Thirteen-year-old Jo Anders has finally had her leg cast removed and is excited to start riding and training with Reno on the barrels. She has her sights set on becoming this years' Junior Rodeo Queen. Her parents insist she wait until next year to vie for the coveted award. This isn't her only disappointment during her recovery. Her best friend, Kimberly, has taken Reno for a ride without permission. Jo fears her hopes have been further dashed when she learns that Reno has been injured on that ride.

Reno and the Rodeo

By Josie D. Lee

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2010 Josie D. Lee
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-7316-9

Chapter One

"Melvern, forty-two miles," Jo blurted out, pulling her waist-length, red denim jacket around her shoulders.

"What's that, Peaches?" David Anders asked, glancing in the rear view mirror of their blue sedan.

Her father's black cowboy hat sat askew on a shock of graying brown hair. Only his right eye and cheek were visible to her in the small mirror. If only she could see the expression on his face. She especially liked the pet name he called her.

"Forty-two miles to home and Reno," she answered excitedly, sliding forward in the seat. "There will be only a few hours of daylight left when we get home; just enough time to brush, saddle and ride Reno for thirty minutes. I've got to start working on figure eights right away," she continued breathlessly. "Kimberly and I agreed to work our horses together as soon as I could ride again. We have to start by walking them, before jogging or running the pattern. We can't waste any time."

Jo was dressed for the workout, in blue jeans and light blue cowgirl shirt. She would only need to slip out of her shoes and into her western boots.

"Hold on there, Jo Anders," her mother interrupted without looking back. "Doctor Johnson released you today with strict instructions to continue leg-strengthening exercises. Just because he removed the last cast doesn't mean your leg is one hundred percent healed."

Jo scrunched her face in a scowl. Her leg had broken in two places. She had vivid memories of the entire ordeal. But she was ready to put all of that in the past.

The carefully styled blonde pageboy was all that Jo could see of her mother; however, her voice was crisp and clear.

Beverly Anders turned around to look at Jo with determination. "Your father and I decided that you should concentrate on something other than riding for the next week. Piano practice would be the perfect exercise since you have to use your right foot and leg muscles on the pedals. Besides, if you took piano as seriously as riding Reno, you could be a great musician someday." The oversized sunglasses didn't hide Beverly's deep frown. "I wish you would appreciate your musical talent."

That was the last thing Jo wanted to hear. She didn't care one bit about playing the piano. Anyway, there were only ten weeks until the school year ended and she needed to maintain her "B" average. It was the first part of March, leaving only three weeks until the first horse show. Of course, Jo was accustomed to her mother's theatrical demeanor when she was making a point.

"Some thirteenth birthday celebration," Jo grumbled, tears welling up in her sky blue eyes. "Thirteen definitely wasn't a lucky number for me last December. Instead of ice skating that day, I should have been riding Reno. I'm not blaming anyone, but Kimberly was the one who insisted I be the last one on the crack-the-whip line. It was my birthday. I should have said `No'."

"Oh, don't fret, Peaches," her father tried to console her. "Remember your excitement when everyone from Whitewater Farms surprised you with that party at the skating rink? Well, that's how you'll feel when you start riding again."

For as long as Jo could remember, she had dreamed of becoming Junior Rodeo Queen. She had finally reached the age of eligibility on December 13. She'd had high hopes for her and Reno before that ugly fall on the ice.

"Nothing is going to keep me from competing in the rodeo this year," Jo insisted. "Reno hasn't even been trail ridden all winter. How can we be ready for the rodeo finals in June?" she sniffed loudly. "Reno can be a great rodeo horse, but I've got to start working him on the barrel patterns."

Jo pulled a blue tapestry pillow under each arm and rested her head against the window. "Kimberly is going to be very disappointed when she finds out that it will be a whole week before we can work our horses. You know she trained with a professional for three years before coming to Whitewater Farms. Everybody will get a head start on me this year. It doesn't seem fair."

