“A little isn’t too much to ask for,” Mrs. Reg replied soothingly. “I’m sure we can find you some somewhere. And Deborah will be home soon.”
“Not for another week,” said Max, looking upset once again. He shrugged. “Call Judy Barker about Patch, will you, Mom? I’d better go tackle those beginners.”
“I hope he doesn’t scare them away,” Mrs. Reg said thoughtfully, as Max closed the door.
“Is this what love does to people?” Lisa asked.
“Oh—sometimes. Didn’t you girls have a question to ask me?”
“It’s about Stevie,” said Carole. “She’s convinced that Belle has to learn flying changes right away.”
“And why is that?” Mrs. Reg asked.
Carole and Lisa exchanged glances. Somehow it didn’t seem right to explain about Stevie’s competition with Phil. “She just does,” Lisa said. “But she’s entirely focused on it, and neither she nor Belle is having any fun. They aren’t learning the changes, either.”
Carole looked out the back window. “Stevie’s just turned Belle out now,” she said. “She’ll be coming in to tack up Topside, if that’s okay with you.” She turned to Mrs. Reg. “We talked her into going on a trail ride with us,” she said.
Mrs. Reg smiled. “Sounds like you two have the right idea,” she said. “Why don’t you go have a nice time, and do everything you can to encourage Stevie to have a nice time on Topside.”
“Thank you,” Carole said gratefully. “It’s frustrating when you want to help, but don’t know how.”
“It’s frustrating whenever you don’t know how to do what you want to do,” Mrs. Reg answered. “That’s part of Stevie’s problem, too, isn’t it? Have a good ride, girls. I’d better call Judy about Patch.” She turned to dial the vet’s number.
THE TRAILS AROUND Pine Hollow were in full summer glory. Wildflowers dotted the woods on each side of the path, and birds and butterflies flew by them. Lisa took a deep breath of clean air and felt herself begin to relax. Her week hadn’t been as difficult as Stevie’s, but it had been hard enough. “This is great,” she murmured. “Everyone should go on trail rides when they’re upset. Think what it would do for the world.”
“There wouldn’t be enough horses,” argued Stevie. “There wouldn’t be enough trails. Think of all the stressed-out bureaucrats and executives in Washington, D.C., alone.” Pine Hollow was close to the capital; sometimes a member of Congress or an ambassador came there to ride.
Carole bent to stroke Starlight’s neck. “We’re lucky.”
Stevie grinned. “Yes, we are.” For the first time in several days, she felt content.
THEY RODE FOR nearly an hour. On their way back to Pine Hollow, they stopped at their favorite rock by the stream, tethered the horses, and waded in the cool water. “I’m really glad you came with us, Stevie,” Lisa said.
“So am I,” Stevie replied, and they smiled at each other happily.
But when they left the woods, Stevie began to worry about flying changes again. Topside, her mount, was a former international-level show horse, and he’d done a lot of dressage. Before Stevie had gotten Belle, she’d ridden Topside almost exclusively. If any horse at Pine Hollow could do flying changes, Topside could.
“I’m going to canter,” Stevie warned Carole and Lisa. She asked Topside for a right-lead canter. He took off willingly. A few paces down the path, she shifted her weight back in the saddle, tightened the left rein, and signaled with her right heel to ask for a left-lead canter. Without hesitation, Topside did a perfect flying change. Stevie repeated the request for a right-lead canter. Topside obligingly did a second flying change.
Stevie dropped him back to a walk. It was so easy for Topside! Why couldn’t it be easy for Belle? She felt close to despair.
“That was fantastic!” Lisa came trotting up to her. “I saw those flying changes—I’m not sure I could ask a horse to do them right, but whatever you did sure made sense to Topside!”
“Of course it did!” Stevie cried bitterly. “He’s a superstar horse. Dorothy DeSoto taught him all sorts of dressage movements. Of course Topside can do them!”
“Belle will be able to do flying changes, too,” Carole said comfortingly, bringing Starlight up to join them. “Don’t worry, Stevie, you know she can—almost all horses can learn them eventually. Belle’s smart and athletic. Don’t worry.”
But maybe the problem wasn’t Belle, Stevie thought. Maybe it was her—not the way she rode, but the way she trained her horse. Or maybe Belle really wasn’t any good. Or maybe both.
