High Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  STEVIE WAITED UNTIL all three of her brothers were out of sight. When her younger brother Michael had finally retreated to his bedroom to fuss with his guppies, and Alex, her twin, had gone over to his best friend Ron’s house, and Chad, her older brother, had left for TD’s, the local ice-cream parlor, with his current heartthrob, she sprang into action.

  Stevie picked up the phone from the table where it stood in the hall and carried it into her room. Then, as a precaution that was frequently necessary in a household of brothers, she put a chair under the doorknob so no one could enter. Finally she dragged the phone into her closet and left the door open a crack to give herself enough light to enter the number. She had something important to talk to Phil about, and she was taking absolutely no chances.

  Phil and Stevie had been dating ever since they’d met last summer at riding camp. She got to see him only a few times a month, but whenever they got together, they had a great time. The two of them not only had their love of horses and riding in common, they each had a great sense of humor. In fact that was one of the things Stevie liked best about Phil.

  At the Marstens’ house Phil’s father answered. “Hi, Stevie,” he said. “How’s my favorite fox?”

  Stevie had been the fox in the mock hunt that had been held by Horse Wise and Phil’s Pony Club, and everyone still teased her about it. She had been an outstanding fox—perhaps the greatest human fox in history—but she was tired of being reminded of it. For months after the mock hunt Veronica and her friends had made jokes about Stevie’s bushy tail and pointy ears.

  “Fine,” Stevie said briefly, wanting to give Mr. Marsten a gentle hint that she was tired of hearing about it.

  Mr. Marsten seemed to get it. “I’ll go get Phil,” he replied hastily.

  While she waited for Phil to come to the phone, Stevie sat up straight, practicing her riding seat, something she did whenever she had an available moment. The secret was to be erect, but not stiff; firm, but flexible. Except, she thought, how can you be firm but flexible when you’re sitting on a pile of shoes?

  “Hey, Stevie,” Phil said in his deep voice.

  “Hi, Phil,” Stevie said. “How’s Teddy?” Teddy was Phil’s horse.

  “Teddy’s excellent,” Phil said. “Never better. And I’m sure he’ll be touched to know you phoned to ask about him.”

  “Tell him Topside says hello,” Stevie said.

  “Sure,” Phil agreed. Then he added, “Does Topside have a message for Teddy? I mean, is there something going on?”

  “Could be,” Stevie said.

  “Teddy and I are all ears,” Phil said.

  Stevie giggled because Teddy was a fine-looking horse, but he did have big ears. When Phil leaned over his neck and talked to him, Teddy’s ears stuck straight up like TV antennas.

  “Topside has got this severe problem,” Stevie said. “His eyes are kind of dull and he picks at his food. He keeps looking out the window of his stall and sighing.”

  “Sounds like love,” Phil said.

  “Spring fever,” Stevie said. “A definite case of spring fever.”

  “Teddy and I can relate to that,” Phil commented.

  “Well, you know,” she went on. “There’s only one cure for spring fever.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A Mountain Trail Overnight. One of the boys can’t come, and Max said we’d have to cancel the whole thing unless he could get another experienced rider. I told him you should come. He thought that was a great idea.”

  “Hmmmm,” Phil said. “Sounds good to me, but …” His voice trailed off.

  Stevie closed her eyes. Oh no, she thought. Phil can’t come. What am I going to tell Max? What will everyone in Horse Wise say when they find out he can’t go?

  “Teddy was thinking more along the lines of the Bahamas,” Phil went on in a very serious tone.

  Relief washed over Stevie. Phil had just been joking! “Promise to take him there next year,” Stevie joked. “This year he’s coming on the MTO.”

  “I think I can convince him,” Phil replied.

  “There actually is a problem,” Stevie said.

  “I knew it.” Phil sighed.

  “You’ll have to make a giant sacrifice.”

  “Be polite to Veronica?”

  “Almost that bad,” Stevie said. “It’s a long weekend, so there won’t be school on Monday, but you’ll have to miss school on Tuesday.”

  “For you I’d miss school on Tuesday,” Phil said. “And Wednesday. Possibly even Thursday.”

  “Gee, thanks, Phil. That’s so generous,” she replied.