While her parents talked in muffled tones, Jo settled quietly. She peered out the windows at what seemed to be miles of freshly plowed fields.

Fluffy gray clouds cast moving shadows over the distant hillside. The car tires sounded a soothing, almost musical, hum on the asphalt highway. Jo imagined the fun she could have running her liver-chestnut gelding over the mounds, his blonde mane and tail flailing in the breeze.

THUMP! Jo was held steadfast by her seat belt, avoiding being thrown against the back of the front seat.

"Good grief, David, what are you doing?" her mother shouted as he maneuvered the car around a truck stalled on the highway.

"Didn't want to hit that truck," he snarled. "The van ahead of us didn't break until he was almost on it."

Jo leaned back against the seat, flipping her shoulder-length ash blonde hair away from her face. "Hey, we're almost home!" she squealed. "There's Melvern Lake."

Within minutes Mr. Anders turned off the highway onto the gravel road leading to Whitewater Farms. Two eight-foot black columns flanked the gated driveway. Atop each column sat enormous white marble eagles like sentinels guarding Whitewater Farms. The regal entry contrasted with the farm's white vinyl-clad fencing. Elm trees lined each side of the long driveway to the house. The Slippery elms had a majestic look with their green fingertips showing new spring growth. The horse barn was obscured by a grove of cottonwoods and oaks.

"Garrett will have already fed the horses," Mr. Anders remarked with a sound of relief. "That's one less chore I'll have to do this evening."

"Supper will be ready in about an hour, David," Mrs. Anders patted his shoulder. "So don't get busy with anything that can be done tomorrow."

"I don't want any supper," said Jo. "A banana will be enough for me until breakfast."

"Wonder what brings Aunt Dottie out here?" Mr. Anders asked as he braked the car to an abrupt stop.

Aunt Dottie's apple-red van was parked against the arbor where morning glorys would soon be blooming in bright array.

Jo didn't wait to hear further comments. She flung the car door open and sprang from the back seat. Bouncing up and down like a basketball on a trampoline, she clapped her hands and shrieked, "Wheee-e-e." The outburst startled her mother and father.

"What are you shouting about?" her mother asked sounding annoyed.

"Please, please let me ride for only a few minutes," Jo pleaded. "It's a beautiful evening for riding."

"Not yet, Peaches," her father responded firmly.

Suddenly, Aunt Dottie appeared from behind the house carrying clusters of English Hawthorne and bright yellow jonquils.

"Aunt Dottie, guess what!" Jo yelled, hurrying up the banked driveway.

"Whoa, slow down. What's all the excitement about?" Aunt Dottie asked.

The late afternoon sun gave Aunt Dottie's auburn hair a coppery sheen. She wore a blue cable-knit sweater, blue-and-white plaid skirt and knee-length argyle socks. The yellow jonquils were a stark contrast against her clothes. Mr. Ander's younger sister managed Anders' Hardware store in Melvern.

"Doctor Johnson dismissed me," Jo said cheerfully. "Isn't that great?"

"Yes, yes," Aunt Dottie replied. "I suppose you'll start riding at the crack of dawn."

"No," Jo groaned. "Mom and Dad decided I should spend a whole week strengthening my leg before attempting to ride again. Was Kimberly still here when you arrived?"

"No, I haven't seen her at all this afternoon. I'm sure she'll be here early in the morning. This truly is marvelous riding weather."

"Maybe I'll be allowed to at least longe Reno," she mumbled. "Mom thinks I should practice playing the piano this week. Yuk!"

"Bev, David, there's some fresh coffee perking," Aunt Dottie called out to Jo's parents. "And for you, Jo, there's hot chocolate on the stove. Let's go in the house before we get bombarded by these pesky gnats."

Mr. and Mrs. Anders and Aunt Dottie headed for the kitchen. Jo removed her jacket and hung it on the hall coat rack her father had made from Reno's first horseshoes.

