Holiday Horse

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Holiday Horse Page 11

by Bonnie Bryant


  Deborah headed toward the stairs, gesturing for the girls to follow. “Come on,” she said. “I don’t think you have to worry about waking her.”

  The girls soon saw what she meant. When they tiptoed into the nursery, the night-light illuminated the crib just enough for them to get a good look at Maxi. The baby was on her back, her head tipped slightly to one side. Her arms were splayed out on either side of her body. Her eyes were closed tight, her mouth was open slightly, and her chest moved up and down in slow, rhythmic motions.

  Carole smiled. “She must be exhausted,” she whispered.

  Deborah leaned on the side of the crib and gazed down at her daughter fondly. “She had a lot of excitement tonight,” she replied quietly.

  “I hope you’re not annoyed with us about that,” Carole said, giving Deborah an anxious glance. “Lisa was going to stay here with her, but we didn’t think we could—”

  “It’s okay,” Deborah said, cutting Carole off. She reached down to brush a stray hair off Maxi’s cheek, then turned to smile at the girls. “I read your note, and I know you didn’t have a choice. You had to help Elaine, and you did. Even though it meant turning Maxi into an early rider.”

  “So you’re not mad at us?” Carole asked.

  “I’m not mad at you. And I’m not mad that Maxi has already been on horseback.” She laughed. There was a twinkle in her eye that made The Saddle Club realize that their holiday gift had worked. Deborah had relaxed—and regained her sense of humor. “After all,” she said, “it was only a matter of time.”

  “DID YOU NOTICE that mare?” Stevie asked, pointing to the calm Appaloosa from Hedgerow. It was a week later. The Saddle Club was leaning on the rails of the outdoor ring with Britt Lynn, watching as several Hedgerow stable hands loaded their horses onto a large van. The cold snap had broken, and the new Hedgerow stable was almost finished. After the collapse of the roof, Elaine had hired extra builders to rush the job as much as possible.

  Britt nodded and watched as the Appaloosa strode up the ramp without hesitation. “She’s pretty,” the girl offered shyly.

  “Elaine told me her name is Applesauce,” Carole said. She pointed to another Hedgerow horse, a stocky bay. “And that’s Jasper.”

  This time Britt just nodded. Carole sighed. The Saddle Club had been spending as much time as possible with the new girl over the past few days. They wanted to get to know her quickly so that they would be able to do a better job of finding her the right horse. But Britt was still so shy that it wasn’t going too well so far.

  Stevie had decided to take another tack. “So, tell us a little about your old horse, Britt,” she said. “Toledo, isn’t it? What was he like?”

  “Um, he was great,” Britt said. “I’ll tell you about him some other time, okay? I’ve got to go.”

  She slipped away before the other girls could protest. Lisa watched her go, feeling frustrated.

  “She’s not making this easy, is she?” she commented.

  Carole had turned away to watch as Elaine emerged from the stable. As soon as the woman spotted The Saddle Club, she swung toward them on her crutches.

  “There you are,” she said when she reached them. “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you girls again in person for all you’ve done. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

  “We’re glad to have been able to help,” Lisa replied politely. Her friends nodded.

  Elaine smiled. “Well, you certainly did help,” she said. “I owe you one. I know you’re terribly loyal to old Max there”—she gestured toward Max, who had just led the last of the horses out of the stable—“but if you ever want a change of pace, you’re always welcome to try out any of my horses you want. No charge.”

  “Thanks,” Carole said. “We might just take you up on that sometime. You’ve got some great horses.”

  “Yes, I do,” Elaine said, a look of wonder crossing her face. “Even after all that’s happened this year, I guess I do.”

  “You have had some bad luck, haven’t you?” Stevie said before she could stop herself. Realizing that her comment hadn’t been very tactful, she tried to correct it. “Um, I mean, well, that is, I meant, uh, you know …”

  Elaine laughed so hard that one of her crutches slipped. “I know,” she said. “But they say these things happen in threes, right? And I’ve had three in a row: first the swamp fever, then my leg, then the roof. So I figure I’m about due for some good luck for a change.”

  The Saddle Club had to agree with that.

  They walked Elaine back toward the van, moving slowly because of her crutches. “I think maybe your good luck has already started,” Carole pointed out. “All your horses came through this safe and sound.”

  “True,” Elaine said. “Judy gave most of them a clean bill of health this morning. And she’s pretty sure Magoo will be fine in the end, too. She wants him to stay put for another week or two to avoid aggravating his wounds. But she said it’s really just a precaution.”

  Judy Barker had recommended that Magoo remain at Pine Hollow until his condition improved. During his ordeal, the chestnut horse had gotten quite a few bruises and cuts on his legs and body, and the skin on his side had been rubbed raw where it had been pressed against the floor. None of the injuries was terribly serious in itself, but because there were so many of them, Judy wanted to play it safe.

  “Well, we already told you,” Stevie said. “We’re going to be on call as Magoo’s volunteer nurses as long as he’s here.”

  Elaine chuckled. “You might change your minds about that,” she said with a bemused expression on her face. “I’m crazy about old Magoo. But I must admit, he isn’t the easiest guy in the world to get along with.”

  “Don’t worry,” Carole said. “Before long we’ll be his best friends.”

  Elaine laughed again. Then, as the van driver called to her, she thanked the girls again and left. The van chugged into gear, and the girls waved as it started to pull off down Pine Hollow’s gravel driveway.

  Elaine rolled down the passenger-side window and leaned out. “Just give me a ring if you have any trouble with him,” she called.

  “Okay!” Stevie called back. The girls watched until the van had turned onto the road at the foot of the driveway; then they went inside.

  “Time for our visit to the patient,” Carole announced cheerfully. “We can’t let him get lonely here at beautiful Pine Hollow Horse Hospital.”

  “Speaking of lonely,” Lisa said as the girls turned down the stable row toward the stall that was Magoo’s temporary home, “I can’t help thinking that Britt must be awfully lonely. She just moved, and she’s so shy …”

  “I know what you mean,” Carole said. “We really should try to draw her out of her shell. It’s not easy moving to a new state in the middle of the school year.”

  Stevie nodded. “Let’s make it a Saddle Club project,” she suggested. “For starters, we could ask her to be on our team for the gymkhana.”

  “Good idea,” Lisa said. The gymkhana was only a little over a week away now. “We’ll do our best to be extra nice to her in the meantime.”

  Carole nodded. “Make her feel really welcome here at Pine Hollow—maybe help her make some friends. It will be fun.”

  Stevie grinned over her shoulder at her friends as she swung open Magoo’s stall door. “And not just because we might get to help pick out her new horse!”

  They all knew that Brittney would be the next Saddle Club project.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BONNIE BRYANT is the author of more than a hundred books about horses, including The Saddle Club series, The Saddle Club Super Editions, the Pony Tails series, and Pine Hollow, which follows the Saddle Club girls into their teens. She has also written novels and movie novelizations under her married name, B. B. Hiller.

  Ms. Bryant began writing The Saddle Club in 1986. Although she had done some riding before that, she intensified her studies then and found herself learning right along with her characters
Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. She claims that they are all much better riders than she is.

  Ms. Bryant was born and raised in New York City. She still lives there, in Greenwich Village, with her two sons.

 

 

 


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