Secret Horse (2 page)

Lisa flushed. It made her happy when Carole, the most experienced rider of the three of them, agreed with her opinions.

“Ready, girls?” said Stevie with a grin.

“Ready,” Lisa said.

“Let’s head ’em up and move ’em out.”

Dressed to ride, the girls hurried down the aisle to tack up. All three of them stiffened when they saw who was walking toward them.

“Veronica,” Stevie muttered under her breath.

“Well, hello!” cried the new arrival in a singsongy
voice. Veronica diAngelo was also dressed to ride. But unlike The Saddle Club, who wore an assortment of old jeans, T-shirts, and boots, she was wearing brand-new breeches and a show-quality sleeveless riding shirt. “Has anyone seen the program for the Macrae Valley Open?” she inquired loudly.

“You’re staring right at it,” Stevie said coldly, with an inkling of what Veronica was up to.

“Oh, you’re right! Silly me. Here it is, tacked up on the bulletin board.” Annoyed, The Saddle Club watched the girl remove the booklet and flip through the pages. “Phew!” Veronica said, pretending to be relieved. “The junior jumper division is scheduled during a weekend. I was afraid it would interfere with my private—”

“Manicures?” Stevie interrupted sweetly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to fit them in.”

Veronica gave Stevie a pitying look. “Poor Stephanie,” she said. “Always trying to get at me, aren’t you? I guess that’s what the little people do. In their small, pathetic ways, they—”

“Are you going to the Macrae?” Carole broke in.

“Excuse me?” said Veronica.

Carole swallowed as Stevie glared at her. “Are you going to ride in the Macrae?” she repeated. She knew she was playing right into Veronica’s scheme by giving
her the attention she wanted. But Carole didn’t care. She had to know.

“Why, yes, Carole, I am,” said Veronica, beaming. “And I expect to do very well. After all, we know how Danny got his name, don’t we?”

The Saddle Club rolled their eyes at one another. Danny was only the barn name of Veronica’s horse. His real name was Go for Blue—as in “go for blue ribbons.” He had been a champion jumper when Veronica bought him, with many trophies to his record.

“Yes, we do know how Danny got his name,” Stevie sneered. “Being ridden by people other than you!”

“Stevie Lake!” Veronica sputtered, her face turning red.

“Maybe you should change his name to Go for Pink,” Stevie suggested gleefully. Pink was the color of the fifth-place ribbon.

“Stevie …,” Lisa said warningly. She knew from experience that Stevie and Veronica’s little tiffs could quickly escalate into major feuds.

Veronica snapped the program shut. “I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned the Macrae!” she cried. “I knew you’d all just be … jealous! It’s not my fault that none of you has horses that are good enough for top competition!” Veronica paused, glancing hastily at Carole.

The Saddle Club said nothing—not Carole, not Lisa, not even Stevie. But they all knew what the sidelong glance meant: In her heart of hearts, Veronica knew Starlight was as good as Danny—maybe better. Carole’s father hadn’t paid a lot of money for Starlight, and Carole had trained the horse herself without fancy private instructors. But Carole had trained him well, and over fences, the two of them were the team to beat.

After momentarily holding her tongue, Stevie couldn’t resist getting in another little dig. “I wonder if Danny will even be up to his old level,” she mused aloud.

“What do you mean, ‘his old level’?” snapped Veronica.

Stevie pretended to be surprised. “Well, you know—the level he was at when you bought him. I mean, since you’ve owned Danny, he hasn’t really brought home tons of blues, has he? At least, not that I can remember …”

Stevie had turned away, prepared to ignore Veronica’s cries of outrage, when she happened to catch sight of Max Regnery walking toward them. In a flash she had pasted a smile on her face and was elbowing Veronica to be quiet.

“Huh?” said Veronica, a fraction of a second before she and Stevie, in a rare moment of unity, called, “Hello, Max!”

“H
ELLO
,”
SAID
M
AX
dryly, showing he hadn’t been fooled by the cover-up. “Are you ready for your lesson, Veronica?”

The Saddle Club exchanged glances. Normally they all had a group lesson together. Evidently Veronica was paying to take private lessons as well.

