“And no retirement party is complete without a sentimental farewell,” I added.
“Ah, yes,” Max agreed. “Most of the people here in the audience today have ridden at Pine Hollow at one time or another, right?” Heads nodded in agreement. “How many of you have ever ridden Pepper?”
I glanced around, raising my own hand high (after tucking the watch under my other arm). Hands were popping up all over the place. It was amazing. More than two-thirds of the people there had ridden Pepper at least once! And it wasn’t just the kids—lots of adults raised their hands, too.
“Okay, let’s give him a real send-off,” Max said. “Stevie, you do the honors.”
I was glad to. I slid down from Pepper’s back and secured his lead line to the gate of the ring. Then I called out a few instructions to the crowd, getting everyone who had ever ridden Pepper to line up by age, with the youngest first.
“That way,” I explained, “you can all have your chance to hug Pepper good-bye and wish him well in his retirement.”
The first twenty or so riders were so young that Max had to lift them up so they could hug the horse. A bunch of parents even took pictures of their kids with Pepper. Then the older kids came—including Betsy Cavanaugh and Anna McWhirter and a whole bunch of other Fenton Hall students. When it was Carole’s turn she stepped forward and gave Pepper the biggest hug yet.
“Good luck, old boy,” she said, stepping back and wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “We’ll miss you. But you’ve earned it.”
Then it was Lisa’s turn. She was standing there, staring at Pepper with this misty look in her eyes.
“Next!” I prompted.
Lisa started, then stepped forward. She wrapped her arms around Pepper’s gray neck and buried her face in his mane.
“I’ll come visit you in the pasture,” she promised. “I’ll bring you some carrots, too.”
That was all she said. But I knew that behind those simple words were a whole lot of emotions. And I knew that somehow Pepper knew it, too.
I smiled as Lisa moved away to let others have their turns. Then I turned my attention back to the line—the long, long line of people waiting to make their farewells to a very special horse.
After everyone had taken a turn, Max stepped forward again. “And now,” he said, “I invite you all to join me for a small reception in Pepper’s new home.”
I grinned and started to lead Pepper toward the back pasture. This was my favorite part of my plan.
“It’s just a little party,” Max continued. “But we do have refreshments. Stevie tells me that Pepper insisted on selecting the menu, so go help yourselves to carrot sticks, oatmeal cookies, sugar lumps, and apple juice!”
I grinned as my friends started to laugh. Soon the whole audience was laughing with them.
FROM: LAtwood
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Here you go …
MESSAGE:
Hi! I just got your e-mail asking about my “Life” essay. Yes, you’re remembering correctly—I did end up revising it after Pepper’s retirement party. I liked it a lot better after that. And of course you can use it in your report if you want. It would be an honor.
I’m attaching the file to this e-mail. And don’t worry, it was no trouble finding it. Actually, I had saved it on the hard drive of my computer, so I didn’t even have to retype it. All I had to do was go into my “School Reports” file and call it up by title and date. Piece of cake!
LIFE
by Lisa Atwood
(edited slightly for length by S. Lake)
Pepper is Pine Hollows gentlest, sweetest, kindest horse. He’s every first rider’s first choice. He is so attentive to his rider’s needs that he makes riding seem easy. In fact, one time I was riding Pepper, unaware that we were in a field that housed a fierce bull. We were too far from the gate to get to safety, so Pepper did the only logical thing—he taught me to jump in one easy lesson! We both landed safely on the other side of the fence. I think I can say truly that I owe Pepper my life.
Now his life is coming to an end. His gray coat, once dark and dappled, is now white and dappled. His head, once held high with pride, often seems too heavy for his neck. His eyes, once sparkling and alert, are now rheumy and clouded with cataracts. His ears splay awkwardly, dulled to the familiar sounds around him. He is old.
I love him as he is, for that is how I have known him, but I like to think of him as he was.
Pepper was a champion, not because he got ribbons, though he surely did, but because he taught me and many other riders how to love horses—starting with him. And we do.