“Don’t worry,” Lisa said, echoing Carole’s words. She didn’t really understand. She didn’t worry about flying changes. She’d never even done one. Why should one little thing bother Stevie so much? It seemed to Lisa that the competition between Stevie and Phil had finally gotten completely out of hand.
IN TOPSIDE’S STALL, Stevie gave the horse a pat on his shining flank. “Good boy,” she murmured automatically. “Thank you for the nice ride.” A sudden pang in her heart made her lean her head against his neck and shiver. She loved Belle so much; she loved Topside, too. What if Belle could never be the horse that Topside was? Would Stevie start to wish that she were still riding Topside? What if—
“Stevie,” Mrs. Reg said from the aisle, “come out here when you’re finished, please.”
Stevie quickly patted Topside once more, checked his water bucket, and came into the aisle. Carole and Lisa were already sitting side by side on a hay bale, looking up at Mrs. Reg expectantly.
Mrs. Reg smiled at them, and Stevie thought Lisa and Carole looked relieved. Stevie slouched against the wall. “You know,” Mrs. Reg began, “for some reason this morning I started remembering my mare Madeleine. I rode her when I was not much older than the three of you.”
Carole and Lisa smiled, and Stevie felt herself getting interested. Mrs. Reg’s stories—though sometimes confusing—were always worth listening to.
“Maddy was a beautiful chestnut and the first Thoroughbred I ever owned,” Mrs. Reg continued. Her face took on a faraway look. “She was a superb field hunter, born to go with the hounds—”
“Foxhunting,” Carole mouthed, and Stevie nodded.
“—and she was a wonderful athlete, with a beautiful, stylish jump. But I admit, her personality could be difficult sometimes. She had a sense of humor, that horse.” Mrs. Reg shook her head fondly.
“I’d been riding her about a year when our hunt held a hunter trials,” she continued. “That’s a horse show just for foxhunters, you know. Oh, I was certain that Maddy and I would win everything. I dreamed about blue ribbons every night.”
Lisa smiled a little uncomfortably. She had been in that position before—she had taken Prancer to a show, certain they would win everything. Prancer had kicked a judge and been disqualified. The experience had taught Lisa to concentrate on riding well, not winning.
“The hunter trials course was in a big open field, with solid jumps—log fences and stone walls—typical of hunt country,” said Mrs. Reg. “I schooled Maddy over it every single day for weeks before the trials. She started out well, but one day she began to refuse to jump, not for any reason that I could see. I got so mad at her—I wanted a ribbon!—but nothing I did helped.” Mrs. Reg smiled and shook her head. “Such a fuss,” she said. “But that was all a long time ago. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you girls—”
“But Mrs. Reg,” Lisa cut in, “what happened at the hunter trials? Did you get a ribbon?”
“Well, of course not,” Mrs. Reg replied. “We weren’t eligible.”
Carole frowned. “Not eligible? But you said—”
“Carole,” Mrs. Reg said patiently, “you must know that no horse can receive a ribbon if it has been eliminated from the class.”
“But that means—” said Carole.
“You can be eliminated in one of three ways: by your horse going up to a jump and refusing it three times, by falling off your horse, or by jumping the jumps in the wrong
order. That last one,” she said reflectively, “we didn’t do.”
“You mean you fell off?” Even though Stevie knew that all riders fell off their horses sometimes, she couldn’t imagine it happening to Mrs. Reg.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I did,” Mrs. Reg said crisply. “Maddy refused three fences in both of our first two classes, and in the third class she tossed me right over the log pile. Once I was on the ground I understood what my mistake had been.” Mrs. Reg grinned at the recollection.
Stevie felt her throat tighten. “Your mistake was that you thought she was a good horse,” she guessed. “You were wrong.”
Mrs. Reg looked astonished. “Why, no. She was one of the best horses I ever had. Someday I’ll show you a picture of us in full hunting regalia. But that is not why I wanted to talk to you girls. I just had a phone call from Dorothy and Nigel.”
“Dorothy DeSoto and Nigel Hawthorne?” said Lisa. “Oh, wow! Are they coming to Pine Hollow?”