"I'll have my hot chocolate in here, Aunt Dottie," Jo called out, walking into the spacious library.

Jo placed a napkin on a nearby table and went to the kitchen.

"You don't need another accident," Aunt Dottie said walking behind Jo. "This chocolate is very hot. So there, I've warned you, now please, enjoy it." Chuckling, she set the cup down and returned to the kitchen.

Jo plunked down in her father's green leather chair. She thought about the cold winter evenings she had sat by the fireside listening to her mother play the mahogany buffed baby grand piano. This room had also been a great reading place while recuperating from her skating injury, she mused.

Thirteen books, one for each of her thirteen years, lay together on a bookshelf. Jo thumbed through several of them, recalling that all of them were written about her favorite subject. Horses, of course!

Interestingly, none of the books were fact or fiction about barrel racing. She had asked her parents for literature about rodeo events, especially barrel racing. Instead, they had given her a stack of sheet music for classical piano.

"Horses are still my first love," she muttered aloud. After finishing her chocolate, Jo walked to the kitchen. She put her cup in the sink and said goodnight to the elder Anders'. She quickly climbed the stairs to her bedroom.

She was exhausted having spent most of the day riding in the car and sitting in Doctor Johnson's office. Lying down on the quilted feather bedspread, she sighed. "Tomorrow I'm going to have to break the sad news to Kimberly." She wasn't looking forward to it.

Chapter Two

"It's nine o'clock, Peaches," Mr. Anders shouted up the stairs. "You need to muck Reno's stall before grooming him this morning."

"Down in a minute," Jo said between yawns.

Jo shook herself fully awake and hopped out of bed. She dressed hurriedly in blue jeans and a light blue plaid shirt. The morning sun shed warmth through the window where she stood brushing her hair into a high ponytail. She took a quick glance in the full-length mirror before bounding down the stairs.

Jo picked up her insulated working boots and headed for the kitchen. Grabbing some warm raisin toast from the counter, she hurried out the door.

Surrounded by tall cottonwoods and split-rail fence, the freshly painted red stable was about five hundred yards from the house. It was the middle of March and the trees were still bare, allowing the yard to be visible from the house.

Jo headed directly for Reno's stall at the far end of the large airy barn. Between bites of toast, she called to him as she neared his stall. When he didn't respond with his usual snort, she hastened her walk.

"Oh, no!" Reno?" she gasped. He wasn't there. Running down the aisle she checked all of the stalls. Reno wasn't in the barn.

Jo sprinted back to the house. "Dad, come quick!" she yelled.

Mr. Anders met her at the back door. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Reno is gone. He's not in his stall and his halter is missing," she answered breathlessly.

"C'mon, we'll find him," Mr. Anders assured her, as they walked toward the barnyard.

Cupping her hands to her mouth, Jo bellowed Reno's name over and over, to no avail.

In her anxiousness, Jo had barely noticed the vehicles in the parking lot.

Kimberly's horse, Thrasher, nickered loudly as he trotted to a paddock where Jo stood calling Reno.

"Thrasher must be looking for Reno too," Mr. Anders remarked.

"He must be looking for Kimberly. She's usually here by this hour on Saturdays."

"Maybe Reno was stolen," Jo continued.

"Not likely. The gates are secured every night and unlocked each morning by Garrett, or me."

"Well, maybe he escaped from the stall when Garrett was feeding the other horses." Jo grimaced.

Just as Jo returned to the barn with her father, she heard a lot of commotion. Outside, she saw a group of seven riders returning to the stable yard.

Reno threw his head back and nickered loudly at the sight of Jo. Jo spotted Reno, AND Kimberly riding him. Reno was limping!

"Get off my horse, Kimberly." Jo demanded, stamping her foot on the ground. "I didn't give you permission to ride him. Why did you take him?" she sobbed.

"Well, he was all alone in that huge barn. He looked lonesome. I didn't think you'd mind since you weren't here to ride or exercise him."

