High Horse (3 page)

“Bring a rain jacket, rain pants, and rubber boots, just in case.”

“Hmmmm,” Phil said thoughtfully. “We might have to huddle together under a tree. Or maybe in an abandoned house. I like it already.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, as Stevie walked to Pine Hollow, she could smell wet leaves and pine needles. It would smell just like this along the trails on the MTO. She couldn’t wait.

The Saddle Club was due to meet in ten minutes, and Stevie had lots of news. She hurried up the driveway.

Inside the stable Carole was mucking out a stall.

“It’s impossible to get here before you,” Stevie said. “Sometimes I think you sleep here.”

“My dad dropped me on the way to the base,” Carole said. Her father was a colonel in the Marine Corps, and he often worked on weekends, even Sundays.

The stall next to the one that Carole was mucking out belonged to Nero. Right now it was empty, probably because he was out in the paddock with a rider. Stevie took a pitchfork and speared some straw.

It was a rule at Pine Hollow that all riders had to help with chores to keep expenses down. Some riders
helped more than others, and Veronica never helped at all. But the members of The Saddle Club almost always wanted to help, because part of being horse crazy was caring about horses
all
the time, not just when they were doing the fun things, like riding them.

“So Phil’s definitely coming on the MTO,” Stevie said.

“Great!” Carole exclaimed. “You must be thrilled.”

Stevie hesitated. The truth was, she’d never in her life looked forward to anything as much as this trip. But for some reason Phil’s question about Betsy was haunting her. Why had he seemed so interested in Betsy? She started to tell Carole, then changed her mind. Stop it, Stevie, she told herself. You’re getting worked up over nothing. She carried the clod of hay to the wheelbarrow. “I can’t wait,” she told her friend firmly. “It’ll be a great time.”

“Hi.” It was Lisa. “You’re early,” she remarked to Stevie.

Stevie hadn’t realized it, but Lisa was right. She’d actually gotten here an hour before they were supposed to meet. In fact Stevie had been looking forward to this meeting of The Saddle Club so much that she had gotten dressed and left the house in record time.

“Give me a hand,” she said to Lisa. “As soon as we’re done, we can start the meeting.”

They worked silently, filling the wheelbarrow with forkfuls of straw. When they were finished, Lisa wheeled the straw toward the manure pile on the far side of the riding ring, and Stevie went to the feed room to get fresh straw, while Carole filled Nero’s water bucket.

Finally they’d finished the chores and were ready for the best part of the day. Eagerly they settled into the clean straw in Nero’s stall to begin their meeting.

“Phil’s coming,” Stevie told Lisa.

“Of course he is,” Lisa said, matter-of-factly. “Who could turn down a chance to go on the MTO?”

“It’s so romantic.” Carole sighed as she leaned back in the straw. “You’ll roast hot dogs together … you’ll go for long walks.…”

“Ha!” came a voice from the next stall.

Veronica diAngelo stepped into view, wearing a new hacking jacket and a pair of breeches that looked as if they’d been custom-made. Veronica always seemed to be poking around Saddle Club meetings.

“How’s your nail, Veronica?” Stevie asked drily. “Did you spend the night in the intensive-care unit of the nail hospital?”

Veronica held up her hands, showing ten perfect,
glossy red nails. “The nail is just like new. You’d never know anything had happened.”

“I faint with relief,” Stevie said.

Veronica tilted her head, letting her long, silky hair fall across her shoulder, and folded her arms across her chest. She gave Stevie a look of fake pity. “I’d be worried if I were you. Phil’s going on the MTO—an overnight trip with almost all girls.” She moved her hands so that her nails sparkled and then looked at Stevie’s short nails and at her blond hair, which was a mess after doing all the chores. “The MTO is still almost a week away, Stevie. You still have time for a beauty makeover.”

Stevie felt her face turn red. “What you need is a personality makeover, Veronica,” she snapped.

“We’ll see,” Veronica said, smiling. “Personally, I think this MTO will be the best ever. Full of surprises.” With that she turned to leave.

The Saddle Club sat there, looking at the empty spot where Veronica had been.

Then Stevie said, “Horse Wise does have a lot of good-looking girls. Phil happened to mention it.”

“What did he say?” Lisa asked, looking surprised.

“You know—he can’t wait, he’ll be blinded by our beauty—stuff like that.”

Carole grinned. “You have to admit, Horse Wise is dazzling.”

“Especially the horses,” Stevie joked. “Now if only we could figure out a way for horses to wear nail polish.”

“Hoof polish,” Carole said. “Hmmmm.”

“Passion pink, petunia purple. I think we’re on to a hot idea here,” Stevie said.

“I’ll be recording it,” Lisa said. “The MTO that is.”

Carole and Stevie looked puzzled.

“It’s a school assignment,” she explained. “Mr. Haegle, my English teacher, said the only way he would give me permission to miss school on Tuesday was if I kept a journal. We’re reading
To Kill a Mockingbird
in class and studying the characters.”

Carole and Stevie groaned simultaneously. The last time Lisa had written about horses, she wrote a theme for her English class about Pepper, a horse from Pine Hollow who had recently been put down. That had been great. But the time before, Lisa had written a column in
The Willow Creek Gazette
, which revealed all the shortcomings of Pine Hollow riders. Some riders were still angry about that one.

“Yuk,” Stevie said. “Personally, I’d rather keep a tarantula than a journal.”

“I only have to write two hundred fifty words a
day,” Lisa said, “and I’m supposed to work on characterization.”

“Well, there will be plenty of characters on this trip,” Stevie said, thinking of Veronica.

