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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
I would like to express my special thanks to Randy L. Gaddo, Chief Warrant Officer, U.S. Marine Corps Quantico, VA.
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: 978-0-307-82481-3
Originally published by Bantam Skylark in 1989
First Delacorte eBook Edition 2012
v3.1
For Neil
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
“IT’S THREE WEEKS from today exactly, right?” Stevie Lake asked, propping her chin on the palm of her hand. She was stretched out comfortably on the floor in Carole Hanson’s room. Carole was sitting cross-legged on her bed. Lisa Atwood, the third member of the trio who called themselves The Saddle Club, sat in the sunny window seat, stroking Carole’s kitten, Snowball.
“Exactly three weeks until the gymkhana,” Lisa confirmed. “In fact, the first game will probably start about four o’clock, so that’s three weeks, minus one hour and twenty-five minutes.”
Carole and Stevie laughed. “Trust you to be so precise,” Stevie teased.
“I’m not always all that precise,” Lisa said, smiling. “Just when I’m really looking forward to something.…”
“Then you count the hours, right?” Carole asked.
“Yes, and in this case, it’s—” She paused, grinning mischievously. “Oh, golly, just about five hundred and two and a half hours, give or take five minutes.” All three girls giggled. Lisa was known for being a straight-A student, but sometimes even she had to admit she carried it to extremes.
A gymkhana was a series of games and relay races in which teams of young riders competed on horseback. This particular gymkhana was to take place at Pine Hollow Stables, where all three girls rode. Any gymkhana would be fun, but this one was certain to be especially so because Stevie, Lisa, and Carole were all planning the games together. They had been working for weeks to come up with appropriately outrageous stunts the riders would have to perform.
The three girls made an unusual trio. They agreed among themselves that the only things they really had in common were their love of horses and their friendship with one another. In fact, the Club’s only rules were that members had to be horse crazy, and willing to help other members. The Club’s first joint project had been to help Stevie with a math project. Its most recent effort had been to make up games for the gymkhana.
Carole, at twelve, was the most experienced rider of the three. She had been raised on various Marine Corps bases where her father, a colonel, had been stationed. They had moved a lot as his assignments had changed. Until her father had bought the house where they now lived in Willow Creek, Virginia, she had usually ridden on the bases. Now she rode at Pine Hollow, owned and operated by Max Regnery, the girls’ beloved instructor.
Carole had wavy black hair, which fell softly to her shoulders. She had a gentle voice and an easy smile. Since her mother’s death the year before, a lot of things had been difficult and uncertain for Carole. But the one thing she knew for sure was that horses were very important to her. Carole was determined to ride them, train them, tend them, and own them for the rest of her life. Carole could sometimes be forgetful or disorganized, but when it came to horses, her friends thought she was the most organized person in the world.
“You know, I can’t wait for the gymkhana either,” Carole said. “But just think how great it’ll be when we’re old enough, and good enough, to ride in the real thing. I mean real horse shows where—”
“I’ll never get that good,” Lisa groaned. “I just can’t picture myself competing at Madison Square Garden in New York, can you?”
“You mean, can I see you or me?” Carole joked. “I can see me, that’s for sure. That’s my dream—at least one of my dreams,” she said. “Sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like. I read about it, too. But I don’t think the magazine stories are anything like the real thing.”
“Make you a deal,” Stevie said to Carole. “If you get to ride in the Horse Show at Madison Square Garden, Lisa and I will be there in the audience to cheer you on. It’s a promise.” Stevie pulled herself up into a sitting position and reached across the bed to shake Carole’s hand.
Like Carole, Stevie was twelve. Although she came from a comfortably wealthy family, she didn’t dress like it. In fact, Lisa teased her sometimes, saying she didn’t know if Stevie owned anything but jeans. The first time she’d been to Stevie’s room, she’d threatened to look through her closet to check. But the closet was such a mess when she opened the door, she didn’t dare touch anything for fear of causing an avalanche!
Stevie had dark blond hair and blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. She was never far from hot water—and frequently in it. She was a practical joker with a wild sense of humor and a streak of stubbornness. Stevie had three brothers—one older, one younger, and one twin. She was the only member of her family who rode horses, and she liked it that way. Riding was one thing that made her special in her family.
