“She’s fine,” Stevie said. “What have you got there?”
Tate glanced down at the things he was carrying. “I’m on my way to drop off some extra riding clothes and stuff. Max assigned me a cubbyhole.” Each of the riders at Pine Hollow had his or her own cubby in the student locker room where he or she could keep spare clothes and shoes or stow schoolbooks while riding.
“Is that a hunting horn?” Carole asked in surprise, peering at a shiny copper item that was sticking out beneath a pair of breeches.
“It sure is.” Tate pulled the item out to show her. It was a small copper horn with a nickel mouthpiece. “I got it for Christmas last year. Pretty cool, huh?”
Carole frowned slightly. The hunting horn was pretty cool. It was also a piece of foxhunting equipment that was completely unnecessary for anyone short of a professional huntsman.
Tate caught her expression and grinned. “I know, I know,” he said. “You’re wondering why on earth I have one of these. It’s my parents. They’re sure I’m going to ride off into the woods and get lost and that this horn will be the only thing that will save me.” He raised the horn to his lips and pretended to blow. “I’ll sound the horn, and the cavalry will come galloping to the rescue.”
Carole couldn’t help laughing, though she was embarrassed that Tate had caught her frowning. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “We do have some deep woods around here, I guess, especially in the state parks. But we’re really not that far out in the country. Most places, if you just keep riding long enough, you’re bound to come out on an interstate highway or a shopping mall parking lot or someplace.”
“I tried to tell my folks that, but they wouldn’t listen,” Tate said with a mock sigh. “They insisted I bring this horn and carry it every time I ride.” He grinned and winked. “I think it will look great decorating my cubby, don’t you?”
The girls laughed as Tate started to tuck the hunting horn back into the pile of clothes. But Simon was reaching out toward it.
“May I see that?” he asked eagerly. “Gosh, I never even saw a hunting horn before. I thought they looked more like trumpets.”
Tate looked at Simon, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Um, sure, I guess you can see it,” he said, handing over the horn.
Carole realized that they hadn’t even introduced the two boys. In fact, she realized that as soon as Tate had arrived she had forgotten that Simon was there. “Tate, have you met Simon?” she said quickly.
“He’s in Horse Wise, too,” Stevie supplied helpfully. “He’s been riding here at Pine Hollow for a while.”
Tate looked the other boy up and down. “Oh,” he said. “Hi.”
“Hi, Tate.” Simon handed back the hunting horn and gave the new boy a friendly smile. “You came to Horse Wise last weekend, didn’t you? You did great in that game. You really know a lot about horses.”
“Thanks,” Tate said with a shrug. “I figure if you’re going to learn something, you might as well really learn it. Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Simon nodded. “I suppose,” he said. “It’s just so hard to remember everything sometimes. There’s so much to know. I mean, I still have trouble remembering to keep my thumbs up and my heels down. Or is it my thumbs down and my heels up?”
Tate frowned and looked Simon up and down again. “How long did you say you’ve been riding?”
Carole was a little surprised at his tone of voice. He almost sounded disdainful. That wasn’t fair. He should realize that different people learned at different rates. Just because Simon wasn’t what you would call a natural-born rider, that didn’t mean Tate should look down on him.
“So anyway,” Stevie broke in, “I think we’d better pay some attention to Calypso now. She’s probably lonely.”
“Good idea, Stephanie,” Simon said. “Should we check her over first? You know, look for some of those signs Judy told us about? Um, what were they again? Something about a waxy bag …”
“First you need to check whether the mare’s udder is increasing in size,” Tate said, frowning at Simon. “That’s called bagging up. In her last week of gestation she may or may not get a little wax bead on the opening of her teats. That’s called waxing up, and a lot of people think it happens in every mare’s pregnancy. But it doesn’t.”
“Gosh,” Simon said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”
“There’s no reason you would,” Carole said, putting a comforting hand on Simon’s arm. “I don’t think Judy mentioned it the other day in her talk.” She gave Tate another surprised glance. He was looking self-satisfied. It was almost as though he had enjoyed proving how much more he knew than Simon. Maybe he’s not so perfect after all, Carole thought uncertainly.
