Tight Rein

by Bonnie Bryant

  PINING AWAY

  “We think Belle misses Stevie,” Carole said, shooting Stevie’s brother Chad a dirty look. And it’s all your fault, she thought but didn’t say.

  “Horses have very delicate digestive systems,” Lisa said. “Any little thing can throw them off …” She let her voice fade away and looked to Carole for support.

  “It can be very serious,” Carole said.

  “Very,” Lisa whispered.

  “Oh, come off it,” Chad said. “Give me a break, will you?” He picked up his soccer ball and bounced it a few times. “You expect me to believe that Stevie’s horse is sick because it misses her? I’ve been around horses, too, you know, and they aren’t that smart. Plus, Belle weighs, like, a thousand pounds. She could not eat for a month and be okay.” He looked sideways at Lisa. “You guys made this up, right? Did Stevie put you up to it?”

  Lisa maintained her earnest, sorrowful expression. “I wish we were joking,” she said.

  RL 5, 009–012

  TIGHT REIN

  A Bantam Skylark Book / August 1996

  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 © 1996 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  Cover art © 1996 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: 978-0-307-82556-8

  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 Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

  for her help in the writing of this book.

  Contents

  Cover

  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

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  LISA ATWOOD PAUSED outside the door of Prancer’s stall. She took a deep breath and smiled. All her favorite sights, smells, and sounds were right here, at Pine Hollow Stables in the summertime. Lisa loved the warm, earthy smell of horses. She loved the feel of their sleek summer fur. She loved the low whickering noise Prancer made when she first saw Lisa.

  “We’re a team now, aren’t we?” Lisa murmured, stroking the mare’s velvet-soft nose. Lisa had not been riding long, but she had learned fast. One of her greatest pleasures was riding and retraining Prancer. The beautiful Thoroughbred had been a racehorse, and Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow Stables, had bought her when an injury ended her career on the track. At first Prancer had been nervous, excitable, and difficult to ride, but she and Lisa had learned a lot together. Riding Prancer, Lisa thought as she went into the stall and slipped a halter on the mare, was the next best thing to having her own horse.

  “Lisa?” Max called. He came down the aisle and stopped outside Prancer’s stall. “Lisa, sorry, but I used Prancer in the advanced adult lesson this morning, and it’s too hot outside to ask her to work hard again. Why don’t you ride Barq today?” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll try to let you ride Prancer on Tuesday, okay?” Lisa and her two best friends took lessons twice a week, Tuesdays and Saturdays. They spent most of their free time at Pine Hollow, too.

  “Okay, Max,” Lisa said, swallowing her disappointment. She liked to think of Prancer as her own horse, but she knew better. Max had too many students to let them ride only their favorites. She gave Prancer a quick hug, removed her halter, and went down to Barq’s stall. He was a chestnut Arabian gelding. His name meant “lightning” in Arabic, and he had a feisty personality to match his name. Lisa knew he was a good horse, and she had ridden him many times, but she had never really gotten along with him. She wasn’t excited about riding him. She patted him briefly and began to groom him.

  “Hi, Lisa! Why aren’t you riding Prancer?”

  Lisa looked up and smiled. Carole Hanson, one of her two best friends, smiled back.

  “I don’t have to ask, do I?” Carole said. “Max probably used her in a lesson already. It’s too hot today for her to work again.”

  “That’s exactly what he said,” Lisa replied with a shake of her head. Lisa considered herself horse-crazy, but not as horse-crazy as Carole. When it came to horses, Carole seemed to know everything.

  Carole crossed the aisle to the stall of her horse, a beautiful bay gelding named Starlight. He had been her Christmas present a couple of years ago. She went into his stall and began to groom him. “Don’t be too disappointed, Lisa,” she said. “It’s good for you to ride different horses sometimes. You learn more.”

  “I know.” Lisa was surprised at the slight edge she heard in her own voice. “I know,” she repeated more gently. “I just really wanted to ride Prancer today. I mean, Max is letting me take her to camp. He could have saved her for me today.”

  “That’s probably why he didn’t save her,” Carole answered. She curried Starlight’s coat in sweeping circles. “I don’t know how you get so dirty, Starlight, when I brush you every day!” she told her horse. To Lisa, she continued, “No one else’ll get to ride Prancer while we’re at camp, so I bet Max is letting other people have their turn now.”

  Lisa had to admit that this made sense. She settled Barq’s saddle on his back and reached under his belly for the girth. In exactly one week they would all—Lisa, Carole, and their other best friend, Stevie Lake—be at Moose Hill Riding Camp. Lisa couldn’t wait.

  The three of them were such good friends and loved riding so much that they called themselves The Saddle Club. The only club rules were that they had to love horses and had to help each other out. The Saddle Club had been to Moose Hill before. This year Carole was bringing Starlight, and Stevie was bringing her mare, Belle. Lisa would have Prancer all to herself for the whole week. She couldn’t wait!

