High Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

“I’ve got it,” Veronica said. “Treasure!”

  Stevie buried her face in her arms. If a moron like Veronica could get “treasure,” why couldn’t Joe?

  Phil spread his hands to show that Betsy should expand on treasure.

  “Treasure Island?”

  Phil shook his head and there was silence. For one moment Stevie thought he was stuck, but then he indicated fourth word and began sketching waves with his hand.

  “Waves,” Betsy said.

  Phil grinned to show she was on the right track.

  “Ocean. Water. Sea.”

  Phil nodded and then sniffed and pointed at the space beyond his nose.

  “Odor. Smell. Stink.”

  “Air,” Betsy yelled. “Sea air. Treasure Sea Air. Treasure Sea Air.” She frowned, stuck.

  “Treasure of the Sierra Madre,” Veronica shouted.

  “Yes!” Phil said, leaping toward her. He and Veronica and Betsy put their arms around each other, with Peter and Jackie hanging on to their waists, jumping up and down.

  A disgusting sight. Stevie turned to Carole, who had come back to life when the name of the movie was mentioned. “That’s one of my favorites,” Carole said. “My dad’s, too.”

  “No kidding,” Stevie said bitterly. “I guess you were too busy to watch my clues.”

  “I watched them,” Carole said. “I just didn’t understand them.”

  It continued downhill from there. Betsy’s team won the TV-series title and the comic-book title. The only charade that Stevie’s team got was for a movie star, Skye Ransom, whom The Saddle Club had taught to ride.

  “The results are four for the Cavanaugh team and one for the Novick team,” Max said.

  Betsy’s team went wild with applause.

  Max raised his hands. “It’s late. Younger Horse Wise members go to their tents and turn in. Older riders, please bank the fire and check the horses.” He turned to Stevie. “You’re in charge of the horses. Get someone to go to the paddock with you.”

  Stevie involuntarily glanced toward Phil, hoping he’d volunteer. She was still angry at him, but she realized she missed him, too. So far the MTO was nothing like she’d imagined.

  But Phil was already busy laying logs on top of the smoking fire. “They’ll burn all night,” he said. “Hickory lasts forever. Someone pass me some pine cones.”

  As a rule there was no way Betsy would sully herself by picking up pine cones, but now she went over to the neat pile of logs and kindling that the riders had made earlier and scooped up an armload of cones. She carried them over to the fire and said, “Is this what you want?”

  “Yeah, great,” Phil said, taking the pine cones from her arms. “They’ll start the logs burning.” Artfully, Phil tucked cones into the spaces between logs.

  There was a plume of smoke, and then the cones burst into blue and purple flames.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Betsy breathed.

  Phil smiled down on her upturned face. “Thanks.”

  Before she even knew what she was doing, Stevie had grabbed the rest of the pine cones and kindling. “You think that’s gorgeous, get a load of this.” She threw her arms wide open, scattering pine cones and kindling into the fire.

  There was a shocked silence as the pine cones and kindling caught flame. Suddenly the fire was dangerously large.

  “Everybody back,” Max said in a grim voice. All the riders except Stevie retreated until they were standing in the dark.

  Max turned to her. “Younger riders come on overnights so they can learn from older riders,” he said in a low tone. “I guess you decided to show them how not to behave.”

  “I …,” Stevie began. But then her words got stuck. How could she possibly explain why she’d done what she’d done?

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled finally.

  By this time the flames had receded and the fire looked under control. The flare-up had lasted less than a minute. Stevie looked at it, relieved. “I’ll go get some more kindling,” she offered. After all, they were camping out at the edge of a pine forest. There wasn’t exactly a shortage of pine cones.

  “Not in the dark,” Max said. “Go check on the horses and then turn in.”

  Stevie walked toward the paddock, feeling as though she’d just been sent to her room. The last thing she saw before she left the campfire had been Betsy grinning with satisfaction.

  “Hey,” came a voice from behind her. “Wait up.”

  For a moment Stevie thought it was Phil—and that he’d come after her to say he was sorry. But it was Joe.