Pepper’s life began in a barn in Willow Creek, Virginia. It will end in a pasture not far from that barn. That seems like a small accomplishment to some people, but Pepper’s contribution to the many who have known and loved him cannot be measured by the yards he traveled from birth to death. They have to be measured by the lives he touched.
So now it’s time for Pepper to take the final few steps of his journey and head for the pasture behind Pine Hollow. While I feel sad about the end of his days at the stable, I also feel a certain happiness. Pepper has earned the right to his rest because he hasn’t just taught me and others about riding, or about aging, or about death. He’s also taught us what’s important about life. It doesn’t matter how far you go. It matters what you do for others along the way.
Welcome to My Life …
There you have it, Miss Fenton. Lisa’s essay. I only cut out some general stuff she wrote at the beginning about life. I think the essay kind of sums up how we all feel about Pepper, and I hope that helps explain how important it was for me to spend a lot of time planning that party.
By now you’re probably wondering whatever happened to Prancer. Well, that’s the next part of my story. You see, after Pepper’s party, my friends and I walked back toward the stable with Dorothy, still carrying our cups of apple juice and some leftover treats from the refreshments table Red and I had set up that morning. We were just chatting with her—you know, catching up on her life and filling her in on ours. There was a lot to tell. For one thing, we told her all about Prancer and her accident the day before.
“Judy thinks she’ll get better, but she’s never going to race again,” Carole explained. She looked sad when she said it.
I glanced over at Lisa. Her eyes were twinkling. I stifled a grin. We had worked pretty hard the day before to keep Carole from guessing what we had helped Judy decide to do.
Dorothy was chatting on about Prancer, but I hardly heard her. I was looking toward the driveway of Pine Hollow, watching for a certain vehicle to arrive.
Finally it came. “Hey, Judy’s here,” I said as casually as I could. I gestured to the light blue pickup truck that had just pulled into the driveway. I looked at Carole innocently. “Are you supposed to be making calls with her today?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Carole said. “I don’t know why she’s here.”
There were still a lot of people hanging around outside from the demonstration and party. Judy stepped out of her truck and glanced around at the crowd, clearly looking for someone. She spotted us and kept looking. Then her gaze fell on Max. She walked briskly over to him and pulled him aside for a private conversation.
I smiled to myself. Then I turned back to Dorothy and Lisa. Lisa winked, then looked at Dorothy. “So, have you started training any interesting new horses lately?” she asked.
Dorothy answered, but I have to admit I wasn’t paying much attention. I was keeping a close watch on Carole out of the corner of my eye. She was staring over at Max and Judy with a worried frown. I could tell she was afraid Judy had come bearing bad news about Prancer, and I was sorry to let her worry. But I knew it would all be worth it when she found out why Judy was really there.
After a moment, Max looked over at us. “Uh, Carole, could you come over here for a minute?” he called.
Carole gulped. Then she went.
I glanced at Lisa and
giggled. She giggled back.
Dorothy looked at both of us, puzzled. “Okay, what am I missing here?” she demanded.
“Should we tell her?” Lisa asked.
“Of course!” I turned to Dorothy. “It’s about Prancer. You see, Carole is terribly worried because she’s afraid Prancer won’t have anyplace to go now that she can’t race anymore.”
“But Stevie managed to convince Max and Judy to—well, to buy her,” Lisa finished. She grinned. “Isn’t it wonderful? Prancer is coming to Pine Hollow!”
Dorothy laughed. “That is wonderful!” she agreed.
“Max and Judy own her fifty-fifty,” I explained. “Right about now, Judy’s probably telling Carole about the part of the agreement where Carole—with our help, of course—will need to take care of Prancer while she’s recovering from her injury.”
I checked out Carole’s face. From the expression of disbelief and joy on it, I was pretty sure I was right on target.
“She—Prancer, I mean—will be coming to Pine Hollow tomorrow,” Lisa told Dorothy. “It’s just too bad she couldn’t come today so you could meet her.”
