“I certainly do.”
There was a long pause on Stevie’s end of the line. “All right,” she said, giving in at last. “I’ll go.”
“Good,” Carole said crisply. She had never imagined needing to talk Stevie into having fun!
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Lisa ran into Carole at Willow Creek’s shopping center. Carole was getting off a bus in full riding gear. She usually rode the bus to get to Pine Hollow, and the shopping center stop was the closest one to the stable. Lisa was wearing her riding clothes, too. They looked at each other and giggled.
“I suppose you’re going to Pine Hollow,” Lisa said, slipping her arm through Carole’s.
“I suppose so,” Carole agreed. “I suppose you are, too, since you usually don’t shop in breeches and boots. I want to ride Starlight again before we leave. I’m really excited about this trip to Chincoteague—but I wish I could take Starlight with me!”
Lisa grinned. Today she had talked her mother out of the “summer enrichment” program—well, they had compromised. Lisa was going to take ballet again and possibly watercolor painting, but not ballroom dancing or music appreciation—and she had found her boot hooks in among her mane-braiding supplies, and she was about to leave for a week on a resort island with her two best friends! She could already feel the hot sand between her toes. Suddenly life was wonderful.
They walked along the road until they were within sight of Pine Hollow. Carole stopped. “Uh-oh,” she said.
Lisa looked and stopped, too. She sighed. “Here we go again.”
Stevie was riding Belle in the outdoor arena. Lisa was too far away to see exactly what they were doing, but she was sure it was another exercise designed to teach Belle a flying change. Stevie cantered Belle around a corner of the arena, then switched directions, throwing her weight around the corner. Belle chomped at the bit and swished her tail angrily. Instead of changing leads, she tossed her head and bucked. Stevie sat back and pulled Belle to a halt. Lisa was shocked at the expression on her friend’s face—Stevie looked ready to cry.
Stevie spotted Lisa and Carole and rode Belle up to the rail.
“She won’t do it,” she said in an anguished voice. “No matter what, I can’t teach her anything. This is a Bert de Némethy method—I got it out of his book on horse training—but I can’t make it work! I’m not getting anywhere with Belle! She isn’t any closer to doing a flying change than she was a week ago, and after we get back from Chincoteague I’ll only have three days before I see Phil!”
Stevie sounded so upset that Lisa tried to think of a comforting thing to say. But before she could, Carole cut in.
“I’ve had it with you, Stevie Lake,” she said sharply.
Lisa was amazed at the harshness in Carole’s voice. Was Carole actually angry? At Stevie? Lisa couldn’t remember when that had ever happened before.
“You’re working that horse far too hard,” Carole continued in the same angry tone. “It’s not good for Belle. You’ll end up actually hurting her if you keep at it like this. There’s more to training a horse than making it do a flying change. You don’t see me getting Starlight that upset, do you?”
Stevie’s eyes blazed. “Well excuse me, Ms. Perfect Horsewoman,” she replied. “But I am certainly not working my horse too hard. I do know something about training. Endurance riders cover a hundred miles of rough ground in a single day—I’m sure Belle can canter for half an hour without being hurt.”
“Endurance riders don’t do a hundred miles every single day,” Carole spat back. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Don’t you remember Mrs. Reg’s story?”
“Of course,” Stevie said, tight-lipped. “She said Madeleine turned out to be a wonderful horse. So will Belle. Soon. Meanwhile, I think you should just—”
“Stevie, Carole!” Lisa was aghast. “Cut it out! This isn’t helping!”
There was a long pause. “I guess you’re right,” Carole said slowly. “Stevie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Carole paused. How could she explain how she felt, even to one of her best friends? “It’s just that I don’t really understand why this should be such a big deal to you, and I hate to see you and Belle getting so upset with each other. Usually you get along so well together. But I shouldn’t have compared Belle to Starlight. I know that all horses learn things differently and have different personalities. I don’t mean Belle should act like Starlight. I really am sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Stevie said. She sighed and shrugged. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper at you either. But this is important—and frustrating. Anyway, I need to ride Belle today, because I won’t be able to ride her at all for a week.”
