Lisa thought about the question as she removed the stirrups from Dime’s saddle and dunked them into a pail of water. “She’s not afraid of getting dirty, if that’s what you mean,” she answered. “But Mrs. Reg really likes everything done right. That’s her job, you know—she manages the stable for Max.” Lisa put saddle soap on a sponge and began cleaning Dime’s saddle. Stevie did the same with Nickel’s. Carole dismantled Quarter’s bridle.
“Mr. Stowe!” Carole shrieked. “Don’t do that!”
Mr. Stowe froze. Delilah’s bit hung from his hand, just above Stevie’s bucket of soapy water. Stevie redirected him to Lisa’s bucket of clean water. “Don’t ever put soap on a horse’s bit,” Carole explained. “It’ll taste terrible!”
“Sorry,” Mr. Stowe said. He took a sponge and began wiping off Delilah’s reins. “So, what else can you tell me about Elizabeth?”
All three girls looked blank. “Oh!” said Lisa. “You mean Mrs. Reg!” Mr. Stowe nodded. “Well, she taught me how to do a lot of things around the stable: clean stalls and scrub water buckets, clean tack, mix horse feeds—”
“She keeps us all busy,” Carole explained. “Everyone works at Pine Hollow.”
“You told me,” said Mr. Stowe. “But what is she like as a person?”
The Saddle Club looked blank again. “She tells stories,” Lisa said after a pause. “We usually think they don’t have a point, but they usually do.”
“She’s a very good stable manager,” Carole offered.
“She’s a good rider, too,” Stevie said. “And she arranges lots of the fun stuff we do here, too. Like, for instance, right now she’s supposed to be planning the decorations for the Valentine’s Day dance.”
“I saw the sign on the bulletin board for the dance,” Mr. Stowe said. “It’s next Saturday, isn’t it? Are you all going?”
“Of course we’re going,” Stevie said. “It’s who might not be going that’s upsetting me.” She pressed her lips together and bent over Nickel’s saddle, scrubbing furiously.
Lisa wondered what Mr. Stowe would think of Stevie’s somewhat cryptic comment. Of course Mr. Stowe wouldn’t know about Phil.
“Isn’t Mrs. Reg going?” asked Mr. Stowe.
“She has to go,” Carole said. “She manages the stable.”
Mr. Stowe grinned. “I know. You told me.”
“She always goes to stuff,” Lisa said. “But she usually doesn’t dance or anything like that. I don’t think she likes parties, but she’s always a good sport about them. But anybody can come to the Valentine’s Day dance. Max never minds who we invite.”
“I see,” said Mr. Stowe. “Do you think Mrs. Reg will invite anyone?”
Lisa frowned. “Who would she invite? All her friends are right here.”
“Mr. Stowe,” Carole said with a sigh, “you’ve got way too much lather on your sponge. Let me show you.”
WHEN THEY WERE finished, Mr. Stowe stopped outside Delilah’s stall and fed her a carrot. “I forgot to bring one yesterday,” he explained to the girls as he gave Delilah a pat. “She’s a good horse, though, isn’t she? I always did prefer blondes.” He chuckled.
“Mr. Stowe,” Carole said, “Delilah isn’t blond. She’s palomino.”
He smiled. “That’s another thing I never did learn—all those fancy names for what colors horses are. To me, it’s easy. You’ve got your brown horses, black ones, redheads, blonds, and white ones.”
The three girls stared at him. “It’s not as easy as that,” Lisa said, remembering how she’d struggled to learn all the correct terms.
“Horses aren’t white at all,” Stevie said. “You’re supposed to call them gray.”
“Now, see, that doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Stowe argued. “They don’t look gray. They look white.”
“It does make sense, and there are white horses,” Carole cut in. “I’ll show you.” She led the way down the aisle to Sachia, a gray mare being boarded there. “Most white-haired horses are gray, or even black, when they’re born, and they get lighter with age,” she said. She carefully parted a section of Sachia’s hair so that the mare’s skin showed. “And see? She’s got black skin. Nearly all horses have black skin. But every once in a while a horse is born with white hair at birth, and totally pink skin, and that’s a white horse. They’re very rare.”
“I didn’t know that,” Stevie said, becoming interested. “Belle’s got pink skin under her white markings.”
