“Pretty good idea, huh?” Stevie called, trotting down the long side of the ring.
“Are you kidding? It’s a great idea!” Carole yelled after her. She watched the mare’s briskly swinging trot for a few minutes in admiration. She looked energetic but relaxed. Stevie sat proudly in the saddle. At the end of the ring they picked up a canter. Prancer chucked the bit up in her teeth and shied away from the rail. Stevie laughed and made her trot until she stopped playing. They were obviously enjoying each other immensely.
“Want someone to watch you?” Carole asked when Stevie approached again.
“Definitely—we can use all the constructive criticism we can get.” She brought Prancer down to a walk and came over to Carole for a quick chat.
“I’ll be your ‘stage coach’ first, as Lisa said, and then we can switch,” Carole commented.
“It’s a deal,” Stevie said.
For the next half hour the two girls gave Prancer an intensive private lesson. Carole planted herself in the middle of the ring and barked criticism and commands. “Too fast! Too late! Canter now!” Far from being an annoying chore, watching and coaching was more fun than Carole could have imagined. As she critiqued Stevie and Prancer, she found herself thinking how high-spirited and eager Prancer was. She was sleek, fast, and feisty and could be difficult.
Funny, Carole mused, that sounded a lot like Stevie. In the long run, the mare would probably do better with someone who was steady, organized, and methodical—someone like Lisa. For now, though, both she and Stevie would benefit from the partnership.
Carole had them walk, trot, halt, walk, trot, canter, trot, halt, trot, walk, trot, canter until Stevie was breathing hard and Prancer was sweating even in the brisk fall air. Then she put them through circles, figure eights, leg yielding, center lines, and more circles. As they worked, the girls compared their impressions of how Prancer was doing. A couple of times the mare bucked while cantering, and once she trotted right over the low dressage-ring rail. “You get right back in there, you bad, bad girl,” Stevie commanded, not missing a beat. “May I remind you that dressage takes place within the ring!”
When Carole had stopped sputtering with laughter, she told Stevie to try the movement again, this time keeping her outside rein tighter and her outside leg firm so that Prancer couldn’t bow away from her.
“Good advice, Carole,” Max commented. He and Mrs. Reg had come outside and had been observing the “lesson” quietly.
Carole spun around. “Thanks, Max. We thought we’d kill two birds with one stone, having Stevie and Prancer both get practice.”
“And you are—?” Max inquired.
Carole grinned sheepishly. “I’m helping them out. I’m the ‘stage coach.’ ”
Max and Mrs. Reg laughed. “I’ve often said that riding a dressage test is like being onstage,” Mrs. Reg commented.
Carole grinned at the older woman gratefully. Mrs. Reg could be as tough as her son, but she was always helping out in a pinch and making them feel good about their Saddle Club plans and projects.
“It’s a nice idea, and they’re obviously learning a lot, but …” Max let his voice trail off.
“But?” Carole asked, fearing the worst.
Max looked at her directly. “I hate to say it, Carole, but you know as well as I do that Lisa should be the one riding that horse. She needs as much ring time as possible before the rally, and instead she’s getting less than usual.”
Remembering her promise to Lisa the night before, Carole tried to defend her friend. “I know, Max, and so does she. At least Prancer’s getting ridden. That should help get her ready. And Lisa’s really trying to get here as often as possible.”
Max looked unconvinced. In a kind but firm voice he remarked, “Trying to do something isn’t always enough, especially when it comes to riding horses.”
Reluctantly, Carole nodded. She knew anything else she said or did would sound like a lame excuse.
Max and Mrs. Reg watched Stevie and Prancer for a while longer. They seemed to enjoy seeing the feisty pair in action as much as Carole. For her part Stevie liked having an audience. She rode as well as she could for the Regnerys. Finally Max excused himself to go give a lesson. Before he left, he complimented Carole once again on her good teaching.
“I think I’ll stick around to watch the end of the lesson,” Mrs. Reg said, her eyes sparkling.
