Sheila saw Carole floating on her back, rising and falling with the swell of the ocean. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew that, one way or another, Carole was no longer being held by the riptide. It meant that it might be safe to swim near her now.
“Over there, boy,” she told Maverick, aiming the pony toward Carole.
It took another few minutes for the pony and rider to reach Carole. Although Sheila and Maverick were both exhausted by the difficult swim, Sheila knew that they had more strength left than Carole, who seemed barely aware of where she was.
Sheila checked her balance, leaned over, and grabbed her cousin’s arm. “Come on up here, girl,” she commanded.
“Wake me later,” Carole said. “Later. I’ll sleep now.” She closed her eyes again.
Sheila pulled. She pulled as hard as she could, drawing Carole up out of the water. She finally managed to get her onto Maverick’s back in front of her. Carole slumped forward. Sheila didn’t know how well she’d stay there, but it was the best she could do. It was time to begin the long journey back to the beach.
Carole felt the pony’s mane in her face. She didn’t know what horse it was, but it was a nice horse. It smelled of the ocean, but it smelled of horse, too. That was a good smell.
“Nice horse,” she mumbled, hugging the horse tightly.
Sheila wasn’t sure why Carole was holding on to Maverick so tightly, but she was glad. It was keeping her from sliding off into the ocean again.
Maverick seemed to understand that he had to get back to shore. Sheila knew he couldn’t have much energy left, nor did she. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if they didn’t reach land soon.
One of the first rules of riding is that you always look where you want your horse to go. On dry land a horse might misunderstand the slight changes in balance caused by a turned head and shift his own direction. Sheila didn’t know if it was the same in the water, but that seemed logical. She stared at the shore ahead as it drew closer and closer. She was only barely aware of their progress as Maverick swam through the surf that was now helping to carry them to safety. The pony pushed himself up and rode on the force of the waves, grasping for footing each time the ocean set them back down again, each time a little closer to shore.
Sheila saw people gathered on the beach. She thought she saw some men wading into the surf with life preservers and ropes. She thought she saw an ambulance. Then she thought she saw her father and Carole’s father.
But she was too tired to be sure. She knew only that she and her pony and her cousin were going toward the shore. They were going to get there.
Maverick’s feet struck sand. He was walking now, not swimming. He struggled with the weight of the two girls on his back; he struggled with his own exhaustion. He took more steps. He paused. Without any signal from Sheila, he walked forward again toward the beach, the dry sand, and safety.
Sheila heard voices. She saw hands reaching for her and for Carole. She felt Maverick snort weakly and then stumble. That was the last thing she remembered for a long while.
Sheila and Carole ended up in the hospital, but they both recovered quickly and completely from the ordeal. Thanks to Sheila’s quick thinking and her pony’s courage, they’re perfectly fine today. Maverick will be fine, too, though it will take him a little longer to recover. He’s got some lameness, and the vet said there was some strain on his heart. But I think he proved that his heart is big enough to handle just about anything. Sheila probably won’t ride him as much anymore—she was outgrowing him anyway, and her parents just bought her a new, larger horse—but she will always take care of him and always love him. Because no matter what the size of Maverick’s body, the size of his love was never in question.
That’s why he was able to help his owner when she needed it, and why he was able to save Carole. It was the same with Sheila herself. She didn’t hesitate to lay her own life on the line to save her cousin’s. And Maverick didn’t hesitate to do whatever his beloved owner asked of him, never wavering, no matter what the cost to himself. Because of their generous, brave, wonderful spirits, Carole is alive and well today. It all just goes to show the true power and value of people—and ponies—helping other people.
FROM: LAtwood
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Your favorite: HOMEWORK!!!
MESSAGE:
Hi, Stevie! It’s too late to call, but I wanted to tell you I just finished my “People Helping People” essay. I decided not to write about what happened with Alice after all. Instead, I asked Carole if I could write about what happened to her in Florida. I even talked to her cousin on the phone to get her side of the story, and I think the essay turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. You can read it sometime if you want.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I think your idea to write about Alice was a good one. And I thought I could just use what I wrote about it in my diary, more or less. But I thought my teacher might not be interested in every little detail about Pine Hollow and the rest of it, and when I wrote down what was left it was too short—the essay had to be at least five pages long and the Alice essay was barely three.
Still, I think the last paragraph of the Alice essay was pretty good, and I couldn’t stand to just delete it. So I figured I’d put it in my diary, and I thought you might like to see it, too. Here it is:
People Helping People
an essay by Lisa Atwood (abridged version)
(First five paragraphs: description of what happened with Alice, which you already know, Stevie …)
In the end, Stevie and I realized two very important things. The first was that you can only help someone who wants to be helped. We thought we could help Alice learn to jump just because we wanted her to jump. But it didn’t work because she didn’t want to learn. She didn’t want our help, as she told us in no uncertain terms. That leads me to the second lesson we learned, which is that sometimes you just have to learn to mind your own business. It’s nice to want to help everyone, but you don’t always know what’s best for other people, and you shouldn’t force your own opinions on them. That’s what we did with Alice. We assumed that just because we love jumping, she should love it, too, and we didn’t bother to stop long enough to ask her if she wanted our help. That wasn’t right. It didn’t help her one bit. And that’s the most important lesson of all: Everyone is different, and you can only be a truly helpful person if you always remember that.
