“Red!” Lisa shrieked. “That’s great!” She could see that Red was trying to look casual. But after a minute, he broke into a huge grin.
“Yeah, Max talked me into it,” he said gruffly.
“And it’s okay with Mrs. Murphy?” Lisa asked. Mrs. Murphy was Kismet’s owner.
Red nodded. “She’s going to be away this weekend, but she’s riding him at Briarwood. So she was happy that he would have a good warm-up.”
“Wow …,” Lisa said. She wished that Red would drive ninety miles an hour so she could get home and call Stevie and Carole and tell them the news. Sure, it was only a schooling show, but it was news all the same: Red O’Malley was breaking his own tradition of never competing. Just as quickly, Lisa had another thought. Why couldn’t Red ride at Briarwood, too? Even if Kismet was taken, there must be another horse at Pine Hollow that wasn’t. Carole would probably have some great ideas. “Red, listen—” Lisa started to say.
But Red had other ideas. He had evidently read her thoughts the way she had read Stevie’s a few minutes before. He held up a hand. “Oh no you don’t. You can hold it right there, Lisa. I can see your mind working a million miles an hour, and in another five minutes you’ll have your two cronies on the case and the three of you will decide that I should be riding in the American Horse Show. So get one thing straight: I’m taking Kismet in one, maybe two classes at the Pine Hollow schooling show this weekend. And that’s that. Got it?”
Lisa frowned. She wished Stevie were there. She would have had a reply for Red. Stevie had a reply for everyone. But Lisa couldn’t think of anything clever to say. She decided to try the honest approach. “Look, Red, I don’t know anything about the American Horse Show. But if you could get a horse, wouldn’t you like to ride at Briarwood?”
There was the tiniest fraction of a pause before Red began to shake his head. “Lisa, I’m warning you …”
“It was just a hypothetical question,” Lisa said happily. There, that sounded more Stevian.
“Okay, I would like to ride at Briarwood. But,” he continued before Lisa could respond, “finding a suitable horse at this late date would be impossible. I’m certainly not going to take a horse that’s not ready.” He glanced at Lisa. “You should understand that!”
“Now, Red,” Lisa protested, “be nice!”
A few minutes later, Red brought the truck to a stop in front of Lisa’s house. “What do you look so happy about?” he asked suspiciously.
Lisa grinned. “I’m just happy to be home, Red,” she said. She got out and shut the door behind her. “Thanks for the lift.”
Red shook his head again. “You’re welcome—I think,” he said grimly. But he flashed a smile before he drove off.
Lisa watched the truck disappear and then hurried up the path to her house. What an exciting afternoon! First the news about Briarwood, then Red’s news about himself. And no matter what he said, Lisa had heard him hesitate when she asked him about riding at the bigger show. Lisa was a sharp observer of people. She knew that when a person hesitated, it meant he was undecided. Clearly, it was up to The Saddle Club to decide him.
AFTER DINNER, LISA sprinted for the telephone in the family room. “Don’t forget you have to empty the dishwasher when it’s done!” Mrs. Atwood called.
“I won’t, Mom!” Lisa replied. As she dialed Carole’s number, Lisa promised herself, for the hundredth time, that if she ever became a famous scientist, she was going to build a robot that did one task and one task only: empty the dishwasher!
Carole answered the phone sounding sleepy. Or maybe not exactly sleepy, Lisa thought. But if it wasn’t tiredness that was making Carole’s voice sound flat, then the only other thing it could be was lack of enthusiasm, and Lisa knew it wasn’t that.
“You sound tired, Carole,” Stevie said, when they had included her in the three-way call.
“Do I? I guess I am, a little,” Carole replied. It was a white lie, but Carole didn’t feel like getting into the truth. The truth was that for the first time in forever, Carole didn’t really feel like talking to her two best friends on the phone. She knew they would probably want to talk about horses, and then they would want to talk about the new horse. She tried to focus on what Lisa was saying.
“So then Red gets a big smile on his face and tells me he’s going to ride Kismet in the schooling show!” Lisa announced.