“Are they giving another dressage demonstration?” asked Carole. “Is Nigel going to be in a show? Is he competing for Great Britain again?”
“When do they get here?” asked Stevie. “How long can they stay? Do you think Dorothy will want to ride Topside? I can get him ready for her.”
“No, no, no,” said Mrs. Reg. “Dorothy and Nigel aren’t coming here. They want you to go to them.”
The Saddle Club screamed with delight. “Oh, wow! To visit their farm on Long Island! Only Carole’s gotten to do that. Or wait—do they want us to come to New York City again?” All three of the girls talked at once. Carole and Lisa leaped up from the hay bale and exchanged hugs with Stevie.
Dorothy DeSoto and Nigel Hawthorne were good friends of theirs—The Saddle Club had even helped arrange their wedding. Dorothy was one of Max’s old students and had been a top-level rider before an accident had taken her out of the show ring forever. Nigel, her husband, had ridden on the British Equestrian Team. Together they ran a show stable on Long Island, and Carole had once spent a few days with them there.
“You girls are beginning to frighten the horses with all this excitement,” Mrs. Reg said. “Just like Max keeps telling you not to do. I think you’d better come along to my office, and I will explain things to you. Do not let your imaginations run wild. You aren’t going to be able to guess this, anyway.”
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie exchanged grins as they followed Mrs. Reg to the stable office. Everything they’d ever done concerning Dorothy and Nigel had been fun.
Mrs. Reg sat down in her leather chair and motioned the girls to sit, too. Carole perched on a window ledge, Lisa took the folding chair, and Stevie sat cross-legged on the floor. “Now try not to interrupt,” Mrs. Reg said severely, but a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “You may not be that excited when I explain everything to you. Dorothy and Nigel need The Saddle Club’s help.”
“They need our help?” Lisa’s voice squeaked.
“They can have it,” Carole said. “Whatever it is.”
Mrs. Reg nodded. “You remember Dorothy’s mother, Mrs. DeSoto—”
“Well, of course,” Lisa said indignantly. “We stayed at her townhouse in New York City, when we went to watch Dorothy ride at the American Horse Show.”
“Right. Well, she hasn’t sold her town house, but for a while she’s been looking for a reason to get out of the city during the summer months. It’s hot there, and a lot of people go to the shore. But Mrs. DeSoto likes to keep busy—she’s not the type to sit around on a beach. Dorothy and Nigel have found the perfect solution. They just bought a Victorian house on Chincoteague Island. Mrs. DeSoto’s going to run it as a bed-and-breakfast during the summer months.
“However, the house they bought needs a lot of fixing up before it can open for business. Dorothy and Nigel can’t spend the entire summer working on it, and Mrs. DeSoto certainly can’t do all the work herself. Plus, they really want the inn to be open for Pony Penning Week in early July, the busiest time of the year on Chincoteague. So what they’ve done is send out an all points bulletin to their old friends, asking for help. They’d like to get most of the work done next week.
“Denise McCaskill has asked if she could go,” Mrs. Reg continued. “Red isn’t going, because Pine Hollow can’t spare him, but Denise said she’d really like a change of pace. Max was going to go, but”—Mrs. Reg’s smile widened—“he just got an overseas phone call from Deborah. She’s managed to cut short her commitments by almost a week, and she’s coming home Sunday. Max said they would come to Chincoteague and work, but I thought since I’ll be gone, they should stay and have the house to themselves for a few days. Max hasn’t been quite himself lately.” Mrs. Reg paused. “I guess Deborah’s missed Max as much as Max has missed her,” she said thoughtfully. “Otherwise, why would she be coming home early?”
“What about us?” asked Carole.
“Oh, right,” said Mrs. Reg. “Well, of course, Dorothy and Nigel want you to come, too. In fact, Nigel specially asked for you—he said any trio that could arrange his wedding so well, and so quickly, would be just perfect for fixing up the inn! We’d leave early this Saturday—day after tomorrow—and come home next Friday morning. If we’re successful maybe the inn will be ready for a few customers by next weekend. Dorothy and Nigel don’t expect you to work twenty-four hours a day. The deal is this: You work four or five hours a day. In exchange, you get to spend a week in a Victorian mansion and enjoy the beautiful beaches of Chincoteague Island. Plus, of course, Dorothy and Nigel’s company. What do you think?”
