Flying Horse (5 page)

“I
MEAN IT
,” Stevie said. “I really don’t want to go.”

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to go!” Lisa said. “This is Chincoteague Island, Stevie. Haven’t you always wanted to see it?”

“Don’t you remember the book?” Carole asked. “
Misty
? C’mon, Stevie!” Carole had called both Lisa and Stevie—three-way calling was a great invention as far as The Saddle Club was concerned—to discuss plans for their week on the coast. Stevie’s attitude didn’t make any sense to Carole—Marguerite Henry’s
Misty of Chincoteague
had always been one of Carole’s favorite books. Carole knew she’d gladly spend more
than a week working for anyone, let alone good friends like Dorothy and Nigel, for a chance to see where the book actually took place. She could still remember the descriptions of Chincoteague Island and Assateague Island.

“Of course I read the book,” Stevie said. “A zillion years ago, when I was a little kid. Of course I like it. That isn’t the point.”

“I read it again this afternoon,” Carole said. “Right after Mrs. Reg asked us to go.”

“That isn’t the point,” Stevie repeated.

“Didn’t Mrs. Reg call your parents?” Lisa asked. “They’ll let you go, won’t they?”

“Yes, she called them.” Stevie was beginning to feel exasperated. Why couldn’t her friends understand? “My parents would be happy to have me gone for a week, believe me. But—”

“I’m amazed that you’d pass this up,” Carole interrupted. “Think about it, Stevie—a free vacation
and
a chance to get away from your brothers. And it really doesn’t sound like we’ll have to do too much work—no more than what we would do at Pine Hollow anyway in the summertime.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Stevie retorted. “You know that, Carole. In fact, that’s why I don’t want to go to Chincoteague. I want to stay here and work on
Belle. She’s got to learn those flying changes. You and Lisa go. I’ll be okay.”

“But aren’t you curious about Chincoteague? Don’t you want to see it?” asked Lisa. “You remember Misty—the wild foal born on Assateague Island—remember. Stevie? How they swam her across the channel to auction her off?”

“But she was too little, and she almost drowned,” Carole cut in. “That’s my favorite part—Paul Beebe jumped in the water to save her. He swam her to shore.”

“And Paul and his sister, Maureen, bought Misty and her mother, the wild Phantom,” Lisa recalled. “And the book is dedicated to them and to other people from Chincoteague.”

“They were all real people,” said Carole. “That’s my other favorite part. The wild ponies are real. They’re still there today. Don’t you want to see them, Stevie?”

Steve sighed into the phone. “It’s not that I don’t want to see them; of course I want to see them,” she said. “And I’d love to go to Chincoteague with you, and see Dorothy and Nigel. But neither of you understands. I need to stay and work on Belle.”

Carole thought that that just about summed up Stevie’s problem—she wanted to “work on” Belle, not “work with” her. She wondered just how far Stevie would go not to be beaten by Phil. For Stevie’s sake, as
well as Belle’s, Carole was determined to get her friend to Chincoteague Island. Stevie needed a break!

“You know, Stevie,” she said slowly, “The Saddle Club is supposed to help whenever help is necessary. Dorothy’s mother needs us.
All
of us are obligated to help her.”

Stevie hesitated. “Mrs. DeSoto isn’t part of The Saddle Club,” she said at last. “The rule only says that you have to help Saddle Club members.”

“Mrs. DeSoto let us stay in her house when we went to New York,” Lisa reminded her, picking up immediately on Carole’s argument. “She was very kind to us. This is our chance to pay her back. Plus, Stevie, this is also a way to help Max. If we all don’t go, Max might feel like he and Deborah have to go. They won’t get their chance to be alone together. Max might not be part of The Saddle Club, but The Saddle Club certainly couldn’t exist without him.”

“Exactly,” Carole said.

“Lisa,” protested Stevie, “you really don’t think that Max would think he had to go, just because I didn’t—”

“I certainly do.”

There was a long pause on Stevie’s end of the line. “All right,” she said, giving in at last. “I’ll go.”