“Yes,” said Carole. “That’s very common, but I bet she’s got black skin everywhere else. Now, Mr. Stowe, I’ll teach you the difference between a brown horse and a liver chestnut.”
Mr. Stowe looked uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t want to trouble you girls further,” he said. “Why, Elizabeth! Is there something I can help you with?”
Mrs. Reg had come out of the office and was looking at her watch anxiously. “My car is in the shop, and Max took off with the truck,” she said. “And Deborah must have the other car. I need to get some liniment from the tack shop before it closes. I’m afraid I won’t make it.” She sounded flustered.
“I’ll take you,” Mr. Stowe said instantly. He waved his thanks to the girls and left with Mrs. Reg.
“Well, honestly,” said Carole. “I can’t tell if he wants to learn about horses or not. Sometimes he just doesn’t seem interested.”
THEY GOT THEIR horses ready and headed for the trails. Once she was astride Prancer, Lisa felt the tensions of the morning melt away. “This is so much better,” she said.
“I know,” Carole said. “I don’t think Starlight will run away with me.”
Lisa snorted. “I bet you didn’t think Penny was going to run away with you, either,” she said. Carole burst out laughing.
“I just can’t believe that Phil!” Stevie cut in angrily. “Who does he think he is, not wanting to come to my party? I can’t believe he’d miss a night of perfect romance because of some stupid committee. He’s a snake! I never realized it before, but he truly is a snake.”
“He’s got a right to want to go to his own dance,” Carole said. She could see Phil’s side of the argument, and it seemed as valid as Stevie’s. “You can’t really blame him for not coming to Pine Hollow.”
“I can too,” Stevie retorted. “I’m going to help him make up his mind. He comes to Pine Hollow—or else.”
ON SUNDAY AFTERNOON Lisa was riding her bicycle into Pine Hollow’s driveway just as Carole was walking up. Carole often took the bus from her house to a stop near the stable and walked the rest of the way.
“Hi, Lisa,” she called as Lisa parked her bike. “How’s your hip?”
“Fine,” Lisa said, smiling. “My ego is better, too. How’s yours?”
Carole shook her head and laughed. “Still a little sore. That Penny!”
“Today it’ll just be Starlight, Belle, and Prancer,” Lisa said happily. “I can’t wait to hit those trails.” They’d planned to meet Stevie and ride together.
As they headed into the stable, they could hear that Stevie was already there. “But Mrs. Reg,” came Stevie’s voice from inside the office, “a live band would be so much better than just playing CDs on Max’s stereo system. It would make the dance really special. Couldn’t we at least get a band?”
Carole and Lisa walked into the office. Mrs. Reg and Stevie both smiled at them. “No,” Mrs. Reg said firmly to Stevie. “We can’t get a live band, we can’t rent a strobe light, and for heaven’s sake, we certainly can’t get a laser light show. This is a barn dance, Stevie. It’s not Madison Square Garden. Our budget will cover balloons and streamers, and that’s about it.”
“But everyone has balloons and streamers,” Stevie wailed. “I want our dance to be spectacular.”
Carole looked at Lisa and rolled her eyes. It was clear that Stevie wanted a spectacular show because she wanted to lure Phil away from his school dance. Carole didn’t think this would work at all. In fact, though she more or less supported Stevie because she knew how much the Pi
ne Hollow dance meant to her, she also thought Phil had a good reason for not wanting to come. She knew they were both stubborn, and she hoped they wouldn’t get into an awful fight over this.
“If you want spectacular, Stevie, you’ll have to make it spectacular by the shining light of your personality,” Mrs. Reg said firmly, with an amused glint in her eye.
“Good morning!” Mr. Stowe said cheerfully, coming into the room without knocking. He checked his watch. “Or I should say, good afternoon! I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”
“No, I think Stevie was just finishing,” Mrs. Reg said.
“I hope you’re not expecting to ride today,” Stevie told him. “Most of the horses get Sunday off.” She couldn’t believe he was here again! Would the old man never go away? He didn’t seem horse-crazy enough to be hanging around Pine Hollow the way he was doing. He must lead a very boring life, decided Stevie.
“Stevie, you know that’s not true,” Mrs. Reg chided. To Mr. Stowe she added, “We do, of course, give every horse one day off a week, but never all at the same time.” She smiled. “I know of two particular horses who could stand some exercise. Perhaps you would care to go on a trail ride with me?”