“I thought the same thing about Starlight,” Carole said. “Why don’t you and Belle join us and Lisa on a trail ride? It’d be fun.”
Stevie shook her head slowly but emphatically. “Not today. I really want to use this time for work, not fun,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’d like to go with you.”
“Okay,” said Carole. “But I’m sorry, too. We’ll miss you.” She and Lisa went into the stable. “I really didn’t mean to yell at her,” Carole repeated.
“I know you didn’t,” Lisa comforted her. “But do you want to go on a trail ride without Stevie?”
“I guess so. It feels kind of strange—but it’s her choice, Lisa. It’s not like we don’t want her to come.”
Lisa quietly agreed and went to get Prancer’s tack.
She couldn’t help feeling that, even though everything in her own life was still going well, the day was not nearly as wonderful as it had been before she’d seen Stevie.
SATURDAY MORNING EVERYONE piled into Mrs. Reg’s big station wagon. They threw their luggage into the back. Denise sat up front with Mrs. Reg, and The Saddle Club squeezed themselves into the middle seat. Lisa had brought her pillow in case she felt like taking a nap, and Carole had a tin full of her father’s famous chocolate chip cookies. Stevie carried an armload of books.
“Stevie, don’t tell me you’re planning to study!” Carole said, laughing. “School’s out, remember?” It was a well-known fact that Stevie rarely studied even when school was in. She opened her books whenever her parents threatened to limit her riding time until her grades improved—and even that didn’t happen often.
“They’re dressage books,” Stevie explained defensively. “Training manuals.”
“Oh.” Carole shot Lisa a look, and Lisa rolled her eyes. They certainly weren’t going to let Stevie spend the whole week reading about techniques to use on Belle!
Denise leaned over the back of her seat. “Are you interested in training?” she asked Stevie eagerly. “Because if you are, I’d like to tell you about natural horsemanship. It’s something I’ve been learning about recently at my college. It’s a really great method of teaching your horse without using any force at all.”
Stevie shrugged. “I don’t use too much force,” she said. Even to her, her words sounded a bit resentful. Denise was just trying to be helpful. But I’ve had it, Stevie thought. Everyone thinks they can tell me how to fix Belle—first Carole, now Denise. Pretty soon Dorothy’s mother will be giving me advice, too.
Denise gave Stevie a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “I’ll tell you about natural horsemanship some other time, if you’re interested. Maybe I’ll get a chance to show you what I mean. Demonstrations work better anyway.”
Stevie read her textbooks throughout the drive through Washington, D.C., across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, and down the Eastern Shore of Maryland back into Virginia. Once they were over the Bay Bridge, the scenery became somewhat monotonous—nothing but pine trees, cotton fields, and more pine trees—so Lisa taught Carole to play cribbage, and Denise and Mrs. Reg chattered gaily in the front seat.
Finally they entered Virginia’s Eastern Shore, a thin strip of land that hung like an icicle off the east coast of Maryland. The narrow two-lane highway swung wide around a large, fenced complex, and the girls were
surprised to see enormous satellite dishes and what looked like rockets standing on launching pads. “It’s a NASA complex,” Mrs. Reg explained, checking the directions Dorothy had given her. “Pay attention, now—we’re almost there.”
Just past the complex, a long skinny bridge led to Chincoteague Island. “This is funny,” Carole said, frowning. “There wasn’t a bridge in the books. They talked about taking boats to and from the mainland.”
“It’s new, I think, or a least a lot newer than the books,” Denise said, looking over her shoulder at them. “There’s a bridge from Chincoteague to Assateague Island now, too.”
Carole wondered if she should feel disappointed. Part of her wanted everything about Chincoteague and Assateague to be just the way it was in the books—and part of her knew that bridges from the mainland to Chincoteague and from Chincoteague to Assateague certainly made it easier to visit the islands. She didn’t know much about boats, and she doubted that Lisa or Stevie did either.
“There are certainly a lot of billboards,” Lisa observed. “Look at that one, Carole! ‘See the REAL Misty!’ What do you suppose that means?”
“I don’t know,” Carole replied.
