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would break from chasing after him and picking him up. He was always fascinated by the manure pile. It was all I could do to keep him out of it.”
    “We know what that’s like,” Lisa said.
    “I guess it’s in the genes,” Mrs. Reg said. “And now my son has the child he deserves, except you’re paying the price today!”
    They all laughed at that.
    Mrs. Reg picked up her granddaughter and gave her a little hug before sitting down on the mounting block. “Being a handful, are we?” she asked. Maxi blinked her eyes and smiled at Mrs. Reg. The look was so utterly angelic that it was almost hard to remember that this very same little girl had been aiming to yank Patch’s tail a mere half hour earlier. Maxi settled into her grandmother’s lap.
    “We used to have a stallion here, you know,” said Mrs. Reg. Her eyes got a familiar faraway look that told Carole and Lisa she was about to tell them one of her tales. Mrs. Reg’s stories were often confusing to the girls, and Mrs. Reg would never explain exactly why she’d decided to tell the story. Carole and Lisa leaned against the fence and did the only thing they could do, which was listen.
    “I forget the stallion’s name, but he was a handful and Max—
my
Max …” She emphasized the
my
. That meant she was referring to Max’s father, who had diedsome time ago. The girls usually referred to him as Max the Second, because he was the second Maximilian Regnery to own Pine Hollow. The current Max was Max the Third. “Well, my Max didn’t know what to do with him. He started him out in that paddock.” She pointed to the paddock nearest the schooling ring. It was small but pleasant, with some grass and a nice enough view of the stable and riding rings to satisfy the curiosity of most horses.
    “What happened?” Lisa asked. Mrs. Reg scowled. It was a mistake to interrupt her, even with a question, when she was telling one of her stories. “Sorry,” Lisa said quickly.
    “He jumped the fence. Went right into the field beyond.”
    Carole and Lisa looked where Mrs. Reg was pointing. The fence around that paddock was higher than any of the other fences at Pine Hollow. They didn’t mention that, though. They waited for Mrs. Reg to continue.
    “So Max built the fence up higher. I bet you’ve always wondered why that fence was higher than the others, haven’t you?”
    “Sure,” said Lisa.
    “Absolutely,” said Carole. In fact, the thought had never crossed either of their minds until that minute.
    “Well, that’s why,” said Mrs. Reg. “And that old stallion would just run around that paddock, itchy, annoyed, and very unhappy—always trying to get out. He’d get up against the part of the fence next to the field and rear up on his hind legs, whinnying and bucking, behaving just like the naughtiest little child you ever saw. That stallion had a tantrum every time he went into the paddock.”
    There was a long pause. Mrs. Reg tickled Maxi, who giggled and then put her head on her grandmother’s shoulder. Lisa wished she could get Maxi to be that tame with her. Grandmothers were different from baby-sitters, though, and even Lisa knew that. She and Carole waited.
    “Then one day that no-good stable hand we had back then—I’ve forgotten his name, too, and that’s all for the best—he did what he often did. He forgot to close the gate.”
    That was hard to imagine since one of the first rules anybody learned about being around any kind of livestock, and especially horses, was to latch every gate behind you. No wonder Mrs. Reg had forgotten his name.
    Mrs. Reg stood up and handed Maxi back to Lisa. Maxi immediately wiggled out of Lisa’s grasp and started heading for the stable. Images of Maxi and the manure pile inclined Lisa to follow her. Curiosity held her back for a moment.
    “What happened to the stallion?” Lisa asked.
    Mrs. Reg shook her head as if the answer were utterly obvious. “Happy as a clam of course,” she said. “We never had a