“Sure,” said Carole, “I understand.” She got off the phone as quickly fast as she could and lay back on her pillows. I ought to turn the light off, she thought, just before falling into a troubled sleep.
FOR THE FIRST time ever, Carole was glad to go back to school on Monday. She didn’t hate school the way Stevie did, but she didn’t love it, either, like Lisa. To Carole, school was just there—a place she had to go five days a week until she was old enough to turn professional and ride full-time. But now it seemed like an escape, a distraction from the announcement she was going to make on Friday.
But even in school, the decision haunted her. She hadn’t been to Pine Hollow once since the jumping fiasco. And now she certainly couldn’t go. How could she ride Starlight, groom him, fuss over him, when all the while she was planning to sell him?
At least he was getting exercise, Carole thought sadly, picking at her food in the cafeteria one afternoon. Knowing she couldn’t face riding, she had told Pat she could take Starlight out. Pat, of course, had been thrilled. “Really, Carole?” she’d said. The happiness in Pat’s voice made Carole sad, too. Clearly Pat deserved Starlight—unlike Carole, who spent every moment dreaming about King.
The bell rang; lunch period was over. Carole stood up quickly and bused her tray. Lisa had spent lunch in the library, but Carole didn’t want to risk running into her. Lisa would ask her a lot of questions. “Why haven’t you been riding?” “Why haven’t you been helping out with barn chores?” “What are you going to do for your demonstration for Max?”
After lunch, Carole had English. The class was doing a unit on creative writing. “I want you all to write a story and hand it in on Monday,” the teacher announced. “You can write on anything you want, but my suggestion is simple: Write about what you know.”
The story! Carole remembered suddenly. In her dilemma, she had forgotten all about the Horseman’s Weekly contest. At least now I’ll have something to write about, she thought ruefully. Instead of a champion junior rider, she would write about a girl who had to sell her horse. It would be a sad story but a good one. Carole looked down at her notebook, feeling her eyes fill up with tears. Why was doing the right thing so hard—and so sad?
Carole sniffed. If she let herself go, she would burst out crying for real, and she hated to cry in school. She frowned and opened her assignment book. By Friday it would all be over. Starlight would belong to someone else. Across Saturday and Sunday Carole wrote, in big black letters, “Write story!” One story could work for English class and for the contest.
The teacher told the students to take ten minutes to work on their opening sentences. How should the story start? Carole wondered. She knew how it would end. The final sentence would be easy: The day she sold her first horse was the saddest day of her life.
“COME ON! COME on! Come on!”
Stevie sprinted up the driveway toward Lisa. She ran flat out for the house. “Home!” she cried, tagging the front door.
Lisa clicked the stopwatch. “Your best time ever!”
“All right, twenty sit-ups and I’ll be done,” said Stevie. Inside she dropped to the floor and did her crunches. Stevie, who went to Fenton Hall, a private school, had an extra week of vacation, so Lisa had put her on a schedule. Mornings she did the abs and arms video by herself. Afternoons Lisa came by to time her runs.
Even Stevie had to admit that the plan had worked. After two solid weeks of exercise, she was ready. Mid-crunch, Alex poked his head into the family room.
“Aren’t you going to taper off before the competition?” he asked, sounding worried. “It is tomorrow, you know—unless you need more time, of course.”
Stevie grinned. “Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Phew!” She sat up. “You know, Lisa,” she said, “it’s sad to see a grown man cry. But what’s even sadder is to see a half-grown man who’s scared of a couple of girls!”
Alex made a face at her and retreated. Giggling, Stevie collapsed on the couch next to Lisa. “I bet we’ll be about even in the race,” she mused. Then she sat up. “Darn! I wish there was some contest where I’d have the upper hand. I know he’ll beat me in push-ups, just because he’s a boy.”
Lisa concentrated. “I’ll try to think of something,” she promised.
“How’s school?” Stevie asked suddenly. Not looking forward to Monday, she needed all the encouragement she could get.
“Great!” said Lisa.
“You always say that.”
