Gold Medal Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Five-thirty-four,” Stevie said despairingly, looking at her watch. “They’ll never get here.”

  “I wish my spots were gone,” Lisa said. Though she was over her chicken pox, her face and arms were still marked with little not-quite-healed red scabs. Her doctor had assured her that they would go away in time. “I feel like I have zits everywhere.”

  “No one will even notice,” Carole assured her. “Where we’re going, nobody knows you anyway.”

  Lisa gave a start. “Oh, I forgot to tell you!” she said. She grimaced. “Drew called again last night. Remember his little brother, the one he was always telling me I was perfect for?”

  “Edmund?” asked Stevie. “Wasn’t his name Edmund?” “Edwin. Edwin Gustafs.”

  “That’s right. ‘Dready Eddy.’ ” Stevie recalled the nickname she’d made up when they’d first heard about Drew’s younger brother. None of The Saddle Club had ever met him.

  “Well,” Lisa continued, “it’s his spring break, too, up in Maine, so he’s coming with us! He flew down to Dorothy and Nigel’s last night. Drew is thrilled—he just knows I’ll love Eddy.”

  Stevie made gagging noises.

  “He could be nice,” Lisa said.

  “More likely, he’ll be weird. Edwin? Drew’s brother? Weird all the way,” declared Stevie.

  “I know.” Lisa sighed. “ ‘Dready Eddy’ sounds about right, because I’m dreading meeting him. I like Drew fine as a friend, but I really don’t want to get fixed up with his little brother.”

  “We’ll take care of you,” Carole promised. “We won’t leave you alone with him.” Lisa looked grateful.

  “Five-thirty-eight,” muttered Stevie.

  A battered green station wagon turned into the driveway. “That can’t be Dorothy,” Carole said.

  Lisa recognized the driver. “It is! But where’s Southwood? Where’s the horse trailer?”

  Dorothy parked, got out of the car, and greeted them with enthusiastic hugs. “Glad to see you!” she said. As the girls trailed Dorothy to the house where she headed to say hello to Mrs. Reg, Dorothy explained that she’d decided to pick them up separately. “We wouldn’t all fit in Nigel’s truck, and anyway, we wanted Southwood to have as short a ride as possible. Drew and Eddy decided to keep Nigel company, since I’d have the three of you with me for most of the way.”

  “Great!” Lisa said enthusiastically. The longer she could avoid Eddy, the better. “I mean,” she added, seeing the puzzled look that Dorothy gave her, “great that we’ll be with you. We’ll get to see Nigel tonight.”

  “And Drew and Eddy,” Dorothy said. “Eddy’s really looking forward to meeting all of you—and Drew thinks you’ll really like him, Lisa. Nigel and I like him a lot—he’s so much like Drew!”

  “Super,” Lisa said in a faint voice. She picked up her duffel bag and opened the back door of Dorothy’s car.

  “Don’t worry,” Stevie said into Lisa’s ear, “we’ll keep you away from him.”

  Lisa smiled. She knew she could count on her friends.

  AFTER A LONG drive, Dorothy and The Saddle Club arrived in Lexington, Kentucky, in the late afternoon. “Not much farther now,” Dorothy assured them. Carole leaned her head against the window. They had taken turns sitting in front, and it had been her turn after they’d last stopped for gas. She was tired. She could hardly imagine how tired Dorothy must be—she’d told the girls she’d gotten up at two A.M.

  The book Carole was reading slipped from her hand. She reached between her feet to get it and picked up a piece of paper along with the book. When she turned it over, she realized that it wasn’t actually a piece of paper.

  It was a photograph, of a tall, dappled gray horse and Drew.

  “Dorothy?” Carole said, holding it out to her.

  Dorothy glanced over. “Oh!” she said. “Drew must have left that in here by accident. Put it in the glove box, please, Carole.”

  Carole quickly showed the photo to her friends and then stowed it away. “Is that one of Nigel’s horses?”

  Dorothy shook her head a little sadly. “That was Drew’s horse, Prospero. Drew had to sell him several years ago, and now he can’t find any trace of him. It’s as if the horse has disappeared. Drew’s very unhappy about it.”

