Tight Rein

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Do you think this will work?” Carole asked Lisa.

  “Shhh,” Lisa said.

  The door opened. It was Chad again. “What do you want?” he asked. “Stevie’s still in solitary. I can’t let you see her.” He was wearing the same soccer jersey he’d had on the day before, but this time he was also wearing socks and one soccer shoe and carrying the other shoe.

  Lisa made her voice solemn and sad. “We need to talk to your parents again,” she said. “It’s important.”

  “They aren’t here,” he said with a puzzled frown. “You know that. They’re at work.” Lisa did indeed know that. Fortunately, she knew the schedule at the Lake household very well. She and Carole exchanged glances.

  “Well,” Carole said with a little shrug, “I guess we’ll have to tell Davey, then.” Davey was the college student hired to look after Stevie and her brothers for the summer.

  Chad put on his second shoe and began tying the laces. “You can’t do that, either. He took Alex and Michael to their baseball practices.” Chad stood up. “You’ll have to come back, if it’s important.”

  Lisa sat down on one of the chairs in the living room. “If we can’t tell your parents or Davey, we’ll have to tell you,” she said firmly. “It’s very important. We can’t waste time.”

  Carole followed Lisa’s lead and sat down on the couch. Chad watched them, clearly irritated by the way they made themselves at home. Lisa patted the seat of the chair next to hers. “Sit down,” she said. “We’re sorry to bring bad news.”

  Chad sat, looking wary.

  “It’s very serious,” Carole said in funereal tones. “Belle’s sick.”

  When Carole had said it was serious, Chad had started to look concerned. When she said the trouble was Belle, however, he laughed. “What happened?” he asked. “Did she bonk her head like Stevie did? That’d be pretty funny!” Then, seeing the looks the two girls gave him, Chad wiped the smile off his face. “Sorry. Guess you wouldn’t think that was funny, huh?”

  “Guess not,” Carole said. Oh, she couldn’t stand brothers! Laughing about a horse being sick! Not for the first time, Carole was grateful she was an only child.

  “So,” Chad said, “what’s wrong? Does she have the sniffles? She didn’t break a leg, did she?” He looked ready to laugh again. Carole looked ready to throttle him.

  Lisa intervened quickly. “Belle’s pining,” she said. “Horses are such sensitive creatures. They don’t adjust well to change. Belle’s not eating.”

  “We think she’s missing Stevie,” Carole said, shooting Chad a dirty look. And it’s all your fault, she thought but didn’t say. Then she remembered that Belle wasn’t really missing Stevie. She shouldn’t blame Chad for things that hadn’t actually happened. “She’s just not herself,” Carole continued in a softer tone.

  “Horses have very delicate digestive systems,” Lisa went on. “Any little thing can throw them off. And any sort of digestive trouble—well …” 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?”

  With difficulty Lisa maintained her earnest, sorrowful expression. “I wish we were joking,” she said. “I wish this were just another prank. But it’s not.”

  “It’s been building for a long time,” Carole added. She looked at her fingernails, because she knew that if she looked at Chad she’d want to hurt him. “Since her accident, Stevie hasn’t been able to spend much time with Belle. Horses are herd animals, you know. They rely on their companions.”

  “And Stevie, of course, is Belle’s main herd,” Lisa said. “In Belle’s mind, Stevie is like another horse.” Lisa didn’t dare look at Carole. They’d both start laughing. Lisa tried to remember the public television show she’d seen on zebras. “You see, horses establish patterns of domination in the herd. Lower-caste members look to the alpha members for guidance and direction. Without Stevie, Belle feels rudderless, like a ship lost at sea.” Lisa let her voice tremble. She saw Carole’s knee twitch slightly in response to that last ridiculous statement. She brushed her hand across her eyes, as if to wipe away a tear.

  “Horses are big, strong animals,” Carole cut in quickly. She had to say something before Lisa came up with some other declaration about rudderless ships. “But sometimes they can be affected by very minor things. Horses can die from eating too much grain. They can also die from eating too little. A normal horse eats twenty-five pounds of food a day, so if the horse suddenly eats nothing, it’s a big change.”

