Riding Camp (8 page)

Stevie wasn’t crazy about his tone. Phil was very special to her, but so was The Saddle Club, and she didn’t like him making fun of it.

“The Saddle Club is made up of me and my two best friends,” Stevie said, knowing she sounded defensive. “We’ve accomplished some pretty good things together in the past, and I think you’ll have a chance to see us do impressive things in the future, too.”

“I will?” Phil said, obviously curious.

“Yes, you will,” Stevie assured him. “In fact, in case you didn’t know it, we’re working on several projects at this very minute!”

“Here, with me?”

“No, I don’t mean here. I just mean we’re in the process. It has to do with riding and it has to do with the show next weekend and it has to do with some of the campers who think they are going to win absolutely everything at the show.”

“You mean like me?”

“Huh?” Stevie responded in surprise. “You mean
you
think you’re going to take all the prizes?”

“Is there anybody here good enough to beat me?” Phil asked.

Stevie thought about it for a minute. It was too dark to see Phil’s face, but it certainly sounded to her as if he were completely serious. It had never really occurred to her that Phil might feel that way. He was a good enough rider—experienced, secure—but a champion? No, she was better than he was.

“I’m asking,” Phil repeated. “Do you think you and your friends can beat me?”

One of Stevie’s biggest faults was that she often spoke before she thought.

“Of course we can beat you,” she said, absolutely certain that she was one hundred percent right.

“That’s what you think.” He spoke sharply. Stevie was angry. How could he possibly think that he was as good a rider as she was? He was
almost
as good as she was, but not better, and certainly not better than Carole.

“You’re crazy,” she snapped. “The Saddle Club is going to outride, outrun, and outribbon every single rider in this camp. You included.”

Stevie stood up. Phil stood up, too.

“I—” he began. Stevie didn’t let him finish. She didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say. If he thought he was better than she was, well then he
could just spend some time alone with that wonderful thought.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she announced. She spun on her heel and marched through the woods. Branches snapped in her face, but she didn’t feel them. She nearly tripped over a root, and didn’t notice. A briar ripped at her sweater. She didn’t care. For a second, she thought that she heard Phil call her name.

“Better than I am? No way!” she said to herself. “Better than Carole? Out of the question!” She continued talking as she stormed through the forest.

The woods were unfamiliar, but she remembered that the campsite was in a valley and that she and Phil had been walking uphill all the way. In just a few minutes, she came upon the flickering flames of the campsite. Unnoticed, she slipped into the tent she shared with Carole and Lisa. She put on her pajamas and climbed into her sleeping bag. She was still too angry to sleep, though.

Outside, beyond the canvas walls of her tent, she could hear her friends talking.

“… And then the werehorse said to the vampmare, ‘Don’t worry, my bark is worse than my bite.’ And the vampmare replied, That’s funny—mine isn’t!’ ” There were giggles and laughter. Stevie didn’t laugh. Right then, nothing was funny, except
maybe the idea that Phil-the-super-duper-rider who thought he could take all the prizes might, just might, get lost in the woods.

And
that
was a comforting notion to go to sleep by, Stevie thought, drifting off at last.

“D
O
I
DETECT
trouble in paradise?” Lisa asked Stevie as casually as she could manage. She was riding next to Stevie as the campers returned to Moose Hill and for the first time in days, Phil was not in sight.

“Why would you say that?” Stevie retorted.

“Maybe it has something to do with the stony look on your face,” Carole said. “Which, I might add, perfectly matches the one on a certain guy’s, although you might not know it, since you haven’t looked at him all day.”

“Who?” Stevie asked innocently. Her friends got the message.

“Well, well!” Lisa said lightly. “Looks like the old Stevie is back!”

Stevie just glared. It was clear that she wasn’t up for
any teasing. Lisa and Carole decided to leave her alone.