“I’d better go put this stuff away,” Tate said. He gave Carole and Stevie a wide grin that showed off his even, white teeth. “Max is supposed to give me a lesson in a few minutes, and I heard he’s a bear if you make him wait.”
He sounded friendly again, and Carole wondered if she had been imagining things a moment before. Maybe Tate hadn’t realized he was making Simon feel bad. He had probably just been trying to share his knowledge with someone who clearly needed it. Carole did that herself all the time. In fact, sometimes her friends had to remind her that her extensive lectures weren’t always welcome to every person in every situation. What if Tate was the same way? What if he was so eager to share what he knew that he sometimes forgot to be tactful?
Hmmm, she thought as Tate disappeared around the corner, maybe we have more in common than I thought!
AT THAT MOMENT Lisa was starting to wonder if she and her mother had anything in common. Mrs. Atwood had spent the last five minutes feeling the fabrics of two different wool sweaters, comparing the thickness and the drape. To Lisa, drape sounded like something that would be more important in curtains than in sweaters, but her mother seemed very concerned about it, so she kept quiet.
She sighed and leaned against a shelf of button-down shirts. It felt as though they had been in this department store for hours already. She didn’t even want to think about how long they had been at the mall. Mrs. Atwood had insisted on buying Lisa three new pairs of white socks to wear under her low boots when she rode. Lisa had tried to explain that she already had plenty of white socks, and besides that, she would only be able to wear one pair on Saturday. Why did she need three? But her mother believed in being prepared—overprepared, as Lisa thought of it.
Finally Mrs. Atwood reached a decision about the sweaters. “I really think this one is nicer, dear,” she said. She picked a dark blue sweater from the pile on the shelf to her left. “And this shade will be just lovely with your coloring.”
“I already told you, Mom,” Lisa said with a sigh. “I have plenty of sweaters I can bring on Saturday. But I probably won’t even need one. The weather has been so nice all week that I can probably just wear a long-sleeved T-shirt.”
She felt a pang as she said it. After the rain had stopped that day, the weather had turned gorgeous—warm and bright and slightly breezy, perfect for practicing dressage at Pine Hollow.
Her mother shoved the blue sweater into Lisa’s hands. “Don’t be silly, dear,” she said. “At this time of year, you never can tell what the weather will do. You don’t want to get a chill while you and Marguerite are riding. Besides, this sweater will look much nicer than a T-shirt. You don’t want Marguerite to think you don’t know how to dress, do you? Now, let’s go see if we can find a nice pair of trousers to go with that sweater.”
“Trousers?” Lisa repeated. First her mother was ruining her weekend by making her go on this stupid visit. Then she seemed to want to humiliate her by turning her into an overdressed freak. She clenched her fists, trying to hold down her irritation. It wouldn’t do any good to blow up at her mother, especially in public. Mrs. Atwood hated scenes. Instead, Lisa tried to make her voice sound as reasonable as possible. “Mom, nobody rides in trousers. Not even Marguerite Mills. I’ll be fine in jeans.”
“Jeans?” Mrs. Atwood looked horrified.
“Or jodhpurs,” Lisa added quickly. She held up the blue sweater against her front and smiled appealingly. “Just think how nice this would look with that soft fawn-colored pair I have.”
Mrs. Atwood thought about that for a second. Then she nodded. “Well, I suppose that would be all right,” she said. “Do you think that’s what Marguerite will be wearing, too?”
How should I know what Marguerite will be wearing? Lisa thought, though she just nodded and tried to smile at her mother as they headed toward the cash register. She was sick of hearing about Marguerite. Mrs. Atwood had been chattering about her all afternoon. Except when she had been talking about Fox Crest Farms. Or Marguerite’s mother. Or the charity auction. Or the big party, which sounded like it was going to go on for half the night …
“Hey, Mom?” Lisa said. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What time will your party after the auction be over?” She crossed her fingers as she waited for the answer. Maybe if it was just a cocktail party like the ones her parents were always going to, it would be over by six o’clock or so. That might give Lisa time to meet Stevie and Carole for a quick Saddle Club meeting at TD’s, an ice cream parlor in a shopping center near Pine Hollow. At least then she would get to hear about her friends’ day—and blow off some steam about hers. She was sure she was going to need it if Marguerite was anywhere near as tiresome as Mrs. Atwood made her sound.
