Read all the Saddle Club books!
Horse Crazy
Horse Shy
Horse Sense
Horse Power
Trail Mates
Dude Ranch
Horse Play
Horse Show
Hoof Beat
Riding Camp
Horse Wise
Rodeo Rider
Copyright © 1989 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
“The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller.
“USPC” and “Pony Club” are registered trademarks of the United States Pony Clubs, Inc., at The Kentucky Horse Park, 4071 Iron Works Pike, Lexington, KY 40511-8462.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-82484-4
Originally published by Bantam Skylark in 1989
First Delacorte eBook Edition 2012
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Author
“I THINK IT’S the silly season,” Stevie Lake announced to her two best friends as the three of them dressed for their riding class. Stevie’s blue eyes sparkled mischievously. She swept her shoulder-length, dark blond hair back from her face.
“What do you mean?” Carole Hanson asked as she pulled her curly black hair into a ponytail that would fit under her riding hat.
“Did you hear what happened to Max?” Stevie asked instead. “Max” was Max Regnery, their riding instructor and the owner of Pine Hollow Stables.
“What?” Lisa Atwood asked with concern. Lisa, a year older than Stevie and Carole, was inclined to be more serious than Stevie. Stevie readily admitted, though, that almost everybody in the world was inclined to be more serious than she was!
“Well,” Stevie began, putting one booted foot on the bench and leaning toward her friends. “It seems that Max has lost a student.” Stevie began giggling.
Carole and Lisa could never resist Stevie’s giggles. They joined in, too, even before they heard the funny part.
“See, this man named Mr. Small wanted a private lesson. Max asked the new stableboy, Jesse, to saddle Small a horse. Jesse thought Max told him to saddle a small horse. So he saddled the pony, Nickel! Mr. Small, is anything but small. He climbed on Nickel, and his feet almost touched the ground! It turns out he’s really sensitive about being so tall—doesn’t like jokes about his name—and thought the stableboy was making fun of him. The man’s face turned all red and he blew up at Max. He stormed out, saying he’d never ride here again.”
“Poor Max,” Carole said between giggles as she tugged on her breeches and began to pull on her high riding boots. Carole was the most experienced rider of the trio, but they all loved horses and had even formed their own horse-crazy group called The Saddle Club. Carole, daughter of a Marine Corps colonel, had been riding since she was a very little girl on Marine Corps bases. When her family had settled in Willow Creek, Virginia, a few years ago, she’d begun studying at Pine Hollow. Several championship riders, and even some Olympic riders, had studied with Max, or his father, or his grandfather. Carole hoped, one day, to be one of Max’s champion graduates. “But Max is so nice. He’d never make fun of a new rider—even though some of the people who come here …” Her words trailed off as she rolled her eyes.
Lisa and Stevie laughed. “Remember that guy who came all decked out in hunting duds, red coat and everything?” Stevie sat cross-legged on the bench.
“The one who didn’t know one end of a horse from another,” Lisa said, nodding. “He only lasted one day here.”
“And then there was my brother,” Stevie said, shaking her head with a disgusted look. Stevie’s older brother, Chad, had decided to take up riding when he’d gotten a crush on Lisa. It turned out that his attempts at riding weren’t much more successful than his romance. Each had only lasted a few weeks.
“He wasn’t so bad, Stevie,” Lisa said, grinning.
“Yeah, and at least he stuck around long enough to be helpful at the gymkhana,” Carole said. “Not like these people who spend zillions of dollars on fancy clothes, without realizing that the horses don’t care what they wear!”
“Ahem,” Lisa said. It was a way of reminding Carole that Lisa always wore proper riding clothes. It wasn’t so much Lisa who cared about how she dressed. Her mother cared a lot about such things and saw to it that Lisa was properly dressed for riding—and everything else. “And speaking of that,” Lisa continued, “you may have noticed this box.” She patted the carton on the bench next to her. Her friends noticed the package for the first time.
“So?” Stevie said, curiosity aroused.
“It’s a new pair of riding pants. My mother’s aunt, Aunt Maude, is visiting us. She brought me this as a present. I haven’t even opened it yet. She’s coming with mother to watch the class today and will expect to see me in them.”
“That’s really nice,” Carole said. “I wish I had a great-aunt who’d give me clothes like that.”
“You don’t know what you’re wishing for,” Lisa said ominously. “One time she brought me some pajamas. Only she’d bought them in the boys’ department!” With that, she began to open the box, which bore the mark of a very fancy department store at a nearby mall. “There was another time she brought me a—oh, look at these!”
Lisa held up an expensive pair of fawn-colored riding breeches.
“Nice,” Stevie said admiringly. Though she generally preferred to wear jeans when she rode, she knew good riding clothes when she saw them.
Lisa held them up to her waist and turned to show them off to Carole, who stood by the old mirror, tucking in her shirttails.
“They are nice—but there’s one little problem, Lisa, don’t you think?” Carole remarked with a grin.
Lisa looked down. The pants looked just fine to her. Puzzled, she turned back to Carole. “I don’t see any problem,” she said.
