THE BET’S ON!
“You know, I’ve been thinking about this bet we’ve got going,” said Gabriel.
“Oh?” Stevie’s heart began to beat faster. Maybe Gabriel was about to chicken out!
“Yeah. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
Stevie smiled to herself. He was trying to find a way to weasel out of it! Maybe there was a chance they could forget this whole thing. “And?” she asked hopefully.
“And I’ve just decided what I’m going to make you do when I win!” he announced gleefully.
“When you win?” she repeated as she felt her face heat up with both anger and disappointment.
“Yeah. When I win. It’s really going to be great!”
“Well, before you start enjoying your little dare too much, you’d better start worrying about what I’m going to make you do when I win,” retorted Stevie quickly. “It’ll go down in the annals of rodeo history!”
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RL 5, 009–012
QUARTER HORSE
A Bantam Skylark Book/September 1998
Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.
“The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller. The Saddle Club design/logo, which consists of a riding crop and a riding hat, is a trademark of Bantam Books.
“USPC” and “Pony Club” are registered trademarks of The United States Pony Clubs, Inc., at The Kentucky Horse Park, 4071 Iron Works Pike, Lexington, KY 40511-8462.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1998 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.
Cover art © 1998 by Paul Casale.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Bantam Books.
eISBN: 978-0-307-82583-4
Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada.
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
v3.1
I would like to express my special thanks
to Sallie Bissell for her help
in the writing of this book.
Contents
Cover
Other Books You Will Enjoy
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Excerpt from The Long Ride
About the Author
“JUST A FEW MORE minutes and I’ll be there!” Stevie whispered happily as she guided her horse through a shallow creek of gurgling blue water. It had been a perfect day—the weather had been warm, the sunlight had sparkled, and a gentle breeze had carried the smell of blooming wildflowers. Now, as the sun was beginning to set, the whole western half of the sky glowed with a rosy light.
“It’s going to be so romantic,” Stevie anticipated out loud. “He’ll be waiting for me at Pioneer Rock. Then we’ll walk our horses along the mesa trail; then, just as the sun disappears below the horizon, he’ll take me in his arms and …” She closed her eyes with a shiver of delight, then sat forward in the saddle and urged Belle faster. “Come on, Belle, let’s hurry! We don’t want to be late!”
Stevie looked down at Belle. It seemed funny. She couldn’t remember bringing her own horse on this trip, but it was Belle she was riding. Her mount had the same thick, dark mane, the same easy canter, and the same familiar whinny Stevie had come to love. She was definitely on board Belle, and Belle was taking her to meet Phil.
Wait. Stevie frowned as Belle cantered faster. Wasn’t Phil out rafting on a river with his family? Hadn’t he invited Stevie to go along? That she remembered clearly. Now, if Phil was out on some river, then who was Belle taking her to meet?
Suddenly Belle began to slow down. They were nearing Pioneer Rock, but oddly, someone had constructed an ice cream shop there. A familiar red-and-white awning shaded the tables and chairs in the front window. Stevie blinked in amazement. It was TD’s, their hangout in Virginia! A tall figure was waiting for her by the front door. There’s Phil, she thought, smiling as Belle carried her closer. I can tell by the way he stands with his hands in his pockets.
Stevie looked more closely at the figure by the door. Wait. Phil’s not that tall, and his hair’s not that dark, and he never wears a cowboy hat. Suddenly she pulled hard on Belle’s right rein. Phil wasn’t standing there waiting for her! Gabriel was!
“No!” Stevie cried, sitting up straight, her heart pounding. Droplets of cold sweat ran down her neck, and for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath. Where was she? Where was Phil? And where was Belle?
She looked around and forced herself to take several deep, slow breaths. Carole and Lisa lay on either side of her, their sleeping bags pulled up to their chins. Ten covered wagons made a large circle around them, and in the middle of that circle, Stevie could see the orange glow of a banked campfire.
“Now I remember,” she whispered. “We’re here, out West, reenacting part of the pioneers’ journey on the Oregon Trail.” A week before, Deborah Hale, Max Regnery’s wife, had asked The Saddle Club to join her on this trip and help her do field research for an article she was supposed to write. Deborah had had to return unexpectedly to Virginia, but Jeremy Barksdale, the wagon master, had offered to take The Saddle Club girls under his wing so that they could complete the trip. Now here they were, wearing genuine pioneer clothes, eating genuine pioneer food, driving one covered wagon, three horses, and a cow along part of the Oregon Trail.
“Whew!” Stevie wiped the sweat from the back of her neck as she remembered with a shudder how it felt to have Belle carrying her toward obnoxious Gabriel. “Thank goodness that was only a dream.” She plumped up her pillow. “Or I should say nightmare.”