“Good,” Carole said crisply. She had never imagined needing to talk Stevie into having fun!

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
, Lisa ran into Carole at Willow Creek’s shopping center. Carole was getting off a bus in full riding gear. She usually rode the bus to get to Pine Hollow, and the shopping center stop was the closest one to the stable. Lisa was wearing her riding clothes, too. They looked at each other and giggled.

“I suppose you’re going to Pine Hollow,” Lisa said, slipping her arm through Carole’s.

“I suppose so,” Carole agreed. “I suppose you are, too, since you usually don’t shop in breeches and boots. I want to ride Starlight again before we leave. I’m really excited about this trip to Chincoteague—but I wish I could take Starlight with me!”

Lisa grinned. Today she had talked her mother out of the “summer enrichment” program—well, they had compromised. Lisa was going to take ballet again and possibly watercolor painting, but not ballroom dancing or music appreciation—and she had found her boot hooks in among her mane-braiding supplies,
and
she was about to leave for a week on a resort island with her two best friends! She could already feel the hot sand between her toes. Suddenly life was wonderful.

They walked along the road until they were within sight of Pine Hollow. Carole stopped. “Uh-oh,” she said.

Lisa looked and stopped, too. She sighed. “Here we go again.”

Stevie was riding Belle in the outdoor arena. Lisa was too far away to see exactly what they were doing, but she was sure it was another exercise designed to teach Belle a flying change. Stevie cantered Belle around a corner of the arena, then switched directions, throwing her weight around the corner. Belle chomped at the bit and swished her tail angrily. Instead of changing leads, she tossed her head and bucked. Stevie sat back and pulled Belle to a halt. Lisa was shocked at the expression on her friend’s face—Stevie looked ready to cry.

Stevie spotted Lisa and Carole and rode Belle up to the rail.

“She won’t do it,” she said in an anguished voice. “No matter what, I can’t teach her anything. This is a Bert de Némethy method—I got it out of his book on horse training—but I can’t make it work! I’m not getting anywhere with Belle! She isn’t any closer to doing a flying change than she was a week ago, and after we get back from Chincoteague I’ll only have three days before I see Phil!”

Stevie sounded so upset that Lisa tried to think of a comforting thing to say. But before she could, Carole cut in.

“I’ve had it with you, Stevie Lake,” she said sharply.

Lisa was amazed at the harshness in Carole’s voice. Was Carole actually angry? At Stevie? Lisa couldn’t remember when that had ever happened before.

“You’re working that horse far too hard,” Carole continued in the same angry tone. “It’s not good for Belle. You’ll end up actually hurting her if you keep at it like this. There’s more to training a horse than making it do a flying change. You don’t see me getting Starlight that upset, do you?”

Stevie’s eyes blazed. “Well excuse me, Ms. Perfect Horsewoman,” she replied. “But I am certainly not working my horse too hard. I do know
something
about training. Endurance riders cover a hundred miles of rough ground in a single day—I’m sure Belle can canter for half an hour without being hurt.”

“Endurance riders don’t do a hundred miles every single day,” Carole spat back. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Don’t you remember Mrs. Reg’s story?”

“Of course,” Stevie said, tight-lipped. “She said Madeleine turned out to be a wonderful horse. So will Belle. Soon. Meanwhile, I think you should just—”

“Stevie, Carole!” Lisa was aghast. “Cut it out! This isn’t helping!”

There was a long pause. “I guess you’re right,” Carole said slowly. “Stevie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Carole paused. How could she explain how
she felt, even to one of her best friends? “It’s just that I don’t really understand why this should be such a big deal to you, and I hate to see you and Belle getting so upset with each other. Usually you get along so well together. But I shouldn’t have compared Belle to Starlight. I know that all horses learn things differently and have different personalities. I don’t mean Belle should act like Starlight. I really am sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Stevie said. She sighed and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper at you either. But this
is
important—and frustrating. Anyway, I need to ride Belle today, because I won’t be able to ride her at all for a week.”