“He is!” Carole exclaimed. All at once, her mood shifted from tepid to highly interested. “That’s wonderful!”
“Maybe he’ll do really well and decide to ride in the Briarwood show, too!” Stevie cried.
Lisa chuckled. She could always trust her friends to think the way she did. Quickly she recapped the conversation. “I could just tell that Red would be interested in going to Briarwood, provided that (a) he does well this weekend, and (b) somebody—meaning us—finds him a horse.”
“What’s wrong with Kismet? Mrs. Murphy shows him all the time,” said Carole.
“That’s just it,” Lisa explained. “She’s taking him herself.”
“Oh … so that leaves Red high and dry,” said Carole.
“More like low and—and slow,” Stevie felt compelled to point out. “Because without a horse, he’s grounded.”
“Stevie!” Lisa and Carole cried. They knew if they didn’t stop Stevie’s punning right away, she would get completely out of control.
“I’m sure if we racked our brains, we could think of some possibilities,” Carole said.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Lisa.
“Let’s see …” Carole was quiet a moment, considering. “Red needs a decent-sized horse.”
“A good jumper,” said Lisa.
“With at least some horse-show experience,” added Stevie.
Before long, the girls had come up with a composite of the perfect mount for Red. The only problem was, they couldn’t come up with a horse to fit the bill. Every horse they named had at least one major strike against it. It was too green, or too dead, or its owner was overprotective. “The kind of owner that gives you a list ten pages long about how to treat their ‘baby’ when they go away for two days,” Carole said.
Still, the girls were optimistic. “I’m sure we’re just forgetting an obvious choice,” Carole said. “We need a nice, solid, attractive horse. Heck, maybe the girl who owns Country Doctor won’t show up for a couple of weeks and Max will let Red ride the wonder horse.” The thought was very appealing to Carole.
“Somehow I doubt that,” said Lisa. “If his owner is as serious about riding as she’s supposed to be, I’ll bet she’ll get here as soon as she can—definitely in time for Briarwood.”
“You’re probably right,” Carole said, in a noncommittal tone of voice.
“Say, what about Danny?” Stevie suggested. “With Red instead of Veronica on his back, that horse would think he died and went to heaven!”
“No such luck,” said Carole. “I wanted to take him out the other day, but Veronica left strict orders that only a special German dressage trainer she hired for the time she’s away can go near him.”
“Typical,” said Lisa.
“Too typical,” Stevie added.
After a few more minutes of talk, the three of them sighed in unison. Red, more than anyone, deserved a good mount for Briarwood. He probably wasn’t admitting that he wanted to go for just that reason: He didn’t want people to feel sorry for him. And with his quiet, reserved personality, he wouldn’t want to make waves at Pine Hollow.
“Lisa!” Mrs. Atwood called. “The cycle stopped!”
“Be there in two minutes, Mom!” Lisa called back. To Carole and Stevie she said, “Why doesn’t my mother understand the cardinal rule of dishwasher emptying?”
“What, that you have to wait for the dishes to cool off before unloading them?” said Stevie.
“Exactly!” Lisa cried, thrilled that her friend understood.
“I’ll tell you why,” said Stevie. “It’s simple. In order to get us to do
all the chores, parents pretend that they work really hard, too. But it’s a myth. None of them have emptied a dishwasher or set a table in months—maybe even years! They don’t remember what it’s like! They only pretend to. Your mom just slipped up, and you caught her.”
“Yeah, but what good does it do me?” Lisa asked.
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Carole muttered.
Stevie laughed into the receiver. “Absolutely none at all, I’m afraid. It just confirms my theory.”
After Lisa hung up, Stevie and Carole continued a discussion they’d started that afternoon about what classes they were going to enter at Briarwood. The choice wasn’t difficult for Carole. She would ride in the junior equitation and junior hunter classes. She and Starlight were good at both of them, capable of winning in each division. But for Stevie the choice was harder. Belle could jump very well, but she didn’t have beautiful form over the fences. Likewise, Stevie was a confident, skilled rider, but her style was more slapdash than Carole’s. Both Belle and Stevie preferred jumper classes to hunter and equitation classes. In jumper classes, the only thing that mattered was that the horse cleared all the fences within a time limit. Form didn’t count at all.