Carole was flattered that Mrs. Reg referred to their schooling session as a lesson. She felt even better when Mrs. Reg put an arm around her and whispered, “Maybe trying isn’t everything, but it sure can help!”
“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Reg!” she cried. Across the ring Prancer used the sudden, loud noise as an excuse to shy. Stevie’s good-natured rebuke brought her right back into line.
Back at the stable Stevie peeled off her riding clothes exhaustedly. “Boy, do I pity your future students,” she announced to Carole. They were sitting in the locker room with Mrs. Reg, enjoying the rosy-cheeked glow that came from riding outdoors in autumn.
Carole rolled her eyes while Mrs. Reg laughed. “I remember watching Max teach his first group lesson. He was about sixteen and had just started getting paid by his father for teaching here. It was a group of little girls on ponies. Anyway, about halfway through the hour, they came into the middle of the ring and told him that they were all either going to faint, be sick, or fall off within the next five minutes, so could they please take a thirty-second break before any of those things happened.”
“Was I that bad?” Carole asked when the giggling had quieted down.
“Worse,” Stevie said. “Today I came several inches closer to being permanently bowlegged.”
It was great to sit and chat with Mrs. Reg. The Saddle Club rarely had a chance just to hang out with her. When they did, it was special and entertaining. They never knew when she would launch into one of her Max stories or share a Pine Hollow secret. Both Carole and Stevie knew that she had something on her mind, though, or she would have been hurrying off to take care of Pine Hollow affairs that kept her endlessly occupied. Sure enough, as soon as Stevie had changed, she got down to business.
“Now, girls,” she began. Stevie and Carole both looked up at the serious tone of her voice. “I know you’ve been busy with the riding part of this rally, but I wanted to remind you that you’ve got the whole rest of the day to think about. And that means—” She paused to let one of the girls supply the end of the sentence.
“Stable management,” they said in unison.
“Yes. Exactly. Stable management. Which means health records, feeding schedules, loading the van, and tack and turnout, among other things.”
“Has Max picked a stable manager yet?” Carole asked. Usually, all of this organizing was supervised by the nonriding member of the team. Everyone was expected to clean her own tack, bathe her own horse, and provide the personal information necessary, but the stable manager pitched in and acted like everyone’s mother in the weeks before the rally. This rally had been planned so hastily that they hadn’t finalized who would take on the job.
“I thought one of the younger kids was going to do it,” Stevie mentioned, recalling Max’s suggestion from the first dressage rally meeting.
“That’s a fine idea,” Mrs. Reg said. “But you guys have got to get cracking and pick someone. Forget May Grover. It’s her birthday that Saturday, and she’s having a big party. In fact, you may have to forget most of the little kids—I think she’s invited all of Willow Creek. Personally, I’d rather go with someone more experienced, anyway. A lot of the unrateds and D-ones haven’t ever been to a rally before.”
“You’ve got a point, Mrs. Reg,” Carole conceded. “Besides, sometimes May and her friends seem to have enough trouble organizing themselves for lessons, let alone organizing all of us for a regional rally. Half the time they show up for class without their hard hats or crops.”
“Exactly,” Mrs. Reg said. “So choose wisely, and be prepared to do a good deal of the work yo
urselves. In the meantime let’s see checklists for everything. This is a real rally, you know, even though there’s no cross-country or stadium.” Mrs. Reg gave them both an encouraging grin before heading out to her office.
When she was safely out of earshot, Stevie groaned. “Was it my imagination, or did she just give us the classic Mrs. Reg I’m-relying-on-you-girls-to-take-charge-or-else look?”
“She gave us the look, all right,” Carole replied dully. “Too bad she didn’t tell us one of her stories. At least then we could have pretended we didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about.”
Stevie nodded. She and Carole both stared at the floor glumly. It seemed as if the rally were taking over their whole lives. Just when they thought they had made progress in one area—getting Prancer ready to compete—Mrs. Reg reminded them about another area that they had been completely neglecting. Obviously she was counting on them. Veronica was never any help in stable management. Betsy and Polly were cooperative and helpful teammates, but they were lazy about cleaning tack. They tended to skimp on things unless someone got after them.
