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Ranch Hands

Page 1

by Bonnie Bryant




  STAMPEDE!

  One of the horses reared. The one next to it bucked, kicking another horse who bit the one who had reared. Every horse whose ears hadn’t flattened before now flattened its ears, and they all started whinnying and crying wildly.

  Two more horses reared, and that was all the rest of the herd would take. They fled.

  Stevie and Kate stood helplessly by the open gate while more than a dozen horses raced past them right into the middle of the herd of cattle.

  The cattle, which had been just as restless as the horses, found this an ideal opportunity to run. Within a matter of seconds it was clear to Stevie and Kate that they had a full-blown stampede on their hands.

  “Eli!!!” Stevie shrieked.

  Other Bantam Skylark Books you will enjoy

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  RL 5, 009–012

  RANCH HANDS

  A Bantam Skylark Book / August 1993

  Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.

  “The Saddle Club” is a trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller. The Saddle Club design/logo, which consists of an inverted U-shaped design, a riding crop, and a riding hat is a trademark of Bantam Books.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1993 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  Cover art copyright © 1993 by Garin Baker.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-82511-7

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1

  For Susan Korman—if she’ll have it

  B.B.

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Bantam Skylark Books

  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

  “I’VE GOT A secret,” Carole Hanson said to Lisa Atwood.

  “Oh, no, I don’t like secrets at all,” Lisa complained.

  “But I always thought you loved secrets!” Carole said. The two of them were walking to their favorite place, Pine Hollow Stables, to meet their friend Stevie Lake and celebrate the fact that school was out for the summer. Carole couldn’t think of any good reason to be upset about anything, especially secrets.

  “Usually I like secrets, but not right now. It’s my parents,” Lisa continued. “They’ve been tiptoeing around the house and whispering to each other for days. Something’s up. It’s a secret, and I have the funniest feeling that I’m not going to like it.”

  “Don’t be such a pessimist,” Carole said. “And don’t blame me for your parents’ secret. I promise you’re going to like mine.”

  “Then it must have to do with horses,” said Lisa.

  “Maybe,” Carole said. “But I can’t tell it to you until we meet up with Stevie.”

  Carole was being a lot more mysterious than usual. Normally Stevie was the one who was good at mysteries and secrets—especially the part about telling secrets. She wasn’t nearly as good at keeping them.

  The three best friends, Stevie, Carole, and Lisa, were very different from one another, but they all felt the same way about horses. They loved horses so much that they had formed their own club and called it The Saddle Club. The first requirement for membership was that the members had to be horse crazy. That was easy for Carole, Stevie, and Lisa, who were totally horse crazy. The second requirement was that each member had to be willing to help out another member whenever she needed it. Sometimes the help had to do with horses. Sometimes it had to do with other things—like schoolwork, parents, or boyfriends. Judging by the look on Lisa’s face, Carole had the funny feeling she and Stevie might soon be pitching in to help Lisa cope with her parents’ secret. Since there was nothing to be done about that for the moment, Carole’s thoughts turned to a more pleasant subject.

  “I think I want to try to ride every day this summer,” she said.

  “That’s my favorite part about summer,” Lisa said, nodding in agreement. “As long as Max will let us, we can ride every day.”

  Max was the owner of Pine Hollow. Since he knew what good riders Stevie and Lisa were, he let them ride as long as their horses weren’t being used in a riding class. That didn’t apply to Carole, though. She owned her own horse and could ride Starlight any time she wanted. In fact, she really had to ride him—or see that he got exercise one way or another—almost every day. That was fine with Carole. She was never happier than when she was with Starlight.

  “If I can ride every day,” Lisa went on, “imagine how much better a rider I’ll be when fall comes again. I particularly want to work on my jumping.”

  “Riding isn’t the only important part about horses,” Carole reminded her. “There’s a lot of work to be done on horse care, too.”

  “I know, and stable management and all sorts of other things that have to be done before you get on the horse’s back. Those things are hard, but fun. Know what I mean?”

  “I do,” Carole agreed.

  The two of them chatted about all the things they wanted to do at Pine Hollow in the next two months as they walked there together. It was a hot day, promising more of the same as the summer wore on. They lived in the town of Willow Creek, Virginia, about twenty miles outside Washington, D.C., and the area was noted for its muggy summer weather. The girls never minded, though, as long as they could be with their horses.

  Stevie was standing out in front of the stable, waiting for them.

  “Come on, girls,” she said. “There isn’t a minute to waste. We have exactly two months and eight days until school starts. That means sixty-eight straight days of riding—or is it sixty-nine? Thirty days hath September …”

  “Oh, stop wasting time counting,” Lisa said. She knew Stevie would never remember the jingle correctly, and it might take a while to figure out the answer to the question. She thought there was something much more important to do with their time. “Let’s just ride!” She marched toward the locker area in the stable.

