“… so you may think you’re in for a relaxing lesson. Well, think again. Just because we’re not going to jump today doesn’t mean you can take it easy. Get ready for some intense dressage schooling. All right, back out to the rail. Lisa, you lead off. Everyone follow, leaving two horse lengths behind the horse in front of you.”
As she took her place at the front of the line, Lisa glanced back quickly at Carole and Stevie. The two of them rolled their eyes. When it came to dressage, Max could be even more demanding than usual. Basically, The Saddle Club knew, dressage meant schooling on the flat and not over fences. But to Max it meant more. Like a good dressage judge, he expected to see horse and rider working together calmly and fluidly, with no sign of struggle.
For the next forty-five minutes he drilled the six riders nonstop. He began by keeping them at a sitting trot for ten minutes, barking out a stream of commands. “Stevie, elbows close to your sides, and stop playing the piano with your hands. Lisa, it’s no wonder Prancer just broke into a canter—your inside leg is stiff and it’s banging against her. Betsy, shorten up your reins—Comanche’s all strung out. Relax your shoulders, Carole, and bring them back. Polly, you’re riding too close to Starlight—Romeo looks miserable. If that’s a sitting trot, Veronica, I’d like to see what posting looks like. Okay, on the count of three, halt. One, two, three.”
Max paused and looked down the line of riders carefully. Every rider sat still and prayed that her horse wouldn’t fidget. “That’s on the count of three, Betsy, not seventeen!” he snapped. “And I only see two people who are square in front—Lisa and Stevie. Everyone else gets about a three for this part of the test.”
Except for Lisa and Stevie, who grinned to themselves, the class grimaced as a whole. Max was grading them by the system dressage judges used to evaluate different sections of dressage tests. Every dressage test was divided into sections of different prescribed movements, and these movements were marked on a scale of one to ten. No matter what the level of test, beginner or grand prix, one movement was always the same: The rider was required to halt at the beginning and end of the test to salute the judge. A good halt was very important—it started the ride off on the right foot, and it left a positive, final impression. And one of the most important aspects of a good halt was that the horse’s feet be square, or even, at least in front if not all around. Obviously, Max was disappointed to see that only two people had halted correctly.
“Lisa and Stevie,” he said, after he had asked everyone to pick up a trot again, “would you mind explaining how you achieved your halting success?”
“I tried to look good and figured Topside would do the rest,” Stevie said honestly. Everyone laughed. It was well-known that Topside was one of the most perfectly schooled horses at Pine Hollow. He had been a top-level show horse for years. His owner, championship rider Dorothy DeSoto Hawthorne, had donated him to the farm after a bad fall left her grounded.
Because of his training, riding Topside was a treat. He not only behaved beautifully and had wonderful gaits, he also seemed to understand what Max was saying half the time. Often Stevie would be about to ask him to trot or canter, only to find he’d already picked up the new gait himself, having understood Max’s command.
When the laughter had died down, Max asked Lisa to answer his question. “We all know stopping isn’t the first thing they teach at the track,” he added, referring to Prancer’s previous life as a racehorse.
Lisa thought hard. She wasn’t sure what to say, and she could hardly believe Prancer was listening to her so well. “I think I just thought ‘Please halt, Prancer,’ and then she did,” Lisa said. It sounded strange to admit, but she hadn’t been conscious of asking the mare to do anything special.
Max nodded approvingly. “Exactly what I was hoping someone would say. A lot of the time we get nervous about halting, and we start fiddling with the reins and leaning way back and doing all kinds of unnecessary things. What we should do is relax into a halt—think ‘halt,’ as Lisa said, and let our bodies do the rest unconsciously.”
“But, Max,” Stevie joked, “I thought this lesson wasn’t supposed to be relaxing.”
Max gave her a withering look and continued the lesson.
WHEN THEY DISMOUNTED half an hour later, a buzz went through the group about the day’s lesson. The Saddle Club members, for their part, were sure something was up. Max had been so full of instructions for each rider that it was obvious he cared a lot about how well the group was doing. Normally he was fussy, but today he seemed to be testing them to see how fast they could respond to his criticisms.
