“I’ll tell her, but I still feel like a worm.”
“Well, she knows how busy we’ve both been—”
“Yeah, but still …”
“Stevie!” Mrs. Reg called.
“Coming.”
Carole went in search of Lisa. Stevie stepped into Mrs. Reg’s office and sat down on the tack box in front of her desk. “So, now, tell me,” Mrs. Reg began. “How’re you doing in making up games and races?”
That was another thing Stevie wasn’t feeling too good about at the moment. So far, this day hadn’t been exactly terrific. “To tell you the truth, Mrs. Reg, not so well. I’ve been trying to come up with some really original ideas. I spent a lot of time trying to make up a game with a Hula-Hoop, but that just spooked Nickel, and if he spooks, most of the other ponies will too. Then I tried a marshmallow game. No luck. I was sure I could get something going by riding on the saddle backward, but that only got Nickel confused—and me bruised! Finally, I’ve been working on something to do with Laser Tag. It’s going to be wonderful, I’m sure, but the trouble is, I don’t have a Laser Tag set to use yet. So, all in all, not so hot.”
“How about an egg-and-spoon race?” Mrs. Reg asked brightly.
Stevie couldn’t believe it. Every time she talked to someone about the gymkhana, all anybody ever suggested was an egg-and-spoon race. “Everybody already knows about egg-and-spoon races. I want to do something different, something interesting, something fun! Isn’t that what Max wants, too?”
“Max wants a good set of games,” Mrs. Reg said. “That doesn’t necessarily mean they have to be so unusual that nobody can do them! Use your horse sense, Stevie,” Mrs. Reg urged.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Reg,” Stevie said. “I’m working on something with a baton that will be lots of fun. You’ll see.”
“Yes, I’m sure I will,” Mrs. Reg said. “And I put a dozen eggs in the fridge if you want to give that a try, okay?”
Just then, the bell sounded. “Hey, class is about to start and I’ve still got to tack up Comanche. I’ll talk to you next week again, Mrs. Reg.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Reg agreed. “By then, you should have a pretty good idea of the games you want to include, and you and I can start to plan a schedule and figure out how much time to allow and how to award points for prizes.”
Schedule? Points? Prizes? How could they possibly do all that? Stevie had a growing awareness that she was going to have to move faster and work harder to make up the games if Mrs. Reg expected to plan a schedule and point system next week. That would mean another couple of hours on Nickel over the weekend. But how could she work harder than she was already working? It seemed impossible, for her and for Nickel.
Poor pony, she thought, sighing, as she headed for Comanche’s stall with his tack. Poor me.
LISA ALMOST ALWAYS felt happy when she was riding. She’d gotten to like just about everything to do with it. She loved her clothes, the sleek breeches, the tall boots with the rich shine. She’d even gotten over being self-conscious about the hard hat they had to wear. She had only had to fall off once to appreciate how it could really be a lifesaver. When she’d first gotten her brand-new riding outfit, she’d thought it was silly and noticed how other people, even riders, stared at her. She knew now that was because everything had been so new that it sort of stuck out. Now her riding clothes showed wear—marks on her boots, smudges on her hat. That showed she was a real rider and she was proud of those marks and smudges.
Today, while the more advanced riders were in the jumping class, she was taking a “flat class.” Estelle rode near her on a trail through some fields near Pine Hollow. Estelle’s clothes were even newer than Lisa’s. At first that seemed odd to Lisa, but she realized that Estelle must have bought new clothes in America. It would hardly be worth the trouble to bring a worn outfit all the way from France.
“How come you’re not taking the jumping class?” Lisa asked. “I mean, you did jump, didn’t you, on Napoleon?”
“Napoleon?” Estelle echoed. “Oh, right, well, I can’t jump, see. My doctor won’t let me do it.”
“Why not? He must be a fuddy-duddy doctor if he won’t let an experienced rider like you jump! I mean, Max says it’s okay for us to start jumping as soon as we’ve been riding for a year. I just can’t wait. I mean, I know he’s right, but I’m ready, believe me!”
