Lisa can’t move, she thought, suddenly overwhelmed at the thought of losing one of her best friends. She and Lisa and their other best friend, Carole Hanson, had been virtually inseparable for years, ever since they’d met at riding lessons back in junior high. She just can’t. Impossible. No way.
After all those years, though, she knew Lisa well enough to know that blurting out what she was thinking would only upset her friend more. Lisa was a planner, a rational, thoughtful person who liked to go about things the logical way. Stevie was more of a seat-of-her-pants kind of person, which could make her a little frustrated with Lisa’s cautious ways. In this case, however, she did her best to control her impulse, which was to start shouting about the unfairness of it all.
“Um, so did your mom say anything else?” Stevie asked cautiously. “You know, about actual plans or anything?”
“Not really.” Lisa shrugged. “By the way, shouldn’t we be heading out to get Patch and Congo?”
“Oh, yeah.” Stevie had almost forgotten their promise to Denise. She turned and walked toward the main entrance with Lisa at her side. “Come on, let’s grab some lead lines and get started. You know how Patch can be.”
As the two of them emerged into the biting wind and dull gray sunlight of the late-December afternoon, they were just in time to see a familiar rust-and-red car wheeze and sputter its way to a stop in the gravel parking area nearby. “Hey, there’s Carole,” Lisa said.
Stevie waved; then she and Lisa waited as Carole pocketed her keys and hurried toward them. “Hey,” she called when she was close enough. “What are you two up to? You’re not leaving, are you?”
Lisa shook her head. “I just got here.”
“We’re going out to catch Congo and Patch,” Stevie explained. “Want to help?” Normally she wouldn’t even need to ask, but those days Carole’s time at the stable was limited. She had cheated on a test a couple of months earlier, and as part of her punishment she was only allowed to come to Pine Hollow four times a week for two hours a day. Stevie knew that her friend was counting the days until New Year’s, when her grounding would finally be over.
Carole glanced at her watch, then nodded. “Lets go.”
The three friends fell into step as they hurried toward the pasture. “So how was your Christmas?” Stevie asked. Another condition of Carole’s punishment was that she couldn’t talk on the phone, so Stevie hadn’t spoken to her since seeing her on Christmas Eve at Pine Hollow. “Did Santa bring lots of goodies?”
“A few,” Carole replied with a grin. “Including a new pair of breeches and some training videos that I’ve been wanting.”
Noticing that Lisa was hardly paying attention to their conversation, Stevie elbowed her. “Hey,” she said. “Earth to Lisa.” She glanced at Carole. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s still recovering from another ‘discussion’ about her mother’s crazy plan to move them away to the ends of the earth.”
“I can’t believe your mom is still on that,” Carole said, chewing her lip anxiously as she cocked her head and gazed at Lisa.
Lisa kicked at a half-frozen clod of dirt. “Believe it,” she said grimly. “She’s totally serious about this.”
Stevie blew out a loud sigh. “This is insane,” she said. “We’ve got to do something to change her mind.”
“Like what?” Lisa said with a hint of sarcasm. “Convince Aunt Marianne to move down here instead?”
Stevie shrugged. “It just seems like there’s got to be something we could do,” she said. “Like back when we were kids. Remember? We never would have stood for this sort of thing then. We would definitely be planning and scheming by now, not just sitting back and waiting for the worst to happen.”
Carole grinned. “You’re right,” she agreed. “Knowing us—or rather, you”—she stared pointedly at Stevie—“we would probably be trying to convince Lisa’s mom that New Jersey is about to be swept away by a tidal wave or struck by an earthquake or something.”
Stevie snorted. “Yeah, like she’d really believe that,” she said. “Personally, I was thinking more along the lines of paying off one of my brothers—probably Michael, he’s always desperate for money—to disguise himself as Lisa and move to New Jersey in her place.”
Carole giggled. “Good plan,” she said. “But I’m not sure Michael would be all that thrilled about wearing a long blond wig.”
