Silver Stirrups (2 page)

“Is that all?” Max asked.

Lisa nodded.

“All right,” said Max. “Look, guys. You and I know that Carole is a very experienced rider and that Starlight’s specialty is jumping.” Carole was about to relax happily when Max continued. “But that knowledge shouldn’t prevent you from being sharp judges.” He turned and spoke to Carole. “If you think about it, Carole, I think you’ll admit that you let your own position slip a lot during that ride. You sat back and let Starlight go on autopilot. That worked today. But what about tomorrow? And next week? It won’t take him long to realize if you’re slouching on the job. It’s something that haunts all successful horse-rider combinations: being too easy on yourself. Remember, and this goes for everyone, always challenge yourself and
your horse. Unless,” Max added wryly, “you decide you’d be happy moseying down a trail for the next ten years.

“All right, everyone, lesson’s over! Cool out your horses and meet in the tack room as soon as you’re done! I’ve got an announcement to make!”

A
HALF HOUR LATER
, the same group reassembled in the stables’ tack room.

Lisa and Carole sat side by side on a sawhorse next to a row of saddles. “You okay, Carole?” Lisa whispered.

Carole nodded and managed to smile. Lisa must have seen how taken aback she’d been by Max’s criticism. She knew he was right, but it was hard to hear, all the same. “Yeah, I’ll survive,” Carole muttered.

Up in the front of the room, Stevie, as usual, was clowning around, imitating previous judges they’d had for the schooling show.

Max entered and caught her in the act. “What’s that, your Mrs. Hayes impression?” he asked, not missing a beat.

Stevie grimaced and took a seat.

“That’s one comedy act you’d better retire, Stevie,” Max advised.

“Why, is she judging again?” Stevie asked.

“She’s not judging the schooling show, if that’s what you mean,” said Max. “But she is judging Briarwood.”

“Briarwood?” Stevie repeated, failing to understand. Briarwood, as all the girls knew, was short for the Briarwood Horse Show, a top-level, A-rated horse show in which The Saddle Club had once competed. “But why should we care who’s judging Bri—?” Stevie stopped midsentence, her eyes wide.

During the pause the door to the tack room swung open and Red O’Malley joined them.

“Red, Stevie wants to know why she should care who’s judging Briarwood,” Max said, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, Stevie,” Red said playfully, “I guess you should always care who’s judging a horse show you’re riding in.”

A loud squeal of joy rose up from the group. “We got invited to ride at Briarwood again?” Carole cried, all thoughts of Max’s criticism forgotten.

Briarwood was such an important show that its junior riders competed by invitation only. The previous year the show committee had invited Max to bring a handful of his best students. But Max hadn’t been able to promise his riders that they would be invited again.

Now he grinned. “I just heard from the show committee about numbers. Everyone in this room is invited to go. We’ve got two weeks plus the schooling show to practice.”

Everyone started talking at once, shouting out questions to Red and Max.

“Quiet down for two seconds!” Max cried, laughing good-naturedly. “Let me finish giving you the basic information. Let’s see … Oh, yes, I’ll post this class list on the bulletin board outside my office so that each of you can decide what to enter. There are a number of different classes—even more than last year. And the big news is—”

“Bigger than Briarwood?” Stevie interrupted. “But Briarwood’s the biggest news around!”

“No, not
bigger
than Briarwood,” Max said patiently. “This has to do with Briarwood.” He looked down to consult the class schedule, then read aloud: “ ‘This year, for the first time, the sponsorship committee of the Briarwood Horse Show is proud to offer the Silver Stirrups Trophy to be awarded to the junior rider who, in the opinion of the judges, best exemplifies the spirit of horsemastership—’ ”

“Speak English!” Stevie wailed.

“It’s a trophy for the best all-around junior rider,”
Carole said quickly. She’d read enough programs and won enough championships to be able to translate horse show program gibberish.

“But Carole, you have enough silver to polish already!” Stevie groaned.