  “That’s sad,” Carole said. She wondered why Drew would sell a horse if he didn’t want to.

  She pressed her face against the cool glass. The clouds that had covered Willow Creek still hung low and thick in the sky. But here in Kentucky the fields and hills seemed even greener than they had in Virginia. The green glowed beneath the leaden sky. Carole shifted slightly. The hills were beautiful.

  “I thought Kentucky was the Bluegrass State,” said Stevie’s voice from the backseat.

  “They say it’s blue in the very early spring,” Dorothy replied. “I don’t know. We’re never here before Rolex.”

  “It’s green now,” Carole said. They’d all enjoyed their trip west. Dorothy had asked them so many questions about their horses and their riding that they’d hardly talked about Southwood at all. Once Carole got talking about Starlight she was hard to stop—and Lisa and Stevie had been just as enthusiastic about Prancer and Belle. They’d chatted for hours. The nice thing, Carole realized, was that Dorothy really wanted to hear about what they had been doing. Even though Dorothy had been a world-class rider, she was still a regular person, and she was a good friend. Carole knew they’d have plenty of time this week to talk about Southwood.

  “Hey, look at that,” Lisa said. Carole sat up straighter and looked. Along one side of the highway, a perfect white rail fence enclosed acres of lush green pasture. Driving through Kentucky, they’d passed some magnificent Thoroughbred breeding farms, but this looked like the nicest one yet. The car crested a small hill on the highway. Set back behind miles of white fence was a group of stable buildings with beautiful rooflines and tall, elegant spires. It was the biggest, loveliest farm any of them had ever seen.

  “What is it?” Carole asked. She’d heard of some of the famous racing stables, where Kentucky Derby winners lived. “Calumet Farm?”

  Dorothy smiled. She exited the highway and turned onto a smaller road toward the farm’s driveway. “It’s the Kentucky Horse Park,” she said.

  “Wow!” Carole said.

  “Well be staying at a Thoroughbred breeding farm with some friends of ours,” Dorothy told them as she turned her car into the long drive. “So you’ll see a working Kentucky farm, too.”

  The horse park seemed like a real farm. The girls could see horses—all kinds of horses, from giant draft horses to tiny foals—in pastures on both sides of the drive. Ahead were some administrative buildings, some farm buildings, and a parking lot. Behind the buildings on the right side was a sea of tents.

  As Dorothy turned and drove her car past the buildings, she explained that the tents were part of the setup for the three-day event. Later in the week, there’d be a fair with lots of horsey items for sale, and there’d be a big crowd of spectators once the competition was under way. But there were always tourists at the park. It was open year-round for visitors.

  “They have a lot of different horse shows here,” Dorothy said. “Kentucky Rolex is the most famous, but there are regular hunter and jumper shows here, too. The Pony Club headquarters are here, and the national Pony Club festival is held here every three years. But besides all that, they’ve got a lot of permanent attractions. You girls will have time to visit everything.”

  Dorothy parked near stables surrounded by a chain-link fence, and they all got out of the car. It felt good to stretch after sitting still so long. “The horses for the advanced and special divisions are housed in here,” Dorothy said. “They’re valuable animals, so they’re well protected. I don’t think anyone here would intentionally hurt a horse, but so many spectators come to see Rolex that accidents could happen.”

  Dorothy sighed. “Unfortunately, access to the stables is tightly controlled. Only owners, riders, and one g
room per horse are allowed inside, and that means only Drew, Nigel, and I can go to Southwood’s stall. I’ll go in now and bring Nigel out to say hi.”

  “Rats,” Carole said, after Dorothy left. “I won’t need my hoof pick after all.”

  “You never know,” Lisa said. “I’m sure Southwood won’t be in his stall the whole time. Remember how we helped Kate and Nigel at the last event?” She looked around with satisfaction. The area was bustling—horses, riders, grooms—and it smelled like hay and dirt and horse, some of her favorite smells in the world.

  Lisa had taken up horseback riding because her mother thought it was something every refined young lady should know. Everyone, including Lisa, had been surprised at how much she had loved it. Lisa’s mother would think that these horses and this dirt smelled awful. Lisa was happy to be spending a week surrounded by people who totally understood her love of horses. And she didn’t feel as if anyone noticed her spots at all.