  “I’m so glad Stevie’s head is okay,” Lisa said. “What would we do if she couldn’t go to camp?” Stevie had suffered a serious concussion in a jumping accident, and she hadn’t been allowed to ride for a few weeks. Those had been long weeks for the three girls. Lisa and Carole had still ridden, of course, and when Stevie had healed a bit she’d come to visit Belle, but they’d all missed the long rides they usually took together.

  Carole giggled. “I’m glad her concussion’s healed, too,” she said. “But I’m not sure I’d say her head’s okay. Stevie’s mind always seems a little odd to me.”

  Lisa laughed appreciatively. She was logical, she knew, and she usually thought things through. Carole could b
e absentminded, except when she was thinking about horses, but Stevie—they still hadn’t figured out how Stevie’s mind worked. Stevie came up with more strange, complicated schemes than any ten other people—and most of the time they worked.

  “It’s not like Stevie to be late, though,” Lisa said. She finished buckling Barq’s bridle and checked her watch. “We’ve got exactly five minutes.” Max hated it when his students were late for lessons.

  “I’m here!” they heard Stevie shout from the tack room, and a moment later she came out carrying her saddle, bridle, and grooming bucket. Lisa and Carole stared. Stevie had shoulder-length blond hair, and when she rode she usually pulled it into a low ponytail. Unlike the others, who wore old breeches to their lessons, Stevie preferred to ride in worn-out jeans and a pair of battered cowboy boots.

  Today, however, Stevie’s hair was plastered to her head. The end of her ponytail dripped. Her purple shirt clung to her shoulders, and her jeans were wringing wet. As Stevie came down the aisle, Lisa thought she could hear her sloshing.

  “What happened?” she asked in dismay.

  Stevie dumped her gear on the rack outside Belle’s stall. “I’ll kill him,” she said. She brought Belle out of the stall and tied the horse on cross-ties in the aisle. “I mean it,” she said emphatically. “I’m really going to get him this time.”

  Lisa caught Carole’s eye. “Uh-oh,” she said.

  “So what was it this time?” Carole asked. Neither she nor Lisa had to ask who the “him” was that Stevie was going to get. Stevie had three brothers. Michael, the youngest, was pretty quiet. Alex was Stevie’s twin and usually left her alone. Her older brother, Chad, however, loved practical jokes as much as Stevie did—and that was an awful lot.

  “He got me with the old water-bucket-over-the-door routine,” Stevie sputtered. “Look at me! I’m all wet! And the rest of my clothes are in the laundry, so I couldn’t change.”

  “All your other clothes are dirty?” Lisa asked in amazement. Stevie wasn’t known for her extensive wardrobe, but she certainly had more than one pair of old jeans. Lisa tied Barg safely in his stall and began brushing Belle for Stevie. Carole tied up Starlight and started picking the mud from Belle’s hooves.

  “We-ell,” Stevie said as she smoothed the saddle pad across Belle’s withers, “this summer I’m supposed to be doing my own laundry, and, you know, I kind of forgot.” Her face brightened. “But that’s okay. I threw in a humongous load a few minutes ago, just before I left. I put a bunch of Chad’s clothes in the washer, too, including his brand-new red T-shirt, and I washed it on hot.”

  “But that means—” Carole said. She did her own laundry, too. Her mother had died a few years ago, and she and her father divided the household chores.

  “That’s right,” Stevie said with satisfaction. “Everything he owns that was white should be pink by now.”

  “Isn’t that a little extreme?” Carole asked. “I mean, I agree the bucket prank was annoying—you won’t be very comfortable riding in wet jeans—but Stevie, Chad could end up with pink underwear!”

  “I certainly hope so,” Stevie said.

  “And didn’t you do that to him once already?” Lisa asked jokingly. “It’s not like you to be repetitive!” It occurred to Lisa that all Stevie’s white clothes that had been in the washer were going to turn pink, too. She decided not to say anything. It would only make Stevie more annoyed with Chad.

  “Oh,” Stevie said, “but it was worth it this time! See, Chad’s supposed to be doing his own laundry, too. So he can’t complain to our parents, because then he’d have to admit that he wasn’t doing his share. It’s perfect!” Stevie unsnapped Belle’s halter, slipped it around her neck, and fastened it. It would hold Belle until she could be bridled.

  “Trust me,” Stevie said. “Pink underwear is not too extreme. I don’t care if I wreck all Chad’s clothes. After everything he’s done to me this summer—he and his creepy friend Mark—”

  Stevie slid the reins of the bridle over Belle’s head. She paused and counted on her fingers. “One, they put whipped cream in my riding boots; two, they replaced the shampoo in my bottle with chocolate syrup—”

  “All you need is ice cream,” Carole said. “You’d have a sundae!”

  “Three,” Stevie continued, “they glued the pages of my horse magazine together—before I read it—”

  “Ouch!” Lisa said. “That’s serious!”

  “Fourth and most unbelievably,” Stevie said, “they hung my underwear from the flagpole the day Phil came over to swim.” Phil Marsten was Stevie’s boyfriend. He rode, too, and he was going to Moose Hill camp the same week they were.

  “Don’t forget the popcorn incident,” Lisa reminded her.

  “That’s right!” Stevie shrieked. Lisa flinched. Perhaps she shouldn’t have reminded Stevie—she looked plenty worked up already.

