Saddlebags (11 page)

“That must be John,” said Mrs. Atwood. They watched the rider start to work the horse around the corral.

“I think it is,” said Lisa.

“He’s quite a good rider,” said Mrs. Atwood, “isn’t he?”

“He sure is,” said Lisa, smiling as she watched the distant horseman. She looked at her mother and gave a little laugh. “He sure is.”

S
TEVIE SAT ON
Stewball, between her mother and father. They didn’t say much, just watched as the sky lightened and the deep rich orange and purple and pink faded into
the daylight. This time Stevie’s father didn’t even sing. He scanned the whole view, then turned to Stevie and said, “Thanks for throwing me a line yesterday.”

Stevie didn’t know what to say. She bit her lip and looked from her mother to her father. “Thank you, Dad, and Mom,” she said softly. “For bringing me out here, and for coming along.”

“Any time,” said her father.

“S
O THIS IS
what you and Frank Devine have been raving about, hmm?” Colonel Hanson teased his daughter.

“Yes,” answered Carole. “Don’t you think it was worth getting up early for?”

“Sure it was,” he answered. “Better than the movie
Shane
.”

Carole raised her eyebrows. “I never thought I’d hear you say you like something better than a Western,” she teased him gently.

He smiled at her. “Being here, and sharing this with my daughter is worth much more than all the Westerns in the world,” he answered.

Unexpectedly tears sprung into Carole’s eyes. She reached over and squeezed his hand. Then the two of
them were quiet, letting the beauty and expanse of the panorama say all that needed to be said.

A
FEW MINUTES
later Mr. Lake finally broke the riders’ silence. “Anyone else hungry enough to eat a … horse?”

“I don’t know about your choice of entrée,” said Stevie, “but I’m starved too! Let’s head down.”

Carole and Kate led the group back.

When they reached the valley, Stevie stopped and pointed. “Why don’t you Saddlebags ride ahead and wait for us by that big tree over there, just before the corral. That way, we can have a bareback race and you can be the judges!”

“Okay,” agreed Mr. Lake. The girls watched as the Saddlebags trotted through the last stretch of valley.

When the parents had reached the tree, the girls lined up.

“On your marks!” said Stevie. “Get set, go!”

They were off. The girls kicked their horses into a lope, then, one by one, they leaned forward and grabbed their horses’ manes. The horses knew what was up, and sprinted into a gallop. Carole was in the lead, and Stevie and Stewball were in the rear. Stewball put his head
down and picked up speed. He seemed to know where they were headed, and as usual, he had some tricks in store. While all the others galloped ahead, Stewball turned right up a little rise.

Stevie leaned forward and squeezed with her legs to stay on. Sure enough, he cut a few yards off the distance, and as they headed for the tree, Stewball and Stevie were now in front.

“Come on, Stevie!” Stevie heard her parents cheer.

Mr. and Mrs. Atwood were screaming, “Go, Lisa, go! You can do it!”

Carole’s father sat on his horse and clapped and shouted, “Look at her go! Come on, baby, come ooooon!”

“Yeeee—hah!” cried Mr. Lake as Stevie pulled up first. She gave Stewball a big hug and joined in the cheering as her friends rode in.

They walked their horses from there to the corral so they could cool down.

John was waiting there for them, leaning on the corral fence.

“I think Mrs. Devine’s cooking up the breakfast to top all breakfasts,” he said, “so as soon as you can, you better head on in.”

He helped the grown-ups with their saddles, and they all watered and fed their horses. Then the whole group headed for the main house, where the smell of bacon, eggs, coffee, and sticky buns hit them as they opened the door.

“I’m glad it’s a huge breakfast,” said Lisa. “That way we can put off packing a little longer.”

Everyone agreed. In a few hours they’d be driving to the little airport where Frank Devine would fly The Saddle Club and the Saddlebags back to Willow Creek.

“S
HHH
,”
WHISPERED LISA
. “Let me check if the coast is clear.” She tiptoed out into the hallway. Inside her room, Carole and Stevie stifled giggles.

“So?” asked Stevie.

Lisa looked over her shoulder. “All clear. But, guys, let’s try to keep
really
quiet. That way we can stay up as late as we want.”