Lisa Atwood, at thirteen, was the oldest of the three girls, but hardly looked it. She usually wore classic styles, such as kilts and loafers, which, along with her long wavy brown hair and her sweet smile, made her appear several years younger than her friends. She was also the newest at horseback riding, having taken it up only a few months before. Her mother, who had very firm ideas of what her daughter should do to be a proper young lady, had decided Lisa should learn something about horses because “every well-bred woman should.” Lisa hadn’t agreed at all. She’d been very frightened at the start, but she’d been more intimidated by her mother than by the horses, so she’d reluctantly agreed to lessons. Then, once she’d tried riding, she’d changed her mind and discovered that she not only liked riding, but loved it.
That wasn’t what her mother had had in mind at all. As Lisa learned more and more about horses and riding, she became more confident, and finally convinced her mother to let her drop painting, ballet, and the miscellaneous music lessons
that made a well-bred young lady—at least for the summer. Now that it was summer, all three of the girls were in Pine Hollow’s riding-camp program, which met every weekday from nine to three. The summer was going to culminate in a three-day event for the adult riders at the stable, and a three-day gymkhana for the junior riders, including The Saddle Club members.
“You know, I can’t wait to see how the costume race goes,” Stevie said. “I hope our team gets the clown costume. It’s just one piece—”
“Yeah, with buttons down the back!” Lisa reminded her. “And anyway, what makes you think we’ll be on the same team? I’m sure Max is going to want to have riders of all ages on each team.”
“It’s not really age that will matter,” Carole said sensibly. “It’s more a matter of equal riding skills. Each team should have one very experienced rider, one moderately so, one pretty new rider, and, uh—” Carole paused, searching for the right word.
“One hopelessly new one?” Stevie said.
“Something like that,” Carole said, laughing.
“Speaking of our events, are we going to have practice tomorrow?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t,” Carole said with regret. “Dad’s got this plan to meet with an old Marine Corps buddy and his wife. They’ve got a daughter about my age and Dad is just sure we’re going to get along famously.”
“Don’t you hate it when parents do that?” Stevie asked. “The last time mine said something like that, the girl was, first of all, nine years old, and second of all, this incredible brat.”
“Maybe Carole will get lucky,” Lisa said. She always tried to look on the bright side of things.
“It can’t be all that bad,” Carole said. “We’re meeting them at Quantico, the big Marine Corps base where we used to live, and at least I’ll have a chance to visit the stables there. We’re going to have a cookout overlooking the reservoir, so even if she’s a nine-year-old brat, it should be fun.”
“What an optimist!” Stevie joked. “Oh, and speaking of optimists,” Stevie said, changing the subject, “my brother Chad has been behaving very strangely lately.”
“Why do you call him an optimist?” Lisa asked.
“Oh, because it’s like he’s just discovered girls and all he wants to think about is girls, and he’s just positive that all the girls in the world are crazy about him. Considering his table manners, he’ll be lucky to get a date by the time he’s twenty-five!”
“You’re always complaining about your brothers, Stevie,” Lisa said, “but you don’t know how rough it can be being an only child.”
“I know, I know,” Stevie said. “I just wish I had a couple of sisters instead of all those brothers. They can be real jerks sometimes.”
“Oh, come on, Stevie,” Carole said. “I know some girls who think Chad’s kind of cute.”
“Boy, they must be desperate.” Stevie groaned.
“Who’s desperate?” Colonel Hanson asked, knocking lightly on the jamb and entering the open door to Carole’s room.
“Any girl interested in my brother,” Stevie explained.
Colonel Hanson smiled at her. “I think my sister used to say that about me, too,” he said. “Until I married her best friend!”
“Aw, no way, Dad,” Carole protested. “Nobody could ever call you a dweeb.” She gazed affectionately at her father. They had always been close, but the year since her mother’s death had brought them even closer.
“Well, I don’t know that that’s the word they’d use, but there are a couple of junior officers over at the base …” The girls looked at him and giggled. “And speaking of the base, Carole, you and I have to put together our barbecue stuff for the picnic tomorrow. So, Stevie and Lisa, I’m afraid it’s time for me to drive you home—otherwise I’ll have to start charging your parents for rent.”
“I don’t know about the Atwoods, but I think my parents would let me stay for free,” Stevie said.
“Very funny,” Colonel Hanson returned. “Come on.”
Lisa sat up, trying to remove the kitten from her lap. “Come on, Snowball,” she told the little bundle of black fur. “Time to get up. I’m going home now.” The kitten ignored her. He tucked his nose under a paw and shut his eyes even more tightly.
“You should know Snowball better than that by now,” Carole told her.
“Oh, yeah, right,” Lisa said, remembering why the black kitten was named Snowball. He had a way of doing the exact opposite of what anybody told him. Lisa stroked his soft back gently. “There, there, Snowball. Just sleep tight,” she said in a warm, comforting voice. The kitten’s head perked up. He looked at Lisa with disdain, rose abruptly, stretched briefly, and marched off her lap. Lisa shook her head in amazement. “Just like magic.”
