“My friend here has really bad allergies. She was saying that her medicine worked,” Stevie told the man, keeping a straight face.
The wrangler looked at them patronizingly. “Not a real good idea to hang around too close to the corral,” he warned them. “The horses could nip you or something. We wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Stevie retorted.
“Oh, good,” he said. “So what are you doing hanging around here? Why aren’t you on the trail ride with the other dudes?”
Carole suspected Christine was adding condescending, rude wranglers to the list of things The Bar None would have to get to compete with The Dapper Dude.
“It just so happens that I have a problem with my tack,” Stevie told the wrangler.
“You do? And what might that be?” he asked.
Everybody looked at Stevie, especially Lisa. She wanted to see if Stevie could come up with a more believable whopper than hers.
Stevie’s voice took on a spoiled, whining tone. “See, there’s this sort of smudged place on the saddle and I’m awfully afraid that it’s going to get my jeans dirty. Isn’t there some sort of soap or something you could use to clean it up? Or could I have a new saddle?”
The girls held their breath. The wrangler looked at Stevie closely. Carole had the feeling that it was going to work. The look on the man’s face clearly indicated that a dumb remark like that was just about what he would expect from a greenhorn like Stevie. Carole especially liked the part Stevie had added about “something you could use to clean it up.” She knew this wrangler wouldn’t be caught dead soaping a saddle for the kind of dumb dude Stevie was pretending to be.
“We’ve got just the thing for you, miss,” he said, very politely now. “It’s called saddle soap. I’ll show you where it is. You can do the cleaning yourself. After all, I wouldn’t want to leave any dusty residue on the saddle that might soil those nice clean jeans of yours. This way, please.”
Stevie followed him. Before she entered the barn, she turned back to her friends and winked. Lisa gave her a thumbs-up signal.
“Just forty-five minutes now until lunch,” came a familiar, unwelcome voice from behind them. It was Rule-Book Marshall. He walked past them quickly and officiously.
“Gee, thanks,” Carole called after him.
Stevie emerged from the stable with some saddle soap on a paper towel. She was about to toss it aside, but Carole made her use it on Stewball’s saddle.
“What if somebody’s watching?” Carole asked. “They’ll know that was just a fib.”
Stevie rubbed the soap into the seat of the saddle. “That was much too believable for anybody to suspect,” she said, teasing Lisa as she spoke.
“I believed it.” Lisa smiled ruefully. “It sounded to me as if you were quoting Veronica diAngelo!” Veronica was an overrich, overindulged rider at Pine Hollow who believed that the sole function of all the stablehands there was to help her.
“I was,” Stevie said. Lisa could believe that, too.
Stevie finished the soaping and put the paper towel into the garbage. “Well, guys, the tack room here is just a tack room. No silver bridles to lure the tourists. Just leather, dust, and cobwebs.”
“What’s next?” Christine asked. Carole shook her head. She didn’t know what to do next.
“Hey, Lisa, how’s the sneezing going?” somebody called out. The girls looked up. It was the housekeeper who had sneaked Lisa into the kitchen.
“Fine, thanks,” Lisa replied, somewhat flustered.
“That’s it,” Carole decided. “It’s time to go. We’ve stopped blending in and have started to stand out. We’ll be discovered it we stick around for two more minutes. Let’s go!”
The girls mounted and began riding toward the ranch’s gate.
“Stand out?” Stevie said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “But we never even had a chance to explain about the tour group of reform-school refugees we wanted to bring, so we would need a tour of all the guest rooms. And I just know the reason I didn’t have good hot water this morning was because the boiler must be broken and I’d know just what to do if I could get a look at it. Oh! And the root cellar! I bet their vegetables don’t hold a candle to my dad’s prize parsnips …”
“Uncle! Uncle! I give up!” Lisa declared as they passed under the sign welcoming guests to The Dapper Dude. “You can tell better stories than I can. You have always told better stories than any of us. You win the crown!”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Christine said. “After all, I didn’t even have a chance to explain how I heard a rumor that President Reagan stayed here and I wanted to see all of their guest books to look at his autograph.”