As they stood rolling up their stirrups and loosening their girths, Max came over and asked Lisa to hold off for a minute. Without a word he took Prancer’s reins, lengthened the stirrups to his own level, and sprang up into the saddle. “If you’ll all stay at the end of the ring and watch, this will only take a few minutes.”
Horse Wise didn’t need to be asked twice. They loved watching Max ride but hardly ever got to. He did his own schooling at dawn or earlier and taught the rest of the day.
Max had halted Prancer in the middle of the ring. He removed his hat and crisply saluted an imaginary judge. Horse Wise watched spellbound as horse and rider went through the rest of the dressage test. Max hardly moved as he asked Prancer to lengthen her trot, canter in small circles, and leg-yield down the diagonals. The mare’s ears turned forward and back, listening to his imperceptible signals. Finally they turned down the center line a second time. Once again Max halted and saluted. This time Stevie seized the moment. She led Topside away from the group and smartly saluted Max back. The minute Max smiled and relaxed the reins, the whole class burst into applause.
“Lunch on the knoll by the back pasture in twenty minutes,” Max said, trying unsuccessfully to cut short the clapping. He dismounted, led Prancer back over to Lisa, and turned over the reins. “You’ve really got her going nicely, Lisa,” he said. Lisa didn’t wait for him to leave before high-fiving her friends.
WHEN THE HORSES had been untacked, groomed, watered, and hayed, the riders gathered with their bag lunches on the knoll Max had mentioned. The warm sun shining down only increased their sense of well-being.
“There’s nothing better than a good, hard ride and then lunch, is there?” Carole asked.
With their mouths full of sandwiches, Stevie and Lisa could only nod. They found themselves eating faster than usual, partly out of hunger but partly out of excitement about Max’s performance and what it meant.
Lisa, meanwhile, was glad to have the excuse of eating so that she didn’t have to talk. She couldn’t totally join in the excitement, because she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that whatever Max told them, it would make her perfect schedule a little less perfect.
“I’ll bet there’s a dressage rider coming to give a clinic,” Betsy Cavanaugh guessed.
“I’ll bet Veronica’s father is buying her an imported German dressage horse,” Stevie muttered. To The Saddle Club’s delight, Veronica’s chauffeur had appeared to whisk her away right after class. The rich, spoiled girl often left Horse Wise right after the riding was over.
“It’s better than either of those,” Max said. He had come up behind them and was listening to their talk with an amused expression. “At least I think so.”
The group fell silent immediately. Making his voice sound casual, Max asked, “Anybody want to go to a rally?”
There was a pause as everyone tried to make sense of Max’s question. What was the big news about going to rally? Horse Wise entered a team every year, and, anyway, it didn’t come until the summer. “Max, rally’s not until next year,” Carole pointed out. “And we were already planning on going, weren’t we?”
Max smiled. “That’s true, Carole—combined training rally isn’t until next June. But dressage rally is the first Saturday of next month—two weeks away!”
Before Max could fill in any details, everyone began talking at once. Horse Wise had never
sent teams to the more specialized Pony Club regional competitions—dressage rally and show-jumping rally—partly because it was simply too hard to find the practice time. Also, a lot of riders, including The Saddle Club, were busy with riding events outside of Pony Club, like horse shows, trail riding, and fox hunting. Finally, and most important, both Max and his mother, Mrs. Reg, who helped run Pine Hollow, felt it was more important for students to ride as much as they could than to compete as much as they could. They thought too much competition made riders lose track of the real purpose of their sport—learning to be good horsemen and horsewomen.
“Yes, it’s a change,” Max said, his voice rising over the excited chatter. “But I’ll tell you why I think it’s a good one. First of all, it will be great practice for the dressage part of combined training rally. Second, it will be a new challenge for you. And finally, I know you’ll all work like crazy for the next two weeks and prove my hunch that you deserve to go. You’ve got the potential,” Max finished, looking directly at The Saddle Club. “I want to see the results.”