Everyone laughed. They all knew that Carole’s bedroom was decorated with the cups, plates, and ribbons she’d started winning almost as soon as she started riding.

Max smiled warmly at Carole. “It would be great to see the Briarwood trophy come to Pine Hollow. But,” he said sternly, “remember what I said: The purpose of any competition is to challenge oneself and one’s horse!”

Still, Carole felt a shiver go down her spine. She sensed the other riders glancing at her. It almost felt as if she’d won the trophy already …

As she savored the moment, oblivious to the excited din that rose up when Max finished, there was a loud rumbling in the driveway. Carole recognized the sound of a horse van pulling in.

“That’ll be the new horse,” Max said to Red. “Will you go make sure his stall is ready?”

“Righto, boss,” Red said, and headed out.

“Oh, and Carole? Would you do me a favor and go see about unloading the horse?” Carole snapped back
to attention. “His owner was very anxious that he be handled with extreme care.”

“Valuable?” Carole guessed.

“You bet. Fancy junior hunter from New England; a big winner up there, I think. I’ve got to go to my desk and make sure his papers are in order, and then I’ll be right out,” said Max.

Pleased that he had chosen her for the job, Carole followed Max out the door. It was clear that he trusted her to deal with important matters at the stables. And, seeing the look he’d given her, Carole knew that Max believed she was Pine Hollow’s best chance for the Silver Stirrups Trophy at Briarwood.

It wasn’t until she got to the driveway that Carole fully absorbed what Max had been saying about the horse that was arriving in the van. She pursed her lips for a second. “Fancy
junior
hunter?” she repeated.

A
S THE HUGE
horse van rumbled to a stop, Carole ran to greet the driver.

“Is this Pine Hollow Stables?” the man inquired.

“Sure is,” Carole replied. “Can I help you unload him?”

“That would be great!” the man said. “I’ll let the ramp down and then you can lead him off.”

“Did he give you any trouble?” Carole asked as the driver stepped down from the cab of the van.

The man shook his head. “This one? Nah. He knows the drill. He’s been shipped all over the East Coast for shows. His rider competes almost every weekend.”

For some reason, that wasn’t the answer Carole had been hoping to receive. She made herself smile, though. “That’s good news. It’s always great to get new talent here.”

“Oh, you’re getting talent, all right. Just wait’ll you get a look at this boy,” said the driver in an appreciative tone.

When the ramp was secure, Carole walked up it to get the horse. A pretty chestnut face with a white blaze turned toward her, ears pricked. In the dim light Carole couldn’t really see what he looked like. What she could see was that no expense had been spared in shipping him down to Pine Hollow. The horse was resplendent in maroon and white, wearing every kind of bandage, boot, blanket, and head gear. In the stall next to him were a huge maroon-and-white tack trunk; two smaller trunks, also matching; and a number of grooming kits, buckets, and garment bags.

“Ready up there?”

“Ready!” Carole cried. She snapped a lead shank to the chestnut’s halter and opened the stall door. As she did so, she glimpsed the nameplate gleaming on the leather cheek piece: Country Doctor.

“Okay, here we come!”

Taking care that he didn’t rush (risking a scrape or injury), Carole led the gelding down the ramp to the
driveway. He walked perfectly calmly until they got to the ground. Then he threw up his head and neighed loudly.

“That’s right, boy. You’re in your new home now,” Carole murmured, stroking the glossy neck.

At the sound of the whinny, Stevie and Lisa emerged from the barn, followed by Red and then Max. Red whistled. “That is one good-looking horse,” he remarked.

Stevie and Lisa looked at one another and laughed. Only at Pine Hollow would the men be so impressed by a beautiful horse. Still, the girls could see that Red was right. Even covered in his travel gear, the chestnut was a looker.

“What’s his name?” Lisa asked.

“Says here, Country Doctor,” Carole supplied.

“That must be his show name,” Stevie guessed.

Carole nodded. “Yeah, we ought to give him a barn name, huh?” Most show horses went by short nicknames for easy reference.