“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Stevie said, “and I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew. Belle and I are going to stick with junior jumpers. That’s what we’re good at.”
“But don’t you want to challenge yourself, the way Max said, and try an equitation class?” Carole suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Stevie replied. “I think riding at Briarwood, which is such a big show, will be enough of a challenge. This way we’ll have fun and we’ll have a chance to do well, too.”
“I guess so …,” Carole said. She was going to pursue the subject but decided against it. It had suddenly dawned on her that she felt exactly the same way as Stevie. She wanted to stick with what she knew and have a chance to do well—very well. Anything short of the trophy would be a disappointment.
After they had said their good-byes, Carole hung up the phone and doodled absently on a piece of paper. She knew Max would disapprove of their conversation, but why should he? What was so wrong about wanting to do well, to prove what you knew and show off what you were good at?
Carole looked down at the paper she was sketching on. She’d drawn a horse’s head with a ribbon pinned to its bridle that said First Prize. Beside the head she’d drawn a girl in boots and breeches, smiling. Humming softly to herself, Carole added one last detail: a huge, silver trophy, shining in the sun.
CAROLE RACED TO Pine Hollow after school the next day. Having two horses to exercise made her feel like a professional rider. A little guiltily, she gave Starlight a carrot and a quick hug; then she went to Doc’s stall. As she was tacking up the new arrival, Red appeared. He leaned over the door to say hello.
“Lisa told us the good news, Red,” said Carole, inching the girth tighter.
Red smiled. “Somehow I knew she would.”
“Why don’t you take Kismet out now? With us?” Carole suggested. She thought it would be fun if Red joined The Saddle Club in a preshow schooling session.
But Red shook his head. “Can’t. I was planning to, but Mrs. Murphy decided she wanted to have a private lesson with Max before she leaves for the week,” he explained.
Carole couldn’t help noticing his glum tone. It didn’t seem fair that Red couldn’t ride today, on this beautiful spring afternoon. Here I have two horses to ride, and Red doesn’t even have one, Carole thought. She straightened up. What the heck was she thinking? “Say, Red? Would you like to ride Starlight today?”
Red’s face lit up. “I’d love to, Carole. If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind? I’d love it! I was wondering all day how I would have time to ride two horses. This will be a huge help to me.” Carole made sure she emphasized that Red was doing her a favor and not vice versa, so that Red wouldn’t feel indebted to her.
Soon Red had the bay gelding ready. The two of them joined Carole and Doc at the mounting block. “Anything I should know, Carole?” Red asked, springing lightly onto Starlight’s back.
Carole watched Red walk Starlight in a circle. It was strange seeing someone else riding her horse. She had to admit that Red looked good on him. Red sat easily in the saddle, the reins loose so that Starlight could stretch. Starlight looked perfectly relaxed. To her surprise, Carole felt a touch of disappointment. She had thought her horse might react more to the switch.
“Let’s see …,” Carole said. “I can’t really think of anything … Well … Well, okay—sometimes he’s afraid of shadows. He shies, and you really have to sit firm and tighten the reins. And you don’t want to let him jig at the walk. It’s a bad habit, you know. And of course he tends to get faster on the long sides of the ring and slower on the short sides. And you’ll notice he doesn’t always bend into the corners. You really have to use your inside leg. And come to think of it, your outside leg, too, to keep his hindquarters in line. And don’t forget—”
“Carole?” Red broke in. “I think I can handle it,” he said gently.
Carole stopped, flustered. She was acting like one of those overprotective owners she always made fun of! She was giving Red a lot of unnecessary advice on how to ride Starlight. Red—who’d been riding since he was two! She laughed. “Sorry, I know you can.”
Embarrassed, Carole mounted Doc. She caught up to Red and they walked to the outdoor ring together. Even at a walk, Doc had a long, swinging stride.
“How does he feel?” Red asked.
“Great!” said Carole. “A little higher and narrower than Starlight.”
“Do you know anything about his training?” said Red.