“Maybe not—if your boots have grown overnight!”
Lisa gasped, looking down at the pants again. Carole was right. Dear Aunt Maude had bought her a pair of breeches—pants that stopped just below the knees. They were meant to be worn with high boots like the ones Carole had just put on. Unfortunately, Lisa usually wore jodhpurs—pants that came down to a rider’s ankles—which were worn with boots that came just above the ankles. That was the kind of boots that Lisa had in her cubby. There was no way she could wear short pants and short boots. There would be a whole lot of bare leg between them.
“Oh, no,” she said. “And I told Aunt Maude what kind of pants I wear!” she added, distressed. But then she caught the look on Stevie’s face and the one on Carole’s. Simultaneously, all three girls exploded into giggles.
“Aunt Maude is going to love the look!” Stevie said.
“Sure, and next thing you know, Veronica diAngelo will want to copy it!” Carole added. Stevie and Lisa laughed loudly. Veronica was the snobby daughter of Willow Creek’s wealthiest banker. Although she was a pretty good rider, she was always much more concerned with how she looked than how she rode.
Just for fun, Lisa slipped into her new riding pants and pulled on her boots, leaving a long white gap of bare leg between the top of one and the bottom of the other. She paraded to the dingy mirror, imitating a fashion model.
“Zee new look ziss year …” Stevie said, grabbing a riding whip and holding its grip to her mouth as if it were a microphone and she were the emcee at a fashion show. Carole sat down on the bench, pretending to be the audience.
“Oooooh,” she said. Lisa twirled. “Aaaaah!” Carole responded.
“And ziss outfit can be parfaitly completed by zee t-shirt and zee jacquette of bright peenk!”
“Definitely the silly season,” Carole said, trying to control her giggles.
Lisa stopped short. “But just what am I going to wear in class? I can’t ride like this!” she said, the sensible Lisa once again.
“No, you’re right,” Carole agreed. “You can’t. And you don’t have time to go home and change, either.” Carole tapped her index finger against her chin. “I know!” she announced, her eyes lighting up. “Chaps. I think Mrs. Reg keeps a pair in her office. I’m sure she’ll let you borrow them.”
“Great idea,” Stevie added. “I’ll get them for you. That’ll cover your legs.”
“And my new pants. Aunt Maude will never understand.”
“From what you say, she won’t understand anyway, so you haven’t lost anything!” Stevie quipped over her shoulder as she headed off to find Max’s mother. Mrs. Reg served as equipment manager for the stable as well as confidante for the Saddle Club members.
When Stevie returned, Lisa put on the chaps and zipped them up. They were like suede leggings, designed to be worn over pants. Usually riders wore chaps for extra warmth, protection from scraggly bushes, or to help grip the horse better, since the suede was less likely to slip on a leather saddle than denim, cotton, or synthetics. Although the chaps felt a little odd over Lisa’s bare calves, they did the trick. All that showed of Aunt Maude’s breeches was the seat, but Lisa didn’t have time to worry about that. Class was about to start!
TEN MINUTES LATER, they were ready for class, and so were their horses. The girls each touched the stable’s “good-luck horseshoe” and mounted their horses.
Stevie moved her horse into line and looked around at her classmates. She was a friendly girl and got along with almost everybody. The almost was to make an exception in the case of one Veronica diAngelo, who sat there, as usual, with a smug look on her face.
“The problem with Veronica is that she doesn’t just think she’s better than everybody else. She knows she is,” Stevie whispered to Lisa, who nodded in response.
Stevie was riding a horse named Comanche. She usually rode him, because they were such a good match. He was a chestnut gelding with an independent streak just like Stevie’s. Today he was acting up a bit, tossing his head and taking steps backwards.
Stevie shortened the reins in response, then leaned forward. “Hey, Comanche,” she said, “remember me? I’m the one who’s in charge here.” She patted his neck reassuringly, but the tone of her voice and the firmness of her hand on the reins could leave no doubt in the horse’s mind about who was the boss. He shifted his weight easily and relaxed. Stevie knew that most horses made a habit of testing their riders. It was important to let the horse know who was in charge.
“We’re going to play a game today,” Max announced. “I want to see how much control you have over your horses.” Stevie shifted her weight deeper in the saddle and Comanche glanced back over his shoulder at her.
“It’s called ‘Break and Out,’ ” Max told the riders. Stevie liked this game. The idea was that Max would call a gait—walk, trot, or canter—and the riders had two strides to get their horses to the new gait. If they didn’t get the horse into the new gait or if the horse broke gait, they were out, sort of like musical chairs.
“Walk,” he announced. Stevie got Comanche walking. The other riders did the same. This game was always easy at the beginning. The horses marched in a circle around the ring.
“Trot!” Max said. Stevie’s calves gripped Comanche’s side firmly and he broke into a trot immediately. Betsy Cavanaugh wasn’t so fast. Her horse kept plodding along. Max pointed to the edge of the ring. Betsy was out.
Stevie could see Veronica sitting up straight, ready for the next change. The logical gait was a canter now and it was clear to Stevie that Veronica was ready for it.