  A week earlier Carole and Lisa had spent the night at Stevie’s. Chad’s friend Mark had been sleeping over with Chad. The Saddle Club had been upstairs in Stevie’s bedroom, and Chad and Mark had been in the kitchen making popcorn—lots of popcorn—when the girls suddenly thought they heard scuffling noises outside Stevie’s door. Then they definitely heard Chad snicker. Stevie threw open her door, and gallons upon gallons of popped corn poured into the room. The boys had tacked a bedsheet to the doorframe and filled the space in between with popcorn.

  It would have been a pretty funny prank, Lisa thought, if it had been played on someone else. Cleaning up all the popcorn had taken ages. There was probably still some under Stevie’s bed.

  Lisa looked at Carole and shook her head. They’d heard Stevie complain about these pranks before. She’d been annoyed for days. Lisa knew Stevie really couldn’t complain to her parents. In the first place, Stevie played more than a few practical jokes herself. In the second place, letting her parents intervene would take away all the fun of revenge.

  Stevie shook her head. Her wet ponytail slapped her cheek, and she pushed it away. “I need a strategy here,” she said. “I need a battle plan. I need—”

  “—to hurry,” Carole cut in.

  Stevie laughed. “Definitely. And more than anything, I need to ride.” She eased the bit of the bridle into Belle’s mouth and pulled the headpiece up toward Belle’s ears. Belle tossed her head suddenly, and the bit fell from her mouth.

  “Easy, girl,” Stevie said soothingly. Again she gave Belle the bit, and again Belle tossed her head when Stevie pulled the rest of the bridle toward Belle’s ears. This time Stevie was prepared. She pulled the mare’s nose back down gently and carefully settled the headstall. Once the strap was over her ears, Belle seemed to relax.

  “What was that about?” Lisa asked. Stevie’s horse, like all well-trained horses, was usually very calm about this sort of thing.

  “I don’t know,” Stevie said. She pulled the noseband of the bridle snug against Belle’s jaw and started to buckle it. Belle fidgeted and tried to sidestep away. Stevie persisted.

  “You know what?” Stevie said. “I think her teeth must hurt. She was a little funny about this yesterday, too. I bet she needs to have her teeth floated.”

  “Probably,” Carole agreed.

  “Floated?” Lisa asked. “Floated in what?” She noticed Stevie and Carole exchanging a small grin. Well, she thought irritably, it’s not my fault they know something I don’t. I wasn’t born in a stable; I don’t know everything about horses yet.

  “Horses’ back molars grow continuously,” Stevie explained. “When they chew, they grind their teeth down. Unfortunately, a lot of horses grind unevenly, and their teeth develop sharp points. Then it hurts them to have a bridle put on.”

  “If you let their teeth go too long, it can even hurt them to be ridden or to eat,” Carole continued. “Vets file the points down, and that’s called floating the horse’s teeth. It needs to be done about once a year.”

  “I see,” said Lisa.

  “Belle’s due,” Stevie said. “I’ll have to c
all Judy.” Judy Barker was the Pine Hollow veterinarian. Stevie patted Belle’s nose. “I think it’s just putting the bridle on that hurts; I don’t think it hurts her to wear it once it’s on,” she added. “Carole, do you think it’ll make Belle uncomfortable if I ride today?”

  Lisa watched Carole thinking the question over and wished that for once in her life she could be the one people asked for horse advice.

  “I think you can ride,” Carole said. “See, the reason it hurts her to be bridled has to do with the anatomy of the horse’s jaw—”

  “Let’s go,” Lisa snapped. “We’re all going to be late. Max is waiting.” She could tell that Carole was about to launch into one of her fact-filled lectures, and just now she didn’t want to hear it.

  Her feelings surprised her. Carole and Stevie were her two best friends! But sometimes, Lisa thought, it got just a little tiresome not knowing as much as they did. She’d never even heard of filing horses’ teeth. Lisa knew she was smart, but around the stable she sometimes felt she’d never catch up to Carole and Stevie.

  THE RIDING LESSON didn’t make Lisa feel any better. After their usual warm-up, Max set them to performing exercises. The idea was to change the length of the stride, not the speed at which the horse moved. First Max set up a grid of poles on the ground about four feet apart, and the riders trotted the horses over them. If the horses moved correctly, their feet wouldn’t hit any of the poles.

  Then Max pushed the poles closer together. Each rider had to shorten her horse’s stride, making it more up-and-down and less forward-moving, or the horse would knock its hooves against the poles. Stevie and Carole did fine. Veronica diAngelo glided through on her superhorse, Danny. Simon Atherton and Delilah sounded like a pinball machine: clank! clank! clank!

  Barq, like most Arabs, had no trouble shortening, and Lisa felt proud when they made it through the grid without a single clank.

  Then Max spread the poles farther apart. This meant the horses had to stretch their strides out low and long. Barq had become very happy trotting with an up-and-down motion, and he didn’t want to change. He set his jaw against the reins and refused to move into a longer stride. Lisa tried urging him forward with her legs, the way Max said, but Barq just trotted short and fast.