“What about me?” Kate said. “I’m an amateur entomologist and I need to check out the spiders in the attic.”
“Right,” Lisa said. “Now get this: We’re actually government agents and we heard of this spy ring disguised as wranglers.…”
The girls chattered on, giggling at the most outrageous yarns. Carole laughed with them, but she was thinking as well. They hadn’t seen all of the rooms, the guest book, or the attic at The Dapper Dude, but it seemed clear that it was a guest ranch just the same as The Bar None. So why was it succeeding when The Bar None was failing?
“WHERE ARE WE going?” Stevie asked Kate, who was in the lead.
“We’re going into town,” Kate said. “It’s only another couple of miles past The Dapper Dude. I figured since we’d be too late for lunch at home and we certainly didn’t want to test the hospitality at The Dapper Dude any more, we ought to buy ourselves something in Two Mile Creek.”
“Something really nutritious, like what we got at the ice cream place the last time we were there?” Stevie asked.
“Something like that.” Kate laughed. “They do have hamburgers and salads there, too.”
Stevie remembered their last visit to the town. There was a cowboy show in the main street every afternoon. At three o’clock sharp, bank robbers had shown up to steal the payroll and shortly thereafter, the marshal and his posse had arrived to put them all behind bars. A shoot-out had ensued. Stevie had really had a wonderful time at the show. In fact, she’d actually believed it was true. It didn’t occur to her at first that real bad guys probably wouldn’t be wearing microphones to amplify their voices—or, in the late twentieth century, make their getaways on horseback. She’d swallowed the whole thing, hook, line, and sinker, until the audience had started applauding.
Naturally, Stevie had never told Carole and Lisa that she’d been taken in. There were things she could tell her best friends and there were things she thought she should just keep to herself. That episode was in the latter category. Still, she had enjoyed the show and she hoped they’d be in town long enough today to see it again.
Stevie realized then that Kate had changed the subject. She began listening. “You know, I don’t think their success has anything to do with being any better than The Bar None. They’re not,” Kate was saying. “They’re just doing a better job than we are about tooting their own horn. Only a few people around here know about The Bar None. Everybody knows about The Dapper Dude.”
“So we wasted our time snooping?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, no, not at all,” Kate said. “That was an important thing to learn. And besides, we did learn about Pictionary!” The girls laughed. Then Kate stopped her horse.
“Look! There it is!” she said.
The Saddle Club looked where she was pointing. A quarter of a mile ahead of them lay the town of Two Mile Creek. It was little more than a main street, appropriately called Main Street, and a few side streets. But it looked different from the last time they had seen it. On the north side of town, the rodeo had been set up. There was a large grandstand, a number of tents, and corrals. Red, white, and blue banners and bunting decorated half of the structures. The rest apparently had yet to be done.
“Doesn’t the arena look wonderful?” Kate
asked, almost breathlessly.
Stevie glanced at Kate. It was odd that she should say that, because that was exactly the same way Stevie felt. But Kate had been a national championship rider, competing in the most prestigious horse shows in the country. She must have seen hundreds of horse shows set up in fields. Why would this be any different? What would make it wonderful? There was only one possible answer: It was rodeo.
Rodeos were different. They weren’t the stylized, elegant riding of perfectly groomed horses, manicured hooves, or polished saddles, with horses flying effortlessly over jumps, or showing off their perfect gaits around a ring in a preset pattern. Rodeo was wild and dusty and fast and furious. It was bronco bucking, bull riding, rope twirling, hell-bent-for-leather excitement and romance rolled into one. Stevie’s heart beat faster at the thought.
“Let’s go!” she cried out to her friends. And, following her lead, they all galloped toward the town.
They had to cool down their horses before they could go to the restaurant. It was a good chance to get a closer look at the rodeo, and they had their horses circle it at a walk.
