“I’m ready to try to canter again,” she said.
“And we’re waiting for you to do it,” Max said. There was an edge to his voice. Lisa knew he was a little annoyed.
“Come on, girl,” she whispered to Prancer. “Let’s show them how good you can be.”
Stevie, Carole, and Veronica had all stopped their horses to give Lisa a chance and to help Prancer concentrate. Lisa nudged Prancer with her legs, shifted her weight, and loosened the reins. Prancer began moving immediately. And as soon as Lisa signaled for a trot, the horse began cantering. A puzzled look crossed Max’s face. Then he erased that puzzlement and showed nothing. Prancer was cantering and he was at an even gait. That was, after all, what Max had wanted.
“Nice going,” he said.
Lisa beamed. None of the other horses or riders moved until Lisa and Prancer had circled the ring several times. They wanted her to be able to establish a pace that was comfortable for Prancer. It seemed to work.
“All right, now the rest of you please canter.”
This time it was Veronica who was having trouble. Her stirrups were too long, and she was having trouble maintaining her balance with her legs extended so far. It was typical of Veronica that she’d let a small problem like stirrup length interfere with her riding just because readjusting the stirrups involved a little bit of effort. Naturally, she didn’t feel she could solve the problem herself. She just had to get Max to do it for her.
While Carole, Stevie, and Lisa continued cantering, Max gave his full attention to Veronica’s stirrups.
Stevie found this exercise a breeze. Topside was an extremely well-trained horse. He’d belonged to Dorothy DeSoto and had ridden in many, many horse shows. He automatically maintained an even pace at any gait because he’d been so thoroughly trained to do so. Stevie thought she could be doing this in her sleep.
Carole was having a wonderful time, too. When she’d first gotten Starlight, she’d known that he was a young horse who hadn’t finished his training. She’d spent hundreds of hours since his arrival last Christmas working on the basics. It was important to have a horse who responded to your commands, especially if you expected to go far with the horse. Carole definitely expected to go far with Starlight, starting at the Briarwood Horse Show.
The only problem Carole was having, in fact, was with Lisa. Every time she looked at Lisa, she grew more concerned. It was bad enough that Lisa had trouble with Prancer when they were working on maintaining a smooth gait, but it got a lot worse when they started to practice jumping.
Prancer could jump all right. The problem was, Prancer couldn’t wait to strut her stuff. Lisa was asking her to go over some very low jumps, mostly two or two and a half feet high. The height of the jumps wasn’t meant to be a challenge to the horses. The jumps were simply part of the exercise of hunter-jumping competition, which showed the judges how a horse could maintain a smooth gait even while jumping.
Prancer, however, was interested in the height of the jumps. Without any signal from Lisa, she took off way too far in front of the two-foot-high jumps. She fairly flew into the air, soaring over the low jump. Lisa was as unprepared for the landing as she had been for the takeoff. She had to grab on to Prancer’s mane just to keep from falling off. While Lisa was startled at first, the feeling of flight was simply exhilarating. The fact that her horse wasn’t doing just what she ought to be doing seemed insignificant compared to Prancer’s incredible strength. Lisa sighed happily after the first jump and couldn’t wait until the second.
“Lisa!” Max cried out.
“Isn’t she something?” Lisa asked, grinning proudly.
“Well, I think she needs a little bit more work,” Max stammered.
“Oh, of course she needs more work, but she’s so wonderful! All her great qualities are going to come out in competition, don’t you think?”
Max waited a few minutes before answering the question. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Just maybe.”
Carole and Stevie exchanged glances. They couldn’t believe how oblivious Lisa was to Prancer’s need for more training.
During the next half hour, Max took the group through the rest of the skills he thought they would need to work on before going to Briarwood. Since all of his riders had extensive training in grooming, he wasn’t at all concerned about the Fitting and Showing class. He was, however, a little worried about Equitation and spent most of his time working on that.
