Gold Medal Rider (8 page)

“Sing along, Kate!” Stevie said. “That way he’ll know there’s nothing to be afraid off!”

Kate poked her head into Campfire’s stall. “What gave you the urge to sing so early in the morning, anyway?”

“Patriotism!” Stevie replied with a grin. Carole came out of Southwood’s stall and laughed. All four girls burst into song. “Oh, say, can you se-e-e—”

“Honestly!” Nigel walked into the aisle, shaking his head in indignation. “I’m surrounded by Yanks!” He stopped, put his hand over his heart, and began to sing “God Save the Queen” loudly enough to drown the rest of them out. Nigel ended triumphantly, “… 
God save the
Queen!”
just as the rest of them hit “… home of the
brave!”
They looked at one another solemnly for a long moment, and then burst out laughing.

“Now we know she knows the words,” Stevie whispered to Lisa with satisfaction as they returned to their pitchforks and bucket. “That’s one big step toward winning an international competition!” They giggled at Stevie’s silliness.

H
ORSE
INSPECTION
TOOK
place on a stretch of asphalt road near the dressage ring. Carole knew that the horses were being watched for signs of lameness or illness that would indicate they shouldn’t compete that day. Kate trotted Southwood up and back across the asphalt, then held him while he was briefly examined by a veterinarian. Southwood passed with flying colors. “Unless a horse gets injured trailering here,” Dorothy explained, “there’s almost no chance he’ll fail the first inspection. The important inspection comes tomorrow, after cross-country.”

As soon as their horses completed the inspection, Kate and Nigel left to walk the cross-country course one last time. Dorothy looked at Southwood and Campfire. “Well,” she suggested to The Saddle Club, “it might help these two to graze a little. It would relax them. Could you guys find them a quiet spot with some nice grass?”

“We’d love to,” they said. Stevie found a spot close to the stabling yet secluded from the bustle around the dressage ring. Carole and Lisa led the horses to it.

“Do you think Kate is catching the Olympic spirit?” Carole asked.

“It’s hard to tell,” Lisa answered. “I think we’ll know better after we watch her jump the cross-country course. But she’s really working hard at this competition, and I think that’s a good sign.”

Stevie leaned against Southwood’s flank. “We need to start thinking about where to get an Olympic horse for Kate.”

“Well …” Lisa paused. “I know Olympic horses are special, but the Devines already have so many horses at the Bar None. Do you think one of them might work?”

“Stewball,” Stevie said instantly. “He’s the smartest.” When her friends laughed, she added, “Oh, all right, I know he won’t work. We’ve been through that before!” At one point, before Stevie got Belle, she’d almost bought Stewball and taken him home to Pine Hollow. Lisa, Carole, and Kate had helped Stevie see that Stewball was much happier as a cow pony than he would have been under English saddle.

“Maybe Moonglow,” Carole suggested. Moonglow was a mare Kate had adopted from a wild herd. “She’s really done well in her training so far.”

“But could she ever be as athletic as Southwood?” Stevie argued. “Or as smart as Stewball?”

Carole shrugged. “You never know until you try. Think
about how it would sound: ‘Next on course for the United States, Katharine Devine and Moonglow!’ ”

“Like poetry,” Lisa said, and the others agreed.

“That’s enough grass,” Carole said a few minutes later, checking her watch. “We need to start tacking up Campfire now. Nigel needs to warm him up before they do their dressage.”

They returned to the stables. Dorothy settled Nigel’s heavy dressage saddle across Campfire’s withers, and then the show PA system squawked and hissed and spat out Dorothy’s name. “Dorothy DeSoto, please come to the main office,” it said. “You have a phone call.”

“Drew!” Dorothy said, and hurried away.

“He’s probably the only person who knows the show’s phone number,” Stevie said thoughtfully. She adjusted Campfire’s saddle and buckled the girth on one side. “I hope none of the other horses are sick.”

