Horse Sense (2 page)

“The vet says she’s doing just fine.” Carole’s eyes lit up with excitement. “In fact, she was examining Delilah today. It’s not going to be long now before Delilah delivers, and the vet promises she’ll call me when the time comes. I’m so excited!”

“Wouldn’t it be great if we could
all
be there?” Lisa said.

“It would probably upset Delilah,” Carole said, deflating Lisa. Lisa hoped Carole didn’t think that her special love for Cobalt made her the only one who could help at the foaling. Lisa and Stevie exchanged glances. Carole was very knowledgeable about horses, but there were times when she seemed maybe just a little bit
too
knowledgeable—and a bit too possessive about her knowledge.

“You know what I like best about summer?” Stevie said, changing the subject. Then, without waiting for an answer, she continued. “I like being able to ride every day.”

Carole and Lisa nodded. School had let out a few weeks earlier. Now the girls were attending the stable’s camp program, which ran every weekday at the stable. Then, if they wanted to, they could ride on weekends as well.

“It’s like there’s finally enough time to do all the riding I want,” Stevie said. “And, not only do we have the foal to look forward to, but I have the feeling there’s something else coming up, too.”

“What’s that?” Lisa asked, suddenly interested.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure, but Max said he wanted to talk to me after camp tomorrow. He sounded
very
mysterious,” Stevie finished in her dramatic way.

“The last time Max wanted to talk to you it was because you were getting a C-minus in math, wasn’t it?” Carole teased.

“Don’t remind me,” Stevie said, throwing a pillow at her.

It was a firm rule at Pine Hollow that riding came second to schoolwork. No student was allowed to ride unless school grades were satisfactory. And Max kept a sharp eye on enforcement. “But I ended the year with a B-plus—thanks to Lisa’s help—and I’m not at summer school, so it can’t have anything to do with that.”

“Think he might have found out it was you who put the toad in Veronica’s riding hat?” Carole asked.

“No way!” Stevie giggled. “Even though Veronica wanted the toad checked for fingerprints!”

“Boy, I loved the look of horror on her too-perfect face, didn’t you?” Carol asked.

Veronica diAngelo was a snooty girl who was in their class at Pine Hollow. Cobalt had belonged to her, and the accident that had cost him his life had been her fault. Even though she was now trying to learn more about riding, she was still Veronica, and the girls didn’t like her much.

“You know, I was thinking about trying the toad trick on Estelle, too. After all, one of Pine Hollow’s traditions is playing practical jokes on new students,” Stevie said.

Practical jokes were Lisa’s least-favorite tradition at Pine Hollow. She was about to suggest that it wouldn’t be a good idea, when Stevie discarded the notion herself.

“Nah, I don’t think so. It might make Max angry and if he gets really mad then he won’t tell me what it is he wants to tell me—unless, of course, he’s already mad. Then a trick would make it worse. What do you think, Carole?”

“I think it’s going to be a colt.…” Carole said dreamily.

“Huh? What’s that got to do with Max?” Stevie asked.

“Oh, sorry—I was just thinking about Delilah some more.”

Lisa watched as Carole and Stevie tried to carry on a conversation, but it was weird because they were talking about different things. Lisa felt a little left out of it. While they were talking back and forth, she began to think about The Saddle Club. She always had fun with Carole and Stevie, but she couldn’t help wishing that their club were more official, with rules and regulations. If their meetings were more organized, then they’d all talk about the same subject. That was really the way clubs were supposed to work. Meetings were supposed to be orderly. There was supposed to be new business and old business, election of officers, budgets and motions. Lisa’s mother belonged to lots of clubs. That was how it always was. Just because they
called
it The Saddle Club didn’t make it a club.

To be a real club, they’d need a constitution. And who, she asked herself, suddenly inspired, was better prepared to make a constitution than the person who had gotten an A on her paper about the United States Constitution? Now Lisa was excited. She had a project too, just like Carole had Delilah and her foal, and Stevie had her mysterious meeting with Max. Lisa grinned to herself, thinking how pleased her friends would be when they found that they belonged to a
real
club.

“Stevie! It’s almost time for dinner!” Mrs. Lake’s voice came up the stairs. “Lisa? Carole? Isn’t it time for your dinner too?” she called out.

“We’d better go,” Carole said, taking the hint and tugging her riding jacket out of the soft chair where
she’d been sitting. “You know, even though we can ride every day now, there are still two things there’s never enough time for.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stevie said. “Horses and horses, right?”

“Right.” Carole nodded. “Riding them and talking about them.”

“Make that three things, then,” Lisa said grumpily. “We never seem to have enough time for The Saddle Club, either. Or maybe it’s just that we don’t always use our time right.”

“Could be,” Carole said agreeably. She and Lisa said their good-byes to Stevie, and then Lisa trailed Carole down the stairs and out the door of Stevie’s house.

Lisa was so lost in thought about the articles of the club’s unwritten constitution that she barely remembered to say good-bye to Carole when they got to her bus stop.

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON
, which was a Friday, Stevie headed for Max’s office, more than a little bit nervous. Sometimes Max was hard to predict. She
hoped
this meeting was going to be good news, but she wasn’t at all sure. Stevie thought she’d seen Max grinning to himself when Veronica discovered the toad in her riding hat, but then again, maybe that wasn’t a grin. With Max, it was hard to tell.

And, two days ago, she’d been talking with Lisa during class. Max was more likely to be upset about that; no talking in class was another one of his firm rules. He usually didn’t care what happened after class, as long as it didn’t hurt the horses. Toads were after class; talking was
in
class.