“I had an accident, you see,” Estelle explained. “When I was a little girl, I hurt my back. I was in the hospital for a long time. I spent my seventh birthday in the hospital, it was horrible. The doctor said I should never jump. The risk is too great. So, here I am. Just happy to be able to ride at all.”
“Oh, that’s terrible. Does it still hurt?”
“My back? Oh, no, but, you see, it could hurt, and then I might not be able to ride ever again.” Just then, Nero headed off the trail to the other side of the field at a trot. “Arretez!” Estelle yelled at him. “À gauche! Maintenant! Cheval bête!” Lisa had had enough French in school to know that Estelle was saying, “Stop! Turn left! Now! Stupid horse!”
Red O’Malley, who was instructing the class while Max worked with the jumpers, broke out of the file of riders and cantered over to rescue Estelle. All the riders watched in astonishment while Nero bolted, dumping Estelle unceremoniously in the grass. Within a few seconds, Red had recaptured the horse and led him back to Estelle. She stood in the middle of the field, brushing dirt and grass off her stylish riding breeches. Lisa suspected she was also rubbing something that was going to be a nasty bruise.
“Up you go,” Red instructed her. Estelle just glared at the horse.
“I don’t think I should have to ride him anymore,” Estelle said. “He is too wild.”
There were snorts of laughter from some of the riders. Everybody knew that Nero wasn’t a wild horse. He was usually very complacent and gentle. Lisa couldn’t understand why sweet old Nero was behaving so badly for Estelle.
“Estelle,” Red said politely, “Nero just needs to have you let him know who is the boss. If he starts acting up, put more leg on him. It will remind him that you’re on board and you’re in charge. If that doesn’t work, put some pressure on the reins. As a matter of fact, here, get up, and I’ll show you what to do.”
Reluctantly, Estelle remounted the horse. Red gave her the reins and explained that if she squeezed her fingers on the reins, alternating hands, it would put just the smallest amount of pressure on the bit in the horse’s mouth. It wouldn’t be enough pressure for him to think it was a signal, but it would be enough to make him think he should pay attention.
“Watch his ears when you do that,” Red suggested. “You’ll see that he’s alert to you instead of doing his own thing.”
When Estelle was back in the group they all started trotting. Lisa decided to try what Red had suggested, although her own horse, Pepper, hadn’t been giving her any trouble. As soon as she squeezed the reins, moving them perhaps only a half an inch, Pepper seemed more alert to her, picked up his pace, and lifted his head sharply. It was a neat trick. Once she had his attention, she stopped doing it, but if he lagged, she could try it again.
Estelle, however, didn’t seem to be having the same kind of luck. For the rest of the class she was fighting with Nero, and losing. Lisa thought it very strange indeed that Estelle should have such trouble. She’d never seen an experienced rider let her horse take the lead the way Nero did that day. Estelle must be right, she told herself. There was something terribly wrong with Nero.
When the class finally ended, Lisa got the soda whip. That was another one of Pine Hollow’s traditions, and one that almost everybody enjoyed. Each class member pulled a riding whip out of a bucket. One of the whips had a bottle cap attached to it. It meant that rider was in charge of getting sodas for everybody in the class and delivering them to the stalls where the other students would be untacking their horses. Lisa took Pepper to his stall, then quickly scooped eight cans out of the little refrigerator in the tack room.
&nbs
p; She delivered the drinks to the riders, ending with Estelle. When she opened Nero’s stall, she found Estelle hanging onto the horse’s bridle, almost being lifted off the ground by his nodding head. His ears were almost flat back against his head and his eyes were wide open, showing white. Lisa knew those were signs that the horse was very upset.
“Steady, boy,” Lisa said, reaching to pat Nero’s neck. “Take it easy, now. Nobody’s going to hurt you. We just want to take off the bridle and saddle; calm down.” He blinked his eyes and seemed to relax a little bit. “Let go of the bridle,” Lisa told Estelle. Estelle released the bridle. The reins dangled to the ground. “Not the reins. Hold those!” Lisa told her sharply. It would be very easy for Nero to get his legs tangled in the long reins and then there would be real trouble.
