Tic-Tac

by Leslie McDonald

  Tic-Tac

  Leslie Baird McDonald

  Previously published in 1973 by Dodd, Mead & Company

  Copyright © 2013 Leslie Baird McDonald

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1492859966

  ISBN 13: 9781492859963

  Other Titles by

  Leslie Baird McDonald

  Making Magic

  Down the Aisle

  Musings of a Horse Farm Corgi

  For my friend

  Florine Oppenheimer,

  a horsewoman

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter One

  Terry Allen looked hopefully down the street, but there was no sign of a small, red bus. Too excited to stand still, she rubbed a speck of dirt from her shiny black jumping boots.

  “The bus should be here,” she thought frantically. “Is this the wrong corner? Have they gone without me? I can’t be late the first day!”

  Just then a horn honked. Terry looked up with relief to see a red bus coming toward her. An excited chill raced through her as she read the bold lettering on the side: BRIAR HILL STABLES … HUNTERS AND JUMPERS. She waved as it screeched to a stop at the curb.

  The door swung open to reveal a tall, stocky man in the driver’s seat. “Teresa Allen?” he demanded.

  When Terry nodded, he grinned. “My name’s Billy.” He motioned her onto the bus. “Don’t just stand there! We’re late. Captain gets mad when people are late. C’mon, c’mon! Climb aboard!”

  Terry quickly scrambled through the door. “Take a seat any place,” Billy told her as the bus lurched into motion.

  There were ten other passengers, each dressed in neatly tailored riding habits. Terry glanced at her own clothes, proud of the new buff breeches and boots that had replaced her faded blue jeans and tennis shoes.

  “Have a seat,” a boy sitting in front offered. “I’m Bobby Kramer. What’s your name?”

  “Terry Allen,” she replied, dropping awkwardly beside him as they rounded a corner. “Thought I’d missed the bus for sure. Hope it’s not always this late.”

  Bobby shook his head. “The first day is always confusing getting the new routes right.”

  “Have you ridden at Briar Hill before?” Terry asked.

  “About two years,” Bobby answered. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at the stable.”

  “This will be my first time,” Terry told him. “I used to ride at a small farm near my home. The owner, Mr. Martin, taught kids to ride free if they’d groom his horses or clean saddles and bridles. We even jumped a little.”

  “Sounds neat,” Bobby agreed. “Why’d you switch to Briar Hill?”

  “At first my parents tried to ignore how crazy I was about horses,” Terry explained. “They thought I’d lose interest. But when I fell off a few times and still kept riding, they decided I needed some good lessons so I wouldn’t break my neck. We asked around and found Briar Hill was the best.”

  “You’ll love it,” Bobby assured her. “Captain Riskin, the owner, knows everything about horses. He was a German cavalry officer. Won all sorts of European jumping awards. That was before he came to America about twenty-five years ago. He doesn’t ride much any more because he hurt his back, but when he does, he’s the absolute tops! You’ll know what I mean when you see him.”

  Bobby looked out the window as the bus stopped in front of another girl in riding clothes. Terry took advantage of the silence to look around. All of the other passengers were talking noisily except for a stern-faced blonde girl who sat alone across the aisle from Terry.

  The bus started up and lurched around a corner. The abrupt motion threw the blonde’s riding crop on the floor at Terry’s feet. She picked it up, enjoying the feel of rich tan leather.

  “Nice crop,” she said, replacing it on the blonde’s seat.

  The girl glanced at Terry. “Thanks,” was her only reply as she turned to look back out the window.

  Terry’s attention was distracted by the voice of a girl behind her who was speaking in an imitation German accent. “And then he said, ‘Come forward with ze horse! What you think you doing? Forward!”

  Everyone on the bus burst into laughter. The girl caught her breath and continued in her regular voice. “But no matter how hard I kicked that darn horse, he wouldn’t budge. Captain kept yelling louder and louder … honest, I thought he’d have a heart attack! His face was so red!”

  Terry wondered what Captain Riskin was really like. After hearing the girl’s story, she began to doubt her decision to leave easy-going Mr. Martin where she had had fun and he had never yelled when she made a mistake.