“No, but it is great. In fact, everything’s great. I get my homework done on time, I’m ahead in two classes, I do my chores right away, I’m two-thirds through my needlepoint—”
“I know what you mean,” said Stevie. “I’m sticking to this fitness program, I’ve done all my laundry down to the last unmatched sock, I’ve watched Priced to Sell every afternoon and made dessert every night—”
Stevie stopped. The two girls looked at each other. Then they both looked at the floor. “So you haven’t been … uh …,” Stevie began.
“No. You?”
“No.”
“Well, so what!” Lisa said. “We always help with barn chores.”
“That’s right!” agreed Stevie. “Maybe it was time for someone else to take up the slack.”
“Yeah! And realize that The Saddle Club isn’t going to do all the dirty work!”
“And—And I’m sure Red’s been turning Belle out in the pasture,” Stevie said more quietly.
“And I’ll bet somebody else has been riding Prancer,” Lisa added in a small voice.
“And—And I’m sure that Carole still wants to be our friend,” Stevie added, her voice doleful.
Lisa swallowed. “I’m positive Carole’s not mad at us.”
“I’ll bet if Carole’s at Pine Hollow right now—” Stevie faltered, her voice trembling.
“She—She probably misses us …”
“So what if we skipped two weeks?” Stevie said defensively.
“It doesn’t mean we’re bad people!” Lisa cried.
“Or that we’ll never be welcome at Pine Hollow again!” Stevie wailed.
“Or that Mrs. Reg hates us!”
“Or that The Saddle Club is over!”
That did it. Lisa stood up. She gave Stevie a hand and pulled her up from the couch. The two girls got their coats from the hall closet. They grabbed their gloves and ran down the driveway. When they got to the road, they turned left and raced for Pine Hollow. “I hope it’s not too late!” Lisa shouted.
“It won’t be!” answered Stevie. “Not with the shape we’re in!”
FIVE MINUTES LATER the two girls stormed into Pine Hollow. For some reason, both of them expected a trumpet to blow, signaling their return. But the barn was as quiet as it normally was on a winter Friday. Stevie looked into Belle’s stall. It was empty.
“Oh, I turned her out this morning,” said Red when Stevie found him. “She’s out playing in the pasture.”
Lisa searched for Prancer. As a last resort, she checked the indoor ring. Andrea Barry was riding the mare in place of her own horse. “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming. Doc’s a little off his feed, so I’ve been practicing on Prancer,” the girl said. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Okay?” said Lisa. “It’s the best!” Andrea was an excellent rider. Any schooling from her could only benefit Prancer. Lisa headed for the tack room.
Stevie was already there. “What on earth?” Stevie’s saddle and bridle were gleaming. So were Lisa’s.
“Carole!” Lisa exclaimed.
“Naturally!”
Mrs. Reg peeked in to say hi.
“Do you know where Carole is?” Stevie asked breathlessly.
“Gosh, no. I haven’t seen in her in over a week,” Mrs. Reg replied. “Pat Naughton’s been exercising Starlight, though. You could ask her.”
“Over a week!” Lisa exclaimed. She was stunned. Stevie was flabbergasted. That simply could not be. It was one thing for them to skip a week of riding, but Carole? They le
ft the tack room and hurried down the aisle to Starlight’s stall.
Pat Naughton had the gelding out on cross-ties and was grooming him. “Good boy!” She straightened up from picking out a hoof. “Well, hello!”
“Mrs. Naughton?” Stevie said after introducing Lisa. “Is it true that Carole hasn’t been coming to ride?”
“Call me Pat, and yes, I’m afraid it is. She said something about having too much homework, so I’ve been exercising Starlight. Not every day, just occasionally.”
Lisa stared. Stevie stared. Neither of them had to say what they were both thinking: Even if her teachers had given her fifty hours of homework a night, Carole would never have skipped riding. Something was up. Something serious.
“Let’s go call her. Now,” said Lisa.
“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Pat said. She pointed down the aisle. “Here she comes.”
