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Authors: Bonnie Bryant

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BOOK: English Rider
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Stevie leaned forward for a better look. She was more confused than ever when Red pulled out an ordinary yellow tennis ball and set it carefully on the narrow top of the cone. The ball settled comfortably into the small opening there. Red moved on to the next cone, and the one after that. By the time Max had finished his introductory speech, every one of the orange cones had a bright yellow ball perched on it.

“All right, then,” Max said at last. “Mrs. Pennington, if you’re ready to start …”

The elderly woman nodded and stepped forward to address the class. “First of all,” she said in her clear, confident voice, “I want to give you a little demonstration. Some of you may be under the impression that there is
only one way to have an exciting time with a horse—namely, by sitting on his back. I want to show you that driving can be just as much fun.”

She walked toward the phaeton and held out her hand. Max stepped up gallantly and offered his arm, helping her up the high step into the old-fashioned vehicle.

Soon Mrs. Pennington was sitting on the front seat. She took up the double reins in her left hand and the long, thin whip in her right. Miles stepped away from the team and headed for the fence to join the students. With a flick of Mrs. Pennington’s wrists, the big horses stepped off in perfect harmony.

Stevie forgot about the mysterious cones for a moment as she watched Hodge and Podge walk and trot around the perimeter of the ring. Mrs. Pennington sat almost perfectly still. Using only her hands, her voice, and a long-handled whip, she kept her horses moving exactly where she wanted them.

Finally she brought her team to a square halt at the far end of the ring, just a few yards from one set of orange cones. There was a smattering of applause from the students. Stevie felt like adding a few whoops and hollers of appreciation—Hodge and Podge deserved it—but somehow, looking at the impeccably dressed older woman, she decided that that wouldn’t quite be dignified. She clapped loudly instead.

Mrs. Pennington acknowledged the reaction with a regal nod of her head. Then she turned to address Max.
“Mr. Regnery, the stopwatch, if you please,” she called to him.

Max nodded and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the timer he sometimes used during class. “Ready when you are, Mrs. Pennington,” he called back.

“All right, then,” the woman said. She turned to face the students again. “Now I’m pleased to introduce you to a sport you may not have seen before. Back in Devon, Pennsylvania, we know it as scurry driving.” She pointed to the cones scattered about the ring. “Please note that we have several pairs of orange cones. My goal is to drive my team through this course as quickly as possible without knocking over the cones or dislodging the balls on top of them.”

“I knew it,” Carole whispered gleefully to her friends. “I saw this kind of thing at a show a long time ago before I moved to Virginia. It’s really fun—big, fancy carts like that one go racing around the course, and the fastest cart wins.”

The others didn’t have a chance to respond. Mrs. Pennington had started.

Stevie never would have believed that horses as large as Hodge and Podge could move so nimbly. They broke into a brisk trot as they headed straight between the first pair of cones, then sped up into a rolling canter. Stevie gasped as the Cleveland Bays whirled around a tight turn, then headed for the next pair of cones at a sharp angle. She almost closed her eyes, sure that Hodge’s big hooves
were going to smash right into the left-hand cone. But Mrs. Pennington flicked her whip just above Hodge’s shoulder, and he adjusted his stride just enough to miss the cone. The phaeton slid between the two cones with mere inches to spare on each side.

Stevie watched with growing admiration as Mrs. Pennington guided her team through the rest of the brief course. She was amazed that the driver could judge so accurately the exact moment she had to ask the horses to turn or slow down. But the team raced between each pair of cones without so much as brushing them with a hoof or one of the phaeton’s big wooden wheels, even though the horses kept up a brisk speed throughout, moving smoothly from trot to canter and back again. When Mrs. Pennington pulled Hodge and Podge to a stop with a flourish, every ball remained squarely in place.

This time everyone who was watching broke into loud applause, and Stevie wasn’t the only one whooping and hollering. “That was amazing!” Phil shouted over the noise as Mrs. Pennington tipped her hat to her fans.

“Totally,” Stevie agreed. “I guess she was right. Carriage driving isn’t boring at all!”

When the applause died down, Max held up his stopwatch. “If you think that was exciting, listen to this,” he called. “In a real scurry event at a horse show, there would be a dozen or so entries who would have to complete the course just as Mrs. Pennington and her team did. Each round would be timed, with faults taken for
knocking down a ball or a cone or going over the time allowed. The fastest time with the fewest faults would win.”