  “Physiologically,” Lisa added, “horses are designed to graze continuously.” Carole’s knee twitched again.

  Chad’s face had grown more concerned. He quit bouncing his ball. “You’re not kidding, are you? You’re really worried.”

  “Well, of course we’re worried!” Carole snapped. “Stevie’s our best friend!” We’re worried that Stevie won’t go to camp, Carole thought. We’re very worried about that.

  “Max is aware of Belle’s condition,” Lisa said. “He’s pretty concerned, so he might call the vet, Judy Barker.”

  “Good,” Chad said, nodding. “That’s a great idea. The vet’ll fix Belle.”

  “Well…,” Lisa said. She looked sadly at Carole, who shrugged gloomily.

  “I’m sure Judy will try,” Carole said. “But if the problem really is that Belle is pining, that she’s not getting enough attention and that she’s really missing Stevie, there’s not much Judy can do.”

  “Modern medicine can only go so far,” Lisa intoned. Carole bit her lips to keep from giggling.

  “But Stevie’s only grounded for two weeks,” Chad said. “I mean,” he added jokingly, “it’s not that long. Belle’ll survive.” He grinned at Lisa and Carole. His grin faded when they didn’t grin back.

  “We hope she will,” Carole said softly. “Only … any kind of digestive disturbance in a horse can lead to colic, you know. And colic …” She let her voice trail off.

  “Colic can be fatal,” Lisa said. “Horses die of it all the time.”

  “Seriously?” Chad asked. “Do you seriously know any horses that have died of colitch?”

  “Colic,” Carole corrected him. “Yes, I seriously do. Two.” This, Carole reflected, of all the things she had said, was entirely true. Fortunately no horses at Pine Hollow had colicked badly in the past few years, but Carole had ridden at a lot of stables around the country during the traveling part of her father’s military career. She’d known a lot of horses.

  Lisa shivered at the unmistakable ring of truth in Carole’s voice. What if Belle really did get sick! For a moment Lisa almost believed her own story.

  “Gosh,” Chad said, “I never knew anything like this could happen.”

  “Well,” Lisa said, “that’s understandable. You really haven’t spent that much time around horses.” Chad was the only one of Stevie’s brothers who had ever ridden at all. Lisa blushed slightly at the memory. Chad had taken lessons for a few weeks because—well, because he’d wanted to get to know Lisa better. They’d gone to a movie together, only to discover that their tastes in most things were very different.

  Including our taste in practical jokes, Lisa thought. No bucket of water over the door for me. This sort of revenge is much more my style. She could tell that Chad was starting to believe everything they’d said.

  “Please, whatever you do, don’t tell Stevie about this,” Lisa said. “We don’t want her worrying.”

  “Please,” Carole added. “She’d worry a lot.” They both knew
that if Stevie heard a word about anything’s being seriously wrong with Belle, she’d break the sound barrier getting over to Pine Hollow, grounded or not.

  “Just tell your parents, please, that Max might call,” Lisa said. “Don’t let them worry too much, either. Carole and I will let you know how Belle is doing. We’ll give her as much attention as we can.”

  “Don’t tell Stevie,” Carole repeated. “After all, there’s nothing she can do anyway. She can’t leave the house for two weeks.”

  “Right,” said Chad. “Okay.”

  “Thanks, Chad,” Lisa said. “We knew we could count on you.” She smiled sadly at him. She thought about shaking his hand or something, but feared it would be too much. She got up from her chair, and Carole followed. Chad went with them to the door.

  “I’m sorry about Stevie’s horse,” he said.

  “So are we,” Carole said. “We’ll let you know how she’s doing.”

  “Thanks,” Chad said uncertainly. He closed the door, and the girls heard his soccer ball bounce just once and then stop.

