Free Hard Hat by Bonnie Bryant Page A

Regina.
    “No, for real,” said Stevie, offering the stethoscope to Regina, who took it and listened.
    “Clip-clop, definitely a horse,” she said.
    “Who would go for a ride at this hour and in this place?” Stevie asked.
    “It must be a police horse,” said Regina. “There is a stable here—”
    “Yeah, but it’s way over on the West Side,” said Stevie. If there was one thing she knew about New York City, it was where she could find a stable. “And I doubt they let riders go out at night.”
    “So it’s definitely a police horse,” said Regina.
    “Just what we need!” Stevie told her. Then she turned toward the wall they’d been listening to and cried, “Help!” She put the stethoscope to the wall again to see if there was any response. Nothing.
“Help!”
she screamed louder. Again, no response. “Come on, help me here,” she said to Regina, who was looking at her very doubtfully. Regina shrugged. Together the two of them screamed as loud as they could:
“HELP!”
Then they listened again, Stevie with the stethoscope, Regina with her ear pressed against the wall. The only sound they heard was the sound of hoofbeats receding.
    Stevie shook her head. For just a few minutes she’d been sure that the Carole system of rescue was going to work—that there would be a horse to come to their aid. But that wasn’t happening.
    She listened some more at the wall. If the policeman hadn’t been able to hear them, it was very doubtfulthat anybody else would. It turned out not to make a difference, though. There were no other sounds from outside. Stevie glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight. Nobody was out on the street in the city that never sleeps.
    And then there
was
another sound. It was the clip-clop of horseshoes on asphalt again. Only this time there were more clips and clops.
    “Two horses,” Stevie told Regina, who just looked at her in disbelief.
    “Some tracker you are,” said Regina. “I bet you can tell whether they’re left- or right-handed from the way the clips and clops come down the street.”
    “Of course not,” said Stevie. “Horses aren’t ‘handed’ the way people are.”
    “I wouldn’t have known that,” said Regina, but she clearly wasn’t impressed. In fact, she seemed irritated. “It’s not that you’re horse-crazy that bothers me,” she said. “It’s that you’re horse-silly.”
    “Little do you know,” said Stevie, trying to keep the irritation out of her own voice. It wasn’t going to do any good to get into another argument at this point. And besides, the policemen and their horses didn’t seem to be coming to their rescue any better in twos than singly.
    When she could no longer hear the hoofbeats, Stevie took off the stethoscope and sat down again on one of the boxes of paper. She leaned back, resting her head against a filing cabinet. She closed her eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

C AROLE SAT BOLT upright in bed. Something was chasing around in her mind. She glanced at the clock. It read 2:13 A.M . She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to clear her mind a little. What was it that was chasing around?
    Maxi. No, it wasn’t Maxi chasing around, it was Carole chasing Maxi around. As she settled back onto her pillow, she remembered the day she and Lisa had had with Maxi. She sighed. They just had a few more days of Maxi chasing and then she’d be able to rest.
    It would be easier if Stevie were here
, Carole thought. Stevie always seemed to find ways to make the toughest chore more fun. She’d have thought of all sorts ofclever and fun things to do with Maxi. It might not have made the work any easier, but it would have made it more enjoyable.
    Things were always more fun when Stevie was around.
    Stevie was in New York, though, probably having the time of her life. Carole and Lisa would get a whole bunch of postcards from all the great places she’d been in the city. The postcards would arrive long after Stevie got home and had a