After the talk had died down again, Max supplied the rest of the information. Since there were six qualified dressage riders at Horse Wise—Carole, Stevie, Lisa, Polly, Betsy, and Veronica—but only four riders to a team, Horse Wise would have to split up. Four riders would compete as one team, representing Horse Wise alone, while the other two would join two riders from another club.
“For instance,” Max went on, “if, say, Cross County Pony Club has a couple of extra riders, we could join with them.” Max grinned wickedly at The Saddle Club. Even he knew that Stevie’s boyfriend, Phil, was a member of Cross County.
As she listened, Lisa tried to look as happy about the news as everyone else. It was hard not to worry, though. Preparing for the rally meant there would be extra riding practices, as well as meetings to get all the tack, equipment, and clothes ready for inspection. And in the final couple of days, there would be the usual flurry of bathing, mane pulling, and metal polishing. Each rider would also have to memorize the two dressage tests she would ride.
“This afternoon I would like you all to check with Mrs. Reg to see what level test you’ll be riding,” Max stated. “That depends on your rating. D-threes obviously don’t ride the same tests as C-threes. Then go and walk through your tests in the indoor ring—unmounted. It may sound silly, but it’ll give you a foundation and get you started thinking about the movements. Check the office before you go—I’m going to post a ‘Countdown to Dressage Rally’ schedule.”
Max folded the list he’d been consulting. “You’ll also have to choose a stable manager to oversee the process of getting the equipment ready,” he said. “That might be a good job for one of the younger riders. Have fun preparing, girls.”
As he turned toward the barn, he took Lisa aside. “Lisa, I’ll bet I know why you look worried,” he said. “And I agree, it’s a difficult choice.”
Lisa looked up at him, surprised. She hadn’t been prepared for Max to be understanding about her conflict between activities. As far as she knew, he didn’t have a great passion for the stage. Maybe he was going to let her miss some lessons or come late some of the time. “I just don’t know what to do,” Lisa admitted.
“I know,” Max said. “So I’m going to tell you what I think: You should ride Prancer at the rally instead of Barq.”
“But—” Lisa tried to interrupt.
“You’ve come a long way with her,” Max was saying “and that was clear to me today. In the end shell be a better dressage horse than Barq. And if you want to start riding her in Pony Club, there’s no better time than the present.” Max shook his head. “I wouldn’t have believed she was the same horse that you took to the show. Besides, I think Betsy would do nicely on Barq. She had a lot of trouble with Comanche today.”
Lisa smiled wanly. It should have been music to her ears to hear that, as a direct result of The Saddle Club’s working with her, Prancer had changed from the flighty, nervous mare who had once kicked a judge at a local show. Instead Lisa felt a sense of dread. It was confirmed by Max’s parting words: “Two weeks of solid practice, and I know you two can really get it together. Just remember, between now and the rally, every minute counts.”
“Right,” Lisa mumbled. Pensively she crumpled up her lunch bag, watching Max walk away.
“What’s up?” Stevie inquired as she and Carole joined Lisa.
“Oh, it’s—nothing, really,” Lisa answered. She didn’t feel like getting into the whole thing just then, especially when Carole and Stevie looked so excited.
“So let’s get to it—I want to go talk to Mrs. Reg right away,” Carole said.
“Me, too,” Stevie agreed. “I can’t wait to find out what test I have. How ’bout you, Lisa?”
Lisa looked up, lost in thought. “Me? Well, I—I—” She paused, looking down at her watch. “Oh, my gosh—I have a rehearsal in fourteen minutes! I’ll barely make it if I run all the way!” She took off in the direction of the driveway. “I’ll call you tonight!”
“At nine-twelve?” Stevie yelled after her.
“Yes! I mean, no! I don’t know! I have to rearrange my whole schedule!” Lisa yelled back. As an after-thought she stopped and called, “Hey, if I get out early, I’ll come back and practice!”
Watching her run toward the driveway, Stevie and Carole sighed in unison. For some reason they were getting a bad feeling about the play.
