Horse Guest (7 page)

Carole took the medicine. “Okay,” she said, “but I’m sure he’ll have managed to come down with something else by then.”

Judy laughed again and gave Magoo a pat on the neck. “Don’t listen to her, boy,” she said. “I know you can’t help it, you fussy thing.”

“We know that, too,” Carole said, immediately feeling
bad about her comment. She knew that Magoo hadn’t gotten sick on purpose. It just
seemed
like he had. “We’re a little frustrated, that’s all.”

“I know,” Judy said. “But you’re doing a good job. Magoo is getting better under your care—slowly, but he is getting better. Just keep at it.”

Carole and Lisa nodded. Judy packed up her bag and left with a wave.

When the girls were once again alone with the horse, Lisa sighed. “I feel kind of bad about complaining, too,” she said. “I mean, usually I like fussing over a horse as much as anybody. Magoo is just so hard to figure out sometimes, you know?”

“I know,” Carole said. She glanced down at the container of medicine she was still holding. “Come on, I guess we’d better get started on that mash.”

Lisa picked up Magoo’s feed bucket. Just as they headed out for the grain shed, Britt came toward them, smiling tentatively.

“Hi,” she said. “I just stopped by to see how you’re doing with Magoo.”

Carole and Lisa exchanged secret smiles. Carole had been thinking about Lisa’s idea ever since The Saddle Club’s phone conversation the night before. She was starting to think it was a really good one. Britt
did
seem to be making an effort to be friendly toward The Saddle Club.

Carole smiled at the new girl, trying to imagine how it
would be to have her join their little group. The Saddle Club had a number of out-of-town members, but that wasn’t the same thing. If Britt joined, she would be a full-time member, just like Carole, Lisa, and Stevie. What would that be like?

While Carole was thinking about that, Lisa was telling Britt about Magoo’s latest ailment. When she was finished, Britt shyly offered to help make the bran mash Judy had prescribed.

“Sure,” Carole said immediately. “We were just going to get started on it. Come on. We’d love some help.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Carole saw Lisa winking at her. She guessed what her friend was thinking, because Carole was thinking the exact same thing. Not only was Britt horse-crazy, but here she was, offering to help out, just as though she were already a member of The Saddle Club!

The three girls headed for the grain shed first, where they measured out the correct amounts of bran and sweet feed into Magoo’s bucket, adding some salt to the mix as well. Then they carried the bucket to the deep, wide sink in one corner of the tack room.

“Max had this installed recently,” Carole explained to Britt, pointing to a small faucet set off to the side of the sink. “It provides instant boiling water, see?” She put the bucket under the faucet and turned it on, letting steamy water splash onto the grains. “It’s really useful for making mashes and hot poultices and stuff like that.”

Britt smiled. “I know,” she said. “You told me that on the tour you gave me on my first day here. Several times, actually.”

Lisa wasn’t sure, but it sounded as though Britt was teasing Carole! That was a really good sign. If she was comfortable enough to start joking around with them, that meant she was already much more comfortable with them than she had been at first.

They covered the mash and carried it back to Magoo’s stall. Setting it aside to cool, they went to work replacing his bandages and making sure his wounds were clean and healing properly. Britt pitched in willingly, even offering to redo the bandage on his hock, which was the trickiest one to do.

While they worked, the girls talked. They decided to try brainstorming more ideas for the gymkhana, since they still hadn’t come up with anything except the snowball race. They missed Stevie’s input, but even without her they managed to come up with some good ideas to suggest to Max. Britt didn’t contribute as much to the conversation as either of the others, but she contributed some. Both Carole and Lisa thought that was a good start for their potential new best friend.

They were debating the merits of a blindfolded relay race when they finished working on Magoo.

“That should do it,” Carole said as she smoothed down the last bandage. “We should probably give him his bran mash and then leave him to eat in peace.”

Lisa watched as Carole carefully measured the proper dosage of medicine into the lukewarm mash. “What do you say we move this little meeting into the locker room?” she suggested.

Britt bit her lip. “Um …,” she began.

“What is it, Britt?” Carole asked, hanging the bucket in the stall. Magoo stuck his nose into it eagerly as soon as she moved out of the way.

Britt shrugged. “Well, it’s just that I saw that girl Veronica in the locker room before I came over here,” she said. “And, well, you know …”

“Enough said.” Lisa winked. “Don’t worry, Britt. We don’t like to hang out with Veronica any more than you do.”

Britt looked relieved. “Good,” she said. “Then maybe we should just stay here with Magoo. He doesn’t seem to mind.”

Sure enough, the horse hardly noticed their presence as he slurped down the tasty mash. Because of his general fussiness, Carole had been worried that Magoo would refuse to eat the mash if he sensed a foreign taste. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to notice the taste of the medicine.

“All right,” Carole said. “We’ll stay here.”

“Good,” Britt said quickly. She glanced down at the grooming bucket at her feet. “Maybe when he’s done eating, Magoo would like a little extra grooming or something.”

Lisa nodded. She was pretty sure that Britt was just
coming up with an excuse to keep them in the stall—and out of Veronica’s path—for as long as possible. That was fine with her. The last thing she felt like doing was spending even more time fussing over Magoo, and she was sure Carole would agree. But it would be worth it if it helped them get to know Britt better.

Carole was thinking the same thing. She leaned against the wall and watched the horse eat. “At this rate we should be able to come up with some great ideas for the gymkhana,” she said. “Stevie will be awfully jealous when she learns we left her out, though.”

Lisa giggled. “Don’t worry about her,” she said. “That’s what she gets for going off to have fun at the Smithsonian and leaving us here with all the work.”

