Stable Groom (4 page)

Then suddenly it hit Stevie. Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it right away? The reason Veronica was on her best behavior was that Denise had credentials, pure and simple. With an “A” Pony Club rating, a certification as a riding counselor, and a major in equine studies at Virginia’s prestigious university, Denise had won Veronica’s respect. She had also won everyone else’s respect. Everyone knew that getting an “A” was excellent proof of riding skill and horsemanship. The difference was that for Veronica, credentials were the
only
thing that mattered. In her opinion, if you didn’t have the credentials, you couldn’t possibly have the knowledge.

Red was the perfect case in point. As Max or anyone at Pine Hollow could have attested, Red O’Malley was as skilled a horseman as any “A” Pony Clubber. He was almost surely on the same level as Denise. But he had never had the time to belong to Pony Clubs, get an instructor certification, or take a university course in equine studies. There was no diploma—no piece of paper—that said Red O’Malley was a great rider and knew an incredible amount about horses, even though it was true. And he didn’t
have ribbons and trophies either, because he wasn’t particularly interested in competitions. Therefore, to Veronica, he was just an ignorant stable hand, while Denise was someone to look up to.

Stevie let her eyes rest on Red’s group for a minute. She knew from experience that his teaching style was very different from Denise’s. He wouldn’t ask them to write their feeding charts on paper. All his knowledge about horses was in his head, and he expected his students’ to be, too. He didn’t talk very much when he taught, and he didn’t ask too many questions. But somehow, at the end of a session with Red, you had always learned the right answers—answers that stayed with you long after the meeting.

Of course, Veronica was always too busy ignoring Red to learn from him. With Denise, on the other hand, she was all ears. The thought annoyed Stevie. She was glad Denise wasn’t going to have to deal with Veronica’s outbursts, but it just didn’t seem fair that Red always got the brunt of Veronica’s bad temper. As Denise collected the feed charts, Stevie sighed contemplatively. Max’s wedding aside, The Saddle Club just had to find a way to help Red.

When the meeting ended, most of the riders left the stables. Everyone knew that sticking around afterward usually meant that Mrs. Reg would find extra
chores that needed doing. Veronica thanked Denise profusely for teaching her so much, and then disappeared. As soon as she was out of earshot, Stevie gathered The Saddle Club. She wanted to share what she’d realized during the meeting. Besides, none of them minded helping out if it meant they could all hang out at the same time.

When they were finally alone in the grain room, Stevie told Lisa and Carole about Veronica’s instant adoration for Denise.

Lisa nodded. “Just what I expected. I saw a gleam in her eye the minute she heard ‘A-rated Pony Clubber.’ ”

“It’s so unfair,” Stevie continued. “If Red could impress her like that somehow, Veronica would treat him ten times better.” Lisa and Carole agreed. Both of them believed that Red was as knowledgeable as someone like Denise—he just didn’t have the paperwork to prove it.

Mrs. Reg stuck her nose into the grain room. “I thought I heard voices in here. Listen, there are a few saddles in the tack room that could use soaping, and you know,” she concluded brightly, “you can always talk and work at the same time.”

The three girls followed Mrs. Reg good-naturedly into the tack room, where she pointed out the dirty
tack she had noticed. Denise was inside, looking around.

“Thought I’d get a better lay of the land,” she explained. “This is one of the best-organized tack rooms I’ve seen.”

Mrs. Reg brushed off the praise, thanking Denise for instructing at the Pony Club meeting.

“My pleasure,” Denise replied. “And did I hear something about some tack cleaning? Because I’ve always enjoyed soaping saddles.”

Carole beamed. “Really? Me too! But I always thought I was the only one.”

Mrs. Reg looked fondly at Carole. All of Max’s students’ personalities were well known to her, including Carole’s passion for
anything
having to do with horses. Then she turned to Denise, saying, “That’s very kind of you, but—”

Denise held up her hand to stop Mrs. Reg from protesting. “All right, then. I’m staying. Somebody hand me a sponge.”

T
HE
S
ADDLE
C
LUB
was thrilled that Denise had decided to join them. Almost at once, the four of them began an animated conversation. The girls were eager to fill Denise in on the Pine Hollow traditions. They told her about the starlight trail ride at Christmastime, the Fourth of July picnic, and summer day camp.

“Of course, none of those is the most important Pine Hollow tradition,” Stevie said.

Denise raised her eyebrows in curiosity. “Oh, really?”

Stevie nodded solemnly. “The most important tradition is what we’re doing right now.”

“Soaping saddles?” Denise asked.

“That’s right: Soaping saddles, mucking out stalls, grooming horses—you name it, we do it,” Stevie said with a grin. “And if you’re ever standing around after a lesson like we were, Mrs. Reg will put you right to work.”

Carole and Lisa nodded. “All of us pitching in around here is one of the things that makes Pine Hollow different from other stables,” Carole commented.

“I’ll say,” Denise responded. “Everyone seems to cooperate. It’s great—much nicer than places where people show up to ride their horses and then fling the reins at the stable hand.”

At that, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie exchanged glances. “Actually, I shouldn’t have said ‘
all
of us pitching in’—a few people ride but never help out in the barn,” Carole said.

“Or, more precisely, one person rides and doesn’t help out,” Stevie couldn’t resist adding.

Denise nodded sympathetically. “I have the feeling that one person just might be … Veronica?”

“How did you guess?” Lisa asked. The question was sincere. To them, Veronica was an obvious pain, but it usually took newcomers much longer to catch on.

“I saw that whole scene between her and Red. And I didn’t like it one bit. I’ve seen other people butter up the instructor and then yell at the stable hands or
grooms—when
I
was the groom!” Denise said. “That’s how I put myself through freshman year, working in the university stables. I didn’t get the scholarship until this year. So seeing people like Veronica act that way makes my blood boil.”