For Lisa, it was a little sad to be returning to Moose Hill. She’d had a wonderful time on the trip, enjoying every minute of it and learning every minute of it, too, thanks to Carole.

“Since we missed jump class again today,” Lisa said, “would you be able to work with me on the cavalettis and low jumps during free time this evening?”

“Oh, sure,” Carole replied enthusiastically. She was as glad for an opportunity to teach as Lisa was eager for one to learn. “You know, I think you’ll have a good shot at earning a ribbon in the Beginning Jumper category at the show. Don’t you agree, Stevie?” Carole asked.

“I don’t want to talk about the show,” Stevie grumbled.

Carole and Lisa were surprised. Whatever it was that was wrong with Stevie, it wasn’t just Phil. And it was clear that until Stevie got into a talking mood, they weren’t going to learn a thing. In the meantime, the best thing to do was to stay out of her way.

L
ISA HAD HAD
a vague hope that the enjoyable time the campers had shared at the campsite, with the mounted games and the silly ghost stories, might improve the general attitude around camp and make a
change in the way campers took care of their horses when they returned to camp. She was wrong.

The horses had no sooner reached the barn than the campers were nearly shoving one another aside to find the best untacking position, which was nearest the tack room and required the shortest walk carrying tack. Everybody seemed grumpy and selfish. Nobody wanted to do their own work, much less help others. It wasn’t the way riding should be, Lisa thought angrily. Friends helped one another and had fun working together. At least that was what she had found in The Saddle Club. So why couldn’t everybody see that? Why couldn’t everybody cooperate?

The whole operation was complicated by the fact that the farrier was coming in the morning. Barry had made an announcement about it. Most horses needed new shoes about once a month. A couple of the camp horses needed shoes and Barry wanted to make sure everybody who needed them would get them. All of the campers were to make a special check of their horses’ hooves and shoes, and any horse who needed new shoes would be kept in a stall in the barn overnight. The farrier would arrive at dawn and most of the horses would have their shoes by noon.

Lisa finished untacking Major, got him a bucket of fresh water, and led him out by the paddock, where she could groom him in the sunlight.

Every grooming began with a check of the horse’s hooves. Lisa began with Major’s left front foot. There was a lot of dirt lodged in there, but it all came out with a simple picking. She tapped the shoe. It was secure. One down, three to go. His left hind foot wasn’t so easy. The mud came out, but as soon as she tapped the shoe with the pick, it dropped off. That meant that Major would have to spend the night in the barn, waiting for the farrier. Worse still, he might not have his new shoes in time for her jump class. Lisa sighed. If riding horses meant having a wonderful time, it also meant learning patience.

Major’s right front shoe was missing and had to be replaced. If one was gone, all four had to go, because it meant the other three might go as well. There was no getting away from it: Major needed new shoes. And in the meantime, Lisa really shouldn’t ride him. She hoped Carole would let her ride Basil when they practiced this evening.

Lisa finished grooming Major, packed up his grooming gear, and took him into the stable area beneath the main barn. As she was giving him fresh hay in his stall, she suddenly remembered that she’d wanted to tell Barry about the moldy hay Fred had brought on the trip. She finished her work with Major and returned to the main level of the barn.

Barry was there, all right, but he was very busy.
Debbie, it seemed, was now completely recovered from whatever it was that she’d been sick with yesterday and was having a heated argument with Barry.

“You said the judging at the show would be fair!” Debbie said hotly.

“And it will be,” Barry replied, trying to sound calm.

“How can it be fair if one of the other rider’s
mother
is a judge?” Debbie challenged.

“She’s a good judge,” Barry said. “She’s judged all kinds of competitions, including American Horse Show Association shows.”

The more Lisa listened, the more she learned. It turned out that one of the judges was Elsa’s mother. No wonder Debbie was so upset! It might even make her
really
sick! It occurred to Lisa that if Elsa’s mother was going to judge the show, it might not be too wonderful for The Saddle Club’s latest project, either, but she quickly dismissed the thought. She would love it if The Saddle Club could take all the ribbons at the show and teach some people lessons, but as she’d learned from Carole, the most important part about riding was learning enough to have fun.