But Lisa’s heart sank as she heard her mother’s answer. “Oh, I’m not sure,” Mrs. Atwood said cheerfully. “I imagine it will go until all hours. But I’m sure your father and I will be able to tear ourselves away in time to pick you up at Marguerite’s house by ten o’clock or so.”
“Ten o’clock at night?” Lisa said in dismay. “What am I supposed to do until then? Marguerite and I can’t ride all day and all night.”
Mrs. Atwood frowned. They had just reached the register, and she handed the sweater to the clerk. “Keep your voice down, Lisa,” she said. “I don’t understand what you mean. Surely you can spend time with an interesting young lady like Marguerite without being on a horse every second. I’m sure you two will find lots of things to talk about. And you really should appreciate that the Millses are opening their home to you so generously. You should be looking forward to spending the evening getting to know someone new.”
Lisa sighed. In one sense, her mother was right—sort of. Normally Lisa wouldn’t mind meeting someone new, especially another rider. It just didn’t seem fair that she was being forced to do it. Not to mention being forced to miss an important Horse Wise meeting at the same time. Besides, Marguerite sounded like a bore. What if she and Lisa didn’t get along? As long as they were riding, they might be able to work around it. But what about afterward? According to Lisa’s mother’s plans, Lisa and Marguerite would be stuck together for hours and hours whether they liked it or not.
Lisa decided it was time to put her foot down. She waited until the salesclerk had taken her mother’s credit card and moved aside to run it through the machine. “Listen, Mom,” she said. “I have an idea.”
“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Atwood asked. “Do you want to go look for a new pair of breeches for Saturday?”
“Jodhpurs,” Lisa corrected automatically. “And no. My old ones will be fine. Actually, I was thinking that the bus runs pretty often between here and Colesford.”
Mrs. Atwood looked suspicious. “I suppose that’s true,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. Your father will drive us there, of course.”
“I know,” Lisa said. “But I could catch a bus back to Willow Creek after Marguerite and I are finished riding. That way you wouldn’t have to worry about leaving your party to pick me up. You can stay all night if you want to.”
“Really, Lisa,” Mrs. Atwood said. “I thought we’d settled this.”
“No, listen, Mom,” Lisa said. “It makes perfect sense. Marguerite and I can have a nice long ride at her stable. Then I can catch the bus back to town and walk home. That will be a lot easier for everyone.” Especially me, Lisa thought, but she didn’t say it. “Especially for the Millses,” she said instead. “We shouldn’t impose on them too much, right? This way Marguerite won’t have to worry about entertaining me all night.” And I can be back in time to meet my friends at TD’s, she thought hopefully. The local bus stopped at the shopping center, so she would be able to go straight there from Colesford. She held her breath and waited for her mother’s response.
Mrs. Atwood paused for a long moment. She still looked disapproving. “Is that really what you want to do?” she asked at last.
Lisa nodded wordlessly.
Her mother sighed. “Well, I suppose if you’ve already made up your mind I won’t try to change it. If you decide after your ride that you want to take the bus back, that will be fine. But your father and I will stop by the Millses’ house on our way home just in case.”
Lisa nodded. Her mother never gave up. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “Maybe Marguerite and I will hit it off. You never know what will happen.”
“I’M SO JEALOUS,” Lisa moaned. “I can’t believe I’m going to miss it.”
It was early Saturday morning and Lisa was sitting on the floor in the upstairs hall talking on the phone with Stevie. Stevie was getting ready to leave for Horse Wise. Lisa was getting ready to leave for her day with Marguerite Mills. She had brushed her teeth and her hair and put on the new blue sweater. Unfortunately, she had discovered a big manure stain on her jodhpurs that she hadn’t noticed when she had worn them home from Pine Hollow the day before. There was no time to wash them before they left. Lisa hoped she would be able to convince her mother that everyone who was anyone at Fox Crest Farms probably wore jeans when they rode. Otherwise, she had the funniest feeling they would be making a pit stop at the mall on their way to Colesford.