“No problem.” Stevie shrugged again. “We’d just have to explain to Lisa’s mom that short hair is all the rage in New Jersey, so she cut it in honor of the move.” She smiled, imagining her thirteen-year-old brother dressed up in one of Lisa’s classic khakis-and-polo outfits instead of his usual sloppy jeans and heavy metal T-shirts. She was actually starting to feel a little inspired by the conversation. Maybe the plans they were joking about were on the wacky side, but that didn’t mean there was absolutely nothing they could do to help Lisa out of her jam. All they had to do was think seriously about it, figure out the best way to proceed…
“Whatever,” Lisa said, her voice rather heavy. “Um, could we maybe talk about something else for a while?”
Stevie glanced at her friend and noted her sad expression. “Sure,” she said instantly. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Lisa down more.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stop thinking about it, she thought, shooting Carole a quick look. Maybe the two of them could brainstorm about this later.
“I know what we should talk about,” Carole said as they reached the pasture gate. She swung it open and held it for her friends to pass through ahead of her. “The wedding. What are you guys going to get them?”
“Get them?” Stevie said blankly. Then she gulped. “Oh. You mean, like as a present? I sort of forgot about that.” Doing some quick mental arithmetic, she grimaced. She’d spent most of her holiday money, as well as the three-week advance on her allowance she’d wheedled out of her parents, on a gift for Phil.
Carole was watching her with an amused smile. “Don’t worry,” she told Stevie. “My relatives sent cash this year. I can loan you some money if you need it.”
“Thanks.” Stevie shot her a grateful smile. “Okay, so what are you getting them?”
Lisa shrugged. “Deborah said they’re registered at Dylan’s,” she said. “I guess we could go over to the mall together and pick out some stuff from the registry.”
Stevie wrinkled her nose. “You mean like gravy boats and crystal vases?” she said, glancing ahead as they approached a small knot of horses grazing on the stubbly winter grass. “Ugh. But that’s so boring.”
“I know,” Carole agreed. “I can’t imagine why they didn’t just register at The Saddlery instead.”
Stevie laughed. “I guess there’s no question where you and Cam are going to register when you get engaged, huh?” She grinned as her friend blushed deeply. Carole had always been more interested in horses than in guys, but all that had changed recently when Cam Nelson, an old friend who had moved to California years earlier, had suddenly returned and swept Carole off her feet. It was obvious to anyone who saw them together that Carole was blissfully happy, but she was still a little shy about discussing her new boyfriend, as if fearing that talking about it would jinx the whole thing.
“Anyway,” Carole said quickly, “I guess we could just get Red and Denise a Saddlery gift certificate or something.”
Lisa looked uncertain. “I guess,” she said slowly. “But they probably need that stuff they registered for a lot more than another pair of breeches or whatever.”
Stevie rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said. “They really need a gravy boat.”
“I’m sure they’ve registered for stuff other than gravy boats, Stevie,” Lisa said as they reached the edge of the small herd and stopped. “They probably need, like, silverware and wineglasses and stuff.”
Stevie wasn’t convinced. As the three of them spread out and got to work, calmly and quietly approaching the two horses they wanted, she kept thinking about
their conversation. She had visited Red and Denise’s small apartment, and as far as she could tell, they had all the necessities already. What good would another soup spoon or two do them? How could that possibly be as special as something their friends picked out themselves?
Fortunately, both Patch and Congo seemed more than willing to head inside, and soon the two horses were obediently trailing along behind the girls. As they turned and moved back toward the gate, Stevie cleared her throat. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just can’t believe that Red and Denise really want all that boring stuff. I’d rather give them something they’ll appreciate.” Suddenly an idea occurred to her. A brilliant idea. “I know! What they really need is … a honeymoon!”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” she said. “I mean, the only reason they’re even having a decent ceremony and reception is because Max and Deborah are giving them the whole shebang as their wedding gift. Why not follow their example?”