  “Let’s get out of sight before we explode!” Lisa hissed. She and Carole dashed around the corner of the house, crouched under the bushes, and laughed until their sides hurt. Until she’d started laughing, Lisa hadn’t realized how tense she was. The conversation with Chad had been nerve-racking. So much depended on his believing them right from the start.

  “Explain to me again,” Carole said, gasping for breath, “how Belle is like a—a–rudderless ship—lost—at sea!” She whooped with laughter.

  “And, you know, Stevie is Belle’s main herd!” Lisa laughed so much she could hardly breathe. She tried to keep it quiet. What if Chad could hear them from inside the house? “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said.

  “Let’s say hi to Stevie first,” Carole suggested. They got up and went to Stevie’s window. This time she wasn’t in view, and Lisa had to throw sticks at the window to get her attention. When she saw them, Stevie immediately opened her window and waved. Soon a paper airplane floated down.

  Hi! it read. I’m so bored! I hate Chad! Have you read National Velvet? What’s new?

  “Nothing’s new,” Carole said. “We’re bored without you, too. Of course we’ve read National Velvet. We just wanted to say hi.”

  “We really detest Chad,” Lisa added. “Does Chad ever change out of his soccer clothes?”

  Stevie shrugged. She pinched her nose between her fingers and made a face as if she were smelling Chad’s old socks. Lisa and Carole laughed.

  After a few minutes of one-sided conversation, they said good-bye and left. As they were walking back to Pine Hollow, Lisa asked Carole, “Don’t you think we should tell Stevie? Wouldn’t it be better if she knew?”

  Carole shook her head. “The only way we could tell her is if we shout up to her window. We can’t take the chance that Chad would hear us. If he did, it would totally wreck our plan.”

  “You’re right. We can’t chance it,” said Lisa. “Stevie has to go to camp. And Chad has to suffer!”

  “Suffer he will,” said Carole, her dark eyes glinting mischievously. “Suffer he will!”

  LISA OPENED THE DOOR of the stable office. “Max,” she asked, “would it be okay if I took Barq out and worked with him in the outdoor ring?”

  Max looked up from the lunch he was eating at his desk with his wife, Deborah. “Sure,” he said with a smile. “I don’t need the ring again until two o’clock, and Barq’s only been in a beginner lesson so far today. But you can take Prancer if you want to. She’s not being worked much today, either.”

  “Thanks, Max.” Lisa shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I think—I think I’d rather ride Barq today.”

  “That’s fine.” As Lisa turned to leave, Max added, “I think there are a few stalls that still need cleaning. Red left for his summer-school class. Maybe after you ride—”

  “I’ll do them, Max! Don’t worry!” This was one of the nicest things about Pine Hollow, Lisa thought as she went to get Barq’s saddle. Max expected everyone to help with the chores, but in return he was very generous about letting his students ride even when they weren’t taking lessons. It was a great deal.

  Lisa patted Barq as she went into his stall. “We’re going to do it right today,” she told him. Carole had had to go to the doctor’s for her camp physical, so Lisa knew she would have a little time to work entirely alone, and entirely alone was how she wanted it. She and Barq were going to work on lengthening his stride, all by themselves, without advice from friends who knew everything. This was one time Lisa wanted to learn something on her own.

  She groomed Barq, tacked him up, and led him into the outdoor arena. Some of the pole grids from Saturday’s lesson were still in place, and Lisa quickly reassembled the others. She moved some of the poles to normal trot length and others to extended trot. She didn’t keep any of them at short trot length, because she knew Barq was already good at that.

  As she mounted, Lisa gave herself a little pep talk. She had handled Chad well this morning. She had come up with a plan. Surely, she thought, I can get one stubborn Arabian horse to lengthen his trot. She began by trotting and cantering Barq around the ring several times, to warm him up and loosen his muscles.

  After several minutes she brought him back to a trot and started working through the pole grids. The normal trot grid was no problem. Barq skillfully put his feet down in the spaces between the poles. Lisa sucked in her breath and aimed him at a longer grid. Barq started correctly, but his too-short stride made his feet whack the poles. Whack, whack, whack. Lisa sighed. Just like their lesson!