“I’ll be busy, too,” Carole said. “Max has given me a Big Sister/Little Sister project. I’m going to be looking after Jackie and Amie, helping them tack up their horses and stow their gear. I probably won’t be riding as much with you two.”

“I might be busy, too.” Stevie had a gleam in her eye.

“Really?” Carole said, elbowing her friend. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with Phil’s coming along—would it?”

“Now, Carole,” Stevie replied innocently. “What on earth would give you that idea?”

H
ORSES WERE NEIGHING
and pawing the ground. Riders were frantically checking supplies. The youngest riders were running back and forth like overexcited puppies.

Stevie knew the pandemonium was normal. Trips always seemed to start this way. At the moment it looked as if Horse Wise would spend the entire weekend at Pine Hollow trying to get organized.

The Marstens’ horse van pulled into the parking lot. It wasn’t a fancy van—Phil liked to joke that it had four colors: red, white, rust, and mud. But Stevie was glad to see it. She walked over to the driver’s side.

“Hello, Stevie,” Mr. Marsten said. “Ready for the overnight?”

Stevie nodded. “Yup. My horse is loaded; my gear is stowed; and I’m ready to go.”

Phil got out of the passenger side, looked at the confusion, and said, “My Pony Club is the same way. We always get off to chaotic starts.”

“Isn’t it exciting?” exclaimed Stevie. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Phil gave her a warm smile. “Me either,” he agreed. Then he went around to the back of the van, let down the ramp, and eased Teddy along it. Stevie was impressed. Horses never like walking backward, especially into a crowded scene like this one, but Phil kept Teddy calm by talking to him in a low voice.

Then Max came over and told Phil that as long as Teddy was calm, he might as well lead him directly into one of the vans that would take the horses to Silverado State Park.

Talking softly to Teddy, Phil led him into the van.

When Phil came out, Stevie said, “What were you saying to him? He looked so interested.”

Phil’s green eyes were shining. “Just making conversation.”

“Horses can’t understand English,” Stevie said. “Max is always telling us that.”

Phil grinned. “Who says we were talking English?”

Stevie was about to ask what language they were talking when Max came over and asked Phil to help Peter Allman sort out his tack, which had become tangled.

Phil obliged, and Stevie looked around. Nearly all the horses had been loaded, and most of the gear was stowed. Soon the riders would be taking off.

“Stevie,” called a nearby voice. It was Joe Novick, standing patiently with his horse Rusty. Rusty’s left front hoof was cocked forward slightly, a sign that he might have a rock stuck in his shoe.

“I think he has a stone,” Joe said, “but I don’t want to hurt him. Do you have a minute to give me a hand?” He held out a hoof pick.

“Sure,” Stevie replied. She took the pick and went over to Rusty and put her hand on the horse’s neck. “This isn’t going to hurt.” Rusty snorted and shook his head, but he let her touch him. Slowly she ran her hand down his shoulder and along his leg. When she reached his fetlock, she tapped it as a sign that he should raise his foot. Rusty nickered.

“We’re going to get the stone out, and you’ll have a great MTO,” she said. Joe stood close to her, peering at Rusty’s hoof.

“Now,” she said, gently lifting Rusty’s hoof with her
left hand. This was the moment when a horse could panic. “We’re going to put the hook in here,” Stevie said to Rusty. “Very gently.”

Stevie turned to Joe. “A horse who’s having his hooves picked is a lot like a human being at the dentist. He’s nervous to begin with. Plus he’s five times bigger than we are. Think of it as like being a little dentist with a very nervous five-hundred-pound customer.”

“I would be careful,” Joe said. “Real careful.”

Stevie nodded. “Exactly.” She ran the pick between Rusty’s hoof and the shoe, looking for a lump.

“How will you know when you’ve hit it?” Joe asked.

“When the pick sticks. You have to be extra careful, because that’s where Rusty’s foot is sore. I think I feel something.” She wiggled the pick gently—this was her favorite part of hoof picking. It took real artistry. “You can’t force it, because the inside of a horse’s hoof is sensitive. The outside is tough, like a fingernail, but the inside is as sensitive as the skin beneath a nail.”

“You really know a lot,” Joe said.

“It’s coming.” Suddenly the stone popped into the center of the shoe and bounced against the fleshy vee at the back of Rusty’s hoof. Stevie picked up the stone, then slowly released Rusty’s foot. “See,” she
said, showing it to Rusty. The stone was about the size of a pea. Rusty snorted and looked away.

“I guess it’s yours,” she said, dropping the stone into Joe’s palm.

“That’s the first thing you ever gave me,” Joe said with a grin as he closed his fingers around the stone.

At that moment Stevie happened to see Phil over Joe’s shoulder. Phil was giving her the strangest look. What’s up with him? Stevie wondered.

A
FTER
C
OMANCHE HAD
been boarded, and her gear shoved onto the van, Lisa perched on the top rail of the fence. She looked at the busy scene before her. Stevie was helping Joe Novick pick Rusty’s hoof, and she looked totally engrossed in the task.

Phil was also watching Stevie, and he had a dark expression on his face. He’s jealous, Lisa realized. How funny.… Stevie was worried about Phil’s being interested in Betsy, while here he was, about to explode because Stevie was standing so close to Joe.

This is a perfect thing to write about in my journal, she thought. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small notebook and pen she’d brought along for exactly this purpose.

“O
KAY
,” C
AROLE SAID
to Amie and Jackie, “what’s the most important thing to remember about loading a horse into a van?”

Amie rolled her eyes. “You can’t use force.”