  “So who else is coming?” Phil asked. He knew most of the Horse Wise members from the mock hunt.

  “The members of The Saddle Club, of course, including you,” Stevie quickly added. Although she, Lisa, and Carole were the main members of the club, there were a few out-of-town members as well, and Phil was one of them.

  “Right,” he replied.

  “Veronica diAngelo, of course,” Stevie went on.

  “Ugh. Who else?”

  “Polly Giacomin.”

  “So many good-looking girls,” Phil commented. “What about Betsy Cavanaugh?”

  Alarm bells went off in Stevie’s head. Betsy Cavanaugh had come to Carole’s birthday party not long ago with James Spencer, but she had also been eyeing every available boy. If The Saddle Club was horse crazy, Betsy Cavanaugh was boy crazy. Actually, Betsy Cavanaugh wasn’t boy crazy, she was boy insane. In fact she ran through boyfriends the way other people ran through breath mints. She had broken the heart of Stevie’s brother Chad twice. Stevie hoped Betsy wouldn’t flirt with Phil on the trip.

  “Betsy’s coming,” Stevie said finally.

  “It should be a good overnight,” Phil said. “What about the guys?”

  “Liam and Peter, who are kids. And Red O’Malley, the head stable hand, plus Max Regnery and Joe Novick.”

  “Joe Novick,” Phil said. “Help me. What does he look like?”

  “Curly dark-brown hair, brown eyes, not bad looking. You met him on the mock fox hunt.”

  “Not bad looking, huh?” said Phil. “Do I sense some competition here?”

  “No way,” Stevie replied. “He’s a nice guy, but I’m not interested. Anyway, you’ll have the chance to get to know him since you’ll be sharing a tent with him.”

  “Fantastic,” Phil said, sounding distinctly unenthusiastic to Stevie. “Any other surprises?”

  “Max says we should wear our oldest riding clothes because the weather may be rough.”

  “No problem,” Phil said. “Old riding clothes are all I have.” The Marstens prided themselves on wearing well-aged riding gear. It was a family thing.

  “Bring a rain jacket, rain pants, and rubber boots, just in case.”

  “Hmmmm,” Phil said thoughtfully. “We might have to huddle together under a tree. Or maybe in an abandoned house. I like it already.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, as Stevie walked to Pine Hollow, she could smell wet leaves and pine needles. It would smell just like this along the trails on the MTO. She couldn’t wait.

  The Saddle Club was due to meet in ten minutes, and Stevie had lots of news. She hurried up the driveway.

  Inside the stable Carole was mucking out a stall.

  “It’s impossible to get here before you,” Stevie said. “Sometimes I think you sleep here.”

  “My dad dropped me on the way to the base,” Carole said. Her father was a colonel in the Marine Corps, and he often worked on weekends, even Sundays.

  The stall next to the one that Carole was mucking out belonged to Nero. Right now it was empty, probably because he was out in the paddock with a rider. Stevie took a pitchfork and speared some straw.

  It was a rule at Pine Hollow that all riders had to help with chores to keep expenses down. Some riders helped more than others, and Veronica never helped at all. But the members of The Saddle Club almost always wanted to help, because part of being horse crazy was caring about
horses all the time, not just when they were doing the fun things, like riding them.

  “So Phil’s definitely coming on the MTO,” Stevie said.

  “Great!” Carole exclaimed. “You must be thrilled.”

  Stevie hesitated. The truth was, she’d never in her life looked forward to anything as much as this trip. But for some reason Phil’s question about Betsy was haunting her. Why had he seemed so interested in Betsy? She started to tell Carole, then changed her mind. Stop it, Stevie, she told herself. You’re getting worked up over nothing. She carried the clod of hay to the wheelbarrow. “I can’t wait,” she told her friend firmly. “It’ll be a great time.”

  “Hi.” It was Lisa. “You’re early,” she remarked to Stevie.

  Stevie hadn’t realized it, but Lisa was right. She’d actually gotten here an hour before they were supposed to meet. In fact Stevie had been looking forward to this meeting of The Saddle Club so much that she had gotten dressed and left the house in record time.

  “Give me a hand,” she said to Lisa. “As soon as we’re done, we can start the meeting.”