Thornbury Hall
London, England
Dear Lisa,
I just got your last letter, and I wanted to write back right away. I think I really understand what you’re saying—you know, about our falling out of touch and your trying to sound mature and everything. I guess I never thought much about it before, but I do kind of still have this picture of you in my head. You’re about eight years old and you’re showing me a picture you painted of me in art class. It’s one of my favorite memories and probably always will be, but I know I have to start remembering that you’re not that little girl anymore, right? I mean, I’m going to try to remember that.
It’s kind of tough being away from home for so long and missing that sort of stuff, like you growing up and everything. I mean, I wouldn’t trade any of my experiences in college for anything. I don’t think I could have stayed closer to home—I needed to get some distance from Mom and Dad and figure out how to be my own person. Or something like that. Do I sound like some kind of pop psychologist or what?
But anyway, being on my own, making my own choices, living my own life has been really great. Of course, it’s a little scary to think about how much more on my own I’ll be in a few months when I graduate. I mean—REAL LIFE. It’s a weird thought in a way. I guess I’m sort of glad that I have that real estate job lined up. It makes things a little less uncertain. But in another way I can’t help wondering if it’s really what I want to do. Maybe I’m just copping out, taking the first “real job” that comes along because Mom and Dad
keep bugging me about it.
Sorry to sound like such a downer. I guess your letter kind of made me think about things, but now that I look back over what I’ve written, I’m tempted to chuck this whole letter in the Thames and start again.
But maybe I won’t. You’re a big girl now, right? I guess you can handle a big brother who’s not perfect. Anyway, I’m glad you wrote me about what you’re really thinking and feeling. Not only does it help me with my screenplay, but more importantly it shows me what you’re really like these days since I can’t be there to see for myself. But just because I can’t be there doesn’t mean we can’t be friends as well as brother and sister. Right?
Oh, and by the way—I still love peanut butter and banana sandwiches as much as ever. In fact, I wish I could have one now, but peanut butter isn’t big here.
Write back soon.
Love,
Peter
Dear Diary,
I’m really glad I took a chance and opened up with my brother. This time I’m not nervous at all about writing back. In fact, I’m looking forward to it. And this time, I’m not even going to bother with a rough draft!
I’m also going to beg him to send me part of his screenplay whenever he has something written. I’m dying to see how my friends and I come out in it!
FROM: LAtwood
TO: HorseGal
SUBJECT: Congratulate me …
MESSAGE:
Guess what? I got my “People (and Ponies) Helping People” essay back today. And I got an A+! My teacher said it was one of the most exciting essays she’s ever read. She said her phone rang while she was reading it, and she couldn’t put it down—she just let the answering machine take the call. Isn’t that cool?
So thanks again for letting me use your story. Actually, I rushed right over to Pine Hollow to show you my grade after school today—I forgot you had that dentist’s appointment. So you’ll just have to come over and see it sometime. I may even have it framed! Ha ha! Oh, and I’m definitely going to enclose a copy in my next letter to my brother. I’m sure he’ll want to use it in his movie.
Dear Diary,
Sorry I haven’t written in a few weeks. It’s harder than I expected to keep up with this diary—my homework has kept me pretty busy lately. But I just turned in my big science report and we don’t have any creative writing assignments due for a couple of weeks. It’s a good thing, too, since my friends and I are up to our necks in other sorts of work!
It all started at our Pony Club meeting this morning. No, actually, it started just before that—in Stevie’s room. The three of us were hanging for a little while before we had to leave for the stable. As usual, her room was a disaster area, with clothes, books, papers, and who knows what else scattered everywhere. I guess Mrs. Lake noticed, too, because she stopped by to tell Stevie that she couldn’t leave for Pine Hollow until she’d cleaned it all up. There was no way one person was going to be able to do that in time, so Carole and I pitched in to help. It wasn’t easy, but we all made it to the meeting in time. Barely.
Oh, and one other thing. While we were working, we somehow ended up talking about Dorothy DeSoto’s wedding. It really is pretty romantic—I mean, I guess it only makes sense for a famous former competitive show rider like Dorothy to marry a member of the British Equestrian Team like Nigel Hawthorne. But it still sounds like something out of a fairy tale—a horsey fairy tale, since they’re having the wedding at Dorothy’s stable. I just feel lucky that Dorothy used to ride at Pine Hollow and that that means we know her.
Anyway, the meeting was fun. We played games on horseback, then Max made an announcement. “We’re going to have a visitor next week,” he told us. “Dorothy DeSoto will be here. She’s bringing a friend—a special friend …”
My friends and I exchanged glances. I couldn’t believe it. We had just been talking about Dorothy earlier this morning, and now she’s coming for a visit!
“… a gentleman who is a member of the British Equestrian Team,” Max went on, “Mr. Nigel Hawthorne. Mr. Hawthorne is coming here because his team is competing in the Washington Horse Show.”
