Stevie seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Thanks for offering to help us, Veronica,” she said sarcastically. “Luckily we’ve got everything under control. Oh, and I heard Max calling you a few minutes ago. You’d better go see what he wants.”
Veronica shot her a poisonous glance. “That’s okay, Stevie,” she said smoothly. “I just talked to him. He asked me to supervise what you’re doing in here.”
Stevie glowered at her, and Carole bit back a laugh. She knew as well as Stevie did that there was no way Max would have asked any such thing.
Tate didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Cool,” he said, scooting over to make room for Veronica next to him. “We were just talking about stable management and stuff.”
“Oh, really?” Veronica sat down and then moved a couple of inches closer to Tate. She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes. “It figures. These two never want to talk about anything but horses, horses, horses. But I’d much rather hear more about you.”
“Oh, really?” Tate smiled back at her. Without seeming to realize what he was doing, he reached into the barley bag and dumped a whole scoopful into the batch of feed they were working on.
Carole opened her mouth to protest, since that batch already had its full share of barley. But before she could, Stevie leaped to her feet.
“Hey!” Stevie shouted. “Did you hear that? I think it’s your mom’s car horn, Veronica. You’d better go check it out.”
Veronica scowled. “You’re hearing things, Stevie,” she said. “I didn’t hear a horn. Besides, I’m not getting picked up until later.”
“I didn’t hear anything, either,” Tate put in. He dumped another scoopful of barley into the mix. “So anyway, Veronica, I heard you guys were working on the pirouette in your Pony Club meeting today. That’s a fourth-level dressage move, you know. Some of the other moves added at the fourth level are …”
As Tate continued to talk, Carole was really getting annoyed. It was obvious that Tate wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. He was totally messing up the grain mix. He should know better. So should Stevie, for that matter. But she had dropped her scoop and was staring at Veronica with a determined look on her face.
“No, really,” Stevie said loudly, interrupting Tate’s monologue on the stages of dressage competition. “I’m sure I heard something. You’d better go check.” She took a step toward the door to illustrate her point. Her foot hit the edge of an open bag of flaked corn, tipping it.
Carole leaped forward to catch it, but her own foot caught the edge of the metal bin they were using to mix the feed and sent her sprawling. The bin teetered for a second, then crashed to the floor, spilling its contents everywhere. Meanwhile, the bag of corn had fallen, too—landing right on Carole and covering her with dry yellow flakes.
“Oops,” Stevie said with a weak grin.
Veronica stood up and gave the other two girls a disgusted look. “Nice going,” she said snottily. “Look at the mess you’ve made.”
Carole gritted her teeth and sat up, brushing corn flakes out of her hair. Stevie was staring at Veronica, speechless with fury.
Veronica didn’t notice. She was reaching down to help Tate to his feet and smiling at him sweetly. “Come on, Tate,” she said. “We’d better get out of their way so they can clean up after themselves.”
Tate looked uncertain, but he shrugged and followed Veronica to the door. “Let me know if you need any more help later,” he told Carole and Stevie as he left the shed.
“WHOA!” MARGUERITE CALLED with a laugh, pulling up on the reins. “Amber’s really feeling her oats today!”
Lisa smiled weakly as she urged Tiny into a lumbering trot, trying to catch up to the other pair. They were riding down a wide, pleasant trail in the woods behind Fox Crest Farms. Amber was prancing along in the lead, clearly tired of walking and trotting. Tiny was doing her best to keep up. Lisa was appreciating the big mare’s personality more and more with every step she took. Tiny was a little slow, but she wasn’t as lazy as Lisa had first thought. She was eager to please, and her constant snorting, snuffling, and whinnying were kind of cute. It sounded as if she were talking to herself.
Still, when Lisa glanced forward at Marguerite, she couldn’t help feeling a little envious. Amber was so beautiful and spirited. Why couldn’t Marguerite have gotten her a talented horse like that? It would have made this whole afternoon—including Marguerite’s self-centered prattle—a lot easier to take.