Max raised his hand to get their attention before announcing the next gait. Before he spoke, Veronica had already signaled to her horse, Barq, for a canter. He broke out of the pack and began a rocking canter around the ring.
“Walk!” Max announced.
Veronica’s face turned a bright red. In somebody else, that might be from embarrassment. But in Veronica, it was fury.
“How could you?” she demanded of Max, reining Barq down to a walk and guiding him over to Max, who simply pointed to the edge of the ring where Betsy waited patiently.
Stevie and Comanche were walking next to Carole, on Diablo. They both watched Veronica in amusement.
“See,” Stevie whispered. “I told you—” she began.
“Trot!” Max said. Comanche and Diablo followed instructions. It made it harder for Stevie to talk to Carole, but it wasn’t going to stop her.
“I told you,” she said louder. Comanche was trotting very quickly. He pulled ahead of Diablo. Stevie had to look over her shoulder at Carole to finish her thought.
“I told you it was the silly season!” she said, but she practically had to yell it. Not only did Carole hear her, and Lisa, but everybody else in the class, including Veonica. The girl’s face was stony and bright red when Stevie looked at her. She spoke to Stevie silently, but her words were clear as she mouthed them. “I’ll get you for that!” Veronica said.
“Canter!” Max said. Stevie touched Comanche behind his girth with her left heel and the horse began cantering. Stevie loved the wonderful rocking feel of Comanche’s canter. It made her forget everything else.
AFTER CLASS, STEVIE removed Comanche’s tack and gave him a good grooming. One of Pine Hollow’s many traditions was that each student was responsible for his or her own horse, grooming included. As Comanche munched away at the fresh hay she’d supplied, Stevie used a curry comb to bring a sheen to his auburn coat. By having the students take care of the horses, Pine Hollow was able to keep its costs down, and that was something everybody could appreciate. Right then, however, Stevie wished there were a gigantic staff of grooms to take over the work. It was a hot afternoon and she’d rather be in her own pool than in Comanche’s stall.
“Come on, boy,” she said, trying to convince Comanche to step to the right so she could get around him. She patted his rump. He didn’t move. She reached to scratch him under his jaw. His mouth sprung open as if he were talking. She looked at him in surprise.
“Did you say something, boy?” she asked with a giggle.
She scratched him again. His jaw began to move again. Stevie dropped her own voice and spoke for Comanche as his mouth opened and closed. “Lay off the talk, sister. Just give me some peace and quiet so I can eat my hay.” The horse regarded her curiously. Stevie giggled.
She’d always wondered what a horse would say if he could speak. Now she’d found she could speak for him! It was fun.
“You going to give me trouble?” she asked.
Then she began scratching his chin and as soon as his jaw opened, she dropped her voice and spoke for him. “Me give you trouble? What do you think you were giving me all through the class?”
“I was just doing what Max told me to do!” Stevie defended herself.
“Teacher’s pet!” Comanche responded in a taunting voice.
Stevie scrunched up her eyebrows to think. “No, I think you’re the teacher’s pet,” she remarked, then smiled at her own joke. Comanche leaned forward to munch on some hay. Stevie shoved his hindquarters a bit to get him to move over so she could return to the grooming.
&nbs
p; Stevie began working on his left side. Comanche stepped back to the left, boxing her in. She growled at the horse, but he calmly munched on his hay. Stevie was about to start him talking again when Carole’s voice came over the horse’s neck.
“Stevie, you there?” Carole asked. She was standing at the door to the stall.
“Unfortunately,” Stevie said from behind Comanche’s haunches. “It’s so hot—I bet even Comanche would rather be in my swimming pool.”
“That would be a sight to see,” Carole said, laughing. “Maybe this will help—here’s your soda.” Carole perched the can on the ledge by the door of the stall, just within Stevie’s reach. At the end of every class at Pine Hollow, one of the riders was assigned to get sodas for all the other riders. Carole had the honors today.
“Thanks,” Stevie said.
Carole watched for a second. All she could see was a hand reach out from under Comanche’s neck, circle the can, and disappear with it.
There was a long silence.
“Wonderful,” Stevie said. The can reappeared on the ledge.
“See you later,” Carole said.
“Wait—don’t go. I want to ask you something.”
“Well, okay, but I’ve still got to untack Diablo.”
“I’ll help you when I’m done here,” Stevie promised. “But I was just thinking about something—”
Stevie paused. Carole knew she was collecting her thoughts, and would start talking in a second. In the meantime, since Stevie was totally invisible on the far side of the large chestnut horse, Carole had the eerie feeling she was actually having a conversation with Comanche. He looked at her balefully, munching on his hay.
“Remember our drill classes?” Stevie asked Carole.
“Sure,” she said. The Saddle Club had been working on drills with Max for a while during the summer camp session. They’d all enjoyed the difficult work and the precision it required tremendously, but the classes had stopped when the month of camp ended.
“Why don’t we see if Max will start them again? It really was neat, even with just the three of us. Maybe now other people would want to get in on it, too, don’t you think?”
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