EVEN THOUGH SHE ran all the way, practically knocking people over on the sidewalks, and taking a shortcut through the soccer fields, Lisa was nearly ten minutes late to rehearsal. As she ran, she prayed that Mrs. Spitz and the rest of the cast would be singing a big chorus number so that they might not notice her late arrival.
With a final gasp of exhaustion, she banged through the doors of the auditorium at the high school, where the theater staged its productions. Ten heads turned from the stage. Ten pairs of eyes stared at Lisa. Lisa gulped. “I—I—sorry I’m late,” she mumbled finally.
To her dismay Lisa noticed that Mrs. Spitz wasn’t even seated at the practice piano. So much for a loud song masking her entrance. As quietly as she could, Lisa mounted the stairs to the stage. Mrs. Spitz motioned for her to squeeze her way into the circle of actors. “Hello, Lisa. You’re late, as I’m sure you’re aware, so I’ll fill you in, but please don’t make it a habit. The principals are doing a read-through today. I’ve been reading your part. We’re on page seven.”
Lisa licked her lips. Her throat felt dry. “The principals? Are doing a read-through?” she repeated timidly.
Mrs. Spitz smiled. “That’s right. All the ‘principals’—the actors with lead roles—are ‘reading through’ the script. I forgot that you’re new to WCCT. That’s what we call Willow Creek Community Theater.”
Lisa blushed crimson. Here she was at her first rehearsal—late and making a fool out of herself because she didn’t understand the dramatic lingo.
“Yes, with a voice like that, it’s easy to forget that you haven’t had much experience on the stage, Lisa,” someone said. Lisa looked up gratefully. Mr. Ryan, who was playing Daddy Warbucks and had been in umpteen WCCT productions, was smiling encouragingly at her. Lisa tried to smile back. Inwardly she told herself not to feel bad—to cheer up and make the most of the rehearsal. She looked cautiously around the group, pleased to see a bunch of kids her own age.
Before Lisa could relax any more, though, another pang of embarrassment hit her. She had forgotten her script. She could see it in her mind, lying at the bottom of her locker at Pine Hollow where she had left it that morning. She had been planning to grab it on her way out. Max’s announcement and having to rush over had completely wiped out any other thought. Against her will hot tears welled up in her eyes. Late, inexperienced, and now this!
Grimly, Lisa gritted her teeth. There was only one way out—she would have to look on with someone. She stole a glance at the girl on her left. To her relief she recognized the girl who had been at the final audi
tion for the role of Annie. She had evidently been cast as an orphan. Telling herself that they at least sort of knew each other, Lisa whispered, “Could I share with you?” The girl shrugged and held her script slightly away from her so that Lisa could see—barely.
Before long Lisa’s mood had changed from embarrassment to annoyance. She had to crane her neck so hard it was starting to hurt, and what was more, every few minutes the girl with the script gave a loud “sniff.” The rest of the time she held her nose conspicuously away from Lisa. Lisa knew the reason for her rude behavior, and she didn’t like it one bit: If there was one thing Lisa and the whole Saddle Club hated, it was people who didn’t like horses. True, Lisa hadn’t had time to shower and change after Horse Wise—if she had, she would have remembered her script and wouldn’t have had to look on, anyway—but it wasn’t as if she smelled like a wet dog or skunk or something really disgusting.
The girl also kept staring at Lisa’s breeches and boots as if she were wearing a space suit. Lisa decided to stare right back, in between lines. She knew it was rude, but she was so annoyed from running to make it to rehearsal that she was practically past caring.
Orphan, Lisa thought to herself. She’s not an orphan for nothing! Her private joke cheered her up a little, but she wished Stevie and Carole were there to share it. They wouldn’t have liked the orphan either.
At the ten-minute break, while the other cast members talked to one another and got drinks from the water fountain, Lisa stayed onstage. She lay back and closed her eyes. “If anyone thinks I’m weird,” she mumbled, “I just don’t want to hear about it.”
“Did you ask me something?” a cheery voice asked. Lisa opened her eyes. Her other neighbor—the girl who’d been sitting to her right—was smiling down at her. Her dark, flashing eyes and brown curls looked vaguely familiar.
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