Carole stopped in her tracks when she saw Stevie and Lisa. Then she continued toward them. Why not tell everyone all at once and get it over with? She heard Mrs. Reg coming up behind her. “Even better,” Carole murmured.
Starlight pricked up his ears when he saw his owner coming. He nickered softly. Gritting her teeth, Carole stopped before the small crowd and said, “I have an announcement to make. I’ve made a decision.”
Bubbly as ever, Pat Naughton did not seem to understand the gravity of the situation. “Carole!” she cried. “Welcome back. Starlight missed you so much. He’s been playing me up like crazy.”
“How do you guys know each other?” Stevie asked, curious about the new friendship between one of her neighbors and one of her best friends.
“Carole’s been helping me look for a horse,” Pat explained. “We saw one amazing horse—King’s Ransom—didn’t we, Carole?”
“Yes,” said Carole, feeling sick but determined to break the news. “In fact, that’s what—”
“Only one thing wrong with him!” Pat said, giggling. “He couldn’t jump a stick! Remember when I tried those tiny jumps and he stumbled all over them? Practically fell on his face!”
Carole looked quickly at Pat. “What did you say?”
“You know—when I tried to jump! Oh, no, that’s right, you were in the bathroom, weren’t you? But gosh, this horse was a joke over fences!”
“I know that horse,” put in Mrs. Reg. “Girl went over to Holland and brought back an event horse. Or so she thought. Turned out he couldn’t jump. Crashed through half a dozen courses. They turned him into a dressage horse. He does fairly well—”
“Ick!” said Stevie. “Who would want to do dressage all the time?”
“A lot of people,” Carole said defensively.
“I guess,” Stevie conceded. “Sounds boring to me. No Pony Club, no hunting, no trail riding—although I guess this horse could probably jump all right on the trail. Any horse can jump outside.”
Carole felt herself flush. King had refused to jump the log on the trail! “I—I was thinking of buying King!” she blurted out.
Stevie, Lisa, Pat, and Mrs. Reg all looked at her. Carole waited for them to express their shock. Instead they started to laugh. They seemed to think she was joking, or only half serious. “You? Give up jumping? Yeah, right!” said Stevie. “And I’ll give up hating school!”
“If you gave up jumping, who would represent The Saddle Club in the American Horse Show? I mean, when we’re in high school?” Lisa asked.
Only Mrs. Reg was serious. “Carole,” she said, “I don’t think you’ve ever realized your and Starlight’s full potential.”
Carole couldn’t believe what was happening. For more than a week she’d been living in agony simply because she wouldn’t share her dilemma with anyone. Now, the minute she mentioned it, she saw a different side—a number of different sides. King wasn’t her only chance for success. She and Starlight could go on to bigger and better things! Carole was so overwrought from rethinking the situation that she didn’t trust herself to speak.
Fortunately, Pat Naughton filled in. “I’ll bet I know what the announcement is. You wouldn’t sell this boy in a million years, would you?”
Carole shook her head, her eyes shining. She clasped her arms around Starlight’s neck and buried her face in his mane. “I—I just couldn’t, Pat!” she cried.
Seeing Carole cry set Stevie and Lisa off, too. Pat shot Mrs. Reg a curious glance as The Saddle Club bawled their heads off.
Finally, Carole raised her head and sniffed. “I sure am lucky you’ve been riding him, though, Pat. Otherwise riding for Max tomorrow would be frightening!”
Stevie and Lisa looked at one another. “Max!” they both cried.
“But—But you two are all set, aren’t you?” Carole asked. “You’ve been riding every day, right?”
Stevie smiled weakly.
“Not exactly,” Lisa began.
AN HOUR LATER the girls were sitting in the tack room, racking their brains.
“What if we tell Max there was a huge snowstorm and all the roads were closed and …” Stevie stopped. “Nah.”
Carole sat forward. “How about this: The horses got into the grain room and colicked. They’re all fine now, but …” She sighed. “Nah.”
“How about …” said Lisa. “Nah.”
“There’s always bribery,” Stevie suggested hopefully. “I’ve been baking a lot, and I could always whip up a batch of peanut butter cookies by tomorrow morning.”
