’m thinking it might be good for Holly to have someone her own age.”

  Kate crossed her fingers. Hanging out with Holly would be far better than hanging out with Aunt Marion, whose spare bed had more lumps than a bag full of apples.

  “If your father agrees, I’d like you to move in with us for the summer,” Liz went on. “It’d be easier that way, especially when I have to leave early for horse shows with my students.”

  “My father’s chasing butterflies in Brazil,” Kate said. “I’m spending the summer with my aunt.”

  “How will she feel about you having a job?”

  “She’ll be glad I’ve found something to do,” Kate said. “I’ve been driving her crazy. She’s not used to kids.”

  “What about your father?”

  “He’s not used to them either.”

  Liz raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not,” Kate said. “My father’s a lepidopterist. If it’s got wings, compound eyes, and fuzzy legs, he’s all over it. He hasn’t got a clue about people.”

  “But would he mind if you moved in here?”

  “I’ll ask him tonight.”

  “How will you reach him?”

  “Jungle drums.”

  Liz laughed.

  “Okay, cell phone,” Kate said. “That is, if he remembered to turn it on.”

  “Doesn’t he have e-mail?”

  “My father?” Kate said. “On the Internet? He’s only just figured out how to use a toaster.”

  “Well, if it’s okay with your aunt,” Liz said, smiling, “and your father, I’ll need you till school starts in September.”

  Kate wanted to know why Holly was in a wheelchair but didn’t know how to ask. “Does Holly ... I mean, has she always been—?”

  “Two years ago, Holly was in a car accident,” Liz said. “Her father was driving and”—she took a deep breath—“he was killed. Holly hasn’t been able to walk since.”

  “Will she get better?”

  “No one really knows,” Liz said. “The doctors say there’s no permanent damage, but they don’t know why she can’t use her legs. It might be psychological—something in Holly’s mind that prevents her from walking. It’s called hysterical paralysis. We’ve tried numerous treatments; but, so far, nothing’s worked.”

  Wearing a pink t-shirt with Barn Bum in big letters across the front, Holly wheeled herself into the backyard. “So, Mom, did you hire her yet?”

  “I’m not sure.” Liz looked at Kate. “Well?”

  Kate hesitated. Did the job include horses? So far, they hadn’t been mentioned.

  “Kate, please say yes,” Holly said. “The last person Mom interviewed had tattoos and bad breath.”

  “Holly!”

  “Well, she did. And a nose ring.”

  A smile flickered across Liz’s face. “So, Kate, what do you think?”

  “Mrs. Chapman, I—”

  “Please, call me Liz.”

  “Okay,” Kate said, not sure she’d be able to do that. She’d never called a grownup by her first name before, not even Mrs. Mueller, her former riding instructor. Kate’s mind screeched to a halt. She could hear all the old accusations and felt herself turn pale.

  “Kate?”

  “Would I have to”—Kate gulped—“go to the barn?”

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” Liz said.

  Oh, no! Kate’s heart sank.

  “I can’t afford more than fifty dollars a week; but to make up for lack of money, I’ll teach you to ride.”

  Kate flinched.

  “I know it’s not much,” Liz went on, “but most girls your age love horses and I figured you’d jump at the chance of lessons.”

  “The money’s fine,” Kate said. “But I’ll pass on the lessons.”

  “Don’t you like horses?” Holly asked.

  “No.” Kate felt herself going red.

  “But everyone likes horses.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kate mumbled.

  “No need to apologize,” Liz said, putting a hand on Kate’s arm. “And pay no attention to Holly. Her entire world revolves around horses.”

  Kate looked away. Before Black Magic died, her world had revolved around horses as well. People said it was an accident—a fluke—but Kate blamed herself. Because she hadn’t double-checked that stall door, a brilliant show jumper was dead. She shuddered.

  “Kate, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Kate bit her lip. “I’m just scared of horses, that’s all,” she said, hoping her lie was convincing enough to fool Holly and her mother.

  Chapter 2

  “I hope you don’t mind sharing with Holly,” Liz said two days later when Kate arrived to begin her new job. “I’m afraid our spare bedroom’s full of junk.”

  “No problem.” Kate hefted her suitcase inside.

  “Can you manage by yourself?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good, because I’m running late.” Liz checked her watch. “I’ve got lessons all afternoon, but call the barn if you need me. Holly has the number.”

  “Where should I go?”

  “Oh, down there.” Liz pointed toward a hall that led off the living room. “See you later.”

  The door to Holly’s room was open. Kate stepped inside. “Hi, I’m—” The words died in her throat.