S
TEVIE WASN
’
T HAVING
much fun at that moment. She was stifling a yawn as her mother, father, and grandmother oohed and aahed over yet another boring, stuffy old oil painting.

The worst part was, her brothers weren’t even there suffering with her. They had all managed to come up with excuses not to join today’s trip. Chad had claimed to have an extra basketball practice. Alex wanted to catch up on his homework before school started again. And Michael had been invited to a friend’s house for the afternoon.

But the museum trip had been Stevie’s idea, so she was stuck. How long had she been in this dull place, anyway? It felt like hours. She hadn’t realized quite how big the
National Gallery was, or she would have suggested someplace smaller—like the Willow Creek Art Museum, for instance. That only had three rooms.

“Coming, Stevie?” her father asked as he and the other adults moved on to another painting.

Stevie shuffled along behind him. She had nothing against art. But why were art museums always so dry and stuffy and dull?

She stole a glance at her grandmother. Grandma Lake was gazing at the next picture, a dark oil portrait of a pudgy woman in old-fashioned dress. An ugly little pooch was perched on her ample lap. Both dog and woman looked grumpy and uncomfortable. Stevie knew exactly how they felt.

As Stevie watched, her grandmother raised her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. Stevie frowned. They had done a lot of walking already today. She hoped her grandmother wasn’t getting too exhausted by all the exercise.

“I’m kind of tired,” Stevie said as her parents got ready to move on to another painting. “Do you mind if we sit down for a few minutes?” She gestured to an empty bench in the center of the room.

Mr. Lake shrugged. “I suppose so,” he said. “Although I don’t understand how you could be tired already, Stevie. We’ve only been here for half an hour. What happened to all that youthful energy you usually have?”

Grandma Lake laughed as Stevie led the way to the bench. “I understand,” she told her son. “You were the
same way as a boy. Art museums are the only place in the world that are more tiring when you’re young than when you’re old.” She winked at Stevie. “Except maybe for department stores.”

Stevie smiled as Grandma Lake sat down beside her. She didn’t care how much the adults made fun of her. The important thing was making sure her grandmother got a chance to rest.

As the others chatted about the paintings in the room, Stevie let her mind drift to more interesting things. She wondered if her friends had finished taking care of Magoo yet. She also wondered if they had made any progress on either of their current Saddle Club projects. Since Stevie couldn’t do much to help with those while she was stuck here, she decided to try to think up new ideas for the gymkhana. It was only a few days away, and she couldn’t wait. That reminded her—The Saddle Club had already decided to ask Britt to be the fourth member of their gymkhana team, but they hadn’t actually asked her yet. Stevie made a mental note to do it the next day at lessons.

Thinking about the next day’s riding lesson reminded Stevie that her grandmother would be coming to watch. She sighed. She still had no idea what she was going to do to keep the old woman from becoming overly excited by all the action at the stable. There had to be a solution.

At least Grandma doesn’t know about the gymkhana
, Stevie reminded herself thankfully. She could hardly
imagine what might happen if her grandmother came to watch something
that
action-packed and exciting! She would probably have a stroke on the spot.

A few minutes later, just as Grandma Lake covered another yawn, Mr. Lake stood up. “Ready to move on?” he asked Stevie.

Stevie gave her grandmother an anxious look. She was obviously still tired. But she stood up, and Stevie reluctantly did the same. Maybe she could try to walk really slowly so that everybody else would have to, too. That might help her grandmother.

Of course, it also means it will take us that much longer to get through this stupid museum
, Stevie reminded herself grimly. Still, she didn’t have much choice, did she? She would have to make the sacrifice for the sake of her grandmother’s health.

The family moved into the next room and stopped in front of the first painting. This one showed a man with a droopy mustache holding up a sword.

Stevie stared at it. It looked almost identical to half a dozen of the pictures in the room they had just left. But her parents and grandmother gazed at it as if they had never seen a painting before in their lives.
I’m glad Grandma is enjoying herself
, Stevie thought glumly.
But if this is the kind of stuff I’ll have to do with my time when I’m her age, then I
never
want to get old!

“P
LEASE
, M
AX
?” S
TEVIE
whined. “Pretty please with sugar on top?
Pleeeeeeeease?
”

Max crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. “Let me get this straight,” he said, leaning back against the desk in Mrs. Reg’s office, where Stevie had cornered him. “You want me to spend the second half of today’s class practicing
walking
skills? Is this really Stevie Lake standing before me?”

Stevie shrugged and grinned weakly. She knew that she was normally the last person in the world who would want to spend so much time doing something as dull as walking. But she was sure it was the best way to keep her
grandmother from getting overexcited while watching their class. “Walking is an important gait,” she reminded Max. “Isn’t that what you’re always telling us?”

Max just snorted. “I was planning to spend today polishing up your skills for the gymkhana,” he said. “Some of the games will involve some complicated moves.”

“I know,” Stevie said. “We can practice those all you want before my grandma gets here. She’s only coming for the second half of class.”

Max still looked skeptical. “I don’t really understand what you’re so worried about, Stevie,” he said. “I’m sure your grandmother can handle a normal lesson, or she wouldn’t come. Besides, she’s just watching, not riding.” He grinned. “Although if she’s related to you, I wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up wanting to climb into the saddle and go for a brisk canter herself.”

Stevie knew Max was only joking, but even the thought of her grandmother on horseback made her shudder. No, her plan was the best way. Max just didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation.

She decided to take another tack. “Okay, I didn’t want to resort to this,” she said, narrowing her eyes a little. “But you leave me no choice.” She paused for dramatic effect.