Estelle’s hand darted toward the reins, but when Nero tried to push her away with his nose, she jumped back, obviously scared. Lisa picked up the reins with her left hand and gave them to Estelle, who accepted them reluctantly.
“Whatsamatter, boy?” Lisa asked, still trying to calm the big horse. “We’ll take care of you—no problem. Ready for some hay, maybe some fresh water?”
Lisa knew that the horse couldn’t understand her. Max had told them all many times that horses couldn’t speak English. But from experience, she also knew that horses could sense fear, and that they reacted with fear of their own. She tried to speak as calmly and fearlessly as possible. Finally, Nero got the message. His ears stood straight up, his head held steady, his liquid brown eyes gazed calmly at her.
Lisa continued to pat him while she removed his bridle. She handed it to Estelle and, with dismay, saw the French girl take it by one of the cheek straps. That was a sure way to tangle it, and Lisa would have to cope with that in a minute. First, though, she needed to finish with Nero. She loosened the girth and removed the saddle. The girls took the tack out of the stall, closed the door carefully, and carried the bridle and saddle back to the tack room.
“Come, help me with Pepper,” Lisa said. “I’ll show you what you need to do to keep a horse calm. Then we can give them both some water, okay?”
“I know how to take care of a horse!” Estelle snapped. “I have been doing it since I was a little girl! Do you think I have really learned nothing in all these years? I do not need to learn anything. It is Nero who needs a lesson. Max must see to this right away.” With that, Estelle turned and stormed off to Max’s office.
Lisa was confused. Estelle was an experienced rider. She’d been riding for years. She owned her own horse. Still, she didn’t seem to understand the simplest things about riding. It didn’t make sense. Something didn’t fit at all.
While she untacked Pepper and drank her own soda, Lisa thought about Estelle and the miserable day she had had with Nero. It was possible that Nero was ill. It was even possible that he needed to be taught a lesson, though if a rider felt a horse needed punishment of any kind, it was best to administer it at the very moment it was needed. What seemed the most possible, though, was that riding in France was very different from riding in America. Obviously, Estelle simply didn’t know many of the things Lisa had been taught. Riders must be taught differently and horses must be trained differently in France, Lisa reasoned.
It was as if Estelle used a different language with her horse than Lisa did. Max often told his students that they spoke to their horses with their hands and their legs because a horse’s sense of communication was more physical than anything. So, how could that be different in France? Lisa asked herself.
Once again, Lisa thought about the white stallion, Napoleon, a gift on Estelle’s seventh birthday. Then Lisa recalled that Estelle had also told her that was a day she had spent in a hospital with a back injury. She must have heard it wrong—or else Estelle said it wrong.
When she’d stowed Pepper’s tack, she brought him water and fresh hay and then did the same for Nero. By then he was completely calmed down, his same old placid self. He welcomed Lisa’s pats and dug into the fresh hay enthusiastically.
Lisa shook her head in confusion. Something seemed out of kilter in her world, but she didn’t know what it was.
Having no answer, and lost in thought, she slid his door shut and locked it.
“CAROLE, PAY ATTENTION!” Max snapped at Carole in jump class later that Friday. “If you’re not paying attention, how can you expect your horse to do it?”
Carole tried again to focus. Diablo’s ears perked up immediately in response to her soft tug on his reins. She circled the ring until he was in a nice, smooth, rocking canter, then she aimed him straight for the jump. It was a two-foot training jump, hardly a wall, but she knew that jumping high wasn’t as important as jumping well. She approached the jump on Diablo, leaning forward ever so slightly, but holding the reins taut until they were close. Smoothly, she rose in the saddle and, keeping her back nearly parallel to the horse’s neck, she leaned forward, letting the motion of Diablo’s head move her hands along his neck. Diablo lifted into the air and landed gently on the other side.
“See how well it works when you pay attention?” Max asked. Carole nodded her answer, but she hadn’t really heard the question. Already her mind was someplace else. She was listening for the familiar sound of Judy’s truck. The vet was due for Delilah’s checkup and Carole hoped she’d arrive during the lunch break. Carole had noticed some changes in Delilah, and hoped that meant the foal’s birth would be soon.