“But you’ve hardly gotten started planning the dance decorations!” Stevie protested. “They’re very important!”
Mrs. Reg looked a trifle harassed. “I’ll have plenty of time to do them, Stevie. They won’t take that long.”
“They should,” Stevie muttered sulkily.
“Say,” Mr. Stowe said cheerfully, “aren’t you girls riding today? You’d better be getting those horses ready—don’t want to miss any of this fine sunshine!” He took his cowboy hat off and laid it on Mrs. Reg’s desk. Carole took this as a sign that he meant to stick around. She thought about how this must annoy Mrs. Reg.
“We’re not riding, we’re giving our horses the day off,” Carole said.
Stevie looked apoplectic. “We are?” The Saddle Club did give their horses at least one day off a week, but usually that was Monday, the day they often volunteered at a therapeutic riding center, or else another weekday when they had appointments or schoolwork or something. It was never a weekend, when they were free to ride.
“Yes,” said Carole firmly. “We came here to work. To clean stalls.”
Lisa could see why Carole had said that—she was trying to distract Mr. Stowe—but she wondered what Mrs. Reg would think about her wearing clean breeches and knee boots to clean stalls in.
Mrs. Reg didn’t seem to notice Lisa’s clothes. Her face had lit up at Carole’s declaration. “Wonderful!” she said. “We won’t keep you. Red can tell you which stalls to clean.”
Mr. Stowe looked surprised at the sudden change in Mrs. Reg’s expression. “Everyone works at Pine Hollow, don’t they?” he said. “Well, I’m eager to do my fair share. I can ride another day. I’ll clean some stalls, too!”
“You certainly don’t have to—” Mrs. Reg began.
“No, I’m happy to,” Mr. Stowe said. He put his hat back on.
“We’ll go get the wheelbarrows and find out which stalls to clean,” Carole said. She grabbed Stevie and Lisa by the elbows and propelled them out of the office.
“I can’t believe you said we weren’t riding,”Lisa grumbled. “Clean stalls! As if we haven’t cleaned enough all week! And our horses don’t need the day off! If anything, Prancer could use the exercise!”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Carole answered. “Mr. Stowe is staying with us. Poor Mrs. Reg is being totally annoyed by him, and she shouldn’t have to go out on a trail ride with him. Did you see how she was dressed? In that nice blouse and her good riding jacket? If she went out in the woods, she’d get all messed up!”
“Maybe she wanted to ride,” Stevie said. “I know I did.”
Lisa sighed. “No, Carole’s probably right. I mean, I’m sure Mrs. Reg would have enjoyed a trail ride, but not with Mr. Stowe.”
“Yeah,” Stevie agreed. “He’d probably tell her lightbulb jokes the whole time. She’d be miserable.”
“Still, I can’t believe you said we weren’t riding,” Lisa said. “You could at least have said that we were riding after we cleaned stalls. Something.”
“I can’t believe Mrs. Reg didn’t like my ideas for the dance,” Stevie said. “A laser light show would have been really cool.”
Carole laughed. “I can’t believe that after spending yesterday showing Mr. Stowe how to clean tack, we’re going to have to show him how to clean stalls, too.”
IT TURNED OUT Mr. Stowe did know one end of a pitchfork from the other. “My uncle might not have cleaned his saddles too often, but he kept his horses’ stalls in shape,” he said cheerfully. “I was shoveling manure thirty-five years before any of you were born. Point me to the right stalls, ladies, and I’ll show you and Elizabeth a thing or two about work.”
Lisa had to admire his attitude. She wasn’t feeling nearly so perky. She gave Prancer an apologetic pat before moving her to the cross-ties.
Red had assigned them all stalls in the front portion of the stable. Mr. Stowe did Calypso’s stall in record time, and Carole, checking it, couldn’t help admiring the neat, fluffy mound of fresh bedding. He had done a thorough job, fast.
“Hey!” Mr. Stowe shouted. The girls came running. He was standing in Dime’s stall, holding the pony by his halter. “Durn pony tried to kick me,” he said. “Nearly succeeded, too.”
“Dime!” Lisa scolded. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve got him now,” Mr. Stowe said. “It’s okay.” He put Dime on the cross-ties in the aisle and started on his stall, and the girls went back to work.