  “Lisa!” Drew came out of the stable with a big grin on his face. As soon as he saw the rest of The Saddle Club, he greeted them, too, but he seemed happiest to see Lisa. “Oh, gosh,” he said with concern, “what happened to your face?”

  Lisa frowned. So much for no one noticing! “Chicken pox,” she said.

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. I’m so excited that you and Eddy are actually going to meet. He’s at the trailer—I’ll go get him.”

  “Wonderful,” Lisa said as they watched Drew’s lanky frame hurry off.

  Dorothy brought Nigel out a moment later, and the girls greeted him with joy. Nigel was every bit as nice as Dorothy, and he always seemed pleased to spend time with The Saddle Club. Like Dorothy, he really cared about them.

  Nigel ran his hand through his close-cropped hair and grinned, the smile lighting his intense blue eyes. “Doro tell you about the stabling? Pity you can’t go inside.” Nigel was British. The Saddle Club loved his crisp accent and the way he called Dorothy ‘Doro.’ “We even thought about naming one of you as groom,” Nigel continued, “but how could we pick between you? Plus, we couldn’t do that to Drew. It’d break his heart not to be here with Southwood.”

  “We understand entirely,” Stevie said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Drew knows Southwood best,” Carole said. “He’d be able to tell if something was wrong with him long before any of us could. Besides”—she blushed—“I don’t think any of us would be quite comfortable taking care of an Olympic horse.”

  Nigel snorted. Dorothy grinned. “He isn’t an Olympic horse,” Nigel said.

  “Potential Olympic horse,” Lisa corrected Carole. Stevie nodded.

  Nigel sighed. “I see Doro’s recruited you three for her side,” he said.

  “I think I’ll go take another look at Southwood,” Dorothy said. She ducked into the stable, leaving the girls alone with Nigel.

  Nigel certainly didn’t look angry, but he didn’t look very happy, either. He seemed to be expecting the girls to argue with him about Southwood’s going to the Olympics.

  Stevie, in fact, was ready to argue. All through the drive from Virginia, she’d rehearsed in her head reasons why Nigel should ride Southwood for glory. But now, looking at Nigel in front of the Rolex barn, Stevie felt her convincing reasons evaporate. She realized suddenly that Nigel, a champion rider, knew a lot more about riding than she did. He knew a lot more about Southwood than she did, too.

  For a moment none of The Saddle Club spoke. Stevie guessed that her friends were probably thinking the same thoughts she was.

  “Dorothy told us about the Special Division Horse Trials,” Stevie said at last. “She said you and Southwood are being considered for the British Olympic Equestrian Team.” Stevie waited to hear what Nigel would have to say.

  Nigel sighed. “You want to know all about it, don’t you?” he asked. They nodded. “Well,” he said, “I appreciate your not just jumping in and telling me I’m wrong. To Dorothy’s credit, she’s not doing that, either. She helps me train Southwood, but since I ride him she’s letting me have the final say. Ditto Drew. But I know Dorothy thinks I’m being overly cautious.” Nigel motioned them to the side of the stabling. They sat down on a small bench made from a log.

  “I honestly never thought about riding Southwood in the upcoming Olympics until the day that I was invited to go in the Special Division Horse Trials,” he said. “Southwood and I are eligible to ride for Britain. I’m still a citizen, and always will be, and since Southwood is officially owned by our farm, he’s got a sort of dual citizenship. Southwood meets all the international and Olympic rules governing horse sports, too—he’s old enough, just barely, and he’s competed in enough difficult events.”

  Nigel grinned. “Have you ever heard of the Jamaican bobsled team?” he asked. Stevie nodded, but the others shook their heads. “A bunch of guys from Jamaica entered the Winter Olympics as a bobsled team,” Nigel said. “They didn’t know what they were doing, and they crashed and finished dead last, but they were amusing. That sort of thing can’t happen in the equestrian competitions. The rules make sure that all the horses are capable of international-level competition. Otherwise, they could get hurt.”