Stevie and the other girls had met Gabriel their first day out West. Though he was just another participant in the wagon train reenactment, Jeremy had made him assistant trail boss because he knew so much history about the Oregon Trail. Gabriel was tall and handsome and rode like a dream, but Stevie thought he was the biggest jerk on the planet. Throughout the trip his know-it-all attitude had been almost unbearable. Once he’d given her a long lecture when he’d mistakenly thought she was trying to race her team of horses; then he’d tried to outdo her in ghost-story telling; then he’d informed her that the only rodeo event she was fit to enter was the cow chip tossing contest!
“Jerk,” Stevie muttered as she settled back down in her sleeping bag. “Now he’s even intruding in my dreams. If this keeps up, I’ll be afraid to go to sleep!” She rolled over and c
losed her eyes. She needed to get some rest. On the wagon train their days started at five-thirty and did not end until sunset.
She took a few more deep breaths and tried to concentrate on something pleasant—like Phil. He’s so cute, Stevie thought with a smile. He’s got such pretty green eyes and such a nice smile. Suddenly Gabriel’s face appeared before her—his deep blue eyes sparkling as he smiled, and—Stevie shook her head, evaporated Gabriel, and again pictured Phil. He’s got such a nice laugh, she thought. And he looks so good on his horse, Teddy. Again Gabriel materialized. He, too, had a nice laugh, when he was laughing with her instead of at her, and he sat his quarter horse as if he’d been born on it. Stevie sighed and tried to force her thoughts back to all the wonderful times she’d had with Phil when suddenly the cute little dimple in Gabriel’s cheek flashed through her head.
“This just isn’t working!” she said, more awake than ever. She turned over and plunged her fist into her pillow. “I’m going to try counting sheep.” She closed her eyes and pictured sheep leaping over the corral fence. Their white coats were fluffy and they baaed as they leaped through the air, but she found herself wondering where they would go and what they would do, and whether they would be able to find their way back to the corral. Her eyes flew open again. She sighed once more and rolled over.
“Maybe this time I’ll try horses,” she whispered as she punched her pillow a second time. “I’ll start with the first horse I ever knew and work my way up.” She pictured the first horse she had ever climbed on—a Shetland pony named Brownie. She had been three years old, and her mother had snapped a picture of her. Wonder what ever happened to Brownie, Stevie thought, her mind veering off in another direction. I wonder if he’s still giving little kids rides at that carnival … I wonder if he still has those shaggy blond bangs. She’d just begun to worry if they were giving an old pony like Brownie the right kind of feed when she opened her eyes and sat up in her sleeping bag once again.
“This is terrible,” she whispered, looking over at Carole and Lisa as they slept peacefully under the starry sky. “If I try to think of Phil, I think of Gabriel. If I try to count sheep, I start wondering where they go when they leave the corral. And when I think of all the horses I’ve known, I worry about what’s become of them.” She looked at the ghostly shapes of the covered-wagon tops. I wonder what the pioneers counted when they had insomnia. Probably all the aches and pains they got from riding in their wagons, she decided, wiggling around to make her sore rear end more comfortable.
Suddenly she grinned. “I’ve got it,” she whispered. “The perfect solution. It’s endless and boring enough to put me right to sleep.” She fluffed her pillow for the final time and rolled over on her side. Smiling, she closed her eyes and began counting softly to herself.
“The first annoying thing Gabriel did was stand up and brag about how only brave men opened up the West.… The second annoying thing Gabriel did was to insinuate that I didn’t know how to hitch up a team of horses to a wagon.… The third annoying thing Gabriel did was to tell me that in the old days menfolk never relied on womenfolk.… The fourth annoying thing …” Stevie was just about to recount what the fourth annoying thing was when her eyelids fluttered once and she finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
“STEVIE!” THE NEXT THING Stevie heard was a voice, calling from somewhere above her head.
“Hmmmpf,” she replied, snuggling back down in her sleeping bag and trying to reenter the dream she was having about Phil.
“Stevie, wake up! We’re going to delay the whole wagon train if we don’t get going!”
Stevie opened one eye. Lisa stood above her, already wearing the pioneer dress she’d worn throughout the trip. Her hair was combed back behind her ears, and her blue eyes looked rested from a good night’s sleep.
“What time is it?” Stevie croaked.
“It’s almost six. Everyone’s already eating breakfast.”
Stevie rubbed her eyes. Carole and Lisa, dressed in their pioneer clothes, were looking down at her. “You guys go on. I’ll catch up to you in a few minutes.”
“You won’t go back to sleep, will you?” Carole asked dubiously.
“No.” Stevie shook her head. “I’m awake. I’ll be there as soon as I get dressed.”
Stevie crawled out of her sleeping bag while Carole and Lisa walked over to the chuck wagon. On the far side of the circle she could see Shelly Bean, the camp cook, dishing out the hot cornmeal mush that everyone ate for breakfast. Quickly she rolled up her sleeping bag and climbed into the wagon. After she stashed her pillow and blankets, she pulled on her own scratchy dress and brushed her teeth in the bucket of water that Lisa had hung behind the driver’s seat. Stevie gave her hair a quick brushing, then jumped out of the wagon. As she walked over to join her friends for breakfast, she noticed that an air of excitement hung over the wagon train. Today was their last full day on the trail. That afternoon they would roll into Clinchport and start preparing for the local rodeo.