They worked in worried silence until Dorothy returned. Her pale face seemed to confirm The Saddle Club’s fear. “Is it Warrior?” Carole asked.

Dorothy sank down on a hay bale. “Worse than that,” she whispered. “It’s Beatrice. She’s had an accident. She may never ride again.”

T
HE
S
ADDLE
C
LUB
clustered around Dorothy. “What happened?” Stevie asked.

Dorothy blew out a long breath. “That was Drew on the phone,” she said. “He told me Beatrice met her family in Saint Croix yesterday afternoon. Last night they all went out for a moonlight boat ride. Beatrice dived off the bow of the boat and hit a reef just beneath the water’s surface.”

Dorothy shuddered. “She fractured her skull, but they think she’ll be okay. She’s in surgery this morning. Beatrice’s father called to tell us about the accident. It certainly sounds as if she won’t be coming back. I imagine Southwood will be sold.”

“But you said they think she’ll be okay,” Lisa said. “Why
would she have to give up Southwood? She could still ride.”

“Maybe.” Dorothy shrugged. “I don’t have the whole story yet—I just know what Drew told me. But if Beatrice’s injuries are as severe as they sound, I doubt she’ll ride again. It’ll be a long time before she’s allowed to get back on a horse, and she’d have to work extremely hard to regain her skill. She’d have to really love riding in order to do that.”

“Doesn’t she love riding?” Carole asked softly.

Dorothy looked at her. “What do you think?”

Carole bit her lip, then shook her head sadly. Beatrice loved to be successful. She loved to win. She never seemed to truly love riding.

“She’ll never be content to ride without winning,” Dorothy said. “And it would be a long time, if ever, before she wins again. I’d say this is the end of Beatrice’s riding career.”

The Saddle Club had all seen the accident that ended Dorothy’s riding career. “When you got hurt, you didn’t give up horses,” Lisa reminded Dorothy.

Dorothy smiled. “That’s because I love them more than anything,” she said. “I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life. I’m very lucky, because even though I can’t ride I’m still healthy and I can train students and work with horses. Being married to Nigel keeps me involved in competition, too.

“Beatrice’s accident sounds more serious in the short run, and less serious in the long run, than mine. When I was hurt it wasn’t very long before I could leave the hospital, but the doctors told me not to ride again. It sounds like Beatrice will be able to recover fully, but it might take her a long time. But Beatrice and I are very different in what our goals are and in what makes us happy. Anything I can do with horses makes me happy.”

This made perfect sense to The Saddle Club. None of them could imagine Beatrice struggling to regain her riding skills. She had never struggled for anything.

“Beatrice’s father told Drew that she had sent us one message,” Dorothy said thoughtfully. “She asked us to please take good care of Southwood. It’s the last thing she said before they took her into surgery.”

The Saddle Club was silent for a moment. Carole reflected that that was the first nonbratty thing she had ever heard of Beatrice saying. “Maybe she loves Southwood after all,” Carole said.

“Maybe she does,” Dorothy agreed. “I wouldn’t have said so before. I thought she only saw him as a means to an end.”

Dorothy wiped her hand across her face, then stood. “We still need to get this horse ready for Nigel,” she said, patting Campfire on the neck. “I have a favor to ask you girls. I’ll tell Nigel about Beatrice as soon as I can, but I’d
rather Kate didn’t know right away. She’s got enough to think about today with her cross-country round. Can you keep a secret? Just for now. We’ll tell her soon.”

The Saddle Club agreed. They wanted Kate to be able to focus on her ride.

W
HEN
K
ATE
AND
Nigel returned from the course, The Saddle Club realized that Kate was already completely focused on her ride. She hardly seemed to see her friends.

“Here, Kate,” Lisa called. “We’ve got Southwood all tacked up for you. Look how handsome he is!”

Kate took Southwood’s reins without even glancing at Lisa. “Great,” she said briskly. “Nigel! Where can I ride him?”