  A plump redhead got on the bus. Grinning at everyone, she poked one of the four boy passengers in the ribs before flopping down on the vacant seat behind Bobby and Terry.

  “Hi, Liz,” Bobby greeted. “Bet you thought we’d forgotten you.”

  Liz wrinkled her nose and cracked the big wad of gum in her mouth. “No chance!”

  “Terry, this is Liz Roberts,” Bobby said. “Liz, this is Terry Allen. She’s new to Briar Hill.”

  Liz grinned at Terry through a full set of shiny braces. “No kidding? Did Bobby tell you about the ‘tyrant of the tackroom’?”

  “Who?” Terry asked.

  Liz cracked the gum again. “Good ol’ Captain Riskin!”

  “He’s not that bad,” Bobby defended. “If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be falling off once a week, Liz.”

  “You should have seen her last winter,” Bobby told Terry. “She fell off so often, you could have set a watch by her.”

  “That’s not fair!” Liz protested, “Bet you can’t remember the last time I fell off!”

  “How ‘bout last Saturday?” one of the boys in the back of the bus snickered.

  “What?” Liz screeched. “Keep you mouth shut, Whitney! You know that little kid scared my horse. It’s not my fault I lost my balance!”

  “Hold it down!” Billy roared over his shoulder. “I gotta drive in this traffic.”

  Liz angrily snapped her gum. “Whitney Blake makes me so mad! He’s always around with I do something wrong. As if Saturday wasn’t bad enough, Captain caught me dropping a candy wrapper in his precious ring. He made me pick up twenty-five pieces of paper from around the stable before I could go home!”

  “Why not quit if you’re unhappy?” Terry asked.

  Liz shrugged. “I like riding even though I make a lot of mistakes. After three years of Summer Club, I should be an honorary member. Maybe this summer I’ll make the show team.”

  “What’s Summer Club like?” Terry asked.

  Liz snorted. “Captain calls the summer riding program ‘Summer Club,’ but ‘Summer Work’ is a better name.”

  Bobby poked Liz. “Ignore her, Terry. She’ll make you want to quit before you get started.”

  Terry shook her head with a laugh. “Impossible! I’m too excited!”

  “There are twelve students in the course,” Bobby explained. “All of us but you have ridden with Captain before.”

  “I’ve never even seen the stable,” Terry told him.

  “It’s beautiful,” Bobby assured her. “Once you see it, you’ll never want to leave.”

  “Wish I didn’t have to, but Dad is only paying for Summer Club,” Terry said sadly.

  “Why?” Bobby asked with surprise. “Lessons aren’t that expensive.”

  Terry nodded. “They are for me. But, I won’t worry
about it now. I’ve got the whole summer to look forward to.”

  “Who knows?” Bobby consoled. “Something may come up.”

  The bus turned a corner and bounced down a gravel road. To her left, Terry saw a huge riding ring, surrounded on three sides by a wooden grandstand. Neatly painted jumps were carefully spaced along the rail and across the infield grass.

  Terry caught her breath as a slim woman gracefully jumped a grey horse over a stone wall. “What a wonderful summer!” she thought happily.

  The bus jerked to a stop in the stable yard. “We’re half an hour late!” Billy barked at his passengers. “Are you waiting for an invitation? Go on! Captain’s waiting!” He laughed as the rider scrambled off the bus.

  While the other students hurried inside, Terry stopped to admire the stable. The long, red brick, ivy-covered barn was complete with clock tower. She closed her eyes, imagining red-coated huntsmen mounted on sleek horses gathering in the courtyard. She could almost heat muffled hoofs galloping away behind baying hounds.

  A horse whinnied in the barn, snapping her out of her daydream. She rushed through the open double doors, finding herself alone in wide hallway. Not knowing which way to go, Terry looked along the three stable aisles that led off the main corridor.

  Liz poked her head out of a door at the far end of the hallway. “Terry! Down here in the clubroom. Hurry up!”