Lisa glanced up at the sky. The clouds were still there, and they seemed to be darkening. She opened her mouth to say something about the weather, but Marguerite spoke first.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said brightly. “The trail looks pretty flat up there. Let’s gallop!”
“What?” For a second Lisa was sure that Marguerite had to be joking. The trail was flat up ahead of them. But it was also winding, lined with stray branches, and littered with small rocks and twigs. It was perfectly fine for walking or trotting, but going at a faster gait would be asking for trouble. “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be safe.”
Marguerite twisted around in her saddle and gave Lisa a disgruntled look. “What do you mean?” she said. “It’ll be fine. My friends and I gallop all the time. Come on, let’s have some fun.”
Lisa shook her head firmly. “It’s not safe,” she said. “The horses could break a leg.”
“Oh, please.” Marguerite rolled her eyes and rode on for a moment in silence. “Okay,” she said suddenly. She twisted around again to look at Lisa. “If you won’t gallop, let’s have a walking race. Side by side. The first one to break stride loses.”
Lisa hesitated. But then she shook her head again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I don’t think the trail is wide enough to ride side by side. There are a lot of branches hanging down—”
“Fine,” Marguerite interrupted with a frustrated sigh. “We’ll just ride along single file at a plain old trot. What a thrill.” She urged Amber forward and was soon trotting far ahead.
Lisa sighed. Marguerite had been goofing off ever since they had started their ride half an hour before. First she had wanted to jump a pasture fence instead of going through the gate. Next she had wanted to ford a small but rapidly rushing river, while Lisa had insisted on crossing at the bridge she had spotted a little farther downstream. Lisa was starting to feel like Marguerite’s parent, or maybe a strict riding instructor. But she wasn’t about to let the horses—or herself—get hurt because Marguerite was too flighty to enjoy the simple pleasures of a trail ride.
“Hang in there, Tiny,” Lisa whispered, giving her horse a pat. “She’ll probably get bored soon and want to go back and hang out with all those exciting friends she keeps talking about. Then you can have a nice snack and a rest, and I can go home.”
Tiny nickered and continued trotting heavily after the fleet-footed Amber. Lisa patted the horse again, then glanced at the sky. She urged Tiny forward, calling to Marguerite.
“What is it?” Marguerite asked, pulling Amber to a halt. Her irritation seemed to have passed, and she smiled at Lisa. “Hey, I have an idea—”
“Hold it,” Lisa interrupted. She pointed at the sky. “Have you noticed those clouds? They’re getting worse by the minute. Maybe we should turn back before we get caught in the rain.”
Marguerite glanced up and then shrugged. “They don’t look that bad yet,” she said. “Besides, we’re only a ten-minute ride from the stable.”
Lisa bit her lip. She wasn’t really worried about the rain—Marguerite was right, the clouds didn’t look too bad yet—but she really wanted to end this ride as soon as possible. If she was lucky, maybe she would be able to meet Carole and Stevie at Pine Hollow before they left for TD’s.
Marguerite trotted off down the path. “Come on,” she called to Lisa. “You know how crazy the weather’s been lately. It probably won’t rain at all.”
“Probably,” Lisa muttered, too quietly for Marguerite to hear her. “That would be just my
luck.”
The only answer was a sympathetic snort from Tiny.
TEN MINUTES LATER, Lisa was about to suggest turning back again when Marguerite brought Amber to a stop. “Check it out,” the girl said.
Lisa followed her gaze. A narrow, overgrown trail led off at a right angle from the one they’d been following. “What is that?” she asked. “It looks like a deer track or something.”
“It’s one of the old trails,” Marguerite said. “My friends and I saw it last time, but we didn’t have time to follow it. We think it leads into the state park.”
“Oh.” Lisa glanced at her watch. “We probably should start heading back soon, don’t you think?”
Marguerite didn’t seem to hear her. She was staring eagerly at the tiny trail. “Let’s check it out,” she said. “It looks like it gets a little wider up a ways, see? It’ll be a hoot to follow it and see where it goes.”