“I’m sure I’ll meet her on my next visit,” Dorothy assured her. “In fact, I’ll make a point of it.”
I glanced over at Carole again. She was grinning from ear to ear as she turned to run toward us. “Here she comes,” I predicted happily, “to give us the good news.”
A few days after Prancer came to stay at Pine Hollow, fox-hunt fever really started to take over the place. Max announced an organizing meeting for our mock hunt, and I invited Phil to come.
AND THEN WHEN HE GOT THERE WE STARTED SMOOCHING AND MAKING GOO-GOO EYES AT EACH OTHER. BECAUSE HE’S MY BIG STUDLY BOYFRIEND AND I’M A DORKY GIRLY-GIRL WHO THINKS ABOUT KISSING ALL THE TIME. I NEVER THINK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. AND
Grrrr! My idiot brothers are such total fatheads!!!!!!!! If they mess up my report one more time, I’m going to take each of their slimy little heads in my hands and hold them facedown in the manure pile at Pine Hollow until they beg for mercy. Then I’ll tell all their friends they still wet their beds and suck their thumbs, and then I’ll really start planning my revenge.…
Ah, aren’t computers wonderful? Because now I can just delete this whole section (including my brothers’ dorky contribution) and Miss Fenton will never know the difference!
FROM: HorseGal
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Tallyho!
MESSAGE:
Glad to hear that you’re about to get started on writing about the fox hunt. I just wanted to tell you one more time that I’d be happy to help you out if you’re having trouble remembering all the stuff we learned about foxhunting terms and history and stuff. I have one really good book on the subject right upstairs in my room, and I’ve read a lot of other books and articles, too (you know how I’m always trying to learn everything I can about everything horse-related), so I think I have a pretty good handle on it. Plus I paid really close attention to everything Max and Mr. Baker told us, so I’m sure I remember every word in case you forgot some of it.
So if you want my input, or if you just want me to read over what you write and make sure it’s accurate, give a holler. (Or maybe I should say “holloa!”)
FROM: LAtwood
TO: Steviethegreat
SUBJECT: Foxhunting
MESSAGE:
I was thinking about how you told us today at the stable that you’re ready to tackle the foxhunting portion of your assignment. If you want, I could help you remember all the info we learned about foxhunting in our meetings and on the hunts themselves. I realize you were a little distracted during both hunts, especially the mock hunt, so you might not have been able to keep track of all the important terms and stuff. By the way, I even still have that memo Max handed out with the permission slips, in case you want to include that.
Just give me a call if you want to talk about it or ask me any questions. I’ll be here all night!
FROM: Steviethegreat
TO: DSlattVT
SUBJECT: AARGH!
MESSAGE:
Okay, I’m totally convinced that my two best friends think I’m completely scatterbrained. They both just wrote me these e-mails that make it perfectly clear that they think my head is filled with bran mash and my attention span is that of a gnat. They seem to think I couldn’t possibly have learned a single thing during our entire foxhunting experience. Lisa even offered me this memo from Max that I had ALREADY PUT IN MY REPORT! SO THERE!!!!!
Sorry. It’s just a little irritating sometimes when they think I’m too irresponsible to save anything or remember anything or know anything about anything. Just because I like to have fun and tell a joke or two once in a while doesn’t mean I don’t pay attention to important stuff, too. I guess it’s a good thing Miss Fenton didn’t call them in as character witnesses before she gave me this assignment, or I’d probably be in summer school already, even though it’s not even summer yet! Ha!
Okay, that’s better. Thanks for listening. (Well, reading—you know what I mean.) I was just feeling a little annoyed, and I didn’t want to take it out on my friends by writing back nasty e-mails or something, because I know they mean well (and they can be a little sensitive sometimes, especially Lisa). And I guess I might be a little on edge because my report is due in four days and my brothers are still driving me nuts and I don’t know if I’m EVER going to finish this stupid assignment—or if Miss Fenton will even like it when (I mean if) I do.