Just to be on the safe side, Stevie detoured past the good-luck horseshoe. It was nailed next to the mounting area. It was a Pine Hollow tradition that all the riders were supposed to touch the shoe before every ride. The horseshoe had been there as long as anybody could remember, and no rider had ever been seriously hurt at Pine Hollow. Stevie brushed it with her hand on her way to Max’s office. It was worn smooth with wishes. Maybe it wouldn’t make any difference, she thought, but it made her feel better.

A few seconds later, Max was telling her to come in and sit down. That was when Stevie knew it was all right. One thing that was absolutely predictable about Max was that if he was going to chew you out (and Stevie had plenty of experience at that), he never asked you to sit down. She made herself comfortable in the chair that faced his desk.

“Stevie, do you know what a gymkhana is?” Max asked her.

“Well, sure I do,” she told him. “It’s a kind of horse show for young riders, only with games and races and things like that—right?”

“Right. In another six weeks, there’s going to be a three-day event here for the stable’s adult riders and other local competitors. I’ve been spending so much time planning the other events that I’ve almost forgotten about my young riders. You’ll all have a good time watching the events, but I want to have something special for you as well. And I don’t have one extra minute to plan it.” He sat forward in his chair and
looked Stevie square in the eye. “It has come to my attention that you have a certain knack for funny activities pertaining to horses, not that I approve of a lot of what you’ve done—we won’t even talk about the recent insult to the local toad population—” Stevie giggled involuntarily. Max continued. “—but I’d like to make use of your weird sense of humor. How about it? Can you make up some events for the riders in your class, as well as the really young kids? They should be safe, of course, but fun. And they should require the use of real riding skills. Other than that, it’s up to you. Can you do it?”

Could she? “You
bet
I can!” Stevie told him. This was the chance of a lifetime. Her imagination was already in high gear. “You mean things like races and games? Stuff like that?”

“Yes, and they need to be races that can be run by teams of mixed ages—you know, everybody from the six-year-olds on through fifteen. All the older riders will be involved in the three-day event. The gymkhana will take place each afternoon of the three-day event. Mrs. Reg will help you compose the teams. One of the stableboys, probably Red O’Malley, will do the setups for you and will be in charge of getting props. This is a big job, Stevie. If you need help, you can get it—from everybody but me. The success of the gymkhana will pretty much be your responsibility. Are you still game?”

“Am I ever!” she said. “But—”

“Yes?” he asked.

“Well, why
me
?” she asked.

“You’re a good rider, Stevie, a really good rider. I’d like to see you take on more responsibility here at Pine Hollow. This seemed like a perfect opportunity. Besides, I really need the help. Look, we’ll discuss your ideas every now and again to see where you are. In the meantime—uh-oh, I’ve got to remember to call Mrs.—uh … about the, uh …” Max grabbed for the phone. As soon as he’d dialed a number, he began making notes, and it was as if Stevie weren’t there anymore. She decided that meant that Max was probably through with her. Quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration, she crept out of his office. He didn’t seem to notice.

A gymkhana would be lots of fun and being in charge of it would be even better. She’d read about them and she had heard about one from a cousin of hers who lived in New Jersey, but she’d never actually seen one. She’d need some information about what sort of games they should have, and when it came to getting information at Pine Hollow, no one was more helpful than Mrs. Reg, Max’s mother. When his father had died, Max had taken over the stable, and his mother had remained in charge of the tack room and the equipment. She was always full of great horse stories. The only drawback to getting advice from Mrs. Reg was that you had to do something in return—like clean tack.

Like the other Saddle Club members, Stevie loved to ride horses, but knew that horses were at least as
much work as pleasure. For every hour spent riding horses, owners probably spent two taking care of them. Another Pine Hollow tradition—and ironclad rule—was that all the riders had to do chores around the stable. Some jobs were officially assigned and others were done as needed; all the riders were simply expected to pitch in. Carole loved horses so much that she’d do anything for them. But Stevie was not thrilled with the messy stable chores. Cleaning tack qualified as a messy stable chore in Stevie’s book.

Stevie stepped into the tack room. There, along one wall, was an endless sea of saddles and bridles. One bridle hung above each saddle, adjusted for a specific horse. The first set of tack on the right-hand wall had been assigned to the first horse in the right-hand stable. Since they were cleaned methodically, there was always a marker by the next set of tack due for a saddle soaping. Stevie automatically picked up the tack and the soap can and sponge, shooing away the kitten that had pounced on the bridle she carried, and walked into Mrs. Reg’s office. She sat down on the tack box near Mrs. Reg’s desk and began her work.

“What can I do for you, child?” Mrs. Reg asked. She knew Stevie wouldn’t submit to saddle soaping unasked unless she needed something.

“What do you know about gymkhanas?” Stevie asked.

Mrs. Reg smiled broadly. “Oh, I think we can cook something up, don’t you?” she asked.

Stevie filled her sponge with saddle soap and began cleaning the saddle’s flaps while she listened.

“W
E’RE LOOKING FOR
definite signs now,” the vet, Judy Barker, told Carole. The two of them stood outside the foaling stall where Delilah was being kept until her foal was born. The foaling stall was different from the other horses’ stalls; it was larger and specially designed to be completely safe for a foal. There were no slats in the walls where a tiny hoof could get stuck and no hooks to scratch or damage the unwary baby. Judy had showed Carole how even the slightest mistake could hurt a newborn.

Although she was a doctor, Judy’s uniform consisted of soft blue jeans, a cool cotton blouse, and leather boots. She was a familiar sight throughout the county, driving along the country roads—sometimes at breakneck speed—in her light blue pickup truck, with a camper on the back to hold the oversize medical equipment she needed for her oversize patients.

Sometimes, Carole could picture herself in such a rig, taking emergency calls on the cell phone in the truck’s cab. She’d rush to the side of a colicky mare, or clear up a skin infection on a jumper, or calm a nervous mother-to-be, as Judy was doing now.