Lisa hesitated. She didn’t think following the abandoned trail sounded like a “hoot” at all. It sounded like a sure way to end up with a lot of annoying little scratches on her hands and face—not to mention on the horses. But Marguerite was already looking at her suspiciously.
“Come on,” she said. “You’re not going to pull that safety warden thing this time, are you? Even you can’t possibly come up with anything dangerous about following a trail. I mean, we can turn back if it gets too rough for the horses.”
Lisa didn’t have an answer for that. And she was starting to have the nagging feeling that maybe she was being a spoilsport. She would never agree to gallop horses on a winding trail no matter what, but she knew that if Carole or Stevie had suggested exploring a new trail, overgrown or not, Lisa would have agreed without hesitation.
“All right,” she said reluctantly. “I guess the worst that can happen is we’ll get lost. And the horses can find their way home if that happens.”
“Whatever,” Marguerite said, looking pleased. “Let’s go!” She turned Amber and sent her plunging through the branches by the entrance to the trail.
Lisa sighed and followed.
“… THEN THERE’S OUTCROSSING. That’s when two horses are bred that are the same breed but come from totally different lineages. And of course linebreeding. That’s sort of like inbreeding. It’s where the same ancestor appears multiple times in a horse’s family tree.”
Tate was back. It was late afternoon, and Carole and Stevie had finished with the grain and were visiting Calypso. Tate had found them there, and now all three of them were discussing mare care. Fortunately Veronica was nowhere in sight.
Stevie leaned on the half door of the stall. “Well, I guess Max has done crossbreeding here, then,” she said. “Calypso is a Thoroughbred, and Geronimo’s not. Judy talked about that at the Horse Wise meeting.”
“I wish I’d been there to hear the vet’s lecture,” Tate said. Stevie and Carole had already told him about Judy’s talk the previous week. “I’ve read quite a bit about pregnant mares. But I’m sure it would have been interesting to hear about it with a live model standing right there.”
“I know what you mean,” Carole agreed. “Reading about things in books can be fun. But real-life experience is usually a lot better.” She smiled at Tate. At first, she had been disappointed when Tate had left them to clean up the mess in the grain shed. But after discussing it, she and Stevie had agreed that they couldn’t really blame him. Veronica had practically dragged him away, and besides, he hadn’t made the mess—they had. Of course, if the situation had been reversed, Carole and Stevie would have helped him. But, after all, they were The Saddle Club. They made a habit of helping people.
Carole was still bothered by Tate’s carelessness with the barley, but she tried to put it out of her mind. Stevie had been careless there, too, since she hadn’t stopped him. Anyone could make a mistake, and no real harm had come of it this time. So why make a big deal of it?
Stevie was smiling at Tate. “So when are you going to join our riding class?” she asked him. “We were sure we’d see you today. You missed a fun time at Horse Wise.”
“I’m sure I’ll join soon,” Tate replied, reaching to pull a stray piece of straw out of Calypso’s mane. “Like I said, I’ve had a few private lessons this week with Max. He just wants to make sure I’m up to speed before I join the group.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Stevie said quickly. “If you’re having any trouble, I’m sure Carole can help you catch up. She’s the best rider in our class, and she loves to help out. Isn’t that right, Carole?”
Carole smiled weakly. “I’m sure we’d all be willing to help,” she said. Although somehow, she didn’t think Tate would need much help. He knew more about horses than anybody she could think of, except maybe Max and Judy.
“Hello there, everyone!” came a cheerful voice behind them.
Carole turned. “Oh, hi, Simon,” she said. “What are you still doing here? Jump class ended hours ago.”
“I just finished doing some chores,” Simon replied, walking over to the stall door and peering in. “And now I was just coming by to check on Calypso. You know, make sure she isn’t going into labor or anything.”
Tate gave him a look of disbelief. “Into labor?” he repeated. “Don’t be ridiculous. She hasn’t bagged up or anything. She hasn’t shown any signs.”
Simon seemed startled at the other boy’s harsh tone. “Oh, um, I know,” he said uncertainly. “I mean, I was sort of kidding. I just wanted to look in on her, that’s all. I promised I would help watch her.”