“But we’re no good at this sort of thing, either,” Carole said.
“You mean I’m no good at it, right?” Stevie asked. She knew she wasn’t exactly famous for her untamed enthusiasm for the nittier, grittier side of riding and the stable-management book work.
“No, I really do mean we,” Carole insisted. “I love doing all that stuff on my own for Starlight, but I can never seem to get everyone else as excited as I am.”
“And with people doubling up on practice already, it’s going to be even harder.”
“Maybe Betsy will take over,” Carole suggested hopefully.
“Maybe,” Stevie said.
“Her little sister might want to be stable manager,” Carole pointed out.
“Her little sister is six and hates riding,” Stevie said.
“Oh,” Carole said.
After staring into space for a minute or two more, they got up to go. There was still an hour of daylight left for Carole to ride.
“Look on the bright side,” Stevie said as they went to the tack room. “Prancer is doing much better.”
“And you are, too,” Carole added. At least one part of their Saddle Club project was working. It was just that there suddenly seemed to be about ninety-nine other parts.
“DISGUSTING,” STEVIE COMMENTED. She was examining Topside’s bit before putting it in his mouth. As she suspected, it was coated with scum.
“What?” Carole asked. She had Starlight all tacked up for their special Saturday Horse Wise practice and was waiting for Stevie to join her. Both of them were crossing their fingers that Lisa would show up in the next five minutes.
“Topside’s bit is greener than a pasture in June,” Stevie said succinctly.
“Add it to your list,” Carole said. Since their talk with Mrs. Reg, the two girls had been making mental checklists of what things needed cleaning, organizing, pitching, and/or replacing. Unfortunately, there weren’t many things that didn’t need cleaning, organizing, pitching, and/or replacing.
“My list’s so long I forget what’s on it,” Stevie wailed.
Carole nodded sympathetically. “I know—mine too.” She paused, pressing her lips into a thin, determined line. “After Horse Wise today we are going to have that stable-management meeting with everyone going to the rally, or else. We just can’t keep track of everything—it’s too much.”
As they led Starlight and Topside out to the mounting block, Lisa came running into the stable. “Phew! Made it! I’ll be out in ten minutes!” she exclaimed.
“Make that five—Prancer’s tacked up and waiting in her stall!” Carole called after her.
Lisa spun around, incredulous. “You—?” She didn’t have to elaborate any further.
“Yup, we did,” Stevie said.
“How can I ever thank—” Lisa began.
Carole interrupted with more news. “Stevie’s also been riding Prancer, and I’ve been coaching the two of them.”
Lisa stood speechless for a moment. Then she threw down her bag and embraced both of them in a bear hug. “You’re the best! You’re the absolute best!”
She was totally overwhelmed that her friends had taken the time and trouble not only to groom and tack up her horse but also to school her. Lisa had been wondering all week whether Prancer would be skittish after having two days off. Instead, the mare had been having training sessions with two experienced riders. She had also been wondering about something else all week: whether she should quit the play altogether. The more she tried to fine-tune her schedule, the more desperate for time she felt. And she was not going to sacrifice Prancer’s chances. But now, thanks to Carole and Stevie, it looked as if she wouldn’t have to, even if she stayed in the play.
“We know we’re the best,” Stevie said. “We hear that all the time—from Max, Mrs. Reg, Olympic coaches.… Now get going and get out here.”
“Five minutes!” Lisa promised.
Outdoors in the dressage ring Max had already begun watching riders go through their tests. Mrs. Reg was standing outside the ring. She had copies of all of the tests in her hands and would prompt anyone who forgot hers. Today Max wanted to see the performances in their entirety, to see if breaking them up and working on the hard parts had helped. This would also enable him to plan the remaining lessons before the rally. Several minutes earlier Carole had overheard him joke to Mrs. Reg: “If everyone’s perfect, we’ll just spend next week trail riding.”