Something else distracted Carole as well. Lisa stood at the edge of the ring watching the end of the jump class. Carole hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet about missing yesterday’s Club meeting. She knew how she’d feel if that had happened to her. She really wanted a chance to explain, but it seemed like every single second of the day was filled, at least up through their drill practice. And if Delilah was as close to her delivery as Carole suspected, she’d be even busier soon.
Just then, the French girl, Estelle, came into the ring and stood next to Lisa. Carole cringed. Estelle gave her goose bumps. Carole had watched her ride enough to know that she was a big phony on horseback—and probably everywhere else, too. When she’d overheard Estelle telling Meg Durham about this horse she’d supposedly been riding since she was seven, Carole had barely been able to contain her snort of laughter. There was no way Estelle had been riding for so long and learned so little! So what was she doing hanging around Lisa? Carole wondered.
AS SOON AS jump class was over, Stevie dashed into the tack room hoping to find Lisa there. There was no sign of her. Stevie took her sandwich and a soda from the refrigerator and went in search of her friend. Finally, in the stable area, she found a small crowd gathered near Delilah’s stall. Lisa stood there along with seven or eight other students, watching Judy examine Delilah.
“Lisa, can I talk to you?” Stevie asked. Lisa turned in surprise. “I can’t believe I forgot the meeting yesterday,” Stevie rushed on. “I mean, I was busy with the gymkhana stuff, but that didn’t mean I had to forget the Club meeting. I’m awfully sorry, especially since Carole told me she forgot, too. It was a terrible mistake, and I hope you can forget about it.”
“It’s okay, Stevie,” Lisa said. “I just saw Carole, and she already told me how sorry you both were. It turned out all right anyway. Estelle was with me, so I wasn’t hanging around there by myself, you know?”
Stevie felt an unbelievable rush of relief. From the second she’d realized what they’d done, she’d known how she would have felt if two friends had done that to her—and she knew that she wouldn’t have been at all nice about it the way Lisa was being. Sighing happily, she slung her arm across Lisa’s shoulder. “Thanks for understanding. How about a Club meeting at my house this afternoon after drill?”
“That’d be great,” Lisa said.
“Now, what’s going on here?” Stevie asked.
“Judy’s examining Delilah. Carole’s helping her.”
Stevie stood on tiptoe to see. Carole was holding Delilah’s halter while Judy felt arou
nd the horse’s large belly. It was hard to believe, Stevie thought, that there really was another whole life growing inside the mare. And it wouldn’t be long now before they’d all see it.
“Everything looks fine here,” Judy said. Everybody seemed relieved, though there had never been any indication that anything was wrong. “And I still think we’re on schedule for a delivery in a couple of weeks. This gal’s not rushing into anything!” The girls all laughed. “But I’d better go now. I got a call on the way over here—”
“Judy!” Estelle called from the fringe of the group. “Before you go, could you take a look at Nero? He has been misbehaving terribly.”
Judy glanced up at Estelle. “Old Nero? What’s his trouble? Max didn’t say anything to me—”
“Well, I didn’t have time to tell him yet,” Estelle explained.
“Sure, I’ll look at him now,” Judy agreed. “Describe his symptoms to me, will you?” While Judy packed her medical bag, Estelle explained the problems the horse had given her.
“Sounds like he’s just cranky,” Judy said.
“Le mot juste!” Estelle declared. Then she blushed, realizing nobody had understood her. “Excuse my French,” she said. “It means that that is just exactly the right word.”
Judy picked up her bag and followed Estelle to Nero’s stall.
Stevie and a couple of the other girls tried to stifle giggles. They’d seen Estelle riding, and they knew it wasn’t Nero who had the problem. Le mot juste was phony, Stevie thought.
Living near Washington meant that there were a lot of diplomats’ children of all nationalities around. Stevie usually found them interesting and fun. Estelle was definitely an exception to that, though. Stevie didn’t believe a word of her fantastic stories, and the idea that she’d been riding for a long time was just laughable.
Stevie looked for Lisa to continue their talk, but, much to her surprise, Lisa was following Estelle and Judy to Nero’s stall.
Horse Sense Page 5