  “Okay,” Stevie said agreeably, following Lisa inside. She couldn’t remember whether it was April or July that had thirty days anyway.

  “Not quite so fast,” Carole said. “I’ve still got this secret.�


  That stopped Stevie in her tracks. “Yes?” she asked expectantly.

  “Well, let’s get to the locker area and then I’ll show you. It’s very hard to read a letter from a friend if I’m walking around at the same time.”

  That gave it away for Stevie. “Kate?” she asked.

  Carole grinned and nodded.

  “Then let’s hurry up and sit down!”

  Kate Devine was a friend of all three girls. They had originally met her because her father had been an officer in the Marine Corps with Carole’s father. When Kate’s father had retired, he’d bought a dude ranch out West, and the girls had visited Kate there and learned a whole lot about a new kind of riding.

  Kate, herself, was an excellent rider. In fact, she’d been a junior national champion, but she’d stopped riding competitively when she found that beating others had become the most important factor in riding. It took meeting up with The Saddle Club to get her back on a horse, and she’d never been sorry. Now she got to ride all the time and never competed a bit—except with the dudes who came to stay at her family ranch.

  Lisa and Stevie stowed their street shoes and pulled on their boots while Carole opened the letter. She sat down on the bench and began to read out loud. With every word, Lisa and Stevie slowed down the dressing process. They had to sit still to take in all the good news. First of all, Kate told them that Eli and Jeannie had gotten married. Eli used to be the head wrangler at the Devines’ dude ranch, and Jeannie had worked there as well. The girls had even helped get the two of them together, because Eli had been a little blind about how much Jeannie liked him. Then, when Eli had gone away to school, Jeannie had followed him there. It seemed very right that they’d finally gotten married.

  “A complete riding club and matchmaking service—that’s us!” Stevie announced proudly. Lisa agreed, but she shushed Stevie up anyway. She wanted to hear the rest of the letter.

  Eli and Jeannie have rented a ranch in Wyoming for the summer and they want to run a summer camp for kids there. Most of the kids who have signed up are younger than we are. Eli called Dad last week and asked if Dad knew any riders who might like to come. He said he was hoping to find some really good riders who would both be able to have fun and to help the younger kids. He said he’s going to need a lot of help and that it will be work so he’s got to have good, reliable riders. He kept saying things like he hoped to find people with different kinds of riding skills—even English. Of course, he was just fishing. He meant me and you three. So? What do you think? It’s for three weeks. It would be pretty hard work because it’s not just a ranch, it’s a farm, too, so we’d be kind of living off the land. Dad says I can go. He says we can even pick you guys up in the plane—and bring you home again. We’ll come get you. Just give the word!

  “Yes!” Stevie said, almost breathlessly.

  “Yes, yes!” Carole added.

  “Make that three!” said Lisa.

  Then Carole passed around the brochure that Eli and Jeannie had sent Kate. It showed photographs of breathtakingly beautiful scenery on the edge of the Rocky Mountains. The ranch was nestled in a valley, and a sign showed its name as High Meadow.

  One look and Stevie knew she had to go. She could almost see herself mounted on a pinto pony standing beneath the sign that stretched between the two posts at the gate of the ranch.

  She was torn then. She wanted to run home and begin the process of talking her parents into letting her go. But then, she also wanted to stay at Pine Hollow and go for a ride with Lisa and Carole. Of course, she decided to stick around for the ride. Besides, her parents were both at work and wouldn’t be home until dinnertime.

  “Just imagine!” Lisa said. “Eli wants us to help with his riders.”

  “Not just wants,” Carole said. “He needs us.”

  “I guess there are advantages to being pretty good on a horse,” said Stevie. “And this is definitely one of them. Why, we’ll practically be camp counselors.”

  “That’s no surprise,” said Carole. “We’re good enough riders, aren’t we?”

  “It’s not just the riding,” Lisa added. “It’s all the other things we can do, too, like grooming and feeding. Eli and Jeannie really know they can rely on us.”

  That gave all the girls a wonderful feeling. They loved riding and taking care of horses. They also liked the fact that somebody else recognized and valued their skills.

  Stevie gave her boot a final tug and then stood up. “Let’s go,” she said. “And let’s play a game—pretending we’re already at High Meadow. I’ll be an obstreperous little kid, and you two can teach me everything you know.…”

  Since Stevie was very good at being obstreperous (a word she heard frequently from the headmistress of her school), the game promised to be a fun one. Carole and Lisa stood up eagerly.