“Morning, Stevie,” Polly Shaver called from the back of her wagon. Polly was a dance instructor from Cleveland and one of the new friends the girls had made on their trip. She pointed her camera at Stevie, then lowered it again. “I was going to take your picture, but you look a little tired.”
“I didn’t sleep too well,” Stevie replied with a yawn.
“You must have been dreaming about the rodeo,” Polly teased.
“I wish.” Stevie shook her head as she walked over to Lisa and Carole. More like I was having nightmares about the dumb old assistant trail boss, she thought glumly.
“Hi, Stevie. Glad you made it.” Carole stepped forward as Stevie slipped into line behind her. Carole wore her long dark hair in a single braid so that her cowboy hat would fit easily on her head. “Did you have trouble sleeping last night? I vaguely remember you sitting up and mumbling something about counting sheep.”
“I had a terrible night last night,” grumbled Stevie as she grabbed a tin cup and plate. “Sheep were only a few of the things I tried to count.”
The breakfast line inched forward. “Why, here come my three favorite girls from Virginia.” Shelly grinned through his curly gray beard as the girls neared his steaming pot of mush. “Step right up here and let me give you a good, hot breakfast. You’ll need lots of energy if we’re gonna roll into Clinchport today.”
Shelly loaded their plates. Then they dipped out some milk from the bucket on the chuck wagon and sat down close to the fire. Though the sun was up, last night’s chill had not left the air. The girls ate quickly and hurried back to their wagon to get ready to go. Lisa packed up their gear while Stevie and Carole went to the corral to get Yankee, Doodle, and Nikkia, their horses. The girls had just started to lead them back to the wagon when they saw Gabriel walking toward them.
“Oh, brother,” Stevie sighed as she pulled Yankee and Doodle along behind her. “Here comes Mr. Know-It-All.”
“Maybe he won’t be such a jerk today,” Carole whispered, holding Nikkia’s halter as Gabriel sauntered up to them wearing his usual smug smile.
“Hi, ladies,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I noticed you were late for breakfast. Is your wagon going to be ready for the final push to Clinchport?”
“It is,” snapped Stevie.
“Well, you’ll be driving behind Mr. Cate’s wagon today,” he said. “It’s your turn to ride drag.”
“No kidding,” Stevie muttered.
Gabriel smirked. “And you might want to consider wearing a bonnet and a bandanna over your nose. I’d hate for all that nasty dust to mess up your hair.”
“Thanks for thinking of us, Mr. Assistant Trail Boss,” Stevie said. “I don’t know what we womenfolk would do without you.”
“My pleasure,” he said, striding off to help Karen Nicely with her horse’s bridle.
“Ugh.” Stevie clenched her fists. “Sometimes he makes me so mad I don’t know what to do.”
“Just take it easy, Stevie,” said
Carole. “We’ve only got one more day to put up with him as assistant trail boss.”
“You’re right,” Stevie said as she led the two big quarter horses to the wagon traces. “How bad can it be?”
A few minutes later, The Saddle Club was ready to roll. Stevie took her usual place driving the wagon, and Carole rode Nikkia alongside. Lisa was in charge of Veronica, the milk cow, who more or less ambled along behind her. In the past five days the girls had grown accustomed to their pioneer jobs and now did them easily and well. Stevie watched for Jeremy’s signal to roll forward as she gathered the reins in her hand.
“Oooh, do you have to ride in the back today?” a small voice called. Stevie peered down in front of the horses. There stood Eileen, the eight-year-old brat whose wailing over a lost teddy bear had caused a cattle stampede two nights before. It was only through Carole’s quick thinking and The Saddle Club’s great teamwork with Gabriel that an entire herd of rampaging longhorns had been diverted away from the wagon train encampment.
“Yes, we are,” said Stevie. “And I thought you were supposed to be riding in the back of your parents’ wagon.”
“I was,” replied Eileen. “But I apologized so hard for everything I’d done and I cried so many tears over it that they let me out.” She gave Stevie a sly grin. “They said now I can go anywhere I want.”
“Oh?” Stevie raised one eyebrow.
“Yes. I could even stand here in front of your wagon all day if I wanted to.”
“You might get run over,” Stevie pointed out.
“I would not! You wouldn’t dare run over me!”
“Oh, brother,” Stevie said to herself. She was just about to reply when Eileen’s mother called to her daughter in an irritated voice. In a flash, the little girl had turned and was running toward her own wagon. “Saved by the bell,” Stevie muttered.
Slowly the wagons began to move forward. Stevie popped Yankee and Doodle’s reins and took her place at the end of the line. Farther ahead, Lisa and Veronica were posing for Polly’s camera, and Carole had ridden Nikkia forward to help someone sort out a nervous horse. At the head of the wagon train, Stevie could see Gabriel, leading the way.
Quarter Horse Page 1