But I’m not just writing to complain. I actually have some more news regarding the Mystery of the Suspicious Snob. Here goes: We had riding lessons today after school, and for like the third time in a row, Veronica didn’t show up. And Max didn’t even seem mad about it, which means he must have known she wasn’t coming. I mean, you know Max. Since when does he EVER not get mad when someone skips a lesson without good reason?
So I was in the tack room after lessons when Betsy Cavanaugh and Anna McWhirter came in. I guess I said something kind of insulting about Veronica not showing up (you know, something along the lines of how I was glad to see she finally realized what a horrible rider she was and was giving up on lessons completely), and instead of ignoring me or in-suiting me back, as I expected, Betsy said, “Poor Veronica,” in this quavery voice and Anna started blinking really hard, like she was about to cry. Then they both turned around and ran out of the room!
It was totally weird. I still have no idea what’s going on.
But I’ll find out, or my name’s not Steven Lake!
Welcome to My Life …
A few days after Prancer came to stay at Pine Hollow, fox-hunt fever really started to take over. Max announced an organizing meeting for our mock hunt, and I invited Phil to come. Unfortunately, I also invited him to my house for dinner beforehand (I even finished at least half of my math word problems before he arrived). But even more unfortunately, all three of my low-life brothers were there.
They didn’t leave us alone the entire time. Let me see if I can recall just some of the humiliating conversation over that dinner table.
Chad started it. As you know, Miss Fenton, he’s the oldest. That means he thinks can say whatever he wants to the rest of us. It also means that Alex and Michael tend to follow his lead, especially when he’s giving me a hard time. Which he always is.
“So, tell me, Stevie,” he said in this fake-innocent voice. “Just where are you and Phil going tonight after dinner?”
I could already see where this was heading—straight downhill. Still, I did my best to answer politely. “We’re going to an organizing meeting for the mock hunt.”
“Oh, you hunt mocks?” my oh-so-humorous twin brother asked. “They’ve certainly been a menace to the local farmers.”
Phil, being much more evolved than my brothers, answered patiently. “Not exactly, Alex,” he said. “It’s mock as in pretend. It’s a pretend hunt being sponsored by Stevie’s Pony Club to prepare all of us for the real fox hunt that’
s being held at my Pony Club.”
Instead of shutting my brothers up, Phil’s calm, intelligent words got them even more riled up. They started yelling “Tallyho!” and talking about drinking brandy from flasks and wondering if fox meat was any good to eat.
I have to admit, I was having kind of a hard time controlling myself. It was such a temptation to leap across the table and throttle them all. However, I knew my parents wouldn’t exactly approve of that. Besides, I didn’t want to fight with my brothers in front of Phil—which was exactly why I was so furious with them at that moment.
“For your information,” I told them finally, after I’d gained enough control over my anger that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t start yelling, “foxhunting is an old and honorable sport. In England, where there are lots of foxes, they’re viewed as a pest and the farmers often really do want them to be caught as long as it’s humane. Here in America, where there aren’t so many foxes, they’re rarely caught and even more rarely killed. In fact, most hunters would be disappointed if the hounds were to catch the fox. See, we want that same fox to be available to lead us on a merry chase the next time we go foxhunting.”
As soon as that last sentence was out of my mouth, I cringed, knowing that I had just made a fatal mistake.
“A merry chase!” Chad howled. Alex and Michael joined in. Even my parents—traitors!—seemed to be having trouble keeping straight faces. I couldn’t help blushing, which made me angrier than ever. I hate it when my brothers embarrass me. And I especially hate it when they embarrass me in front of Phil!
I was sort of speechless for a moment, trying to think of the most humiliating, horrible things I could announce to the table at large about each of my brothers. However, Phil spoke up before I could come up with anything good.
“There’s a lot of misinformation out there about foxhunting,” he said. “We’ve been doing a lot of reading on the subject at Cross County, and one thing I thought was interesting was that only the huntsman, the master of the hounds, and the whippers-in are doing any actual hunting. The rest of us are just along for the ride.”
Stevie Page 16