“Hey! You’ve got something!” Lisa said. “I’m almost through with my needlepoint pattern. I could give it to Maxi or Deborah as a gift!”
“Gee, I don’t have anything,” Carole said.
“Yes you do!” said Stevie. “You can say your project was to help Pat find a horse as good as Starlight! It’s not your fault it was an impossible task.”
Carole looked doubtful. Then she started to giggle. Their predicament was truly awful, but just knowing the three of them were in it together made the whole thing seem a lot less worrisome.
Stevie giggled, too. “I’m really going to be in trouble with Max,” she said. “By the time I get into the saddle, I’ll be so tired from the competition with Alex I’ll probably fall off! With stirrups, let alone without.”
“Competition?” Carole asked.
Stevie described the showdown with Alex, as well as her preparations—jogging, the abs and arms video.
“That’s it!” Lisa exclaimed.
“You figured out our demonstration for Max?” Stevie asked breathlessly.
“No. I figured out how you can beat Alex!”
“How?”
“No stirrups!”
“Huh?”
“Put in a no-stirrups phase of the competition!” Lisa explained. “You’ll whip him there for sure.”
“It’s brilliant!” Stevie cried. “Alex won’t know what hit him.” They whooped it up for several minutes. Then they resumed their brooding silence.
“If only there were some way this fitness competition could help us with Max,” Lisa mused.
“Careful,” Carole warned her. “I haven’t been working out at all. My abs and arms are just as wimpy as ever.”
“Ha, ha! You’re in the best riding shape of any of us,” Stevie replied. “In fact, your abs and arms are probably stronger from riding and lugging tack and buckets around than—”
“Now, that’s it!” Lisa shouted. This time she jumped up and did a little dance. “I just hope there’s time. Why oh why didn’t I think of this before?”
Carole and Stevie sat watching her. She ran out of the tack room and came back a moment later with a piece of paper. Using the stub of a pencil, she scribbled down a To Do list. “Come on,” she said, observing her friends still sitting, “we’ve got to hurry. We don’t have much light left. We’ll have to do the taping indoors. Let’s move! Let’s put this grand plan into action, girls!”
“Uh, Lis’?” said Stevie.
“Yes?”
“Would you mind, ah, telling Carole and me what the grand plan i
s?”
Lisa looked from one to the other of them and burst out laughing. “Gosh, you’re demanding! The plan is this: We’re going to make a video—a fitness video, just like the abs and arms one, only for riding.”
“You mean we’ll tape ourselves?” Stevie asked, marveling at Lisa’s quick thinking.
Lisa nodded. “Yup. Doing all kinds of exercises, on the ground and on horseback. Among the three of us, we ought to be able to think up a video’s worth.”
“And we’ll show it to Max in place of a demonstration!” Stevie cried, the light dawning.
“I’ve got some great ones,” said Carole enthusiastically. “There’s the stand-up-in-your-stirrups-and-touch-your-toes, there’s the touch-the-horse’s-ears-while—-”
“No offense, Carole,” said Lisa, “but save it for the video!”
The girls flew into action. Carole borrowed Mrs. Reg’s video camera, the one that was normally used to record every second of Maxi’s day. Stevie got dressed in boots and breeches to be the first demonstrator. And Lisa tacked up old, reliable Patch, the ideal horse to use in the mounted exercises.
When they met back in the indoor ring, Carole handed the video camera to Lisa. “You can start the taping,” she said. “I just remembered something I have to do.”
Carole went to Max’s office. Mrs. Reg was inside. “Did you run out of videotape already?” she asked.
“No,” said Carole. “I was wondering if I could use the phone.”
“Of course, Carole, if it’s important.”
“It is,” Carole assured her.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” the older woman said, standing up to leave.
As Carole dialed Jenny’s number, something came back to her. With the phone to her ear, she leaned out the door. “Mrs. Reg? You know that dress you were telling me about? The one you made yourself?”
Mrs. Reg smiled. “What dress was that?” she asked innocently before disappearing down the aisle.
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