Horse Love (6 page)

Lisa was still looking for Tec as they began their ride out of the stable area, but there was no sign of him. It was almost nine o’clock. He’d definitely overslept.

Lisa shrugged as Oatmeal followed Jane’s horse dutifully. Vacations were for sleeping, she reminded herself. A big boy like Tec probably needed a lot of sleep. She shouldn’t have kept him up so late the night before, and she promised herself she wouldn’t do that again. They’d part at a reasonable hour so that he’d have a better chance of coming along on the next day’s trail ride.

Jane began to trot as they reached an open area near the beach. Oatmeal seemed content with his gentle walk. Lisa nudged him. No response. Lisa nudged again, more firmly. A little grudgingly, Oatmeal picked up a trot. It was annoying to ride a horse who was so nonresponsive, but Lisa realized she’d asked for it when she’d told Frank she was a new rider. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. She was scouting out the horses for Tec, and
Oatmeal might be just the one for him. This was a horse who would never get into any trouble. Oatmeal was slow, plodding, and agreeable. He wasn’t going to win any races, unless they were against turtles.

Tomorrow
. It was not only her favorite song from
Annie
, it was also what she couldn’t stop thinking about, because tomorrow Tec would be riding with her. Lisa decided she was glad he hadn’t come this morning. It gave her a real opportunity to spend time thinking about the lesson she wanted to give him when he was there the next day.

She’d tell him the basic stuff he’d need to know: sitting up straight, looking in the direction he wanted to go. (She’d learned early on that horses were very sensitive to their riders’ balance, and if a rider gawked in one direction, the horse was likely to turn that way without any other signal.) She’d tell him how to hold the reins and show him the difference between neck-reining as Western riders did it and opening reins the way English riders did it. She could tell him a million things, but that would be a mistake. She knew that for sure.

“Lisa!”

It was a sharp warning call. Lisa halted automatically.

“What?” she asked, surprised to find Frank riding next to her.

“You’ve got to pay attention!” he said. “You’re heading straight for that gully!”

Lisa looked where he pointed. She’d let Oatmeal wander to the right of the line of the trail, and they were aimed at a steep dip that would be a challenge to any horse but might be deadly to an obedient plodder like Oatmeal.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was thinking—”

“You weren’t thinking,” Frank said sternly. “But you have to. I can tell you know better than that.”

“I do,” she said meekly.

“Well, stop daydreaming then and pay attention.”

“Yes sir,” she said.

She
was
tired. She was really too sleepy to be doing anything that required attention, but her near accident had served to wake her up. She knew she probably wouldn’t have gotten hurt if Oatmeal had slid down that embankment, but Oatmeal might have, and that was inexcusable. She knew better and she’d do better.

She sat up straight and focused on the trail in front of her.

The trail led the riders through a stand of palm trees and then onto the beach. Jane’s horse began to trot, and on the firm, water-cooled sand, even Oatmeal seemed pleased to strut his stuff. Lisa found herself enjoying the
wind and the sweet sound of her horse’s hooves slushing through the Caribbean waters.

Jane let her horse drop back so that she and Lisa were riding abreast.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked.

“The best!” Lisa agreed.

“Canter?”

“Do you think this old guy can do it?” Lisa asked.

“We’ll just see,” said Jane, sliding her foot back to signal her horse to a canter.

Oatmeal had it in him. Lisa felt the delightful transition as Oatmeal shifted from a two-beat trot to the three beats of a canter. She settled into her saddle and simply took pleasure in the wonderful feeling of it all.

She always enjoyed cantering. At Pine Hollow, she and her friends often cantered in the ring and in the paddocks around the barn. There were even places on the wooded trails where the terrain was open enough and smooth enough to canter, and it was a pleasure. But cantering on the beach was a very special pleasure, with the bright sun above and the sparkling blue ocean and the knowledge that there was a wonderful boy waiting for her when the ride was over. In fact, he was bound to be embarrassed about missing their date and had probably left a message for her at the stable already. Lisa took a deep breath, knowing that Tec was not far
away and was breathing the same tropical air that was entrancing her.

In front of her, Jane brought her horse to a trot and then a walk as the beach narrowed. Oatmeal followed suit without any instruction from Lisa. The other riders, none of whom had joined in the canter, were far behind. Lisa pulled Oatmeal up next to Jane’s horse.

“That was great!” she said.

“It always is,” Jane agreed. “Um, say, did I hear you singing earlier?”

“Me?”

“ ‘Tomorrow,’ I think it was.”

“I guess so,” Lisa admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it out loud. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Jane said. “It’s earned you the right to skip the chorus audition.”

“Huh?”

“I’m in charge of the talent show,” she explained.

“I didn’t know there was one,” said Lisa.

“Only when we’ve got talent—and I think we do, based on what I heard earlier.”

“Oh, thanks. Well, I have done a little community theater,” Lisa admitted.

“It’s a lucky community,” Jane said. “Anyway, I could let you know what the rehearsal schedule is this afternoon, if you’re interested.” Lisa nodded. “Great! I don’t
suppose there are any more like you at home?” she teased.

“Well, my parents don’t really sing much, but there is someone …”

Tec. Artful Dodger was a challenging part. He’d be perfect in the resort talent show. They could work together on something they both loved. Maybe they could even sing a duet. She could wear—

“Who is it?” Jane asked, interrupting.

“Oh, it’s a guy I was talking with last night. He’s been doing musical theater, too.”

Jane’s face lit up. “Hey, let’s put on a show!” she said.

She and Lisa shook hands.

Jane clucked and nudged her horse into a trot then, leading the line back away from the beach and through a hilly area that would return them to the stable. The ride was over, but Lisa knew it was the beginning of another exciting adventure. With Tec.