Dressed in their nightgowns, the three girls tiptoed one by one out of Lisa’s room and down the stairs.

When they reached the kitchen, Stevie and Carole carefully pulled out chairs and sat at the kitchen table.

They started giggling conspiratorially again.

“Will you stop!” Lisa whispered as she filled a pot with milk and put it on the stove. She reached for the hot chocolate mix. “If you can’t keep it down, we’ll get caught, and there goes the hot chocolate!”

Stevie became very serious. Not getting caught was a point of honor with her.

When the cocoa was ready, each girl took a mugful, popped three marshmallows into it, and crept back up-stairs. They were barely back in Lisa’s room before they burst out laughing again.

“Shhhhhhh!”

Knock knock knock
.

All mugs were quickly stashed in Lisa’s closet.

“Yes?” Lisa said, trying to sound innocent.

“Can you young ladies please keep it down in there so we can pretend we don’t know you’re still awake?” said a deep voice.

“We’ll do our best, Daddy. Sorry.”

Mr. Atwood’s footsteps padded back down the hall.

Stevie pulled the mugs back out of the closet. “Let’s drink this stuff before it gets cold!” she whispered. She took a sip. “Mmm. Lisa, you make the best hot chocolate.”

“This side of the Mississippi River,” added Carole.

“Sounds like you miss the Bar None,” Lisa said to Carole.

“Me too.” Stevie blew softly into her cup.

“So how would you rate that vacation,” Lisa asked her friends, “best one you ever took? Bar None?”

Stevie laughed. “No vacation at the Bar None can ever be a bomb. It definitely had its rough spots though.”

“Yeah,” said Carole, “like seeing Dad’s hat floating downstream—”

“Without your dad underneath it,” Stevie cut in.

“And my mom. Yank and kick and kick some more. I mean, how embarrassing is that?” added Lisa. “But …”

“But …,” Carole echoed, “when you add it all up, they were good sports.”

“You think so?” said Lisa.

“Yup, I really do. Even your mom got the hang of it after a while—she left that place a much better rider than when she came.”

“Nothing like crossing a river in a flash flood to make you a better rider,” Lisa answered.

“I was so glad to have Mom and Dad there,” said Stevie, “after all the stories I’d told them!”

“The main thing is,” added Carole, “they learned a whole lot more about horses and riding, and how much we love them, than they ever would here in Willow Creek.”

They all nodded, quietly sipping their cocoa.

“The last thing Kate said to me,” Carole went on, “was that we can all come back in the summer if we like.”

“Oh,” said Stevie, “that would be so great. But just
us
, right?”

“I think she meant our parents too.”

Stevie groaned softly. “Once is enough.”

“It may not have that same unpredictable magic the second time around,” Carole agreed.

“Mom said she had fun,” Lisa said. “You should have heard her today. She kept talking about what a nice boy that John What’s-his-name is.”

“All right!” said Carole.

“He took us all swimming on horseback,” said Stevie, “and finally made the right impression.”

“However, she did remark that she’d gotten a brochure for a nice Club Med vacation.”

Stevie giggled. “
I
know. Let’s send the parents to Club Med, and we can go back to the Bar None!”

“Yes!” Carole shouted.

“Shhh!” said Lisa.

“Whoa, one minor problem,” said Stevie. “I don’t think we should leave all your parents alone with my parents for a week.”

“Why?”

“Because they’d sit around and entertain themselves talking about all the awful things I’ve done!”

“Stevie,” Lisa pretended to chide her friend. “If you didn’t do awful things, you wouldn’t be Stevie!”

“And we wouldn’t be The Saddle Club,” Stevie concluded logically.

At that the girls clinked their nearly empty mugs together.

B
ONNIE
B
RYANT
is the author of many books for young readers, including novelizations of movie hits such as
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
^®
and
Honey, I Blew Up the Kid
, written under her married name, B. B. Hiller.

Ms. Bryant began writing The Saddle Club in 1986. Although she had done some riding before that, she intensified her studies then and found herself learning right along with her characters Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. She claims that they are all much better riders than she is.

Ms. Bryant was born and raised in New York City. She still lives there, in Greenwich Village, with her two sons.