“Well, that won’t do much good if you don’t know what you’re watching for,” Tate replied. He turned his back on the other boy and patted the mare on the neck.
Simon looked crestfallen. “I just wanted to help,” he said quietly.
“Don’t worry, Simon,” Carole said, shooting Tate a perplexed look. “I’m sure Calypso appreciates it.” She couldn’t understand why Tate was being so hard on him.
“Right,” Stevie put in. “Even if certain other people don’t.”
“Um, okay,” Simon said. “Well, I’d better go.” He slunk away before the girls could say another word.
Tate glanced at the two girls. Then he frowned. “Oops,” he said. “Let me guess. You two think I was too rough on that guy.”
Stevie put her hands on her hips. “No kidding,” she said. “Everybody knows Simon is clueless, but you didn’t have to be mean about it, Tate.”
“I’m sorry,” Tate said quickly. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. Really.” He sighed. “Sometimes I just get too impatient with people when they don’t know what they’re talking about, you know? It’s a bad habit of mine. I can’t help myself.”
Carole thought about that for a second. She supposed that what Tate was saying made sense, sort of. It could be frustrating to know so much and have to deal with someone who didn’t know anything at all. And Simon did take some getting used to. Maybe Tate hadn’t responded the same way Carole herself would have, but why should he? They were two very different people, despite Stevie’s claims to the contrary. Still …
Tate was biting his lip, looking anxious. “Maybe I should go find that Simon guy and apologize,” he said. “What do you think?”
Stevie caught Carole’s eye. Carole could tell that her friend was having the same kinds of thoughts she was. “Uh, I guess it’s okay,” Stevie told Tate. “Simon has probably forgotten about it already. He doesn’t hold a grudge.”
Carole nodded uncertainly. Suddenly she thought of something, and her eyes widened. She had just figured out another reason why Tate might have responded to Simon the way he had. Maybe he was jealous! After all, both boys were very good-looking, a fact that she was sure Tate was aware of even if Simon wasn’t. Maybe Tate was feeling competitive about that and was trying to prove his superiority the only way he knew how—by showing off his knowledge about horses.
Carole was so excited about her theory that she almost blurted it out right then and there. But she bit her tongue. Say
ing anything about it would embarrass Tate—not to mention herself. But she couldn’t wait to tell Stevie later.
LISA HAD BEEN growing steadily more nervous for the past twenty minutes. She and Marguerite were deep in the woods, and Lisa had completely lost her sense of direction. The path they had been following had twisted and turned and branched off so many times that she wasn’t sure they would be able to find their way back. It was hard to see what was happening with the clouds because of the thick canopy of trees, but the chilly breeze snaking through the forest told Lisa that rain was probably coming soon. And by now she knew that they were a lot more than a ten-minute ride from the shelter of the stable.
Besides all that, she was getting heartily sick of Marguerite. The girl was shallower, stupider, and even less responsible than Lisa had originally thought. Ever since they had started following this trail, Marguerite had been babbling on and on about her friends and their parents and their houses and their purebred horses. Lisa was starting to suspect that those friends were the only reason Marguerite rode at all. She certainly didn’t seem to have any real interest in horses or riding. Every time Lisa tried to change the subject to something horse-related, Marguerite found a way to change it back. It had turned into a sort of battle.
“So where do you think we are?” Lisa asked nervously. “Does Fox Crest’s land extend this far, or do you think we’re in the state park by now?”
Marguerite shrugged and pushed aside a branch that was in her way. “Who knows?” she said. “And what difference does it make, anyway?”
Lisa didn’t answer. She was too busy catching the branch that Marguerite had just carelessly released. “It’s getting kind of late,” she said instead. “Maybe we should—”
Marguerite’s cry of delight interrupted her. “Wow! Look up there!”
Lisa urged Tiny forward until the big gray mare was shoulder to shoulder with Amber, and looked in the direction Marguerite was pointing.
Horse Care Page 6