Stevie looked up from her books for the first time since they’d passed the Jefferson Memorial. “Humpf,” she muttered, looking at the faded sign, “I bet the real Misty could do a flying change.”
CHINCOTEAGUE ISLAND WAS beautiful. On the short drive to Mrs. DeSoto’s new bed-and-breakfast, they caught a glimpse of the town. It wasn’t old or new, fancy or plain; the shops and houses were a mixture of styles much as in the small towns of Maryland and Virginia they’d just driven through. But the island was beautiful—bright sunlight glinted off the bay, seagulls wheeled above them, crying loudly, and waves lapped softly against the piers. The air smelled salty and fresh.
“It’s wonderful,” Lisa said dreamily.
Mrs. Reg turned north on Main Street and stopped the car a few blocks later. “It certainly is,” she said, looking up at the great white Victorian house in front of them. A white picket fence with peeling paint and a few missing slats encircled the yard. Roses ran wild across the top of the fence. The main house was three stories tall, with two chimneys, gable windows, a turreted side porch, and another wide porch running across the front. A brand-new clapboard sign read “The DeSoto Inn.”
“Wow!” Even Stevie was impressed. They stared for a moment in silent admiration. Then the front door of the inn opened, and Dorothy and Nigel came running down the steps to meet them.
Dorothy greeted The Saddle Club with exuberant hugs. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” she said to Lisa, Carole, and Stevie. “Too long. You, too, Mrs. Reg—” and she hugged her as well, and then hugged Denise to round things off. The Saddle Club grinned. They had always liked Dorothy. At first they had mostly been impressed by her incredible riding skill, and then they had admired the courage with which she faced her career-ending back injury. Now they were just glad to have her as a friend.
Nigel shook hands all around, making funny little bows and saying “So good to see you.” It was terribly British, and The Saddle Club loved it. Nigel was every bit as nice as Dorothy, but they couldn’t imagine him hugging them.
Mrs. DeSoto appeared on the front porch. “Dorothy, don’t leave them standing on the walk!” she called. “Bring them in! I’ve got scones just out of the oven!”
Mrs. Reg laughed and went inside while the girls, Denise, and Nigel carried the luggage up the front steps. Inside, the smell of fresh paint contrasted sharply with the wonderful fruity smell of hot scones.
“Sit down,” Mrs. DeSoto said, herding them all into a dining room set with card tables and folding chairs. “I’m so glad to see all of you, and you’re just in time. We’re going to serve afternoon tea here at the DeSoto Inn, and Nigel’s mum sent me her recipe for scones. You all can test them out.” She disappeared through a swinging door and came back with a heavily laden tray. “Once you’ve had tea and rested, we’ll show you the rest of the inn.” She smiled. “We’ve been working hard—a few of the guest rooms are habitable, I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear. And a few of the bathrooms and the kitchen are operational, too. But I’m eager to open for business. All of the other inns on the island are at full occupancy, or nearly so, and I want to start taking reservations for Pony Penning.” She jumped up, went out to the kitchen, and came back with a small jar of jam. “I forgot—this is wild strawberry, in case anybody wants some. Now, what do you think of the scones?”
“Wunnerful,” said Stevie, her mouth full.
“I agree,” said Lisa. “I’ve had teas in England that weren’t half so nice as this.”
“Well, naturally,” said Nigel, folding his legs and taking a close look at one of the currants on his scone. “Just because someplace invented something doesn’t mean they’ve perfected it. I’ve also had some pretty grotty teas in England. I’ve made some pretty grotty tea, too, come to think of it—remember backstage at Olympia, luv?” He tapped his wife’s cheek.
“Olympia is an indoor show in Great Britain,” Dorothy explained to The Saddle Club. “It’s right before Christmas, and it’s a very big deal, kind of like our American Horse Show. Anyway, last year, Nigel was so nervous before the big Grand Prix that he insisted on making us all tea on a camp stove before the class got started. He said it would calm him down.”
“Dreadful,” said Nigel, with a shake of his head. “I boiled it, I’m afraid. Even my horse wouldn’t drink it, and he loves tea.”