“You remember that, boy,” she told Starlight as she walked him on a loose rein to relax them both. She had volunteered to follow Veronica on Garnet, who, she had to admit, were doing quite nicely. Lisa would go next and then Stevie. Carole stole a glance at Topside. He looked wonderful, and Stevie was riding more attentively, thanks to being woken up by Prancer. If only Lisa would do as well.
Carole warmed up efficiently and was ready when Veronica saluted Max a second time. Starlight was getting used to the size of the small ring. He remained quiet but alert as they circled twice around, preparing to enter. In the first movement of the test, however, Carole tensed up and forgot to keep her leg on. The halt was late and uneven. Sternly she reminded herself that Max had told them that every movement counted. If one was horrible, the next one could still be a seven or an eight. “I will not let one bad halt ruin the whole test,” she told herself. Her determination paid off. The rest of the ride went smoothly. The only other major mistake was her forgetting the end of the test and having to be prompted by Mrs. Reg.
As she exited, Max barked out his comments: “Mostly accurate. Good transitions. Watch the first halt. Next please.” He didn’t bother to correct her for the obvious mistake of memory failure. Carole sighed in relief. She had talked herself out of a tough spot, and it had worked.
Lisa gave Carole the thumbs-up sign on Carole’s way out. Lisa had only had a few minutes to warm up, and she felt rushed and under pressure. As quickly as possible after her ride, she’d have to get back to WCCT.
After another turn around the ring, Lisa urged Prancer forward, and they entered at a smart trot. Then they halted promptly and squarely. Carole stole a glance back in Max’s direction and saw the trace of a smile on his lips. By her entrance alone it was easy to see what a wonderful dressage horse Prancer might be someday. She had an eye-catching trot and carried herself beautifully.
Unfortunately, her entrance alone had to serve as proof of her potential. Unlike Carole’s first halt, Lisa’s turned out to be the best moment in her test. As soon as she turned the corner at C, Lisa seemed to lose all confidence. The others watched as she sat frozen in the saddle, a stricken look on her face. Prancer was behaving fine, but Lisa seemed nervous all the same. She gave every aid about three strides too late. When she did ask for a new gait, she overdid it, sending Prancer leaping forward into a canter instead of quietly picking up a trot. Midway through the ride Lisa halted at the side of the ring. “May I
start over, Max?” she asked, her voice quavering.
Max agreed readily.
Lisa walked quietly for a few minutes, organizing her thoughts. She felt stiff all over. Her neck ached from stress, and her legs felt cramped from the long choreography rehearsal they’d had at WCCT the day before. “I won’t let you down,” she whispered fiercely to Prancer, stroking her neck. Silently she reminded herself that she couldn’t disappoint Stevie and Carole, who had worked so hard to help her, or Max, who had been so patient. She took a deep breath and started over.
She hadn’t thought things could go any worse, but she was wrong. Before, Prancer had sensed Lisa’s nervousness. Now she decided to take advantage of it. She trotted right through the halting point, ignoring Lisa’s snatches at the reins. When she did halt, she fussed with the bit. At the far corner she shied at her own shadow and refused to settle down. This time Max was the first to speak. “Why don’t you warm up a bit more, Lisa?” he suggested. “You can ride your test last.”
Suddenly more determined than nervous, Lisa brought the mare to a halt by sheer willpower. Mrs. Spitz would have a fit if Lisa showed up to rehearsal that late. “I can’t ride last, Max. I just can’t today. I’m sure it will go better now. Can’t I try?” she pleaded.
Max came over to Prancer’s side. In a quiet voice, so that no one could overhear, he asked, “What do you think is going wrong today, Lisa?”
Lisa stuck out her lower lip stubbornly. “I don’t know.”
“Perhaps if you spent more time riding, the test would go better,” he said gently.
“I’m doing everything I can!” Lisa wailed. “I have a schedule to keep, but it’s getting harder and harder to stick to it. The only reason I could come to Pony Club today is that the director is working with the chorus for an hour and then with the adult leads for a half hour. She gave me permission to come to Horse Wise until noon, and it’s not much time, but it’s all I’ve got! It’s absolutely all I’ve got!”
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