Pleasure Horse

“You mean you think if we get Samson to tolerate the stirrups Max will let him stay?” Lisa asked.

“Definitely. I’m sure that’s why he suddenly decided to send him to a trainer—he thinks we can’t solve this problem.” Carole stood to hang up the bridle she’d been oiling. “Luckily, Max is going to be at that dressage show, so we’ll have plenty of time.”

Lisa nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

“Can’t hurt? It’s our only chance to keep Samson here,” Carole replied.

“Okay, then,” Lisa said after a minute, “count me in.”

“I’
D BETTER GET OFF
before I
fall
off!” Stevie Lake exclaimed. She hopped to the ground and shook her finger reprovingly at Belle, her bay mare. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hadn’t been out of your stall in months!”

“It must be the weather,” said Lisa Atwood. “Prancer was just as bad. She spooked at the same corner of the ring nine times!”

“Ditto for Starlight,” said Carole Hanson, dismounting to join her two friends. “You’d think by February they’d be used to the sound of the wind blowing
outside the indoor ring, but Starlight was as skittish as a colt today.”

The girls had just finished their Tuesday-afternoon riding lesson at Pine Hollow Stables and, as usual, were heading into the barn together to untack. Besides taking lessons in the same group, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie spent practically every waking hour together.

Since all three of them loved horses, a lot of those hours were spent at Pine Hollow. Stevie and Carole boarded their horses there, and Lisa always rode Prancer, a Thoroughbred stable horse. To make the time there even more fun, the girls had started a club for people who were horse-crazy. It was called The Saddle Club. Besides being horse-crazy, the only other requirement was that members be willing to help each other out in any kind of situation.

“Skittish as a colt?” Lisa repeated Carole’s comment. “Hey, speaking of colts, weren’t we going to work with Samson today?”

Samson, a coal-black colt, had been bred and born at Pine Hollow. The Saddle Club had been helping out with his training since day one—or even before, since they’d taken care of his mother while she was in foal and had been there at his birth. With all the patient care he had received, it was no wonder that he was maturing
into a lovely horse. Of course, his breeding was important, too. Samson was the son of Delilah, an attractive palomino mare that was one of Pine Hollow’s best pleasure horses.

Samson’s father was Cobalt, a black Thoroughbred. Cobalt had been an amazing jumper until he had broken a leg in a tragic accident caused by his rider’s carelessness. Veronica diAngelo, a spoiled, snobby girl who rode at Pine Hollow, had ignored instructions and taken Cobalt over a jump in a dangerous way. The horse had fallen and injured himself so badly there had been no choice but to put him down. Despite missing Cobalt, The Saddle Club was thrilled that Samson seemed to have inherited his sire’s spirit, and also his dam’s sweet disposition.

“That’s right, we are supposed to work with Samson,” Carole replied, “and today we’re supposed to try the saddle with the stirrups on him.”

“Good—that’s an important step for him,” said Lisa.

The Saddle Club had seen Samson go from wearing a halter for the first time to getting used to a bridle and saddle. They took the task of training the colt very seriously and had made sure to go slowly to avoid upsetting him. So far Samson had only worn a saddle without
stirrups, but the girls had decided he was ready for the next step.

“Before long he’ll have a rider on his back,” Stevie predicted.

“Won’t that be incredible?” Lisa cried. “I wonder who will be the first to sit on Samson.”

“I’ll bet Max will want to do that part himself,” said Carole.

Maximillian Regnery III, Max for short, was the owner of Pine Hollow Stables and the girls’ riding instructor. He had inherited the farm from his father, who had inherited it from
his
father, usually referred to as Max the First. The current Max was an experienced all-around horseman. If he was the first to ride Samson, there was no doubt that he would do an excellent job.

“Still, maybe if we do our best, he’ll consider letting us at least help out on the big day. And then, you never know,” Stevie said, her hazel eyes twinkling.

Carole and Lisa grinned. It was much too early to guess who would get to ride the colt first, but with Stevie Lake on their team, it was true: You
did
never know. Stevie had an incredible talent for getting people to do what she wanted. Even though the talent seemed to be inborn, with all the adventures she’d gotten The Saddle Club into and out of, Stevie had found plenty of opportunities to develop it.

“Anyway, let’s get him used to the stirrups first, okay?” Lisa suggested.

“Right. How about we untack and meet back in the indoor ring in half an hour?” said Carole. “I’ll bring Samson. You guys bring a saddle with stirrups.”

The girls agreed and split up.

C
AROLE HUMMED AS
she groomed Starlight on the cross-ties. She loved fussing over the bay gelding, but today she couldn’t wait to work with Samson. He was more than just another horse to Carole. She felt she had a special bond with the colt because she had ridden his sire. Whenever Veronica had been too lazy to exercise Cobalt, Carole had taken the stallion out. For a short time, right before the accident, the two of them had made a great team.

When Cobalt had been put down, Carole had thought she would never ride again. In the end, though, her love of horses had won out. She’d gotten back in the saddle and kept riding. Now she had her own horse, Starlight, whom she adored. But she had never forgotten Cobalt, and it made her extremely proud that she was helping train his son to become as fine a horse as he had been.

After she finished rubbing Starlight down, putting him away, and checking his hay and water, Carole went
to Samson’s stall. The colt stuck his nose over the door the minute he heard Carole’s voice.

“Hey, Mr. Friendly,” Carole said, patting the glossy black neck. She snapped a lead line to his halter and led him out into the aisle. Even though he was still at the “awkward stage,” with his rump a good hand or two higher than his withers, Samson had the makings of a very handsome horse. His short back, sloping shoulder, and refined head spoke miles about his good breeding, even at this young age.

“All right, I’d better stop admiring you,” Carole admitted reluctantly. “I wouldn’t want you to get conceited—at least not yet.”

Samson playfully nodded his head and danced on the end of the lead line as Carole led him into the indoor ring.

“He looks raring to go,” Lisa observed.

“He is full of energy today,” Carole agreed.

As they always did, the girls spent a few minutes patting and speaking to the colt. All of the training they had done so far followed the methods of natural horsemanship they’d learned from Denise McCaskill, a college student who sometimes worked at the stables. “Natural” horsemanship meant training by positive encouragement instead of by force, or, as Stevie liked to
say, “By the carrot, not the whip.” It involved many techniques, including equine massage and voice training. The focus of each training session was supposed to be teaching, not correcting.

“I think I’ll take him for a couple of turns around the ring to let him check things out,” Carole said.

Even though Samson had seen the indoor ring hundreds of times, Carole knew that it was important to go slowly at every step of the colt’s training. Letting him walk around for a while instead of shoving a saddle on him right away would set a relaxed tone for the rest of the lesson.

“We’ll go with you,” Stevie volunteered. “I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs, either.”

“Sore from Max’s class?” Lisa asked.

Stevie shook her head. “Riding? No way. It’s sitting at a desk all day that makes me stiff!”

The girls laughed. Unlike Lisa, who breezed through school and liked it, or Carole, who tolerated it, Stevie maintained an active dislike for all things academic.

“Well, just think,” said Lisa, “Presidents’ Day is coming up, so there’ll be a long weekend soon—three days to stretch your legs instead of two.”