  Not wanting to be late, Terry darted down the hall and into the clubroom. As she raced through the door, she collided with a stocky, gray-haired man in riding clothes who stood just inside the doorway. He lurched forward, grabbing onto a chair for balance. Terry stumbled over his leg and sprawled on the floor in front of him.

  The man glared angrily down at her, his face flushed and hair rumpled. “WHAT IS THIS?” he sputtered with a thick German accent. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU DOING?”

  A terrified hush filled the room as Terry scrambled to her feet.

  “You belong in this class?” he demanded.

  She nodded fearfully.

  “Why are you not here on time like the others?” he roared. “I do not tolerate lateness! Around horses one must always be prompt! Do you know what this means? NO! You do not or you would not run in late like a crazy person!”

  He paused to catch his breath and smooth back his hair. When he spoke again, he was in control of his temper. “You I do not recognize. What is your name?”

  “Terry Allen,” she answered her voice barely above a whisper.

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, the new girl. I am Captain Riskin. I am sorry I yell. You did not know. This time we forget your mistake. But, next time you will not be late.”

  Terry quickly nodded with relief. For a moment, she had feared she would be expelled from the course before it began. “I’m really sorry,” she apologized.

  “Now go join the others so we can continue,” Captain Riskin directed.

  He folded his hands behind his back and resumed his stance in front of the door. “This is a ten week course. We meet five mornings a week, three hours a day. During that time, you will be quiet and listen to instruction. Do you know what quiet means, Liz?”

  Liz stopped whispering to the girl next to her and cracked her gum. “Yes, sir.”

  “No gum chewing in class!” he scolded. “Spit it in the basket. You are an equestrian, not a cow!”

  Captain Riskin turned toward an attractive young woman dressed in a riding habit who was sitting beside the door. “Most of you know my assistant, Karen Wilson.”

  “Hope she teaches me,” Terry thought, preferring the girl’s soft smile to the Captain’s impatient, stern expression.

  “Today we do not ride,” the Captain told the class.

  “Aw, Captain,” the students protested.

  He held up his hands for silence. “Today we talk, but tomorrow there will be much riding. You will each be assigned a horse to care for and ride the entire summer. Each day we begin with a lecture on horses and riding. Then you will groom your horses. When they are clean, I will inspect. If you pass inspection, you will saddle and bridle your horse. If you do not pass, you will continue to groom until I am satisfied. We will ride for one and a half hours. After the lesson, you will cool out your horses and put them away.

  “Our major goal this summer is the Westfield Horse Show the last week in August,” he continued. “At the end of eight weeks, there will be try-outs to choose a team of three people to represent Briar Hill at the show.

  “If you listen and work hard, you will have a wonderful summer,” he promised. “But to have fun, we must have rules.”

  While Captain Riskin outlined the rules, Terry looked around the room. Paneled in walnut, it was small and cozy. A red leather sofa edged with gold studs and ten small, wooden chairs formed a semicircle around a large armchair. The walls were hung with pictures of horses jumping fences and winning ribbons. Trophy cases filled with awards framed a large picture window that overlooked the stable yard.

  “But, we also have some fun rules,” the Captain concluded. “I am sure most of you will come unglued from the saddle at least once this summer. There is an old saying that it takes three falls to make a good rider. Since most of my students prove this saying true, I have made a rule. Whenever a person falls off, he must put a quarter in the blue box in my office. The money will be used to help send out team to the horse show.”

  The Captain motioned to Karen who had left the room, but quickly returned lugging a bucket. The students groaned collectively as water sloshed over the edge onto the linoleum floor.

  Captain Riskin beamed gleefully at Karen set the bucket in the center of the room. “Ah, I see that most of you know of this punishment. But, for those who do not, I will explain. When you disobey the rules, you will sit in the bucket until the breeches are wet. Those who have not learned their lesson and disobey a second time will go in head first. If a third lesson is necessary, there is a deep trough in the pasture perfect for dunking.

  He winked at Whitney. “Since you have the most experience, would you like to demonstrate how the bucket works?”

