Ivy Takes Care Read Online Free

she usually just leaned it up on a fence. She gave Mrs. Pratt her letter of recommendation.

    Ivy gave Chestnut a sugar lump off the flat of her hand. Chestnut breathed right into Ivy’s face and nudged her with his snowy, velvet nose.
    Mrs. Pratt showed Ivy all the things she had to know about Chestnut. “And if you ever need help, why, you just call Dr. Rinaldi, the veterinarian down in Carson,” said Mrs. Pratt. “You can’t call us in Mexico. The phones down there are not something I would ask you to tackle.”
    Ivy smiled in relief. Calling Dr. Rinaldi in town was just fine by her. The vet often came up to the Red Star Ranch to give a horse a shot of bute or look at a split hoof.
    Mrs. Pratt ran her hand down Chestnut’s ample belly. “He’s a little on the stout side. He needs some exercise,” she said. “And don’t forget to leave the radio on near his stall at night. He likes the radio. Especially
Music from the Stars
at six o’clock on KNEV.”
    Ivy wrote down every word Mrs. Pratt said and pinned her list neatly to the tack-room door.
    “Do you think you can handle Chestnut?” asked Mrs. Pratt.
    “A piece of cake, ma’am,” said Ivy.
    “How much do you charge?” asked Mrs. Pratt.
    “I don’t know,” said Ivy.
    “How about fifty cents a day?” asked Mrs. Pratt.
    “That’ll do fine!” said Ivy.
    “Here is an advance payment,” said Mrs. Pratt. “Don’t spend it all in one place!”
    Ivy did not mention the Tru-Friendship ring.
    “I will see you next week, Chestnut!” said Ivy. The pony nickered at her. She gave him a palmful of sweet feed.
    The following Monday, Ivy awoke early to the crow of the rooster. Mourning doves
coo-roo
ed in the cottonwood trees. In the distance, she heard the whistle of the train as it raced west across Nevada on its way to California. Mr. and Mrs. Pratt were on that train for the first leg of their trip to Mexico. For three weeks Ivy would be in charge.
    The Pratts trust me completely,
Ivy thought.
Without me, Chestnut would be alone in the world.
    She jumped out of bed and checked her shirt pocket for the sugar lumps she’d put there the night before. After she ate the breakfast that her mother had laid out the night before, Ivy went off to work on her bike. It was too early for slugabed Billy Joe Butterworth next door to have opened even one eye.
    Chestnut was happy to see Ivy. Having smelled the sugar in her pocket, he made umpy noises. Ivy gave him one lump.
    “Tomorrow you go on a diet, Chestnut,” said Ivy. “I’m only going to bring you carrots from now on. We’re going to slim you down a little!”
    Chestnut lifted his hooves nicely while Ivy cleaned them. He stood patiently while she checked for bumps or scratches on his legs. He ate a flake of hay while Ivy brushed him. He made no trouble when Ivy put his blanket on his back, and he opened his mouth just so when she put in the bit of his bridle.
    “Exercise time!” said Ivy.
    Chestnut trotted gamely around his paddock, but when they got out of the gate, he stopped dead. No matter what Ivy did or said, the pony just stood his ground, flicking flies with his tail.
    “I think it’s because you are a fatty,” said Ivy, “and you don’t want to go uphill carrying me.”
    So instead of riding, Ivy walked beside Chestnut, leading him up the trail that wound over Mule Canyon. Chestnut made more umpy noises.
    When they could see Washoe Lake sparkling in the rising sunlight from between the piñon pines, Ivy stopped. She let Chestnut drink from a stream that rippled down the mountain between the manzanita trees. They went home before the morning sun got too hot and the flies got too bad. Chestnut let Ivy ride downhill through the sage and yellow mallows.
    Ivy put Chestnut’s fly mask on and left him in his paddock.
    In the late afternoon, Ivy returned and found Chestnut waiting for her in the shade of a stand of large cottonwood trees. In the shade there were no flies.
    “Smart boy!” said