Lisa listened to everything he said, and she tried to do everything he told her. With every word, though, she was convinced that the reason he was giving her more advice than he was giving her friends was that he believed Prancer was going to win, and he wanted the others to know how hard she had worked for it.
Lisa was still on cloud nine when she took Prancer back to her stall for her final grooming of the day. It was also Lisa’s final chance to practice grooming for the show. She wanted to make her horse look perfect.
Stevie finished grooming Topside before her friends were done. She went to Starlight’s stall to give Carole a hand with Starlight—and to talk.
“We’ve got to do something,” she said.
Carole didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. The problem was Prancer. She was a wonderful horse, but she wasn’t ready for a horse show and Lisa seemed totally unaware of her shortcomings.
“We certainly have to try,” Carole agreed. “But what can we do?”
“Talk,” Stevie said. “We’re going to talk to Lisa now.”
Carole was willing to go along with that. Together they finished their work on Starlight. Then Stevie and Carole went to find Lisa.
The threesome met up in the hallway of the stable where Prancer was cross-tied. Stevie and Carole each picked up a grooming tool to give Lisa a hand and so they could talk without Mrs. Reg complaining that they weren’t working.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Lisa asked.
Stevie and Carole couldn’t argue with that.
“She is, definitely,” Carole said. “And she’s got the makings of a great competition horse.” Carole was approaching her topic gingerly. She suspected that Lisa wasn’t going to be very receptive.
“In exactly one week,” Lisa said, confirming Carole’s suspicions.
“Yes, well, that’s when Briarwood is, all right,” Stevie said. “It’s going to be a tough show, you know. A lot of the riders there have been practicing for it for months. Most of them will have had plenty of other show experience, too. We’re unusual that way, you know. I mean, you and me. Carole’s been in shows before.”
“But not like this one,” Carole said. “Being in a small show in a small town-well, it’s not the same thing as Briarwood.”
A dreamy look came over Lisa’s face. It made Carole and Stevie nervous. It meant she wasn’t listening at all.
“Max said your mother did sign the permission form,” Carole said.
“Oh, sure. One look at Prancer and she knew just how I felt. She’s really a good person. She misses the point sometimes, but at least she came to the right conclusion—finally. It was a lot of work, I’ll tell you. I had to do some serious convincing. I was almost as good as you would have been, Stevie!”
Stevie laughed. “I’m always glad when the good stuff rubs off!” she teased.
“Speaking of good stuff, how about Max’s idea for putting our personal goals for Briarwood in sealed envelopes?” Lisa asked.
“I think it’s great,” Stevie said. “Only problem is, it means thinking. And thinking takes work. Work means time away from focusing on Briarwood and daydreaming about how exciting it’s going to be.”
“That’s totally illogical,” Carole told her. “The more time you spend thinking about how you’re going to make it wonderful, the more wonderful it’s going to be.”
“You’re right, of course. But I still think it’s a lot of work. I just hope it pays off.”
“It will,” Carole said. “I promise you. Have you decided what your goals are going to be yet?�
��
Stevie dropped a brush in Prancer’s grooming bucket and picked up the mane comb. She tugged at the mare’s mane thoughtfully. “Not yet,” she said. “See, first I have to work at it. How about you?”
“I’ve been working at it,” Carole said. She was rubbing Prancer’s coat until it gleamed. It was a very satisfying task since the results were so nice. “In a way, though, my goals for the show are going to be a lot of the same goals I’ve had for Starlight ever since he became mine. He needed so much additional training, and I’ve given it to him. Now it’s paying off. I know there’s a lot more work to do. A horse’s training can go on for all of his active riding life. I just need to be sure that I use all the skills I have to bring out the best in my horse.”
“Oh, Carole, you put it so well!” Lisa said.
When Stevie gave Carole a dirty look, Carole realized that Lisa was still blaming herself for all of Prancer’s failings. She tried to adjust what she’d said.