“You mean pay to send them on a honeymoon?” Carole said uncertainly. “That sounds kind of expensive.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Stevie shrugged, her mind working a mile a minute. “You know how Red and Denise are—they wouldn’t care about lying around on some Caribbean island or anything anyway. All they need is a little getaway. You know, a chance to recover from their whirlwind engagement and all. Maybe we could book them a nice room at a hotel in D.C. for a couple of nights.”
“Stevie, you’ve done it again,” Carole said with a grin. “I think it’s a great idea! I’m in for sure.” She paused and added shyly, “Cam, too.”
Lisa nodded. “Agreed. We can all chip in. I’m sure Scott and Callie will want to be in on this. If we get enough people, we can probably buy them a couple of nice meals, too, and maybe some show tickets or something.”
“Great!” Stevie rubbed her hands together, rolling Patch’s cotton lead line between them. “I’ll call some hotels tonight to check on prices and stuff. We probably won’t be able to get them in on their actual wedding night, since it’s New Year’s Eve, but by the next day—”
“Hey, check it out,” Carole said abruptly, gazing into the distance over Stevie’s shoulder. “That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Stevie turned to see what Carole was looking at. Almost immediately, she spotted a dramatically marked Appaloosa grazing peacefully in the next pasture. She frowned. “Hey, that’s Scooby,” she said. “What’s he doing out here?”
Carole shrugged. “That’s what I’m wondering, too,” she said, giving a gentle tug on Congo’s lead line to get him moving. “It seems weird that he would need turning out if Callie has him in training. Why would she waste a whole school-free day when she’s so eager to get back into shape?”
“He didn’t get hurt the other day, did he?” Stevie asked, keeping stride beside Carole, with Patch trailing obediently at her shoulder. “You know, out in the woods with George and all that?”
Carole shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “As far as I know, he was fine the next day.”
“It’s probably no big deal.” Lisa didn’t seem terribly interested in the whole issue as she glanced at the leopard-spot gelding. “Callie’s probably just taking a few days off to do the holiday thing with her family.”
“Maybe.” Stevie turned her head and stared at Scooby for a moment as she walked. “I guess that’s probably it. I just hope Maureen the new wonder stable hand didn’t screw up and turn him out by accident.”
“Yeah,” Carole agreed. “That would be a real shame.”
Stevie shot her a quick, curious glance over Patch’s withers. She knew that it couldn’t be easy for Carole to watch a newcomer take over the job that used to be hers, especially when there were only a few days left until her grounding was officially over. “So has the colonel said anything about letting you work at the stable again?” she asked.
Carole bit her lip. “Not exactly,” she said. “I mean, I haven’t really mentioned it. Besides, I’ve been so busy trying to figure out what to get Cam for Christmas, I’ve hardly had time to think about anything else.”
Stevie nodded and gave Lisa an amused glance. The two of them had been saying for years now that it was high time some nice guy came along and swept Carole off her feet. At last it seemed to have happened.
They discussed Carole’s grounding for the rest of the walk back to the stable building. As they entered the wide entryway with the two horses in tow, Ben Marlow emerged from the stable aisle, pushing an empty wheelbarrow. Ben had been a stable hand at Pine Hollow since graduating from high school a year and a half earlier. Stevie had to admit that he had a truly amazing touch with horses—they responded to him almost as if he were one of their own, not human at all. That was just as well, in Stevie’s opinion, since Ben seemed to be much less skilled in communicating with his own species. Or maybe he was just much less interested in the human race. In any case, he had never tried very hard to make friends.
Still, Stevie knew that while Ben might not have a lot to say, not much happened around Pine Hollow that he didn’t know about. “Yo, Ben,” she said. “What’s the deal with Scooby? We just saw him turned out.”
As always, Ben seemed a little surprised that someone was speaking to him. “Callie called,” he replied gruffly. “Her orders.”