“The best idea is to not get within thirty feet of her if you can help it, especially when there’s some job she’s looking for someone else to do,” Stevie concluded.

“I’ll remember that,” Denise said. “Any other tips?”

Carole looked up from the saddle on her knees. “If you take any lessons with Max, don’t let him see you fiddling around or talking—even to your horse.”

“And don’t be even a minute late,” Stevie advised.

“Sounds like Max is pretty tough, huh? Just like my old Pony Club instructor back in Indiana. For every minute we were late, we had to scrub out a bucket,” Denise recalled.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention that to Max,” Stevie begged. “He’ll think it’s a great idea, and I’ll end up scrubbing buckets until I’m twenty-five!”

Denise promised not to suggest the penalty to Max, since she was so happy to be getting the lowdown from The Saddle Club. She had lots of questions for them about the history of the farm, the horses, and Max’s riding career, and then she pressed them for
details about themselves. Before long, Stevie had recounted a couple of her more famous practical jokes, Lisa had explained how hard it sometimes was to be a beginner, and Carole had confessed her dreams of someday rising to the highest Pony Club rating, just like Denise.

“What was it like when you got your ‘A’?” Carole asked, her eyes shining.

Denise flipped her long braid back, then wrung out her sponge while she thought. She had expertly cleaned and oiled two saddles during the time the others had gotten halfway through one each. “It was one of the greatest experiences I’ve had,” she said finally.

“Tell us about it!” Lisa urged.

“I was so nervous on the day of the test, I could barely button my coat,” Denise began. “Then it got worse: I saw the horse I had to ride for the morning session. It was this little palomino—a pony. Of course, I’m small enough to ride ponies, but I considered it an insult. All the other candidates were assigned to big Thoroughbreds and warm-bloods. I remember thinking, ‘I work all my life to take this test, and they put me on a pony? How am I supposed to look my best on a pony?’ Then I remembered something else: Size isn’t what counts. It’s breeding, conformation,
disposition, and training. I decided to change my attitude right away. I put a smile on my face and forced myself to keep an open mind. The minute I got on, I liked the pony. To make a long story short, the
pony
was the best
horse
at the test. It turned out he was a retired dressage star whose owner liked to support Pony Club by lending him out. So I ended up learning a lot during the test—which, after all, is the point.” Denise paused as she polished a bridle’s bit. “I know sometimes, when you have your tack and turnout inspections, it seems like the judges are out to get you—say, to find that one spot on your saddle that you missed cleaning. But it’s really all about learning. If you forget to clean underneath the flap and you get points taken off at a rally, you probably won’t forget again.”

The girls looked at Denise with admiration. They knew she was being sincere when she said that the point of Pony Club was to learn. With the competitive aspect of Pony Club, it was easy to lose sight of the real aim.

“The riding counselor certification must have been a piece of cake compared to the ‘A’ testing,” Stevie remarked.

Denise admitted that it had been a lot less nerve-racking. She took out the card that showed that she
had met the standards of the certification board. It was from an organization in Indiana.

“What I want to know is how did you ever learn so much?” Carole asked.

Denise smiled. “Simple: I love horses. I spent a lot of time riding with my home club, I worked in stables in Indiana, I worked on a dude ranch. I asked questions. I rode as much as I could—my own horse and the horses of anyone else who would let me. I tried every type of riding I could. And I certainly learned a lot from the formal training I had in Pony Club, the certification program, and, now, my college courses. But none of it would have mattered a whit if I hadn’t loved horses and tried to understand them. Nobody can teach you that, you know.”

The girls did know. A bit shyly at first, then more openly, they told Denise about The Saddle Club. She seemed truly interested and was delighted to hear about some of their adventures and close calls. “I wish my friends and I had started a club. We certainly got into enough trouble,” she said, chuckling.

When the tack-cleaning session was over, the girls felt that they had established a special bond with Denise. They had also gotten a lot of work done. Among the four of them, they had cleaned ten saddles and four bridles.

“Hey, do you want to come to TD’s with us?” Stevie offered. TD’s—Tastee Delight—was the local ice cream shop. “We have a lot of Saddle Club meetings there,” she said. “Somehow ice cream helps us to think.”

Denise thanked her but said she had other plans.

“Really? What?” Stevie asked. Carole and Lisa elbowed her simultaneously. “Oh, sorry. I guess that’s kind of nosy,” Stevie said. She had a habit of prying into people’s lives without realizing that she was prying.

“That’s okay. Anyway, it’s nothing big. I’m just meeting a friend for dinner,” Denise said.

They all put away the sponges and soap, placed the saddles and bridles on their racks, and dumped out the dirty water. It was nice to think of Mrs. Reg popping in later and seeing the gleaming tack. With Denise to spur them on, they had accomplished more than usual.

“So we’ll see you again soon?” Lisa asked.

“Definitely,” Denise promised. “I’ve had more fun on my first day at Pine Hollow than at any other stable.” She gathered up her things and followed them out to the driveway. Red was outside, leaning over the open hood of his pickup truck. “Engine problems?” Denise inquired.

Red looked up. “Yeah. The truck hasn’t been running right since the winter.”

“Let me see if I can find anything,” Denise volunteered.

The Saddle Club looked at one another. For some reason, it wasn’t at all surprising that Denise would know a thing or two about engines. They said goodbye as she went over to join Red.

“It’s nice that she’s getting to know everyone so fast, isn’t it?” Carole said.

“Yeah, and it’s even nicer that she knows what Veronica’s like without getting to know her,” Stevie said. “If you know what I mean,” she added impishly.

For better or for worse, they did.