  “Need some help?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I guess so,” she replied reluctantly. Actually, she just wanted to be alone to drown in her own sorrows.

  Joe seemed to sense this.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” Stevie said. “Great.”

  “It’s a beautiful night,” Joe said.

  Despite her bad mood, Stevie couldn’t deny it. Overhead the stars seemed especially bright, and the moon was rising from behind the trees.

  “Will you tell me what to do?” Joe said. “I’ve never inspected horses at night before. What do you look for?”

  “You feel their backs to see if they’re hot,” Stevie said. “And you run your hands down their legs to see if they’re sore. And then you go eyeball to eyeball with them to make sure their eyes are clear.”

  “Got it,” Joe said.

  When the two riders reached the temporary paddock, the horses raised their heads to look at them. In the slanting moonlight the horses seemed to have tiny heads, and legs as thick as tree trunks.

  “You go left, I’ll go right,” Stevie said.

  The first horse to greet her was Topside, the beautiful Thoroughbred that Stevie always rode. He butted her with his nose. She put her arms around his neck and buried her face in his mane. She had been looking forward to this MTO so much. And now it was so dismal.

  “Topside,” she whispered to him. “Why is everything coming out so different from what I expected?”

  But Topside didn’t answer. He went back to pulling at the silvery grass with his teeth. Stevie felt his back, which was cool, and pulled his head up so she could look into his eyes. Then she ran her hands down his legs. He seemed fine. She patted him gently. “Night, boy,” she murmured.

  Next she moved on to Starlight, Carole’s horse. “Starlight in the moonlight,” she said to him. “Starlight, star bright.”

  Starlight snorted. He seemed to think she was being silly.

  She checked Comanche and Garnet. In the moonlight Garnet looked even sleeker than during the day. Her dark brown eyes looked at Stevie soulfully. “Just think,” Stevie said to her, “you’re going to have to spend the whole day tomorrow with Veronica, you poor horse.”

  “Take a look at that moon.” It was Joe, who was only a few feet away.

  “Beautiful,” she said, looking at the silvery disk of the moon and at the hazy circle surrounding it.

  “You know what they say?” Joe asked. “Ring around the moon, rain coming soon.”

  Fifteen minutes later, when Stevie finally got to her tent, she was not only still grumpy, she was exhausted. As she pushed the tent flap back, she saw that Carole was sound asleep and Lisa was bent over her journal.

  Lisa looked up as Stevie entered. “Everything okay?” she whispered.

  “Fabulous,” Stevie muttered as she took off her riding clothes and put on her pajamas. “Fantastic. Glorious.” She crawled into her sleeping bag and pulled it over her head. Now she knew what MTO stood for—Most Terrible Overnight.

  “EXCUSE ME.” A loud voice cut abruptly into Carole’s dream. “This is not my favorite way to wake up.”

  Carole opened her eyes to the light of morning. Stevie was sitting up in her sleeping bag, rubbing the side of her head. “Ouch,” Stevie said.

  “Sorry,” Carole mumbled. She rubbed her eyes. “I was having this bad dream about giant mosquitoes.”

  “Well
, you must have squashed every single one of them,” Stevie said. “You hit me harder than any of my brothers ever have!”

  At that Carole giggled. “I must have really walloped you, then.”

  She stretched and listened to the rain outside pounding their tent. The air felt chilly and damp. Did this mean they wouldn’t be able to ride today? Carole hoped not.

  She wiggled out of her sleeping bag, then stood to pull on her jeans. Stevie was surveying her critically.

  “Frankly, Carole, I think this is going to be a bad hair day for you. You look like Wanda the Witch.”

  Carole grinned. “Well, thank you for that boost of confidence. But may I remind you that according to Veronica, I’m not the one who needs the beauty makeover.” She ducked as Stevie chucked a wadded-up T-shirt at her.

  When Carole was fully dressed, she pulled back the flap of the tent and peered outside. “I’d better check on Jackie and Amie,” she said. “Has it been raining long?”

  “I don’t know,” Stevie said. “I was sleeping soundly until this giant mosquito hunter attacked me.”