Lisa thought it sounded like just what she needed—a vacation! Stevie, frowning, picked at the heel of her boot, but Carole spoke first.
“You keep saying ‘Chincoteague,’ ” she said to Mrs. Reg. “Do you mean the Chincoteague? As in Misty of Chincoteague?”
“I MEAN IT,” Stevie said. “I really don’t want to go.”
“I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to go!” Lisa said. “This is Chincoteague Island, Stevie. Haven’t you always wanted to see it?”
“Don’t you remember the book?” Carole asked. “Misty? C’mon, Stevie!” Carole had called both Lisa and Stevie—three-way calling was a great invention as far as The Saddle Club was concerned—to discuss plans for their week on the coast. Stevie’s attitude didn’t make any sense to Carole—Marguerite Henry’s Misty of Chincoteague had always been one of Carole’s favorite books. Carole knew she’d gladly spend more than a week working for anyone, let alone good friends like Dorothy and Nigel, for a chance to see where the book actually took place. She could still remember the descriptions of Chincoteague Island and Assateague Island.
“Of course I read the book,” Stevie said. “A zillion years ago, when I was a little kid. Of course I like it. That isn’t the point.”
“I read it again this afternoon,” Carole said. “Right after Mrs. Reg asked us to go.”
“That isn’t the point,” Stevie repeated.
“Didn’t Mrs. Reg call your parents?” Lisa asked. “They’ll let you go, won’t they?”
“Yes, she called them.” Stevie was beginning to feel exasperated. Why couldn’t her friends understand? “My parents would be happy to have me gone for a week, believe me. But—”
“I’m amazed that you’d pass this up,” Carole interrupted. “Think about it, Stevie—a free vacation and a chance to get away from your brothers. And it really doesn’t sound like we’ll have to do too much work—no more than what we would do at Pine Hollow anyway in the summertime.”
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” Stevie retorted. “You know that, Carole. In fact, that’s why I don’t want to go to Chincoteague. I want to stay here and work on Belle. She’s got to learn those flying changes. You and Lisa go. I’ll be okay.”
“But aren’t you curious about Chincoteague? Don’t you want to see it?” asked Lisa. “You remember Misty—the wild foal born on Assateague Island—remember. Stevie? How they swam her across the channel to auction her off?”
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br /> “But she was too little, and she almost drowned,” Carole cut in. “That’s my favorite part—Paul Beebe jumped in the water to save her. He swam her to shore.”
“And Paul and his sister, Maureen, bought Misty and her mother, the wild Phantom,” Lisa recalled. “And the book is dedicated to them and to other people from Chincoteague.”
“They were all real people,” said Carole. “That’s my other favorite part. The wild ponies are real. They’re still there today. Don’t you want to see them, Stevie?”
Steve sighed into the phone. “It’s not that I don’t want to see them; of course I want to see them,” she said. “And I’d love to go to Chincoteague with you, and see Dorothy and Nigel. But neither of you understands. I need to stay and work on Belle.”
Carole thought that that just about summed up Stevie’s problem—she wanted to “work on” Belle, not “work with” her. She wondered just how far Stevie would go not to be beaten by Phil. For Stevie’s sake, as well as Belle’s, Carole was determined to get her friend to Chincoteague Island. Stevie needed a break!
“You know, Stevie,” she said slowly, “The Saddle Club is supposed to help whenever help is necessary. Dorothy’s mother needs us. All of us are obligated to help her.”
Stevie hesitated. “Mrs. DeSoto isn’t part of The Saddle Club,” she said at last. “The rule only says that you have to help Saddle Club members.”
“Mrs. DeSoto let us stay in her house when we went to New York,” Lisa reminded her, picking up immediately on Carole’s argument. “She was very kind to us. This is our chance to pay her back. Plus, Stevie, this is also a way to help Max. If we all don’t go, Max might feel like he and Deborah have to go. They won’t get their chance to be alone together. Max might not be part of The Saddle Club, but The Saddle Club certainly couldn’t exist without him.”
“Exactly,” Carole said.
“Lisa,” protested Stevie, “you really don’t think that Max would think he had to go, just because I didn’t—”
Flying Horse Page 3