  Nigel quit smiling. He rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “I agree with Dorothy that Southwood has Olympic potential,” he said. “He’s a superstar athlete, the kind of horse that you don’t find too often. He’s got everything going for him—talent, speed, and temperament.

  “Where Dorothy and I disagree is over the word ‘potential,’ ” Nigel continued. “She thinks he could be ready now. I think he’s got a long way to go.” He tugged the end of Carole’s braid. “Max tells me the three of you have potential,” he said.

  “Yet none of us is ready for the Olympics,” Carole said seriously. She felt as if she were answering a question Nigel had asked.

  Nigel nodded. “So, you understand. I’m glad. I thought I’d spend the whole week with the three of you trying to change my mind.”

  The Saddle Club exchanged slightly guilty glances. On the way to Lexington they’d discussed ways to make Nigel change his mind. Dorothy had even said that she wanted their help.

  Nigel stretched his arms and continued, in a less serious tone, “I never thought I’d be picked for Britain while I was here in America, anyway,” he said. “We’re tremendous snobs, you know. We’ve got the two best events in the world in Britain, and we expect the Americans and everyone else to come to us.”

  “So why aren’t you in England?” Stevie asked.

  Nigel grinned. “Dorothy’s here,” he said. “We’ve got our farm here, too, and our students. You know I go to England for part of each summer.”

  “Of course,” said Lisa. “That’s where we saw you ride Pound Sterling.”

  “Of course,” Nigel said. “Well, what I’d planned on doing was to go back to England in about three years and spend the whole year there, leading up to that Olympics. Now … I just don’t know. If Southwood were ready, this would be a great year for me to have a chance at the team. A lot of the top British eventers are unavailable just now. Our very best rider is pregnant, and a few others are injured.

  “Also, for the first time this year they’re taking six people per event team instead of the usual four. The opportunities are greater for me this year, and if Southwood were ready, I’d be thrilled.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. “Can’t you make Southwood ready?” Stevie asked. Even before she asked it, she knew the answer. You couldn’t make a horse be anything. All training had to be done at the horse’s own speed. Stevie understood that best of all The Saddle Club, because she’d once pushed Belle harder than she should have. Fortunately, she’d realized what she was doing before she’d really upset her horse.

  “You know I can’t,” Nigel said gently. “The only way Southwood is going to become the best horse he can be is if I don’t push him too hard. He’ll have to learn at his own pace.”

  Nigel gave the bench a thump and stood. “I’m glad we talked about al
l this right away,” he said. “I wanted you to understand why I’m not keen about this particular Olympics. Ordinarily, of course, I’d love to go. It’s a dream of a lifetime. But right this minute I’ve got to run to the stable office and order more shavings for Southwood’s stall. And look—here come Drew and Eddy! I’ll see you girls soon!”

  “Duck!” whispered Stevie. She pulled Lisa and Carole around the corner of the fence. They could see Nigel stop and talk to Drew, but they couldn’t see Eddy at all. Nigel was blocking him from their view. They could see Nigel point in their direction. “Run!”

  They sprinted down the long side of the stable fence and ducked around the corner. “That was close,” Carole panted.

  “They still might have seen us,” Stevie pointed out. “We need to get farther away from them.”

  “The dreaded Dready Eddy!” Lisa giggled. “It’s like a horror movie! What if we go look at some of the horse park buildings? Dorothy said the show passes she gave us would get us into everything.”

  “Great idea.” They crept around the second edge of the stables and sprinted across the road, ducking behind a parked car. They scuttled in and out among the cars until they were well past the stabling area.

  “I can see Drew,” Stevie said, peering behind them. “He’s still by the entrance. But I can’t see Eddy. Let’s keep moving.”

  Soon they were well away and could walk comfortably along the road. “Look!” Carole pointed out a small cross-country fence tucked into a hillside. “There are fences everywhere,” she said, glancing around. All of the stretches of open ground seemed to contain several cross-country fences. Some were big and some were small. “Look over there—Starlight and I could jump that one.”

  “Dorothy said they hold a lot of competitions here,” Lisa said. “Since the fences are solid, I bet they don’t bother to tear them down. It would be a lot of work.”