Free Biggie and the Devil Diet by Nancy Bell Page B

doors. I walked across the patio and looked at the grassy slope of the yard. To my right stood the barn and bunkhouse and beyond them, behind board fences, the cattle and goats grazed. Rosebud was standing beside one fence talking to a man wearing a cowboy hat. I headed in their direction but before I got there, Monica called my name.
    "Hey, J.R. Over here," she said. "I want you to meet my new friend."
    She was standing just inside the barn. Next to her stood the girl I'd seen earlier, the one who had come for Stacie. Monica didn't seem to notice I'd turned red all over. "This is Misty, Misty Caldwell. Her dad's a vet. He works here all the time taking care of the animals. Misty, this is J.R. He's kind of dorky, but he's my best friend anyway." She waited for me to give her a shove like I always do when she says something smart like that.
    All I could get out of my mouth was, "Pleased to meet you."
    Misty put out her hand. I've never shaken hands with a girl before, but I put mine out and awkwardly squeezed her hand. She laughed. "Don't pay any attention to Monica. She's been telling me real nice things about you. She says you're the bravest boy she knows."
    "And we've been through some tight spots together. Right, J.R.?" Monica waited for me to start in bragging, but I couldn't.
    "I guess," I said.
    "Would you like to help us groom the horses?" Misty asked. "Dad says we need to give them lots of attention to gentle them down after the storm."
    "Sure!"
    I followed them into the barn. It was cool and smelled like fresh hay and feed and damp dirt. Six horses stood in stalls lined up against one side. They whinnied and stamped their feet when they saw Misty. Misty handed me a brush and led me to a big roan standing in the first stall. "You can start with Star. He's gentle and good with strangers. Just pat him and stroke him. After he gets to know you a little, just brush in the direction the hair grows. Like this." She put her hand over mine to show me how. Her hand was tiny and soft.
    Monica made a face at me over the horse's back. "You don't have to show me. I already know how." She grabbed a brush off the shelf and started brushing the horse in the next stall.
    "Yeah, right," I said. "That's because you spend so much time grooming that old mule your daddy's got."
    While we worked, Misty went to a barrel in the corner of the barn, scooped out a bucket of feed, and brought it to feed the horses. "You can't feed them too much, they'll get colic." She stroked the horse's head and talked softly to him while he ate.
    "Yeah," Monica said. "A horse will keep on eating 'til its stomach busts. My daddy told me that."
    Monica can be the world's biggest know-it-all at times. But I didn't say anything, just kept brushing and listening to her brag about how much she knows about horses.
    After we finished the grooming and feeding, Misty led us into the tack room and opened a little refrigerator. "Y'all want a cold drink?"
    We nodded. While Misty got the drinks, I looked around the little room. The only light came from a small window set high on one wall. Under it, next to a shelf piled with saddle blankets, a pegboard held bridles, ropes, and other tack. Along the solid wall to the right, six odd-looking black saddles hung in a row.
    I walked over and touched one. "What kind of saddles are these?" I asked.
    Misty handed me a Big Red. "They're English saddles."
    "They're just flat like that? Where's the horn? And the seat?"
    Misty laughed. "My daddy uses a western saddle, but the girls all use these."
    "I know all about English saddles," Monica bragged. "I saw National Velvet on TV just the other night." She turned to Misty. "J.R. doesn't know much about this stuff."
    I chose to ignore that remark.
    "Let's sit down," Misty said.
    She led us to a spot in the corner, and we sat down on bags of oats. I sat next to Misty, while Monica plopped herself down across the room.
    "How do you like living here?" I asked Misty.
    "It's okay," she said,