Carole shook her head. “Not too much. Although I have the feeling this is going to be one easy ride—kind of like sitting in an armchair and holding the remote. He’s probably been schooled within an inch of his life, like most fancy show horses.”
As Carole finished her remark, a gust of wind shook the trees overhead. Before she could gather her reins, Doc shied violently and broke into a trot. Carole lost her stirrups and slid forward onto Doc’s neck. “Ho! Ho, Doc. Ho, ho.” In a moment she had recovered herself, but not before feeling stupid, angry at herself, and, for the second time, embarrassed in front of Red. She sat back and slowed Doc to a walk.
“He must be feeling a little fresh from his trip,” Red said helpfully. “He’ll work out of it.”
“I know,” Carole said shortly. She knew she sounded rude, but she couldn’t handle advice right now. Luckily, they had reached the ring. A couple of other riders were working on the flat at the top of the ring. “I think I’ll take him down to the end where it’s quiet,” Carole announced, thankful for the excuse to split up with Red.
She turned Doc away from Starlight. Doc dug in his toes and refused to move. Carole used her legs harder and pulled with her outside rein. Doc backed up two steps. Carole dug her heels into his barrel. Doc backed up two more steps. “You didn’t bring a crop, did you, Red?” Carole said through clenched teeth.
“Nope. I knew you hardly ever used one on Starlight. Do you want me to go back and get one?” Red asked, his voice sympathetic.
“No! Never mind. I can do it.” Using all her skill and strength, Carole turned the horse and forced him into a walk. Somehow she managed to get Doc, balking and fussing, down to the end of the ring. Then the real challenge began. As Carole knew, a lot of horses will test an unfamiliar rider to see what they can get away with. But Doc pulled out all the stops. He shied, he rushed forward, he threw in a buck. He tried to take off—twice. The most frustrating thing was that when he did settle down for five seconds, he had beautiful gaits. His trot was brisk, and his canter was round and slow. But the minute Carole let her reins get long or let herself get disorganized in any way, he put his head down and tried to buck.
Carole was concentrating so hard, and working so hard, that she didn’t even notice when Lisa and Stevie (on Prancer an
d Belle) joined Red at the other end of the ring. Red called to Carole to ask if he could jump Starlight. “Fine! Fine! Do whatever you want!” Carole called back. She circled Doc, trotted into the middle of the ring, and brought him to a halt. Finally, the horse obeyed. Carole reached down and gave him a pat. Then she looked up. She saw Red, Lisa, and Stevie riding around a course of six small jumps. They were following each other like a hunt team. Red was leading, and he had Starlight in perfect form. Watching them, Carole felt left out. Starlight was behaving just as well with Red as he did with her. Doc shifted his weight from side to side, calling Carole’s attention back to him.
Carole squared her shoulders in determination. “Okay, boy, let’s get back out there. I think I may have figured you out.”
As Carole asked for a walk, Doc pricked his ears up and turned his head. Carole saw a figure hurrying toward the ring. It was a girl about her age.
“Doc! Doc!” the girl cried. She ran pell-mell up to the ring and ducked under the fence. “Doc!”
Before Carole knew what had happened, the girl had her arms around Doc’s neck. She was a thin girl with big brown eyes and long brown braids. “You must be Country Doctor’s owner,” Carole guessed.
The girl took a step back and beamed at Carole. “That’s right,” she said breathlessly. “I’m Andrea Barry.”
“So, you call him Doc, too,” Carole observed. She felt as if Andrea had stolen The Saddle Club’s nickname. But that was dumb: It was an obvious nickname—and, moreover, it was Andrea’s horse.
“Yup. That’s been his barn name for as long as I’ve had him,” Andrea said. She stroked the chestnut neck, and Doc turned to nuzzle her shoulder.
“Max asked me to exercise him today. We didn’t realize you’d be coming so soon,” Carole explained, unable to keep the tone of disapproval out of her voice.
Andrea looked embarrassed. “I guess I should have called first,” she said. “Our plans changed and we ended up getting in early this morning. I couldn’t wait to see Doc, so I came right over to ride.”
Silver Stirrups Page 3