What had been the real reason Kim rode Reno on the trail? Jo wondered. Everyone knows that Reno often stayed in the barn alone. Mainly because he wasn't put to pasture until Jo could visit him. For three months she hadn't been able to exercise or ride him.

"Look at him! You have him all lathered up. You must have been running him."

Reno's liver chestnut winter coat was nearly white from sweat.

"What else did you do to him? He's limping!"

"He wasn't limping until we rode through the gate. I think he was faking a limp just for you," Kimberly remarked.

"Reno doesn't fake anything, Kim. Just tell me what happened."

"We were loping. Suddenly a tree appeared across the trail. I quickly reined him up, and he stumbled. After that he seemed to be OK."

"Just get down from him, Kim. Why were you riding him with an English saddle? Worse yet, an English bit! He's never been ridden in English tack."

Kimberly slung one leg over the saddle and slid down to the ground. She didn't answer Jo's question.

Reno was switching his tail in agitation, but stood still despite all the bustle around him. The other riders were tending to their horses and vehicles were leaving the stable yard.

"All right, you two," Mr. Anders remarked. "I'll take a look at Reno's leg. He might need a vet." He lifted each foot, and then took a second look at Reno's right front foot. "Hmmmm-m" he murmured as he gingerly rubbed Reno's leg from his knee to his forefoot. "His leg is swollen. I'd better call the vet, Peaches."

"Kimberly, you should have to pay the vet bill," Jo scowled. "You know you're responsible for his injury."

Jo turned toward the barn. "Hey, Dallas. How about bringing Dad the mobile phone hanging on a hook by Reno's stall."

"Sure thing, Jo. Right away."

At fourteen, Dallas was the only male teenage boarder at Whitewater Farms. He got along equally well with Jo and with Kimberly. He was easily recognized with freckles peppered all over his face. They extended from his forehead down his neck. He was neatly and totally dressed in black western attire from hat to boots. He wore a tooled belt with his name embossed and a large silver horse head buckle. They were prized gifts from the Anders.

"Kimberly, you spoiled my plans for Reno," Jo said as Mr. Anders disconnected the phone.

"That's enough, Jo," Mr. Anders scolded. "Better get him in the barn."

Doctor Land was thirty minutes away from Whitewater Farms. Nothing could be done about Reno's injury until he arrived.

"Comet is settled in the stall," Dallas said, walking toward Jo and Kimberly. "I'll be glad to help with Reno, if you'd like, Jo."

"Thanks, Dallas. He needs to be put in his stall until Doctor Land gets here. First, he needs a good brushing. The lather has already dried in lots of places on him. He'd better not get sick from being overheated."

"He wasn't ridden that hard," Kimberly declared. She walked toward the tack room away from the hubbub.

Jo led Reno into the barn to the aisle crossties located near Reno's stall. While removing the bridle she slid a flat leather halter over his face and fastened the throatlatch. She was anchoring the crosstie ropes when she heard a rustling sound in the hay stacked near Reno's stall.

Just as Jo looked in the direction of the rustle, her cat made a leap onto the stall door. "Where have you been Zippo?" she asked. He was purring loudly. "You weren't here yesterday evening when we came home, you rascal."

Zippo rarely missed an opportunity to be brushed and petted every day. Being the only tame cat at Whitewater Farms he managed to get a lot of attention. He had also been good company for Jo during the recuperation from her ice skating mishap.

Jo had finished tying Reno when Dallas approached Reno with a pat on his hindquarters.

"Need some help with the tack?" he asked.

"Thanks. Reno's halter and lead mysteriously reappeared when I brought him in the barn. They weren't here when I first came to the barn this morning."

"Wonder how that happened?" Dallas winked at Jo. He knew that Kimberly was nearby and could hear them talking.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Reno and the Rodeoby Josie D. Lee Copyright © 2010 by Josie D. Lee. Excerpted by permission.
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