Some workers were assembling the final seats in the grandstand, while others completed the bunting. A few horses eyed their activity skeptically from one of the temporary corrals. Everywhere Stevie looked, something was going on.
All these strangers were working busily at one thing or another. Then it turned out that not all of them were strangers.
“Hi there, dudes!”
It was Eli. He was just coming out of a tent. A lot of wranglers seemed to be standing in a line ouside it waiting to go in.
“What are you doing here?” Stevie asked.
“I just registered for my events,” he explained. “I’m heading back to the ranch now. I’ll see you girls later.”
He waved cheerfully and left them by the line of rodeo cowboys.
Stevie looked over the crowd. The young men who were lined up looked strong and healthy and outdoorsy. They were tanned from the strong southwestern sun. They seemed to come in all sizes and shapes. Stevie realized with a start that there were girls their own age on the line with the men.
“What are those girls doing there?” Stevie blurted out. “I mean, I’m all in favor of equality, but I can’t see a girl doing any steer wrestling!”
There was loud guffawing in response to her question. Stevie hadn’t meant the question to be heard by everybody, but her surprise had made her talk louder than she’d intended.
“Those are the barrel-racing teams,” one of the cowboys informed her.
Stevie looked at her friends. They seemed as embarrassed as she was.
She walked Stewball over closer to the cowboy who had spoken, so the whole world wouldn’t listen in on her next question. “You mean girls compete in the rodeo, too?”
The cowboy nodded. “Yep,” he said. “At this rodeo, it’s an under-eighteen event, too, as you may be able to tell.”
Stevie had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying not to laugh. She didn’t care, much.
“Hmmm,” Stevie mused.
“Come on, guys. I’m starving,” Kate said. “Let’s get some food.”
Stevie’s mind began to race, and she knew what that meant. First, when it began with an idea there was no stopping it. And second, when it stopped, there was no telling what she would end up doing.
“Uh, wait up a second,” Stevie said. “I just got an idea.”
She and Stewball rejoined the group.
Carole recognized the look in Stevie’s eye. Sometimes it meant trouble, but it also meant fun. “Is this a Saddle Club meeting?” she asked.
Stevie nodded. Carole thought she knew what was coming. She glanced at the others. It looked like they all knew what Stevie was thinking. Wordlessly, the five girls formed a circle so they could talk in some privacy.
“I didn’t know, did you?” Stevie asked Kate.
“I’ve never been to a rodeo before,” Kate told her.
“Me, neither,” Christine admitted. “After all, my ancestors weren’t the cowboys.” The girls giggled at Christine’s joke.
“So?” Stevie asked.
“I say we do it,” Carole stated, casting her vote.
“Me, too,” Lisa agreed, and Kate and Christine added their approval.
“Then it’s unanimous!” Stevie exclaimed. “Let’s go!”
FOOD WAS DELAYED for a half hour while The Saddle Club registered for the barrel-racing event in the rodeo.
“Name?” the woman behind the desk asked.
“Stephanie, but I’m called Stevie,” she answered promptly. “And this is …”
“Not your name, your team name,” the woman said, more sharply than Stevie thought was necessary. She suspected the woman thought they ought to be called The Fools.
Stevie looked at her friends. The obvious answer was The Saddle Club, but that wasn’t quite right. They were doing this to have fun, of course, but mostly, they wanted to help publicize The Bar None.
Stevie snapped her fingers. “The Bar None Riders!” she answered. Smiles from her friends confirmed their approval.
“Twenty-five dollars, please,” the woman said. The girls looked at each other. This, they hadn’t expected.
“Money?” Stevie said, realizing afterward how dumb the question sounded.
The woman nodded.
The girls dug down into their pockets and pooled their resources. Stevie could see people behind them in the line snickering.
Bills and coins appeared on the desk. Lisa, the straight-A student, took charge of counting up the cash. “Twenty-four dollars and eighty-three cents,” she announced at last.