“
I’m
ready, yes,” said Veronica. “So if Red has Danny tacked up …”

“Red had to leave early this morning. You’ll have to tack Danny up yourself today,” Max replied tersely.

Stevie snickered, but Veronica had an immediate comeback.

“All right,” she said. “But thank goodness Daddy hired me my own private show groom for the Macrae!”
With that, she pinned the program back to the bulletin board and disappeared into the tack room.

The Saddle Club all looked at Max. Max looked back. “Yes?” he asked. “Is there something you need?”

Carole couldn’t speak. Lisa didn’t know what to say. So Stevie jumped right in. “So, Max, I was just thinking …”

“I’ll bet you were,” Max murmured.

“… if Veronica’s going to the Macrae, you must be taking the big Pine Hollow van. And that means you have four stalls to fill …”

Noticing the skeptical look on Max’s face, Lisa suddenly had an idea. Stevie was going about this all wrong! “Er, Max?” she interrupted, giving Stevie a significant look.

“Yes, Lisa?”

“I think what Stevie meant to ask you is what we can do to help around here while Red’s gone.”

Max beamed. “Now, that’s an excellent question. In my office there’s a list of horses to be exercised.”

“Great,” said Stevie, catching on. “Why don’t we go tack up right away?”

“Well”—Max hesitated—“only one horse really needs to go out today.” He grinned as he added, “But there’s another list on my desk of—”

“Barn chores,” Stevie finished for him.

“How did you know?” Max said innocently.

“Wild guess,” muttered Stevie.

“Who’s the horse?” Carole called hopefully as their instructor started down the aisle.

“Samson,” Max called back. “I guess you can draw straws.”

“I’
VE ALWAYS PREFERRED
paper, scissors, rock,” Stevie said when Max had gone.

“How does that go again?” Carole asked.

“Scissors cuts paper, paper covers rock, and rock smashes scissors,” Lisa chimed in.

“Okay: you and me, Carole,” said Stevie. “Two out of three.”

Carole beat Stevie. Then she and Lisa played. For some reason Lisa felt nervous. When she won she breathed a sigh of relief.

“I knew I should have stuck with rock!” Carole said. But the truth was, she was just as happy to ride Starlight that afternoon. “I’ve got an idea,” she added. “Why don’t Stevie and I get going on Max’s list while Lisa exercises Samson, and then in the afternoon we can all ride our own horses, together?”

Stevie grumbled but let herself be persuaded. She and Carole headed off to Max’s office.

Lisa grabbed a halter and walked toward the pasture. She whistled on the way. She felt incredibly lucky to be the one to ride Samson. If they hadn’t played for it, Lisa
knew she would have let Carole or Stevie ride instead. After all, Carole was more experienced than she was. And Stevie was more confident. And both experience and confidence were very important when it came to training a green horse. But given the chance, Lisa knew she could do it.

At the pasture rail she put her fingers to her lips and whistled the way Stevie had taught her. Most of the horses ignored her and went on grazing. But Samson recognized the call. He raised his head and pricked up his ears. When Lisa whistled again, he came to her at a trot. “Hello, boy,” Lisa murmured, patting his fine, silky neck. Gently she buckled the halter over his head and snapped a white cotton lead to it. Even at a walk Samson was spectacular. At 16.3 hands, he was a big horse, but his lines were delicate. His dark coat shone in the summer sun. It had been months since any of the girls had ridden him; now Lisa couldn’t wait to see what he was like.

I
N THE COOL
of the barn, Lisa cross-tied Samson close to where her friends were scrubbing out buckets. That way they could all talk. And talking, among The Saddle Club, was a way of life. After greeting Samson, Stevie and Carole got back to the topic of the morning: the Macrae Valley Open. The very thought of it excited Carole.

“Lisa’s got the idea. If we work hard, why wouldn’t Max let you ride?” Stevie asked, turning on the hose.

Carole frowned. “A lot of reasons. One, Veronica might have rented out the whole van. Two, he might not think I’m ready. Three … Three …” Carole faltered, scrub brush in hand. “I can’t think of a three,” she admitted.