THERE WAS SOMETHING about Kate Devine that immediately told Carole they were going to be friends.
“Hi, you must be Carole,” Kate said, grinning broadly. “My parents have been telling me how much I’m going to like you.”
Carole laughed. “Same here,” she said, admiring Kate’s easy manner. The two of them were walking together toward the shore of the Quantico reservoir next to the picnic area while their fathers hashed over old times and tried to start the barbecue fire in the grill.
“The last time my parents guaranteed I was going to like an ‘old friend’s’ daughter, it turned out to be a son,” Kate confided.
“Cute?” Carole asked, curious.
“Very cute,” Kate assured her. “Most two-year-olds are, you know!”
They giggled together, sitting down by the water’s edge. “Well, I guess this time, our parents were right, so that’s one for them,” Carole said.
“Now, the next big test is, can those guys start the fire for the barbecue?” Kate said.
“They’re both Marines,” Carole reminded her. “They ought to be able to handle that.”
“Dad told me a story once about a test he had in a Marine school course he took,” Kate said. “There was a question about how an officer should start a fire if he or she didn’t have any matches. Dad wrote this big-deal essay about lenses, spontaneous combustion, rubbing sticks together, and so on.”
“So he got the answer right?”
“Nope,” Kate said. “The correct answer was that an officer should say: ‘Sergeant, come on over here and start this fire.’ ”
“I think the woman at the next campsite is a sergeant,” Carole said, still laughing. “So we’ll be okay, but it might take awhile. Have you had the grand tour of the base yet?” she asked.
“We’ve only been here three days,” Kate told her. “And it’s so big—there’s so much to see. You used to live here, didn’t you?”
“Yes, until two years ago. But even when you live here, there’s a lot you never get to. One place I always got to, though, was the stable. Have you been there?”
“No,” Kate said simply.
Carole was a little surprised that Kate didn’t seem to show any interest in the stable. She didn’t ask where it was, or if she rode there, or anything. Just no. Carole decided to pursue the subject.
“Would you like to see it?” she asked.
Kate hesitated. She seemed to be searching for her answer. As far as Carole was concerned, there were only two kinds of people in the world: those who were horse crazy and those who were just plain crazy. Kate didn’t strike her as just plain crazy, so she waited for her answer.
“Oh, maybe later,” Kate said noncommittally.
Carole made up her mind immediately that she’d introduce Kate to horses. If Kate was going to be a friend, that would be the nicest thing Carole could possibly share with her. She smiled to herself, thinking what a treat she had in store for Kate.
“Say, I love that sweater of yours,” Kate said, changing the subject. “It’s a really pretty color.”
“Oh, thanks. Dad gave it to me for my birthday. He’s got great taste.…”
“Speaking of dads and great taste,” Kate said, “unless my nose deceives me, the
fire’s going and our fathers are already cooking. Look at my dad in that apron, will you?”
Carole glanced over at Colonel Devine. He had donned a giant chef’s hat and apron and was brandishing a long-handled spatula, apparently threatening a hamburger with it.
“Maybe we’d better get back there and see if we can help—at least to save our own dinners!”
A few minutes later, the Devines and the Hansons were assembled at a picnic table. Mrs. Devine had brought everything to make it all look picture-perfect. There was a red-and-white-checked tablecloth, matching plates, napkins, even salt and pepper shakers.
“Phyllis, you’re so organized!” Colonel Hanson said, admiring her handiwork. “I bet you’ve got everything unpacked—and flowers on the table already, right?”
Mrs. Devine laughed in protest. “No, I’m not all that organized. Besides, I don’t know where we’ll finally settle. For now, we’re just in the family suites at Liversedge.”
“Well, if you want to buy a home nearby, I’d be glad to show you around Willow Creek,” Colonel Hanson offered. “It’s a lovely town. Carole and I are very happy there,” he added.
Carole was suddenly excited by the idea that Kate might live nearby. She would teach Kate to ride at Pine Hollow. They’d go to school together. Kate could even join The Saddle Club! “That would be great,” she said to Kate. “We could spend a lot of time together. Oh, please, do come look at Willow Creek,” she told the Devines.
Mrs. Devine looked at the girls quickly, knitting her brows ever so slightly. Then, as Carole watched, Colonel and Mrs. Devine exchanged glances. The colonel finally said, “Well, that’s very nice of you to offer, Mitch, but we’re—well, our plans are a little up in the air.”
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