“Did it calm you down?” asked Carole.
Nigel shook his head, a smile in his eyes. “Not at all. Nothing ever does, you know. But it didn’t matter—I won the class anyway.” He grinned.
“That’s amazing,” Stevie said frankly.
“What?” asked Nigel. “Amazing that I wrecked the tea? Or amazing that it didn’t calm me down?” He raised his eyebrows at them in puzzled amusement.
“I agree,” Carole said, and Lisa nodded.
“What?” Nigel repeated. “Do speak up. It’s not like you Yanks to be uncommunicative—especially you three.”
Stevie explained. “It’s amazing that you were nervous before your class. I mean, you’re Nigel Hawthorne. We didn’t think great riders like you ever got nervous.”
Nigel’s grin widened. “Stevie, luv, have you seen Grand Prix jumps? They’re six feet tall! Believe me, people who say they’re not nervous before a class like that are flat-out lying—or shouldn’t be there. You’ve got to care enough to be nervous, if you want to do well.”
The Saddle Club nodded. Both Lisa and Carole felt somehow reassured—if even Nigel got nervous sometimes, then it was okay that they always felt a few butterflies in their stomachs before any kind of exhibition or show.
Stevie’s line of thought was different. Immediately she tried to apply what Nigel had said to her situation with Belle. Did that mean it was okay that she was upset, because it meant she cared about Belle’s doing well? At first Stevie felt better about herself. But then she realized that Nigel probably didn’t get nervous when he was schooling his horses. He only gets nervous for shows—for big classes, she told herself, so should I be this upset with Belle, when Belle is just learning? But Belle wouldn’t behave! She ought to be doing a flying change!
“Stevie,” Carole said. “Come back. You’re miles away.”
Stevie blinked and smiled at her friend. “Sorry.” She didn’t explain what she was thinking about, and Carole didn’t ask. From the anxious look on Stevie’s face, Carole was pretty sure that Stevie had been worrying about Belle.
“Well,” said Mrs. DeSoto, “judging by the way you all polished off those scones, I’d say the first tea at the DeSoto Inn has been a success. What you think, girls? Ready to see the rest of the inn?”
“We’ll help you clean this up first,” Lisa said quickly. She hadn’t forgotten that the reason they were all there was to work. She picked up the teapot; Stevie stacked the empty dishes on the
tray, and they all followed Mrs. DeSoto into the kitchen.
The big sunny room was their first surprise. The dining room still needed paint, wallpaper, and furniture, but the kitchen was completely done. It was wallpapered in a pale flowered print with a border of roses along the ceiling that complemented the roses on the fence outdoors. The white wooden floor shone. White chairs surrounded a big wooden table, and the institutional-size stove and refrigerator gleamed. The fence and a tangled garden were visible through a side window, and in the back a large plate glass window looked directly out onto the bay.
“Oh!” said Carole. “How beautiful!” She went to the window. A handful of fishing boats bobbed on the water, and birds skittered across the short strip of sand at the water’s edge.
“Yes, we’re directly on the bay,” Mrs. DeSoto told her. “Only twenty inches above sea level. A little later you girls can go exploring. There’s a more substantial beach in several places around the island—you can walk to lots of it. Chincoteague’s only seven miles long, and a little over one mile wide at its widest.”
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and put away the butter and jam. Dorothy came in, followed by Denise and Mrs. Reg.
“Why don’t I take you on the grand tour,” Dorothy suggested. “I asked Nigel to take your suitcases up to your rooms. Fortunately, as Mom said, we do have three finished rooms. Eventually there will be seven—you can see how much work we still have to do.”
Dorothy walked them back through the dining room, then showed them the sunroom and side porch. On the other side of the big staircase in the entryway was a room with a glass-fronted fireplace and rows of windows across the back. “This will be the parlor,” Dorothy explained. “Mom’s bought some real antiques and some new furniture that looks antique, and it will all be shipped just as soon as the rooms are ready.”
Stevie scuffed at a pile of sawdust on the floor. “Looks like that might be a while. This room needs wallpaper, paint, and a good sweeping.”
Flying Horse Page 4