  They worked silently, filling the wheelbarrow with forkfuls of straw. When they were finished, Lisa wheeled the straw toward the manure pile on the far side of the riding ring, and Stevie went to the feed room to get fresh straw, while Carole filled Nero’s water bucket.

  Finally they’d finished the chores and were ready for the best part of the day. Eagerly they settled into the clean straw in Nero’s stall to begin their meeting.

  “Phil’s coming,” Stevie told Lisa.

  “Of course he is,” Lisa said, matter-of-factly. “Who could turn down a chance to go on the MTO?”

  “It’s so romantic.” Carole sighed as she leaned back in the straw. “You’ll roast hot dogs together … you’ll go for long walks.…”

  “Ha!” came a voice from the next stall.

  Veronica diAngelo stepped into view, wearing a new hacking jacket and a pair of breeches that looked as if they’d been custom-made. Veronica always seemed to be poking around Saddle Club meetings.

  “How’s your nail, Veronica?” Stevie asked drily. “Did you spend the night in the intensive-care unit of the nail hospital?”

  Veronica held up her hands, showing ten perfect, glossy red nails. “The nail is just like new. You’d never know anything had happened.”

  “I faint with relief,” Stevie said.

  Veronica tilted her head, letting her long, silky hair fall across her shoulder, and folded her arms across her chest. She gave Stevie a look of fake pity. “I’d be worried if I were you. Phil’s going on the MTO—an overnight trip with almost all girls.” She moved her hands so that her nails sparkled and then looked at Stevie’s short nails and at her blond hair, which was a mess after doing all the chores. “The MTO is still almost a week away, Stevie. You still have time for a beauty makeover.”

  Stevie felt her face turn red. “What you need is a personality makeover, Veronica,” she snapped.

  “We’ll see,” Veronica said, smiling. “Personally, I think this MTO will be the best ever. Full of surprises.” With that she turned to leave.

  The Saddle Club sat there, looking at the empty spot where Veronica had been.

  Then Stevie said, “Horse Wise does have a lot of good-looking girls. Phil happened to mention it.”

  “What did he say?” Lisa asked, looking surprised.

  “You know—he can’t wait, he’ll be blinded by our beauty—stuff like that.”

  Carole grinned. “You have to admit, Horse Wise is dazzling.”

  “Especially the horses,” Stevie joked. “Now if only we could figure out a way for horses to wear nail polish.”

  “Hoof polish,” Carole said. “Hmmmm.”

  “Passion pink, petunia purple. I think we’re on to a hot idea here,” Stevie said.

  “I’ll be recording it,” Lisa said. “The MTO that is.”

  Carole and Stevie looked puzzled.

  “It’s a school assignment,” she explained. “Mr. Haegle, my English teacher, said the only way he would give me permission to miss school on Tuesday was if I kept a journal. We’re reading To Kill a Mockingbird in class and studying the characters.”

  Carole and Stevie groaned simultaneously. The last time Lisa had written about horses, she wrote a theme for her English class about Pepper, a horse from Pine Hollow who had recently been put down. That had been great. But the time before, Lisa had written a column in The Willow Creek Gazette, which revealed all the shortcomings of Pine Hollow riders. Some riders were still angry about that one.

  “Yuk,” Stevie said. “Personally, I’d rather keep a tarantula than a journal.”

  “I only have to write two hundred fifty words a day,” Lisa said, “and I’m supposed to work on characterization.”

  “Well, there will be plenty of characters on this trip,” Stevie said, thinking of Veronica.

  “I’ll be busy, too,” Carole said. “Max has given me a Big Sister/Little Sister project. I’m going to be looking after Jackie and Amie, helping them tack up their horses and stow their gear. I probably won’t be riding as much with you two.”

  “I might be busy, too.” Stevie had a gleam in her eye.

  “Really?” Carole said, elbowing her friend. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Phil’s coming along—would it?”

  “Now, Carole,” Stevie replied innocently. “What on earth would give you that idea?”

  HORSES WERE NEIGHING and pawing the ground. Riders were frantically checking supplies. The youngest riders were running back and forth like overexcited puppies.