  Whitney shook his head. “No, thanks!”

  “Go on, chicken!” the students jeered.

  “What’s the matter, Whitney?” a boy with curly brown hair hooted, “Scared of a little water?”

  “Quiet, Jerry!” Whitney warned.

  “Grab him! Liz yelped, jumping up with the three other boys to surround Whitney and drag him toward the bucket.

  “Hey! Let go! Whitney screeched, squirming to free himself.

  The class howled with laughter as Whitney’s captors dangled him by his arms and legs over the bucket within inches of the water.

  “Dunk him! Dunk him!” the other students began to chant.

  “Make ‘em stop, Captain!” Whitney pleaded.

  Captain Riskin rumpled the boy’s shaggy brown hair. “All right,” he chuckled. “We will skip the demonstration today. I am sure you will give us other opportunities this summer.”

  “Aw, Captain,” Liz protested, still grasping Whitney’s right leg.

  “Put him down,” the Captain said firmly.

  Reluctantly, Liz and the three boys dropped Whitney on the floor beside the bucket and scurried back to their seats. Whitney got to his feet with a scowl. As he passed Liz’s chair, he yanked one of her braids.

  “Ouch!” she squawked and swung at him.

  “Enough monkey business!” the Captain commanded. “Settle down or I will put you both in the bucket!”

  Captain Riskin took a piece of paper from his pocket. “For better instruction, you will be divided into two groups. To distinguish between them, they will be called the Hunters and the Jumpers. The following will be in the Hunters: Paula Wright will ride Shady Lady;

  Bobby Kramer, Red Sunset; Terry Allen, Tic-Tac; Liz Roberts, Warrior; Whitney Blake, Flip; and Jerry Robbins, Irish Mist.”

  “May I ride Tic-Tac instead of Shady Lady?” the blonde who has sat alone on the bus spoke up when he finished
the list. “I’d like him to be my project for the summer.”

  Captain Riskin shook his head. “No, Paula. There is still much you can learn from Shady Lady. I want to try the new girl and the new horse together. If they don’t get along, then maybe we can discuss switching.”

  “But, Captain,” Paula began to protest.

  “Enough!” he cut her off. “Terry will ride Tic-Tac. Is it understood?”

  Paula nodded, but her lips were set in an angry pout.

  “What’s Tic-Tac like?” Terry asked Liz. “He must be some horse if Paula wants him so badly.”

  Before Liz could answer, the Captain continued. “The rest of you will be in the Jumpers. Gayle Carter, Martini; Donna Stewart, Bachelor Boy; Lois Farrow, Continental; Mary Carson, Chico; Susie Palmer, Merry Chase; and Greg Johnson, Cricket.”

  Captain Riskin’s chair creaked softly as he sat down. “Karen will now give a grooming demonstration in the school aisle.” He impatiently motioned the class to follow his assistant out of the clubroom. “Quickly now! Time is money!”

  A chestnut horse stood quietly in the center of the aisle, cross-tied by chains from the wall with snaps that were attached to either side of his halter. The horse stretched his head out, ears pricked alertly as the students crowded around him.

  Unable to resist stroking the velvety muzzle, Terry ran her fingers along the fine hairs at the edge of the horse’s nostrils. In response, he wiggled his upper lip, letting out a loud whinny.

  “This noble steed is Warrior,” Karen laughed, giving his muscular rump a pat. A puff of dust rose from his coat. “And this is what will greet you each morning. Overnight, these horses transform from sleek, shiny animals into the most horrid dust bags you’ve ever seen. It’s your job to put the shine back before you ride.”

  Finding himself the center of attention, Warrior playfully butted Karen in the back. “Monster!” she laughed, grabbing onto Whitney for balance. “Always trying to steal the show.

  “But this time I think Warrior is trying to remind us of something important,” she added seriously. “When you come to clean your horse in the morning, chances are he’ll be sleeping or eating. If you appear in his stall by surprise, he may be startled. That’s how accidents happen. So always whistle or say ‘good morning’ before entering the stall to avoid catching him off guard.”