  Just then, though, Mrs. Reg entered the locker area. Mrs. Reg was Max’s mother and the stable manager. She always seemed to know absolutely everything that was going on everywhere. Lisa often suspected she had a pair of antennae hidden beneath her soft gray hair.

  “Topside has already taken two classes today,” Mrs. Reg said to Stevie. “You can take him out on the trail, but only if you’ll be back within an hour and don’t ride him too hard.”

  “It’s too hot to ride him hard,” Stevie agreed. “I’d never do that. And we’ll definitely be back within an hour. We’ve got something important to do.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Reg. “You know, though, that reminds me of something.…”

  The three girls each sighed silently. Then, one by one, they sat down. Whenever Mrs. Reg said that, it meant she was about to tell them a story. Her stories always had to do with horses and often didn’t seem connected with whatever it was she’d been reminded of. More often, they were connected with something else that was going on, and it became a challenge to the young riders to figure out exactly how they were connected to what was going on. This one was no exception.

  “There was a young boy who used to ride at Pine Hollow,” she began. She told about this boy—whom she never named—and how he’d loved horses and speed. It seemed that he wanted, more than anything, to grow up to be a jockey. He spent all his free time at the racetrack and hung around with the jockeys, wanting more than anything to be just like them.

  When he became a teenager, though, it became clear that he would never get his wish, for he began to grow. A lot.

  “He was over six feet by the time he stopped. And big boned, too. He looked more like a wrestler than a jockey.”

  The girls knew that successful jockeys were all very small people, usually just over five feet and about a hundred pounds. The lighter the jockey, the easier it was for the horse to run quickly.

  “For a long time, he was very sad,” said Mrs. Reg. Then she stopped and looked off into the middle distance, sort of dreamily. It was just like her to stop when a story seemed to be getting interesting. Sometimes, if she were prodded in just the right way, she’d continue and give a hint as to what she was talking about.

  “Then what happened?” Lisa asked.

  Mrs. Reg looked puzzled, as if she couldn’t figure out why Lisa didn’t know the answer. “Are you girls going to go on your ride, or are you going to lollygag around here all afternoon? I’ve got work to do, you know.…” With that she left, leaving the girls to unravel the meaning of the story.

  Stevie thought she knew the right question. “What made him stop being sad?” she asked. She looked at Carole and Lisa.

  “I think I know,” Carole said. “I think she’s talking about Mr. McLeod, the trainer who owned Prancer.” Prancer was a mare who now belonged to Pine Hollow. She had been bred as a racehorse but had to retire from the track because of an injury. Then she’d been moved to Pine Hollow, where she began her stable horse career. “See, when he couldn’t become a jockey, he became a trainer; and he’s still a trainer today.”

  “Is that bad?” Lisa asked.

  “I don’t think so,”
Carole said. “He seemed like a very happy man when I met him. And if he’d become a jockey, he probably would have had to retire by now.”

  “Of course he’s happy. He’s working with horses,” Lisa said, totally logical. She figured anybody who could spend all day every day around horses had to be a happy person.

  “I think I’ve got it then,” said Stevie. That meant that she’d figured out what it was Mrs. Reg had been trying to tell them. Her stories always had a meaning. Deciphering that meaning wasn’t always so easy. “Mr. McLeod didn’t get exactly what he wanted, but he got something just as good, maybe even better.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Lisa agreed.

  “Getting on the trail makes even more sense,” Carole said.

  That was an idea that didn’t have to be deciphered. The girls quickly tacked up their horses and headed for the woods. The first day of summer vacation had to be properly celebrated.

  CAROLE’S FATHER WAS late coming home from his office on the nearby Marine Corps base. Carole was so nervous about asking him if she could go to Eli’s ranch for the summer that she couldn’t stop fidgeting. She decided a bribe couldn’t hurt her cause and began preparing dinner for the two of them.

  The problem was, Carole could be a little flaky and scatterbrained—except when it came to horses, of course. That was why she put the frozen green beans in the frying pan and the hamburgers got dunked in the salted water. Fortunately, the baked potatoes didn’t suffer from being put in the refrigerator, and neither did they get cooked there.

  By the time her father got home, the slightly soggy hamburgers were frying and the slightly crisped green beans were boiling. The potatoes, now thoroughly chilled, were rescued from the refrigerator and hastily tucked into the microwave where she cooked them until they were very wrinkly.

  “How nice!” Colonel Hanson said, looking at the meal that appeared in front of him. He smiled eagerly. “Is this what I have to look forward to now that school is out for the summer, home-cooked meals every night?”

 

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