In any case, it was clear that this was no time to talk to Barry, and Eleanor was nowhere in sight. That meant it was time for her to unpack her own overnight sack, put on a bathing suit, and test the waters in the pond. Without regret, she left the barn.

* * *

“S
TEVIE
?”

Stevie didn’t look up. She was working on Topside’s coat, grooming it to a wonderful sheen. She knew who was talking to her. She didn’t want to talk to him.

“You there?” Phil asked.

“Hmmm.”

“Teddy’s favoring one of his legs. He won’t let me touch it. Can you help him?”

That put Stevie in a quandary. She was still steaming mad at Phil and she didn’t want to lift a finger to help him. But helping Teddy was another matter. It was unfair to make Teddy suffer just because she was mad at his owner. Besides, since Phil had put it in terms of helping Teddy, she decided she could do it.

“You’re the best there is at picking out stones. That’s what I think it is. I hope—”

“Let’s see,” Stevie said abruptly. She put down the tools and looked up for the first time. Phil had cross-tied Teddy right across the barn from Topside. It was almost true that she hadn’t noticed Phil until he had spoken.

She rummaged through her tool bucket, took out her own hoof pick, and walked over to the horse.

Stevie could see right away that Teddy’s left front foot was bothering him. A horse at rest might lift a rear foot and casually shift his weight or just point the
toe, holding the heel of the rear foot off the ground. But, when a front foot was held that way for a long time, there was probably something wrong.

Stevie approached Teddy. She patted him and spoke to him reassuringly. The last thing she wanted to do was to startle a horse with a sore foot.

“He was okay when I was riding him. I’m sure I would have noticed. So he must have just picked up a stone on the way into the barn. Isn’t that strange?”

Stevie just grunted. She spoke gently to the horse. “It’s okay, boy. I’m not going to hurt you. No trouble; here, boy. Just let me have a look.”

She slid her hand down his leg, put her shoulder against his, and reached for the hoof. Teddy lifted it for her.

“How do you
do
that?” Phil asked. Stevie didn’t bother to answer. After all, if Phil thought he was such a hotshot on horseback, why should he need any horse-care tips from her?

Gently, she probed the tissue of the hoof, removing dirt with her pick. She didn’t see anything wrong right away, but as she tapped the shoe, she knew there was something in there, because Teddy flinched at the touch.

She kept talking to him. It was the best way she knew to calm a horse, and this one needed calming. So did his owner, but Stevie didn’t speak to Phil.

“You picked something up here, didn’t you, boy?” She felt under the shoe with the pick. “I feel something there. We’ll get it out.” Whatever it was, it wouldn’t budge with the pick. Stevie tried the next best thing—her finger. She probed until she could reach the stone and then, slowly and carefully, began moving it. Every time it moved, Teddy reacted. Although she didn’t like hurting him, it would hurt him a lot worse if she didn’t get it out.

“It’s coming now, boy. It’ll just be a little bit longer. Hold on there, okay?”

With a final tug, Stevie got the stone out. It clattered to the barn floor. Stevie picked it up to examine it.

“That’s a nasty one, boy,” she told Teddy, looking at the sharply pointed stone that had been giving him so much trouble. “I don’t know how you stood it at all. Now let me have another look at that hoof.”

There was a bucket of water nearby. Stevie took her water brush, dipped it in the bucket, and began washing the sole of the horse’s foot. When the area was clean, she could see some discoloration. “Looks like you’ve got a bruise here, boy,” she said to Teddy. “It may be nothing, but if I were you, I’d tell my owner that I should stay in the barn tonight and be checked by the farrier in the morning. Besides, you don’t want to go running all over the paddock competing with
those other horses when you’ve got a sore foot now, do you?”