  Holly’s room was floor-to-ceiling horses. Posters of show jumpers and dressage horses covered the walls, and photos of Holly on horseback filled the corkboard above her desk. Ribbons, mostly blue, framed her mirror; red and yellow ribbons hung like bunting around the window. Stuffed ponies snoozed on her bed. A horse mobile dangled above it.

  Kate swallowed hard. She’d expected Holly to have some horsey stuff, but this was over the top. Way over the top. She dropped her suitcase on the floor beside a wooden rocking horse and scanned the room—shelves crammed with trophies and horse books, a pair of suede chaps dangling from a hook on the door, and pony-print sheets with matching comforter and pillows.

  “Holy ravioli!”

  “Too much, huh?” Holly said, raising one eyebrow in a perfect imitation of her mother.

  Kate shoved a pile of Young Rider magazines off a chair and sat down. Sharing Holly’s room would be a challenge.

  “Mom wants to redecorate,” Holly went on, “but I won’t let her.”

  Kate glanced at one of the posters—a Lipizzaner performing a levade—and thought about her bedroom back home, stripped bare of everything that reminded her of horses and Black Magic. How did Holly stand it? Why did she torture herself with memories of something she could no longer do?

  “But doesn’t this—I mean, how can you bear to—?” Kate groped for the right words. “Don’t you miss it?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “So why keep all this?” Kate asked, pointing to a stable full of Breyer models on the dresser. A riding ring and tiny jumps lay beside it.

  “Incentive.”

  Kate stared at her. “Huh?”

  “It forces me to keep hoping.” Holly’s mouth hardened. “Sometimes it makes me angry.” She sucked in her breath. “But mostly it reminds me that, one day, I’m going to ride again.”

  “Are you sure? I mean, didn’t the doctors—?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know what they said, and none of them can agree. But I think it’s all in my head. It has to be. My spine is okay. There’s no nerve damage, no brain damage”—Holly grimaced and slapped her forehead—“well, not much, anyway.”

  She handed Kate the Equus magazine she’d been holding in her lap. “Look at this. I might be riding sooner than you think.”

  Skimming the page, Kate saw a photo of a boy in leg braces riding a fat brown pony. The caption beneath it said:

  Ten-year-old Tim Sullivan can ride his pony even though he can’t walk, thanks to the volunteers at the Vermont Therapeutic Riding Association.

  “If Tiny Tim can do it,” Holly said, her blue eyes flashing with
determination, “so can I.”

  Kate hesitated. “Does your Mom know about this?”

  “Not yet, but let’s go and tell her.”

  “Now?”

  “Why not?” Holly wheeled herself to the door.

  “Because she’s busy with riding lessons,” Kate said. “And I’d like to unpack.”

  “You can do that later.”

  Kate felt herself tense up. She’d been on the job less than half an hour, and already Holly wanted to visit the barn. “I’m really hot. Let’s go jump in the pool.”

  “Okay,” Holly said. “Pool first, barn later.” She paused. “How fast can you swim?”

  Kate shrugged. “I was on the swim team last year.”

  “Then let’s race.”

  “Are you sure?” Kate said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, your legs. I mean—”

  “Come on.” Holly pulled two towels from a pile on the floor. She grinned and tossed one to Kate. “Eat my wake.”

  * * *

  Kate tried, but no matter which stroke she used, Holly beat her. Exhausted and out of breath, Kate admitted defeat and left Holly in the pool, swimming laps to exercise her legs.

  Kate wrapped herself in a towel, lay down on a chaise, and worried about the barn. What excuse, besides fear, could she give for not going? Allergies? Hey, that might work. She sat up, held her nose, and faked a sneeze.

  “Arrrggghhh-schnoorrr!”

  “You okay?” Holly yelled.

  Kate sniffed. “Hay fever.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” Holly swam to the ladder. “I thought we’d been invaded by donkeys.”

  Kate pulled Holly out of the pool. “This ladder’s a pain.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Couldn’t your mom put in real steps?”

  “Too expensive,” Holly said, shaking out her hair and spraying Kate with drops of water. “Besides, the pool isn’t ours.”

  “Oh, but I thought—”

  Holly swept her arm through the air. “This pool, the house, everything. It’s all part of Mom’s job.”

  “So who owns it, then?”

  “The almighty Timber Ridge Homeowners’ Association,” Holly said. “They also own the golf course, the tennis courts, the swimming pool, the ski area, and the stables.”

  Shielding her eyes from the sun, Kate looked up at Timber Ridge Mountain. Grass-covered ski trails spilled from its peak like dribbles of green paint. Without thinking, she said, “Do you ski?”