“I mean, that’s what’s true for me and for my horse. It’s not true for everybody. I mean, in the case of a horse who is completely new to pleasure riding and competition, it might be a totally different story.…”
“For some horses, maybe,” Lisa said. “But you’ve really given me something to think about.” She punctuated that sentence by dropping the brush she’d been using into the grooming bucket. “There. I’m done,” she announced. She unclipped Prancer from her cross-ties and led her to her stall. She checked that there was fresh hay and water and then latched the door behind her.
“I think I’d better get the envelope and the paper from Max and hurry on home,” Lisa said. “Sorry to dash off, but I’ve got some homework to do. I’ll talk to you guys this week, a lot, okay?”
“Okay,” Stevie said. “Good luck with the work you have to do.”
“Thanks. Bye.” And then she was gone.
“What was that all about?” Stevie asked.
“It’s about trouble,” Carole said. Stevie certainly agreed with her on that.
“What do you think she’s going to put down for her goals?”
Carole shook her head. “I don’t know, but unless a miracle happens in the next seven days, I know what her goal ought to be.”
“What’s that?”
“Staying on Prancer through five classes.”
Considering what they’d seen in practice, Stevie had to agree.
STEVIE STARED AT the five blank pieces of paper in front of her. Homework was just about her least favorite thing in the whole world, and it seemed to her that what Max had asked his riders to do was homework. Still, it was also horsework, and anything to do with horses couldn’t be all bad.
To start with, she wrote the names of the five classes she’d be entering at the top of each of the pieces of paper: Fitting and Showing, Equitation, Pleasure, Trail, and Jumping.
She growled. That hadn’t inspired her at all. She picked up her pencil again and began chewing on the eraser. She had never understood why having little pieces of rubber in your mouth was supposed to help you think. She stopped chewing on the eraser and tried thinking about horses and horse shows. That seemed to help.
Fitting and Showing was basically a test of grooming skills. She was good at that. She was about the best in the stable at using a hoof pick, so that couldn’t be a goal. She sometimes got lazy when it came to getting all the tangles out of Topside’s mane. She jotted that down. “Four to go,” she told the wall of her room.
In Equitation, it seemed to her that Topside was so well trained, he was going to do most of the work. Still, if it looked as if she weren’t doing anything, she wouldn’t place. She knew that. In a way, the important thing in that class was going to be keeping up with Topside. That meant making her own movements as smooth and seamless as his. It also meant that she’d have a special opportunity to pay more attention to herself than to her horse. She wanted to work on the position of her hands and being sure that her legs remained supple while she gave Topside nearly invisible aids. She’d had trouble with that in the past, and she hoped she’d be able to do it right this time. She wrote that down. “Three to go.” She turned her attention to the paper marked “Pleasure.”
Carole made a face at the computer screen as she read the message that Cam had left for her.
… I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet you at Briarwood! It seems like we’ve been writing notes about horses for such a long time. Now we’ll get to talk instead of write. Isn’t that great?
“No,” Carole mumbled. Talking with Cam probably wouldn’t be any more fun than writing to her. The note went on:
We had class today. I’m sure you did, too, since I recall that you have class every Saturday. We won’t mind missing it next week, though, will we? Anyway, today Mr. Barclay was drilling us on show techniques. He says the judges look out for these incredibly small things—like if your tie is straight or if there’s a smudge on your boots. He’s going to have an inspection before the show starts, and if I know him, he’ll have extra shoe polish with him. He also drilled us on riding techniques. For the jumping, he had us going over phantom jumps. There were cavalletti poles on the ground, and he wanted us to get our horses to jump them as if they were three feet high. He said that would help us know how to tell our horses how high to jump regardless of the height of the jump. It was hard, but I think I understand the technique. It has to do with controlling your horse, and that’s very important at a horse show.