“How about Doc?” Lisa suggested.

“Doc it is,” Carole pronounced. She led the horse forward to stretch his legs.

“Hey, why don’t we take some of this stuff off him,” Stevie volunteered.

“Great,” said Carole. She held the gelding steady
while Stevie and Lisa removed his blanket and shipping bandages. When they were done, Carole got her first real look at him. She drew her breath in sharply. Doc looked like … like her dream horse! He was a bright chestnut with four white socks, about fifteen and a half hands high. He looked both strong and elegant. “Wow,” Carole said with a sigh. “He is beautiful.”

Lisa glanced at Carole. “No more beautiful than Starlight,” she reminded her.

“Of course not, Lisa,” Carole said hurriedly. “But that’s like comparing apples and oranges. This horse is a top-of-the-line junior hunter. He probably cost more than—well, more than we could imagine.”

“Thousands?” Lisa asked.

Stevie grinned. “Thousands and thousands and
thousands.”

Their speculation was cut short by Max. “Lisa! Stevie! Can you two go help Red finish spreading the bedding for our new arrival? Carole, walk him a good half hour or so, so he can really stretch, okay?”

“Okay, Max!” Carole called, as Lisa and Stevie ran to help Red. “Come on, boy, time to work out the kinks,” she murmured. She started walking down the long driveway.

“Mind if I join you?” a voice asked.

Carole turned. It was the driver of the van. “I should probably work out the kinks, too. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

“Where to next?” Carole asked politely as the man fell into step with her.

“I’ve got to pick up two horses in North Carolina and bring ’em over to Tennessee. One of them’s a real handful. Not like this guy,” said the driver.

Carole smiled. One of the things she loved most about riding was horse talk. There was nothing like swapping stories, one horsey person to another. “So this guy’s a champion up north?” she inquired.

“You got that right. Owner’s absolutely horse-crazy. Takes him to every show she can.”

“She?” Carole repeated absently.

“Young girl—’bout your age. Been riding since she could walk.”

Ignoring the last comment, Carole asked, “So she rides hunters, not equitation?”

Most horse shows offered hunter classes, which judged the horse’s form, and equitation classes, which judged the rider’s form. Carole had done some of each with Starlight.

“Both,” said the driver. “And they win in both.”

Carole felt like frowning, but she forced another smile. “I’ve done both, too,” she said.

The driver looked at her. “You got your own horse?”

“Yup. He’s a half-Thoroughbred mix named Starlight. I trained him myself. I—” Carole paused, embarrassed that she had started to brag.

Luckily, the man didn’t seem to notice. “Good for you,” he said. “Training a horse is a real test of horsemanship—more than any of this horse show business, if you ask me.”

Carole glowed.
I’ll bet Doc’s owner can’t say that she’s trained a horse,
she thought. Then she stopped. Why was she comparing herself to Doc’s owner, a girl she’d never met? Why did she feel as if they were already in competition?

After a second Carole recovered herself and walked forward beside the chestnut. To her relief, the driver had continued talking, oblivious to the thoughts that were running through her mind.

“Anyway, this horse ought to be a great addition to the stable, eh? Not to mention his rider …”

“Yes,” Carole said tightly, “I’m sure they’ll—they’ll help our Pony Club teams a lot.”

Carole and the van driver reached the end of the driveway, turned around, and headed back. At the stables, Max came out to thank the man again and give him directions back to the highway. Carole lingered for a couple of moments, letting Doc nibble at the
grass outside the barn. She was glad that the gelding seemed happy and relaxed. As he grazed, she looked him over a second time. His conformation was truly striking: a sloping shoulder, a short back … Try as she could, Carole couldn’t find a single fault. A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience. Starlight was beautiful, too. And Starlight had excellent conformation. The only thing this horse had that Starlight didn’t was a price tag. But that was because Carole’s father had bought him for her when the horse was young and relatively unschooled. By now he was probably worth a lot more.…