The woman at the table shook her head. “Twenty-five dollars,” she reminded the girls, as if they needed reminding.
“Can we owe it to you?” Stevie asked. Since her usual cash position was negative, she was used to owing people money.
“Twenty-five dollars,” the woman said steadily.
“Here you go, girls,” the cowboy behind them said, putting seventeen cents on the table. “I’m more than pleased to contribute to your team. I wouldn’t miss your performance in the ring for anything—if your performance in the registration tent is any indication of things to come!”
Everybody within earshot hooted with laughter. Stevie could feel herself blushing from head to toe. The woman behind the desk just counted the money.
“Here are your numbers and your instructions,” she said when she’d put the cash in her strong box. She gave the package to Christine.
They were in!
LUNCH WAS OUT of the question, since they’d spent every penny they had on entering the rodeo. The rodeo supplied some hay and water for their horses, but nothing for the girls. Stomachs growling, they walked their horses back out of town toward The Bar None.
“This is so exciting!” Lisa exclaimed.
“Imagine, the first rodeo we’ve ever been to and we’re even going to be in it!” Carole exulted.
“Well, according to this stuff from the package, we’re even going to be in the rodeo parade,” Christine told them, looking up from a booklet.
“Wow!” Lisa said.
“Aren’t you excited?” Kate asked Stevie. “I mean, you look so serious.”
“Oh, sure I’m excited,” Stevie said. “Who wouldn’t be? Only, there are two things bothering me.”
“So, what are they?” Carole asked.
“Well, first, we want to do our best anyway, but since we’re called The Bar None Riders, our best has to be the best.”
“Of course,” Kate said. “We all know that. So what’s the second thing on your mind?”
“This one’s a little trickier,” Stevie said. She hesitated, stalling for time. Her friends waited expectantly. Finally, she blurted it out.
“What’s barrel racing?”
“I MEAN, REALLY, how do you race barrels?” Stevie asked.
The five girls were seated around the cook’s table in the kitchen at The Bar Non
e, munching on cold chicken, which Kate had found in the refrigerator. The chicken tasted wonderful, although they were so hungry by then that they would have eaten cactus!
“Maybe one person rolls it and another rides on horseback and races the roller?” Lisa suggested. “Nah, that’s stupid,” she said, answering her own question before her friends answered it for her.
“Some kind of relay race?” Carole said.
“Probably,” Kate agreed. “After all, we’re a team. Teams do relay races.”
“We’re good at relay races,” Stevie said. “Remember the gymkhana?”
They all remembered it well, and they told Christine about it. With Kate’s help, The Saddle Club had come in first in the gymkhana at Pine Hollow’s horse show in the summer.
“But somehow, I don’t think a barrel race will involve squirt guns and clown costumes,” Kate remarked.
“Well, there must be something here.…” Christine thumbed through the material they’d gotten at registration. “Ah! Here it is. It says: ‘Barrel-racing teams will be judged on performance as a whole, competing against all other teams. The final score will be the total of the four best scores on the team. In addition to a winning team, the single best score of the event will receive an individual event championship prize.’ ”
“Good,” Lisa said. “So if I blow it, it won’t hurt you guys—or The Bar None.”
“Nobody’s going to blow it,” Carole assured her. “But we still don’t know what ‘it’ is.”
Then somebody came to their rescue. It was Eli, coming in from the barn.
“Gosh, I’m hungry,” he declared as he entered the kitchen and washed his hands at the sink.
“We’ll share our chicken if you’ll share information,” Stevie said, holding a chicken leg in front of him tantalizingly.
Kate lifted a bowl of chips and fanned the wonderful greasy potato odor toward his nose to tempt him. “All this could be yours,” she said, sounding like an announcer on a game show. “Plus a glass of milk—if you know the answer!”
Eli took off his hat and pulled up a chair. “For lunch, I’ll tell you anything.”
Rodeo Rider Page 4