“It sounds like you’re trying hard to think of reasons why you
can’t
go,” Stevie remarked.

“Heck, I don’t know!” said Carole. “Maybe we can all go! The whole Saddle Club with Prancer, Belle, and Starlight. How does that sound?”

Stevie laughed. “That sounds more like it.”

“So what’s it like?” Lisa asked curiously, trading her currycomb for a body brush. “The Macrae, I mean. Is it like Briarwood?”

Briarwood was a top-rated horse show in which the girls had competed, with mixed results. Carole contemplated Lisa’s question. “Ye-es,” she said slowly. “I guess you could say the Macrae is like Briarwood. Only it’s … bigger. And better. Briarwood gets all the best riders—from here. But the Macrae gets
all
the best riders, period. The last event is always the Grand Prix. The USET members turn out in full force.”

“Wow,” Lisa breathed. As she and Stevie knew,
USET
stood for “United States Equestrian Team.” Riding for “the Team” was every rider’s dream. At Pine
Hollow, people often said that Carole would make the Team someday—if she stuck with horses. And—Lisa laughed, watching Carole attack the grime on a water bucket—there was little doubt she would stick with horses!

“What’s so funny?” Stevie said.

Lisa giggled again. “Just Carole’s enthusiasm for scrubbing buckets.”

“You’re telling me,” Stevie groaned. “This is the worst barn chore ever.”

“That’s what you said last week about raking the driveway,” Carole noted wryly.

“This time I mean it!” Stevie insisted. “It’s a ton of work and the buckets don’t even look that different afterward.”

“But think how much the horses appreciate it,” Carole pointed out.

Stevie frowned. “Belle and I had a talk and she told me a little grime makes the water taste better.”

At Carole’s raised eyebrows Stevie hastily added, “But tell us more about the Macky Ray. It’ll keep me inspired to scrub.”

Carole didn’t need to be asked twice. Lost in her fantasy of riding in the show, she described the beautiful grounds, the beautiful horses, the beautiful fences—

“What about the riders?” Stevie joked. “I hope they’re beautiful, too.”

Carole frowned. She thought for a minute. “I guess that depends on whether you mean beautiful outside or beautiful inside.”

“Both, of course!” Stevie replied. “Like us!”

Carole smiled, but her voice was serious when she explained that many of the teenagers who rode the A circuit (meaning they competed in top-level shows all year) were not the nicest people she’d ever met.

“But what about Kate Devine?” Lisa said. “She was a champion at those shows.”

Kate Devine, the daughter of an old friend of Carole’s father, was now an old friend of The Saddle Club’s. Kate had ridden the circuit for years, with great success, until she decided that the competitiveness among the riders was spoiling her love of horses. With The Saddle Club’s help, Kate had rediscovered her love of riding, but now she was happy living on her family’s ranch out West, where the only riding she did was for pleasure.

“Kate’s the exception, not the rule,” Carole answered. “Because she
is
nice. And modest. And she puts her horse first—not the blue ribbon. And because whatever trophies she took home, you know she worked really hard for. A lot of the girls who compete at shows like the Macrae are pretty spoiled, and they’re snobby.”

“So what you’re saying is that they’re all like … Veronica?” Stevie suggested.

Carole didn’t deny it. “These girls have their own trainers, grooms … They pay people to braid their horses’ manes and tails, they spend more money than—”

“They
pay
people to braid for them?” cried Lisa. “Gosh, maybe Stevie should go into business.”

“I think Lisa may be on to something,” Stevie said. “I’d make a killing.” While Lisa was expert at any kind of handiwork, such as embroidery and needlepoint, Stevie was The Saddle Club expert at mane and tail braiding. At horse show time, her services were much in demand. “In fact,” Stevie continued, “I could drop out of school and take it on the road. I could live out of a suitcase, sleep under the stars …”

Carole and Lisa grinned. With Stevie, any conversation could be turned into a plan to drop out of school.

“… hang out at truck stops, eat in diners— Say,” Stevie interrupted herself. “You never told us what the food was like at the Macrae, Carole.”