  She circled the arena again. Whack, whack, whack. She tried coming from the other direction. Clank, clank, clank. She concentrated fiercely, trying hard to remember every single thing Max had told her. Heels down, legs tight against Barq’s sides, urging him forward with every stride. Hands low, steady, giving, to encourage the horse to stretch himself forward. Chest up, shoulders square, eyes straight ahead.

  Whack, whack, whack. She felt like whacking Barq. She knew, however, that almost all mistakes were the rider’s fault, not the horse’s—it was the rider’s job to tell the horse what to do and get the horse to cooperate.

  Barq did not seem especially cooperative today. Lisa wondered what she was doing wrong. Whenever she used her legs to push him forward, he speeded up instead of taking longer strides, and when she used her hands to slow him back down, he set his jaw against her. Lisa breathed deeply. She would get this right. She would.

  Whack, whack, whack. “Arrghhh!” Lisa shouted in annoyance.

  “I think one of the problems is that you’re giving with your hands too much, and too soon,” Carole said quietly. Lisa jumped and turned in the saddle. Carole was leaning against the side of the fence, watching. Lisa hadn’t even known she was there.

  Lisa was already frustrated, and now being startled by Carole was too much.

  “Oh, of course you would know what my problem is!” Lisa shouted. “You know everything about horses! You’ve even got one! You and Stevie both have horses, and I don’t, and it’s not fair!”

  For a moment the friends stared at each other. Lisa blinked. She never lost her temper like that, especially not at Carole, and she was instantly sorry. At the same time she still felt full of boiling anger and a sense of injustice.

  “I know it’s not fair,” Carole answered. She looked at Lisa with concern. “Stevie and I really wish you had a horse, too.”

  The bubble of anger inside Lisa burst at this quiet declaration of sympathy. For a moment she thought she might cry. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t yell at you. None of this is your fault. And I know I should be glad that I at least get to ride—I mean, Max lets me ride almost whenever I want—but I always know less than you and Stevie, and I’m always having to catch up. Both of you could do this, even on Barq. I can’t.”

  Carole nodded. “I bet it is hard,” she said. “Stevie and I have been riding for so much l
onger than you. But, Lisa, you know an awful lot, and Max always talks about what a fast learner you are.”

  “I didn’t know about teeth filing,” Lisa retorted. “I mean, teeth floating. I’ve never known any horses that died of colic. And I can’t get Barq to lengthen.”

  Carole looked thoughtful. “Be glad you never saw a horse die of colic,” she said. Then she smiled. “Maybe you didn’t know about teeth or colic,” she added, “but you can say things like ‘physically, horses are designed to graze continuously’ without even pausing to think about it. I could never do that!”

  Lisa had to smile in return. “It’s physiologically, not physically,” she said. “It doesn’t mean quite the same thing.”

  Carole grinned. “See? That’s exactly what I mean.” She looked at Barq. “And you will get him to lengthen,

  Lisa; it just might take a little more work. Would you like me to help you, or would you rather I just went away?”

  Lisa thought about how glad she was to have a friend like Carole, who understood her so well. She felt a little better now that she’d talked about what was bothering her. “I guess I’d like your help,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Carole opened the gate and came into the arena. “I never mind, you know that. But I probably sound bossy sometimes. I don’t mean to, but if I ever start to annoy you, let me know, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Carole replaced some of the poles that Barq had whacked out of position. Lisa picked up a trot again.

  “Now,” Carole said as Lisa turned the corner before the poles, “use your leg but keep your hand steady. Then give with your hand as he starts to move into it. Give a lot, but not too much.”

  “That’s useful,” Lisa said with a laugh. “When does it start to be too much?”

  “When he speeds up,” Carole said. “That’s it! Good!”

  Barq dropped his head, and for a moment Lisa thought he was getting it. They flowed over the poles, one-two-three-four-whack. Barq’s hooves hit the very last one.