Carole certainly agreed with that. She wondered why it was that Max hadn’t had her class working that way with cavalletti. A wave of uncertainty washed over her. She’d always been convinced that Max Regnery was the best teacher in the world. What if Mr. Barclay was better? What if Cam was a better rider?
“Whoa, girl,” she told herself. Max was the best teacher in the world. Carole had always believed that. Why should she stop believing it now? Had Cam’s precious Mr. Barclay come up with the wonderful idea of personal goals? Carole didn’t think so. She’d show Cam how wonderful Max was.
She tapped at the keys of her computer and brought up a fresh screen.
Hi, Cam! I’m back from class. We were working hard on our skills, too, but not over cavalletti the way you described. That must have been hard work.
Carole meant it when she wrote it—she just wasn’t convinced that the drills would be all that helpful in preparing for the competition. She continued.
Max came up with something really good. He’s making us all think about what our personal goals are for the show and then write them down. We’re going to put them into sealed envelopes and open them after the show, just to remind ourselves of what we thought was important for us to learn. And then we get to decide whether we met our goals or not. Isn’t that great? Max is so smart!
She sent the message, then turned off her computer, and focused her attention on the five small sheets of paper and the envelope in front of her. She picked up her pen. It was a special pen. It was a pen she’d bought when she and her friends had been in New York, staying with Dorothy DeSoto when Dorothy was competing in the American Horse Show. Since it was connected with all those horsey things, Carole had a weird feeling that it had some special power, even though it was just a tourist’s pen with a picture of the Empire State Building on one side and the Statue of Liberty on the other. Every time Carole looked at it, all she could think of was horses.
She picked up one sheet of paper and wrote “Jumping” at the top of it. Starlight was a naturally wonderful jumper, though he tended to prefer the excitement of jumping high to the structure of proper hunter jumping, where style was the important part. Carole wondered briefly whether Starlight might not have benefited from working with cavalletti the way Cam had. Then she dismissed the thought. If Max had thought that would be good for her, he would have had her do it. Wouldn’t he?
Carole tried to focus on what was important for her and for Starlight in the Jumping class. Beating Cam. That’s what came into her head, and it was hard
to dismiss. She wanted to beat Cam. She wanted to be better than Cam. She wanted Max to be a better teacher than Mr. Barclay. She didn’t care if she got a blue. She just wanted to get a higher ribbon than Cam’s.
This is all wrong, she told herself. Horse shows were about being the best rider you could be for yourself. That was why Max had them write down their goals. It didn’t matter how good, or bad, the other riders were. It only mattered that you did your best. If everybody else in the class was really terrible, a blue ribbon didn’t mean anything unless you thought you’d done a good job. Carole reminded herself of these things and began the job of thinking about her goals all over again.
“Keep an even pace and don’t let Starlight jump too high over the low jumps,” she wrote.
She reread her own words and nodded. Yes, she thought, that was a worthwhile goal—and not an easy one, either, on a horse who sometimes thought he was an eagle.
She reached for her next piece of paper.
LISA WASN’T CONVINCED that Max’s idea about personal goals was really a good one. Wasn’t that the reason why there were judges at horse shows? The idea seemed to be that a horse show was an opportunity to compete against other riders of approximately the same skill level and let somebody else decide who was actually the best.
It didn’t really matter, though, what Lisa thought about writing down her personal goals. Max wanted them to do it, so it had to be done.
Lisa put on her pajamas, then grabbed pen and paper, and settled comfortably in bed.
She closed her eyes and forced herself to think about everything she’d learned about horseback riding from the first time she had been on a horse. It was all there—in her mind. She remembered when getting into a saddle seemed like an awkward and difficult task. Now it felt like the most natural motion in the world. At first the horses’ gaits had seemed odd, unfamiliar. Now her own body responded automatically to the movements of the horses at every gait. The first time she’d jumped, she had been amazed to find herself still on her horse after the horse landed. Now she always knew she’d be there. She was a rider. She was a good rider. And she had the best horse in the world.
Show Horse Page 5