Nigel was fussing over Campfire, checking his tack and making small adjustments. “I’m going to the warm-up dressage arena,” he said. “I want good smooth footing for a real warm-up, but you don’t need that yet and the arena’s going to be crowded. Why don’t you head for the field next to the show-jumping ring? Just ride him for a little while, gently, and get to know him. No fancy moves, not yet.

“When they start the advanced-level dressage, go up to the ring and watch the first few tests. Then I’ll come back and help you with his real warm-up.”

Kate nodded. “Okay.” She checked her girth, mounted Southwood, and rode off without a backward glance.

“Hold Campfire for a moment, won’t you, Carole?” Nigel said. “Dorothy! Where’s my top hat?” Nigel rummaged through a trunk.

“Where did you put it?” Dorothy asked calmly. She found the hat and set it on Nigel’s head. He took it off, frowned quizzically at Dorothy, and disappeared into Campfire’s stall with an armful of clothes.

“Hey, boy,” Carole murmured to Campfire. The horse, though alert, did not seem troubled by the uproar. Carole was not troubled, either, but she did feel a little lost. The news about Beatrice had upset her, and neither Kate nor Nigel seemed like their usual selves.

“Heigh-ho,” Nigel said, coming out of the stall. He had used it as a dressing room and was now transformed. Carole laughed. She had seen Nigel dressed in formal dressage gear once before, at an event in England, but it still surprised her to see him looking so dapper. Nigel’s black coat was long and elegant, with tails. He wore a white stock tie and white breeches, and his black boots were polished to perfection. Best of all was the genuine top hat on his head.

“You look like you’re going to the opera,” Lisa said admiringly.

“I hope I don’t ride like I’m going to the opera,” Nigel replied. “Dorothy!”

“You’ve got over half an hour,” Dorothy said soothingly. “Plenty of time. Relax.”

“Good.” Nigel took Campfire out of the stable,
mounted, and rode off with an expression of fierce concentration.

“He isn’t always quite like this,” Dorothy said, watching him go with a thoughtful expression. “Nigel hasn’t said so to you, but this is an important event for Campfire. It’ll tell us a lot about how good he can be.”

“Nigel’s just so
busy
,” Stevie said. “I didn’t expect it.”

“Yes. Well.” Dorothy smiled. “Despite the fact that Kate needs coaching, Nigel isn’t really all that busy. Imagine riding several horses and having three or four of your students ride, too. That’s what our spring events are like. Of course, Drew comes with us then. Why don’t you girls head for the dressage ring? The competition’s going to start soon. I have to put together a grooming bucket to take to the ring, but I’ll be there in a minute.”

The Saddle Club walked off together. They could see a small crowd of people gathering at the dressage ring. Beyond that, a larger crowd of riders worked their horses in the warm-up ring. “I don’t see Kate,” Stevie said. She stood on her toes, craning to see around a very large horse who was blocking the way. “Didn’t Nigel say near the show-jumping arena?”

“There’s the arena,” Carole said. They dodged their way through the people and horses until they reached the fence surrounding the arena. Empty bleachers stood on both sides.

“There she is,” Lisa said, pointing at a lone horse and
rider who were cantering slowly in the deep grass of an adjoining field. Even from a distance, they could tell that Kate’s position was beautifully correct and that Southwood was listening to her and responding well. “They look great,” Lisa said, “but lonely.” She corrected herself. “I mean, alone. Not lonely.” But as she looked at Kate, she realized that “lonely” was exactly the right word. Kate seemed isolated, in her own world.

Carole sighed. “I feel a little lonely myself,” she said. “I didn’t expect this to be such a big deal. Riding is hard work.” The thought surprised her. It was certainly never one she’d had before. She looked up at her friends, a half-frightened look on her face.

“No, it isn’t,” Stevie said firmly. She put a reassuring arm around her. “Showing is hard work. Riding is hard, if you want to do it right, but it’s not work. It’s the most wonderful fun you can have—especially when you do it with friends!”

Carole felt much better.