When they returned to the stable, Lisa was relieved that the resort didn’t follow Pine Hollow’s rules that required riders to untack and groom their own horses. For once, she was almost eager to leave. She had to find Tec—who had not left her a message at the stable—but she didn’t want to run into him until she’d had a chance to shower. She was hot and sweaty and smelled a little more like Oatmeal—the horse, not the breakfast—than
most boys would find attractive, unless they
really
loved horses.

By eleven o’clock, Lisa was clean and freshly shampooed, had put on her bathing suit, cover-up, sun hat, and all the sunscreen she’d need and headed to the beach for a swim. As if by a magnet, she was drawn to the place where Tec had kissed her the night before—the place where everything had changed in an instant.

He wasn’t there.

She walked along the beach, carrying her towel, hoping to find him, but there was no sign of him. It had seemed so logical that he’d be where they’d been; that he’d be drawn back there just as she was. But he wasn’t.

She kept walking, her eyes scanning the swimmers and sunbathers.
Maybe he went on the snorkeling trip
, she thought. The idea that he’d spend the day with her parents did not comfort her at all. Lisa climbed the concrete steps by the basketball court to the small pool where a rowdy, happy group was playing water polo. Between the water polo pool and the large swimming pool, there was a long row of beach chairs, and there, stretched out on one of them, sound asleep, was Tec Morrison.

Being as quiet as she could so as not to wake him, she spread her towel out on the empty chair beside Tec and lay down on it. She closed her eyes, and fatigue overcame
her in a matter of minutes. She slept soundly until the water polo ball bounced off her stomach and onto Tec’s legs. That was enough to rouse both of them.

“Ouch!”

“What the …?”

Tec stared at her in surprise, his confusion compounded by the apologetic cries from the water polo players.

“Sorry,” Lisa said. “It bounced off me.”

“Oh,” he said. Then he let himself sink back down onto his seat.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t think so,” Tec said. “I definitely have not slept enough yet.”

“You missed a good trail ride,” she told him.

“What?”

“We were going to go horseback riding this morning, remember? I guess you slept through it, but that’s okay. Anyway, it was fun and you’re going to love it tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “I forgot.”

“That’s all right,” she said. “And now I’ve got some even more exciting news for you.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“There’s a talent show on Saturday night, and we’re
going to be in it. Isn’t that cool? A sort of ‘Annie Meets the Artful Dodger.’ Do you like the idea?”

“You have been busy this morning,” he remarked, smiling at her.

“Very,” she agreed. “And now I’m ready for a swim. How about you?” She stood up, eyeing the inviting pool in front of her.

“You show me first,” he said. “And I promise to save you if you start drowning.”

Lisa dived into the deep end of the pool while Tec settled back onto his lounge chair. The next time Lisa checked, his eyes were shut and he was asleep. That was good. He was going to need rest.

“M
RS
. R
EG
!” L
ORRAINE
Olsen wailed. “Look what Carole and Stevie have done!”

Stevie cringed. Carole fumed. Mrs. Reg appeared. She frowned, but she stood up for them.

“They’re doing something useful,” Mrs. Reg said.

“Not for me, they aren’t!” Lorraine snapped. “I can’t find anything. Where’s my saddle?”

“Is that what you want?” Stevie asked, sounding much more polite than she felt.

“Of course it’s what I want,” Lorraine answered, sounding ruder than Stevie thought absolutely necessary.

“Well, then you might have told us, because everything
that has been moved out of the tack room is in a perfectly logical order,” Stevie said, just a tiny bit unsure what the logic was and stalling for time. “See, all the saddles that were on the right-hand wall are on the, um …”

“Mine was on the left,” Lorraine said.

“Well, then, but left walking in or out?” Stevie asked.

“Left walking in,” Lorraine told her.

“Well, because there isn’t really a left wall in this room, since the door is on the extreme left, we put all those saddles by the feed bins—”

“Stevie, this room has feed bins everywhere,” Mrs. Reg said. There was an edge to her voice that told Stevie she’d better have an answer fast.

“Well, then, you see, here—” Stevie suddenly remembered the system and her face and voice brightened up considerably. “It’s on this sawhorse, on the
left
side of the biggest bins. See? There is a system!”

“And my bridle?”

“Carole can help you with that,” Stevie said, turning the floor over to her partner in grime.

Not that Stevie was off the hook. Right behind Lorraine was April and then Betsy. Last but not least for that morning’s lesson was Veronica diAngelo. Actually, it wasn’t Veronica. She’d sent Red O’Malley, who
spotted Veronica’s tack immediately and took it without bothering Stevie and Carole. He also spotted and fetched Betsy’s tack.

It took Stevie and Carole almost as much time and effort to locate and deliver the riders’ tack as it had to move it all in there the day before. They strongly suspected that when the tack was returned, it would not be in the strict order that they’d devised (even if they couldn’t always remember what the order was), but that was a problem for another hour.

Things quieted down between the tack and feed rooms when the class started, and Carole was ready to get back to their job. Stevie, however, was distracted.

“I’m just going to kill him,” she said.

“Who?” Carole asked, alarmed.

“Phil Marsten.”

Carole sighed. She was also annoyed that Phil had decided skiing was more fun than painting the tack room, but if she had a choice, she’d be on the snowy slopes right now, too.

Carole sat down on a bale of hay, next to where Stevie was perched on a sack of grain.

“I think we need a break,” Carole said.

“We need to take advantage of a moment of quiet to get back to work,” said Stevie.

“We’ve been working hard for two hours already this
morning,” Carole reminded her. “You know what they say about all work and no play?”

“No, what do they say?” Stevie asked.

“It makes Stevie a very grumpy girl,” Carole said.

“Well, maybe Stevie’s got a good reason to be grumpy.”