Everybody was excited about that, because the Washington Horse Show is a major event on the horse-show calendar, and it’s held very close to Willow Creek. But I had another question.
“Aren’t they about to get married?” I blurted out, remembering our conversation. “I mean, shouldn’t there be parties and dress fittings—stuff like that?”
Max smiled. “Yes, they are about to get married, but business has to come before pleasure. This is going to be Nigel’s last show before the wedding. His team is going on to Italy for a show after this. He and Dorothy will have their wedding the following weekend.”
“You mean Nigel won’t go to Italy?” Stevie asked. “What’s his team going to do?”
“They’ll manage,” Max assured her. “All these teams have a couple of alternate riders so that if one member has to be someplace else or if a rider’s horse is lamed and can’t compete, they’ll still have a full team. Nigel has somebody to stand in for him while he and Dorothy get married and have a honeymoon. Anyway, Dorothy will be here for our meeting next week. I’ve asked her to talk with you all about training championship show horses.”
That was exciting news. Not only is Dorothy one of the nicest people in the world, but she knows just about everything there is to know about training. I’m sure her talk will be really interesting.
What Max told Carole after the meeting was pretty interesting, too. She was going to tell us all about it when we got to TD’s, but getting there took a little longer than usual, because Mrs. Reg stopped us as we were leaving and insisted that Stevie clean Topside’s tack for real, not just with the “lick and a promise” method she’d obviously decided to use that day. Naturally, Carole and I pitched in to help—again.
Anyway, sitting around cleaning tack together gave Carole the perfect opportunity to tell us Max’s other big news. It seems that part of the reason Dorothy’s coming is because she has a stallion she wants Max to buy. She’d been training him for another stable, but he had an accident that will keep him out of the ring for a long time—too long, as far as his owners are concerned. Dorothy told Max that the stallion’s bloodlines are excellent, and I guess Max had mentioned to her that he’s been thinking of doing a little more breeding at Pine Hollow.
“You mean we’re going to have a lot of baby horses around here?” I asked excitedly when I realized what Carole was saying.
“Sometimes,” Carole said. “Breeding horses can really be a big business. If this stallion is good enough, Max can probably make a lot of money with him.”
“Then why doesn’t Dorothy want to keep him?” I asked.
“Dorothy owns his full brother and already uses him for breeding. She doesn’t need another horse with identical bloodlines,” Carole explained.
“Another wedding,” Stevie mused.
“Huh?” Carole said.
As usual, Stevie was looking at things in her own, well, Stevian way. Horses don’t really marry each other the way people do, and Stevie knew that as well as anyone.
“It’s always seemed to me that there should be a little more romance to it,” she reasoned. “Of course, we don’t even know who this stallion would marry, do we?”
After talking about that a little bit, we hit on the perfect answer. Delilah. She’s one of the nicest and most beautiful mares at Pine Hollow, and she’s already foaled successfully, which is very important. She would be the perfect “wife” for Max’s new stallion—if he decides to buy him.
Actually, that wasn’t our only discussion about Delilah today. Carole told us a funny story about her. It seems that one of Max’s new adult riders, Judge Gavin, isn’t quite as good a rider as he thinks he is. He had some trouble with Comanche the last time he rode, and this time he demanded a different horse. Carole somehow managed to convince him that Delilah is much more spirited than she is, and I guess the judge was so dazzled by her beautiful
palomino looks that he didn’t notice that she’s actually a gentle, obedient sweetheart. He had a wonderful time on his ride, and I’m sure he’ll want to ride Delilah again. Max stopped by the tack room while we were working on Stevie’s tack to thank Carole for helping him with the judge.
He also told us something else, something much more exciting. “One of the events that Nigel is going to be competing in is called the Gambler’s Choice,” he told us. “It’s really exciting. Mom and I are planning to go with Dorothy, although there’s so much work to be done around here that I’m not sure we’ll be able to take the time off. Anyway, if I could get some extra tickets, would you three like to come along?”
I could hardly believe my ears. It sounded incredibly wonderful. I guess the looks on our faces answered Max’s question, because he went on before any of us could speak.
“I’m not sure, though,” he sort of muttered. “There is a lot to be done.” He looked at us seriously. “I know I’d need some help from you all—I mean like major chores, not just the routine stuff.”
“We’ll help,” Carole said.
“Promise,” Stevie added.
“Whatever it is,” I promised.
“I’m not actually certain that I’ll have time to call about the tickets,” Max said, looking worried. “I do have to sort and catalog all the specialized riding habits in the attic. Mom says it has to be done this week …”
“We can do it,” I said quickly. “I’m good at cataloging stuff.”
“And I’m good at organizing closets and storage places,” Carole said.
“And I’m good with messy rooms,” Stevie added. Everybody laughed at that, including Stevie.
“Whatever you need done, we’ll do it,” Carole told Max. “Promise.”
“I’ll try, then,” he said. “I know you girls would enjoy the show. The Gambler’s Choice is on Friday. Mother has a complete list of chores.”
Lisa Page 13