“Just like show jumping,” Lisa commented. Max heard her and nodded. “It’s the same basic idea,” he said.

Mrs. Pennington drove her team closer to the students, then stopped. “It’s a fun event,” she said, sounding just slightly breathless, though she looked as calm and composed as ever. “One misjudged step can mean a smashed cone and a disastrous score. It’s vital to be accurate.” She smiled. “But if you want to win, you must be fast as well. And that’s where the fun comes in—for the teams and for the audience.” She waved a hand at her own outfit. “Of course, the audience also enjoys seeing the turnouts. At the Devon Horse Show in Pennsylvania, where I compete each year, the scurry driving event is limited to pairs pulling four-wheeled antique carriage vehicles. That can mean anything from a dashing little phaeton like this one”—she gestured to her own carriage—“to a massive antique police wagon or grocer’s cart. And naturally, the drivers usually dress to match their vehicles.”

Stevie sighed dreamily. “That sounds so cool,” she said. “I’d love to see a real scurry contest like that.” She couldn’t believe she had never heard of scurry driving before. It was just the sort of thing she loved the most—a real athletic equine endeavor requiring skill and talent, but also requiring at least a little bit of wackiness.

“You’d love it,” Carole assured her.

Suddenly Tessa grinned. She stood up on the lowest rail of the fence and waved her hand at Max. “Max!” she called excitedly. “I’ve just had a smashing idea!”

“What is it, Tessa?” Max asked.

“Why don’t we see if we can add a scurry race to the point-to-point event on Saturday?” Tessa said.

There were cries of approval from all around. Stevie could tell that after Mrs. Pennington’s exciting demonstration, many of the other students were just as eager as she was to see a full-scale race.

But she could also see that Max wasn’t quite as enthusiastic about the idea. “I don’t know, Tessa,” he said. “That would be lots of fun, I’ll admit. But at this late date—”

“Why not?” Polly Giacomin called out. “It would be a blast!” Several other people shouted out their agreement as Mrs. Pennington looked on with a bemused expression.

Max held up his hands for quiet. “Just a minute,” he said firmly. “Now, I’m not saying that it wouldn’t be a good addition to the day. I just think it might be better to suggest it if there’s another point-to-point next year. It’s just too late this year.” He glanced over at Mrs. Pennington and smiled. “For one thing, as of right now, we would have only one entry.”

“Make that two entries,” Mrs. Pennington corrected, still looking bemused. “My second team is due to arrive before the weekend, and my grandson is quite an accomplished driver himself. I’m not saying he’d stand a chance
against me”—she gave the watching students a droll wink—“but it would be good practice for him.”

Miles pretended to be insulted as the students laughed. “You’d better watch what you say, Grandmother!” he called out. “You’ll be sorry when I don’t let you touch my blue ribbon.”

Max still looked unconvinced. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just don’t think—”

“I know someone else who might want to enter,” Polly interrupted. “One of my neighbors has a cousin who has a carriage team.”

Phil raised his hand. “I could ask Mr. Baker if he wants to give it a shot,” he called out. Mr. Baker was the head instructor at Cross County, the stable where Phil rode. “He’s got a fancy old carriage he drives in parades once in a while.”

“And some of us could enter with a couple of ponies and the pony cart,” Carole spoke up. “That’s got four wheels. Are ponies allowed to enter?”

“Certainly,” Mrs. Pennington answered before Max could reply. “The only rule is that you must have a pair. There’s no limit to how large or small the animals can be.”

That reminded Stevie of something. “Mr. Toll!” she blurted out excitedly. “I mean, what about that farmer Mr. Toll who lives near here? He has a couple of teams of big workhorses, remember? He could enter with his hay wagon.”

That did it. Suddenly everyone seemed to remember a
neighbor, a relative, or a friend of a friend with some connection to a carriage team. Before long Max threw up his hands in exasperation, but he was smiling. “All right, all right!” he shouted over the racket. “You win. I’ll speak to the country club committee. If they agree, I’ll offer to help organize a scurry race for the point-to-point.”

The students let out a loud cheer. Miles Pennington joined in, and even Mrs. Pennington let out a hearty “Hear, hear!”

Max raised one finger warningly. “But remember, you all promised to help.”