“You’ll probably have fun, too,” Stevie said. Lisa could tell she was trying to sound optimistic, but it wasn’t very convincing. “Riding at a new stable is always interesting. And maybe Marguerite will turn out to be nice.”
Lisa let out a snort. “Maybe,” she said. “But I doubt it. She sounds like a total drip. And Fox Crest is probably totally snooty. My mom keeps talking about how exclusive it is.”
“Hmmm.” Stevie didn’t seem to have an answer to that. “Well, anyway, at least your mom is letting you come home on the bus, right?”
Lisa nodded and twisted the phone cord around her finger. “Thank goodness,” she said. “I’ll definitely be at TD’s by five-thirty, six at the latest. You and Carole will meet me there, right?”
“We’ll be there,” Stevie promised. “If all goes well, maybe we’ll even have something interesting to report. You know, about Carole and her new boyfriend. I can tell she and Tate really like each other. But Tate isn’t showing any signs of making a move, and Carole is still being wishy-washy about the whole thing. I’ve got a few new ideas to encourage them both—it’ll be a lot easier once Tate is riding with Horse Wise. I hope he starts this week.”
Lisa sighed. Stevie had been plotting all week to get Carole and Tate together. Normally Lisa would have been interested in hearing about her latest schemes, but this morning all she could think about was the horrible day stretching ahead of her. “That’s great, Stevie,” she said morosely, picking at the carpet. “I wish I could be there to see it.”
Stevie was silent for a second. “Listen, Lisa,” she said at last, her voice more serious than usual. “I know you’re upset about missing Horse Wise and everything, and I don’t blame you. I’d feel the same way. But don’t you think you should give Marguerite more of a chance? She might be nice, you know.”
Lisa shrugged. Then she realized that Stevie couldn’t see her, so she spoke. “I guess that’s true,” she said. “But I doubt it.”
“She might be more than nice,” Stevie went on. Now her voice sounded more the way it usually did—in other words, not serious at all. “She might be fantastic! She might b
e the coolest person you’ve ever met in your life. You might even decide you like her better than Carole or me, and that you want to start riding at Fox Crest, and transfer to the school in Colesford, and start some kind of Fox Crest Hoity-toity Club instead of The Saddle Club, and …”
By this time Lisa was laughing in spite of herself. Stevie could really get carried away. Then again, Lisa realized, so could she. She’d been so busy thinking about all the fun she would be missing that day at Pine Hollow that she hadn’t really considered the possibility that she could have fun riding with Marguerite. Or, at the very least, not be miserable, she amended silently.
Aloud she said, “Okay, Stevie, I get the point. I’ll wait until I meet Marguerite before I decide whether I like her or not.”
“That’s all I ask,” Stevie said virtuously. “So anyway, getting back to Carole and Tate …”
At that moment Mrs. Atwood swept out of her bedroom wearing the fancy new linen suit she had bought at the mall. She was in the middle of fastening an earring in one ear, but when she saw Lisa sitting on the floor she stopped short.
“Aren’t you ready to go yet?” she demanded. “And why are you wearing those jeans?”
Lisa held back a groan. “Stevie, I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?”
“We’ll be there,” Stevie said. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Lisa hung up the phone and stood up. The battle of the blue jeans was about to begin.
“I’M STILL NOT sure about those jeans,” Mrs. Atwood murmured, turning around to look at Lisa’s legs from the front seat.
Lisa sighed. Her mother had given in on the jeans issue when she had seen the manure stain on Lisa’s jodhpurs. But she wasn’t happy about it. She had been making comments about Lisa’s outfit all during the drive from Willow Creek.
Luckily Lisa’s father spoke up this time. “Stop worrying so much, Eleanor,” he said, sounding irritated. “I’m sure all the kids at that stable will be in jeans, too. That’s all anyone Lisa’s age wears these days. Even in high society.”
Horse Care Page 4