A few minutes later Mr. Stowe came to the door of Starlight’s stall, where Carole was just finishing up. “I want to show you something,” he said. Carole followed him back to Dime’s stall, and Mr. Stowe pointed to the pony’s feed tub. “He didn’t finish his grain,” he said. “Do you suppose something’s wrong? I never knew a horse not to finish his grain.”
“Certainly not Dime,” Carole agreed. She went back to the office and told Mrs. Reg. Since horses can’t talk, they can never tell anyone when they’re sick. Carole knew to always watch for clues about their health. A sudden lack of appetite could be a sign of illness, particularly a digestive illness like colic; and colic could be very serious.
Maybe that’s why Dime’s been so horrid lately, Carole thought. He isn’t feeling well. She felt a sudden rush of sympathy for the pony.
Mrs. Reg shook her head with concern when she heard the news. “I’ll take his temperature and check his gut sounds,” she said to Carole. “But Red told me he didn’t eat all his food yesterday, either, and we couldn’t find any other symptoms of illness.”
“But he’s been so strange lately,” Carole said. “Maybe—”
“We’ll keep a close eye on him,” Mrs. Reg said. “Probably he just hasn’t gotten enough exercise this winter. Don’t worry, Carole. Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it. He’ll be feeling fine soon.”
“I hope so,” Carole said. “And Mrs. Reg? Mr. Stowe’s working really hard.” She didn’t want Mrs. Reg to get too annoyed with him. He really was a nice old man.
To Carole’s surprise, Mrs. Reg made an irritated face. “Yes, he seems very interested in working, doesn’t he?” she said.
Now, what, wondered Carole, is the matter with that?
“SO, CAROLE, I’M glad you didn’t tell Mrs. Reg that we weren’t riding today,” Stevie said, a touch sarcastically, as she went into Belle’s stall. It was Tuesday afternoon. Stevie’s horse had apparently lain down in her stall overnight, because her back was covered with manure stains and pieces of sawdust bedding. Stevie sighed as she began to brush it off.
Carole ran her hand affectionately down Starlight’s nose. “No, I wouldn’t give up a riding lesson, not even for Mrs. Reg!” She thought for a moment, then corrected herself. “Well, I would, but only if she asked me. I wouldn’t volunteer.”
“I haven’t seen Mr. Stowe today,” Lisa said. “Maybe it will be a nice, normal day.”
Just then someone screamed. It was a long, sad scream, more of a wail really, and it came from the indoor arena. The Saddle Club dropped their brushes and ran to investigate. They got to the gate of the arena just in time to see Dime careening past, riderless, with a wild look in his eye. The stirrups of his empty saddle banged against his sides as he ran.
“Oh, no,” moaned Lisa. “Not again.”
“Who fell off?” Stevie asked.
“One of the little kids,” Carole realized. “Look. It’s Jessica.” On Tuesday afternoons Max taught a group of younger riders before he taught the lesson that The Saddle Club took. Inside the arena, five little kids were carefully holding their horses or ponies at a halt while Dime galloped in circles around them. In the center of the arena, Jessica was sitting on one of the fences, sobbing, while Max tried to console her.
Carole opened the gate. “Max, is she hurt?” she called. “Shall I get Mrs. Reg to call an ambulance?” They’d never had a serious accident at Pine Hollow, but Carole knew it could happen.
Max shook his head. “She’s okay, she’s just upset,” he said. “Could you three catch that pony before he spooks someone else’s horse?”
“Dime bucked Jessica off twice,” Liam informed them. “He bucked her off, and she got back on, and he bucked her off again.”
It’s no wonder she’s crying, Lisa thought. Falling off was always embarrassing and sometimes scary; poor Jessica had to be completely demoralized. Lisa walked toward Dime quietly, making soothing noises. Carole and Stevie did the same thing. Dime didn’t want to be caught, but with three people after him he didn’t have much choice. As soon as Carole grabbed his reins, he gave up the fight and stood quietly. Lisa and Stevie ran the stirrups up on both sides of the saddle; then they led Dime back to Jessica.
“Okay,” Jessica said, gulping back tears. “I’ll try again.”
Max put his arm around her shoulder. “I’m proud of you for saying that, and I think you’re a very good rider,” he said. “I also think Dime is not going to behave today, and I don’t think you’re going to be able to have a good lesson with him. It’s not your fault. I’d like you to get a different pony for the rest of the lesson.”
Stable Hearts Page 4