Free Gift Horse by Bonnie Bryant

Carole andLisa. None of the boys seemed to know what to say. Chad sat down and shoved two cookies into his mouth. The other boys just stood there, shifting their weight from foot to foot.
    Just then the phone rang. Stevie jumped. Mr. Lake got up and answered it. “Yes?” he said. “Oh, yes, hello.”
    By the expression on her father’s face, Stevie could tell it was about No-Name. She held her breath.
    “I see,” Mr. Lake said into the phone. “Yes. I see. Yes, I recall. Mmm-hmm. Well, all right then. We’ll be in touch. Of course. Yes. Good-bye.”
    He hung up, and Stevie jumped out of her chair and hurried over to him. “Who was that?” she asked anxiously.
    Mr. Lake ran one hand through his hair. “That was the Webbers’ lawyer,” he said. He walked over to the table and sat down. “Have a seat, Stevie.”

S TEVIE DID AS her father said, and sat down, but it was as if someone else were going through the motion. When she looked back at her father her head felt thick and foggy. Maybe she was dreaming or sleepwalking. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening to her.
    Stevie barely paid attention when Carole spoke up. “What did he say, Mr. Lake?” she asked. “Was the lawyer calling about the vet’s visit?”
    Mr. Lake nodded. He stared at Stevie, a serious look on his face. “After the preliminary results from the vet, it looks as though No-Name and Punk are indeed one and the same horse.”
    “Oh, Stevie,” Carole whispered, taking her friend’s hand.
    Stevie didn’t even seem to notice the comforting gesture. Her face had turned white and she stared at her father. She gripped the edge of the table. “Why are they so sure?” she asked.
    Mr. Lake sighed. “Several reasons,” he said. “For one thing, No-Name’s markings are rather unusual.…”
    “But that’s not enough proof!” Stevie cried. “You said it yourself. They need more evidence than that!”
    “Stevie,” Mrs. Lake said quietly, “let your father finish.”
    “Yes, Stevie, there is more evidence,” Mr. Lake said. “Not only does No-Name resemble Punk exactly, but there’s also the matter of the identical weed allergies.”
    Stevie groaned. “I can’t believe I ever boasted about figuring that out,” she said miserably, burying her head in her arms.
    “That doesn’t matter, Stevie,” Mrs. Lake reassured her. “The vet would have known to check for it anyway.”
    “The other major piece of evidence,” Mr. Lake continued, “is the bone splint.”
    Stevie looked up, and her eyes widened. Pine Hollow’s vet, Judy Barker, had declared No-Name’s bone splint perfectly harmless before the Lakes had bought the mare. “You mean Punk had the same thing?”
    “That’s right,” her father said. “The Webbers’ vet just re-X-rayed it. It’s identical.”
    “So No-Name’s real name is Punctuation Webber,” Stevie said. She felt tears welling up uncontrollably, butshe didn’t care. She couldn’t fight the facts—or the law. “I have to go see her!” she wailed. “I have to say good-bye to her one last time!” She jumped out of her seat.
    “Stevie, calm down,” Mrs. Lake said, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her back down. “I admit, the proof does seem rather conclusive, but it has to be approved by the court before the Webbers can reclaim the horse.”
    “Your mother’s right,” Mr. Lake agreed. “And that can’t possibly happen before next week, so you’ll have No-Name at least until then. You’ll have plenty of time to say goodbye.”
    Stevie nodded, too brokenhearted to answer. She knew one reason she would be at Pine Hollow between now and next week—the rally. She had been looking forward to it so much. But now it was ruined. She wouldn’t be able to ride No-Name—
her
horse. Not in the rally. Not ever again.
    Never. The unspoken word echoed in her ears. Never.
    W HEN S TEVIE ARRIVED at Pine Hollow after school the next day, the first person she saw was Veronica diAngelo.