  They both glanced over at Lisa, who was lying in her sleeping bag. She was wide awake and staring at them with bright, watchful eyes like a cat.

  “When did it start raining, Lisa?” Stevie asked.

  Lisa shrugged. “I haven’t been paying attention,” she said. “I’ve been thinking.”

  Stevie raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. If Lisa wanted to tell them what she’d been thinking, she would have done so. Stevie didn’t want to pry.

  When Carole left to check on the younger girls, Stevie rolled her sleeping bag to keep out the dampness. She couldn’t help remembering how Phil had rolled up Betsy’s bag yesterday and how foolishly Stevie had acted last night. What’s the matter with me anyway? she wondered. She decided that as soon as she saw Phil this morning, she’d apologize, and they could start to enjoy themselves together on the MTO.

  “I guess you never want to use that sleeping bag again,” Lisa said.

  “Huh?”

  “You’ll never be able to untie those knots.”

  Stevie looked down. It was true. She had tied several tight knots. She would definitely have a problem with them later. But that was later, this was now.

  Outside the rain was really coming down now. We’ll need rain gear for today’s trail ride, Stevie decided. That is, if we can still go.

  Stevie went over to her knapsack and rummaged in it, looking for rain gear. She found her hooded rain jacket and her boots. But she seemed to have forgotten her rain pants. She could visualize the rain pants perfectly. They were green, the same color as her jacket, and, she recalled with a sigh, they were lying on her bed at home. Great! Her bed would stay dry all day.

  “I forgot my rain pants,” she said.

  “You can use my extra pair,” Lisa said. Her duffel bag was gigantic. The day before, everyone had joked that Lisa must be starting off on a really long trip—like to Mars, but it wasn’t Lisa’s fault. Her mother never let Lisa go anywhere without a month’s supply of clothes.

  “You have extra rain pants?” Stevie said, looking at the blue rain pants Lisa was holding out to her.

  Lisa nodded.

  “Your mother thought maybe you would grow an extra set of legs?”

  “You never know.”

  The two of them collapsed into giggles at this, and Stevie thought that it was good to know that even in the middle of the worst rainstorm of the century, The Saddle Club still had a sense of humor.

  When they lifted the tent flap, they saw that the rain was even worse than it sounded. It was coming down in long diagonal sheets. The stream that ran along the side of the clearing had disappeared, because now everything was a stream. The new spring grass was squashed.

  Red O’Malley came over and suggested that they make a fire.

  “In this?” Stevie said, staring at the rain.

  “There’s a dry spot,” Red said, pointing to a spot that was sheltered from the rain by an overhanging rock.

  “But the firewood we gathered must be wet,” Stevie said.

  Red grinned and shook his head. “The minute the rain started, I moved it into my tent.” He lifted the flap of his tent to show the wood neatly stacked against the back. “Go ahead,” he said. “You can build a great fire.”

  Stevie groaned. “There’s only one problem. We don’t have any kindling.”

  She turned to look at the pine forest. It was filled with fallen branches and pine cones. There was lots and lots of kindling. Unfortunately, it was soaking wet.

  Veronica joined them. “Too bad you burned all those pine cones, Stevie,” she said in a nasty tone. “What are we going to do now?”

  For once Stevie didn’t know what to say to her.

  When Carole got to Amie and Jackie’s tent, she raised the flap. The two girls were huddled inside, still in their pajamas, looking cold and scared. She had offered to keep them company last night, but they had indignantly refused, saying they weren’t babies. Now they looked like miserable, damp kittens.

  “Hey, guys,” Carole said, giving them a smile. “Let’s get things organized. No more of this lazing around.”

  The girls jumped up eagerly and started pulling out their clothes and rain gear. They looked happy that someone had come to rescue them.

  Half an hour later all the MTO riders were standing under an oak tree with water running down their hoods, off their shoulders, down their legs.

  “Sorry, guys,” Stevie said. “No fire this morning.”

  “My fingers are cold,” Amie said.

  “My teeth are cold,” Jackie said.

  “My boots are full of water,” Liam said.