  Stevie knew the pandemonium was normal. Trips always seemed to start this way. At the moment it looked as if Horse Wise would spend the entire weekend at Pine Hollow trying to get organized.

  The Marstens’ horse van pulled into the parking lot. It wasn’t a fancy van—Phil liked to joke that it had four colors: red, white, rust, and mud. But Stevie was glad to see it. She walked over to the driver’s side.

  “Hello, Stevie,” Mr. Marsten said. “Ready for the overnight?”

  Stevie nodded. “Yup. My horse is loaded; my gear is stowed; and I’m ready to go.”

  Phil got out of the passenger side, looked at the confusion, and said, “My Pony Club is the same way. We always get off to chaotic starts.”

  “Isn’t it exciting?” exclaimed Stevie. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  Phil gave her a warm smile. “Me either,” he agreed. Then he went around to the back of the van, let down the ramp, and eased Teddy along it. Stevie was impressed. Horses never like walking backward, especially into a crowded scene like this one, but Phil kept Teddy calm by talking to him in a low voice.

  Then Max came over and told Phil that as long as Teddy was calm, he might as well lead him directly into one of the vans that would take the horses to Silverado State Park.

  Talking softly to Teddy, Phil led him into the van.

  When Phil came out, Stevie said, “What were you saying to him? He looked so interested.”

  Phil’s green eyes were shining. “Just making conversation.”

  “Horses can’t understand English,” Stevie said. “Max is always telling us that.”

  Phil grinned. “Who says we were talking English?”

  Stevie was about to ask what language they were talking when Max came over and asked Phil to help Peter Allman sort out his tack, which had become tangled.

  Phil obliged, and Stevie looked around. Nearly all the horses had been loaded, and most of the gear was stowed. Soon the riders would be taking off.

  “Stevie,” called a nearby voice. It was Joe Novick, standing patiently with his horse Rusty. Rusty’s left front hoof was cocked forward slightly, a sign that he might have a rock stuck in his shoe.

  “I think he has a stone,” Joe said, “but I don’t want to hurt him. Do you have a minute to give me a hand?” He held out a hoof pick.

  “Sure,” Stevie replied. She took the pick and went over to R
usty and put her hand on the horse’s neck. “This isn’t going to hurt.” Rusty snorted and shook his head, but he let her touch him. Slowly she ran her hand down his shoulder and along his leg. When she reached his fetlock, she tapped it as a sign that he should raise his foot. Rusty nickered.

  “We’re going to get the stone out, and you’ll have a great MTO,” she said. Joe stood close to her, peering at Rusty’s hoof.

  “Now,” she said, gently lifting Rusty’s hoof with her left hand. This was the moment when a horse could panic. “We’re going to put the hook in here,” Stevie said to Rusty. “Very gently.”

  Stevie turned to Joe. “A horse who’s having his hooves picked is a lot like a human being at the dentist. He’s nervous to begin with. Plus he’s five times bigger than we are. Think of it as like being a little dentist with a very nervous five-hundred-pound customer.”

  “I would be careful,” Joe said. “Real careful.”

  Stevie nodded. “Exactly.” She ran the pick between Rusty’s hoof and the shoe, looking for a lump.

  “How will you know when you’ve hit it?” Joe asked.

  “When the pick sticks. You have to be extra careful, because that’s where Rusty’s foot is sore. I think I feel something.” She wiggled the pick gently—this was her favorite part of hoof picking. It took real artistry. “You can’t force it, because the inside of a horse’s hoof is sensitive. The outside is tough, like a fingernail, but the inside is as sensitive as the skin beneath a nail.”

  “You really know a lot,” Joe said.

  “It’s coming.” Suddenly the stone popped into the center of the shoe and bounced against the fleshy vee at the back of Rusty’s hoof. Stevie picked up the stone, then slowly released Rusty’s foot. “See,” she said, showing it to Rusty. The stone was about the size of a pea. Rusty snorted and looked away.

  “I guess it’s yours,” she said, dropping the stone into Joe’s palm.

  “That’s the first thing you ever gave me,” Joe said with a grin as he closed his fingers around the stone.

  At that moment Stevie happened to see Phil over Joe’s shoulder. Phil was giving her the strangest look. What’s up with him? Stevie wondered.