“You mean she’s not coming to ride today?” Stevie asked, more than a little surprised. One of the first things she’d noticed about Callie was her intensity. Now that Callie finally had her own horse, Stevie had expected her to spend more time than ever at the stable, not less.
Ben merely shrugged in response. Without another word, he turned and moved off, pushing his wheelbarrow toward the other aisle.
“That’s weird,” Stevie said, turning back to face her friends as Ben disappeared around the corner. Even in the midst of her surprise about Callie’s odd decision, she noticed that Carole was staring off in the direction Ben had gone. Stevie grimaced slightly. She knew that her friend had had some feelings for Ben before Cam had come back into the picture. Stevie had been glad at her friend’s change of heart—Carole wasn’t exactly the most confident person when it came to guys, and Stevie had been sure that no good could come of her trying to make a go of it with a difficult, uncommunicative, fiercely private guy like Ben.
But was Ben really out of the picture? The way Carole was staring after him, Stevie was no longer certain. She opened her mouth, tempted to ask Carole about it.
Instead, she cleared her throat. “So, Carole,” she said casually, “what were you just saying about Cam’s Christmas present? Does this mean you haven’t made any progress on your shopping? He gets back from his relatives’ house on New Year’s Eve, right?”
Carole blinked. “Oh!” she said, finally turning to face her friends. “No, I still haven’t found the perfect gift. I just don’t know what to do. Whatever I give him really has to be special.”
Stevie nodded and smiled, relieved to see the way Carole’s face had lit up at the mention of Cam’s name. As Lisa listed a few shopping suggestions, Stevie glanced one more time down the aisle after Ben.
Whew, she thought. Must’ve just been a momentary lapse. Just as well, too. Carole has a good thing going with a good guy now. She doesn’t need Ben Marlow messing with her head.
TWO
Callie rested her chin on her hand and stared at the tall bookcase on the far side of her bedroom. The bottom three shelves held books, but the top three were crowded with the trophies and plaques that she had won in her many years of riding. Above the bookcase was a large bulletin board that was almost completely covered by row after row of show ribbons.
Callie’s gaze slipped from the first small cup she’d ever won—at an equitation schooling show at her first training barn—to a plaque proclaiming her triumph at a major endurance competition the previous spring. I remember how tough that one was to win, she thought, running her eyes over the familiar inscription. It was raining so hard th
at day, I was afraid the whole mountain was going to slide down on top of us. Three other riders dropped out before the five-mile mark.
She looked next at a particular yellow ribbon fluttering near the bottom of the bulletin board. Earning that one had required a different kind of courage, the kind she’d needed to overcome her jitters the first time she’d ever jumped in a show. She had been just eight years old and riding a school horse, a recalcitrant pony appropriately named Mule. For two solid weeks prior to the show, Mule had misbehaved every time she rode him into the ring, refusing more jumps than he took. Callie’s instructor had offered to let her switch mounts, but Callie had been almost as stubborn as the pony. When she and Mule had entered the ring for their round, the four low cross rails had seemed as daunting as those in a Grand Prix course.
But I did it, she thought with a small smile. I kicked that pony like I meant it, and we went out there and jumped without stopping for the first time ever.
She sighed, wondering when that kind of courage had deserted her. Had it been the moment out there in the woods the other day, when she had suspected that George had sabotaged her horse? Or had it happened even earlier—when she’d first heard him shout her name and realized he had tracked her down like a foxhound trailing his game?
She shook her head, trying to shake all thoughts of George Wheeler out of her mind. Glancing at the bulletin board again, she focused instead on another ribbon. This one was blue, but she remembered that she had almost lost her shot at getting a ribbon that day at all. She had lost a stirrup during an equitation class, but luckily it had been on the side facing away from the judge. Without allowing even a hint of consternation to cross her face, Callie had calmly continued her ride, managing to regain the stirrup without the judge ever noticing. By the time the judge called for a reverse, both of Callie’s feet were firmly in the stirrups again, and she had wound up winning the class.
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