  Max said, “No Morning Madness for breakfast this morning.” He passed out containers of orange juice and milk. Then he opened a box of granola bars. “Everyone take three and put two in your pocket—a dry pocket—for later.”

  A damp granola bar, Stevie thought. Just what everyone wants for breakfast. She started toward Phil to explain that she hadn’t meant this to happen. But before she could get to him, Betsy appeared at his side and said, “I think this is kind of exciting.”

  “Wet feet are truly exciting,” Phil said, but he was grinning. He raised his granola bar to Betsy as if he were making a toast.

  Max turned to Red O’Malley. “It’s evident that there won’t be any riding today. Why don’t you drive the younger riders into town this morning. I think some hot chocolate is in order.”

  “Yes!” Amie and Jackie gave each other high fives.

  “Experienced riders over here,” Max said. Seven bedraggled riders walked over to a spot next to the giant pine. “The trails have turned to creeks,” he told them.

  “How are the horses?” Carole asked. Stevie chuckled, in spite of the situation with Phil. It was just like Carole to think of the horses. In fact Stevie was surprised she hadn’t checked on them first thing this morning before heading to Amie and Jackie’s tent.

  “They’re fine,” Max replied. “Phil and Joe helped me place rain sheets over their blankets, and none of them has stiffened. But we can’t ride them until the rain stops.”

  “Great,” Veronica said. “So we stay here and watch it drip.” Stevie noticed that Veronica had a hooded raincoat with a monogram on the pocket and matching rain boots. Her black hair was shining and neat. Veronica would be well groomed even in a tornado.

  “You can do that,” Max said. “Or you can go for a walk. If you head back to the road and walk south half a mile, you’ll pick up the Appalachian Trail. There’s a six-mile walk to Hawks’ Roost, the highest point on the mountain.”

  “Great, so we’ll get a better view of the rain.” Veronica sniffed. “I think I’ll pass.”

  Max shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll stay at the campsite, too,” Lisa said. Carole and Stevie looked at her in surprise. Lisa loved adventure. And she loved being with other Saddle Club members. “I’ll just hang out,�
� she said.

  Only five riders—Phil, Betsy, Carole, Stevie, and Joe—decided to take the walk. As they set off from camp toward the road, Phil took the lead because he had visited Silverado State Forest before and knew the trails.

  “It’s an excellent path,” he said. “You won’t have any trouble with it if you watch your step.”

  “I love rain,” Betsy said. “It makes me feel sad. You know, like triste. That’s the French word for ‘sad,’ except it means more than sad. It means romantically sad.” She looked in Phil’s direction.

  Stevie kicked a rock, which bounced off a tree. She wished she knew the French word for “bimbo.”

  Joe Novick watched the rock ricochet; then he glanced at her. “You okay, Stevie?”

  “Terrific,” she muttered.

  As they walked along the trail, Stevie noticed that the dirt was covered with tiny new leaves that had been torn off the trees by the rain. Stevie leaned over and picked one up. It was the size of her thumbnail. Thanks to the storm, it would never get any bigger. There’s something triste about that, she mused, then giggled out loud. At least she still had her sense of humor.

  The center of the trail had turned into a brook, so they had to walk with one foot on either side of the water. This proved tricky because the earth was slick. As she negotiated one particularly wide spot along the trail, Stevie lost her footing. Instinctively she threw her arms out, reaching for the person who was directly in front of her.

  Joe Novick turned to catch her, and for a second or two the two of them slithered sideways with their arms around each other. Finally Stevie managed to regain her balance. Quickly she disentangled herself from Joe. “Thanks,” she said. “Now I see why Max was worried about the horses on these trails. They’re really slippery.”

  The other riders had stopped to wait for the two of them.

  “You okay?” Carole called out.

  “Yup,” Stevie answered. She glanced at Phil, expecting him to be concerned, too. But instead he looked annoyed.

  “Ready?” he asked impatiently.

  Stevie nodded, feeling hurt all over again, and the five of them stumbled on through the rain. Beside the path pale-pink mountain laurel petals lay scattered on the wet ground.