“I thought the same thing about Starlight,” Carole said. “Why don’t you and Belle join us and Lisa on a trail ride? It’d be fun.”

Stevie shook her head slowly but emphatically. “Not today. I really want to use this time for work, not fun,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’d like to go with you.”

“Okay,” said Carole. “But I’m sorry, too. We’ll miss you.” She and Lisa went into the stable. “I really didn’t mean to yell at her,” Carole repeated.

“I know you didn’t,” Lisa comforted her. “But do you want to go on a trail ride without Stevie?”

“I guess so. It feels kind of strange—but it’s her choice, Lisa. It’s not like we don’t want her to come.”

Lisa quietly agreed and went to get Prancer’s tack.

She couldn’t help feeling that, even though everything in her own life was still going well, the day was not nearly as wonderful as it had been before she’d seen Stevie.

S
ATURDAY MORNING EVERYONE
piled into Mrs. Reg’s big station wagon. They threw their luggage into the back. Denise sat up front with Mrs. Reg, and The Saddle Club squeezed themselves into the middle seat. Lisa had brought her pillow in case she felt like taking a nap, and Carole had a tin full of her father’s famous chocolate chip cookies. Stevie carried an armload of books.

“Stevie, don’t tell me you’re planning to study!” Carole said, laughing. “School’s out, remember?” It was a well-known fact that Stevie rarely studied even when school was in. She opened her books whenever her parents threatened to limit her riding time until her grades improved—and even that didn’t happen often.

“They’re dressage books,” Stevie explained defensively. “Training manuals.”

“Oh.” Carole shot Lisa a look, and Lisa rolled her eyes. They certainly weren’t going to let Stevie spend the whole week reading about techniques to use on Belle!

Denise leaned over the back of her seat. “Are you
interested in training?” she asked Stevie eagerly. “Because if you are, I’d like to tell you about natural horsemanship. It’s something I’ve been learning about recently at my college. It’s a really great method of teaching your horse without using any force at all.”

Stevie shrugged. “I don’t use too much force,” she said. Even to her, her words sounded a bit resentful. Denise was just trying to be helpful. But I’ve had it, Stevie thought. Everyone thinks they can tell me how to fix Belle—first Carole, now Denise. Pretty soon Dorothy’s mother will be giving me advice, too.

Denise gave Stevie a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “I’ll tell you about natural horsemanship some other time, if you’re interested. Maybe I’ll get a chance to show you what I mean. Demonstrations work better anyway.”

Stevie read her textbooks throughout the drive through Washington, D.C., across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and down the Eastern Shore of Maryland back into Virginia. Once they were over the Bay Bridge, the scenery became somewhat monotonous—nothing but pine trees, cotton fields, and more pine trees—so Lisa taught Carole to play cribbage, and Denise and Mrs. Reg chattered gaily in the front seat.

Finally they entered Virginia’s Eastern Shore, a thin strip of land that hung like an icicle off the east coast
of Maryland. The narrow two-lane highway swung wide around a large, fenced complex, and the girls were surprised to see enormous satellite dishes and what looked like rockets standing on launching pads. “It’s a NASA complex,” Mrs. Reg explained, checking the directions Dorothy had given her. “Pay attention, now—we’re almost there.”

Just past the complex, a long skinny bridge led to Chincoteague Island. “This is funny,” Carole said, frowning. “There wasn’t a bridge in the books. They talked about taking boats to and from the mainland.”

“It’s new, I think, or a least a lot newer than the books,” Denise said, looking over her shoulder at them. “There’s a bridge from Chincoteague to Assateague Island now, too.”

Carole wondered if she should feel disappointed. Part of her wanted everything about Chincoteague and Assateague to be just the way it was in the books—and part of her knew that bridges from the mainland to Chincoteague and from Chincoteague to Assateague certainly made it easier to visit the islands. She didn’t know much about boats, and she doubted that Lisa or Stevie did either.

“There are certainly a lot of billboards,” Lisa observed. “Look at that one, Carole! ‘See the REAL Misty!’ What do you suppose that means?”