“We’ll help, Max,” Carole promised. “You can count on us.”

“And on Miles and me, too,” Mrs. Pennington added. “I’d be happy to help organize the event.”

“Good.” Max smiled at Mrs. Pennington. “Now, I believe our guest speaker has some more to tell us about driving.”

L
ISA SLID DOWN
off the fence as soon as Max dismissed the class half an hour later. “I’ll meet you guys inside,” she told her friends hurriedly. “I want to call my mom right away. You know—break it to her gently.”

“Oh dear,” Tessa said, looking worried. “I didn’t even think about that when I suggested the scurry race. Do you suppose your mum will be terribly frantic?”

“Probably,” Carole answered for Lisa. “But don’t worry. That’s the way she is. Right, Lisa?”

Lisa smiled weakly in response, then hurried inside, heading for the pay phone in the hallway outside the locker room. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or upset about the new addition to the point-to-point schedule. On the one hand, she could understand why her friends and classmates were so excited. Mrs. Pennington’s scurry run had been fun to watch. On the other hand, she could only imagine how much more work this would mean for her mother—and therefore for The Saddle Club. It wasn’t that Lisa had anything against hard work. It was just—well, she wasn’t sure
what
was bothering her exactly. Perhaps she wished that Tessa had run the idea past her friends before blurting it out to the larger group. Not that Lisa would have voted against it, of course. It was just that … well …

Lisa was starting to confuse herself. She pushed her muddled thoughts aside and decided to concentrate on the best way to tell her mother. After all, it was done now, no matter what she thought of it. All she could do was deal with it.

Mrs. Atwood took the news better than Lisa would have expected. In fact, she hardly seemed fazed at all by the idea of adding another event to the day’s schedule—especially when she heard that Mrs. Pennington was involved.

“Don’t worry about a thing, dear,” Mrs. Atwood trilled. “I’m sure we can manage to pull it all together somehow.” “Okay, Mom. Bye.” Lisa shrugged as she hung up.
Sometimes people were hard to figure out, even when you thought you knew them.

Lisa wanted to visit Prancer and Derby, but first she set out in search of her friends. She thought she might suggest a sleepover at her house that evening. Despite her mother’s calm response, Lisa was still sure that this turn of events would mean there was suddenly a lot more work to be done.

She found Carole, Stevie, and Phil still perched on the fence around the outdoor ring. Most of the other students had dispersed, and the Penningtons and their team were nowhere in sight. Only the phaeton remained, parked just outside the gate.

“What are you guys still doing out here?” Lisa asked as she approached. “And where’s Tessa?”

“Take a guess.” Stevie’s voice was grumpy.

Phil rolled his eyes. “She just went off with Veronica,” he told Lisa. “And these two won’t explain why. They’re being very mysterious.”

“She went with Veronica?” Lisa’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

Carole shrugged. She looked almost as disgruntled as Stevie did. “Remember how Mrs. Pennington said she’d help out with the scurry race?” she said. “Well, Veronica rushed right over after class and volunteered herself and Tessa to help out. They’re inside making plans with the Penningtons right now.”

“I don’t get it.” Phil looked completely confused. “Why
would Veronica want Tessa to come with her? Isn’t Tessa
your
friend? Last I heard, that would definitely make her
not
Veronica’s friend.”

Stevie sighed impatiently. “We’ll explain it all later,” she said. “Right now, we have to—”

Stevie bit back her words as Tessa and Veronica emerged from the stable and came hurrying toward the group. Both of them were smiling, looking flushed and excited.

“Super! You’re still here,” Tessa said. “You don’t mind if I go over to the Penningtons’ house with Veronica a little later, do you?”

Lisa shrugged and did her best not to frown. “Why would we mind?”

“Brilliant,” Tessa declared happily. She glanced over her shoulder. “Come on, Veronica. We’d better get back inside.”

“Right,” Veronica agreed. She smirked at Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. “Mrs. Pennington asked the two of us
specifically
to take care of her gorgeous harnesses,” she bragged.

Stevie raised one eyebrow skeptically. “You mean clean them?” she said. “Are you sure you know how?”

Veronica gave Stevie an irritated look. Then she turned to Phil. “Phil, could you come and help us?” she wheedled, smiling at him brightly. “We need some help carrying all that heavy harness to the tack room, and you’re the strongest one around here.”

BOOK: English Rider
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