Rocking Horse

Carole grabbed Stevie’s arm and hustled her into their tack room before she could get another shot at Veronica. “Not a word,” she said. “Not to Veronica, Meg, or Betsy, for the rest of the weekend, from any of us. I was never so embarrassed, Stevie. Max shouldn’t have had to talk to us like that.”

Stevie hung her head. She sat down on their tack trunk and looked up at Carole. “I know,” she said. “But this is going to be an awful day. There are too many coops out there. Belle’s going to be eliminated, and then we won’t even get a team score.”

“She’ll be fine,” Lisa said, sitting down next to Stevie. “Remember how much she loves you. She’ll jump anything if she thinks she’s jumping it for you.”

“I just don’t have the guts,” Stevie said. “I look at those jumps and I think,
Wow, that’s big
, and as soon as I’ve thought
that
, I’m as good as finished.”

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C
AROLE
H
ANSON STARTED
counting out loud when the log jump was five strides away. It was something Max, her instructor, insisted on so that she could learn to ride in a rhythm to each jump. “Five, four, three, two, one!” she chanted.
Blastoff!
she thought as her bay gelding, Starlight, lifted them both into the air.

Starlight’s grace and power always gave her a thrill. As soon as he landed, Carole looked for their next jump, a low stone wall. She turned and counted off the strides, and Starlight jumped it, just as well as he had jumped the log pile. Just as well, in fact, as he’d jumped the entire course. Carole pulled him up
and patted him, her face aglow. She loved riding outdoors over solid cross-country fences.

“Nice job!” Max said. “Next time, go a little deeper into the corner before the rolltop. On Saturday’s cross-country course you’ll have all the room you need, and you always want to try to give Starlight a straight line to the fences.”

Carole nodded. No matter how well she and Starlight did, they could always do better. It was one of the things she liked most about riding. Carole’s goals were to be one of the best riders in the world and to learn everything possible about horses and riding.

“Meg, same course,” Max said. Meg Durham asked Barq, the horse she was riding, to pick up a canter, and they started for the first fence. Max turned his attention to her. Carole rode over to her two best friends, Lisa Atwood and Stevie Lake, who were waiting their turns to jump at the side of the field.

“Fantastic!” Lisa said. “You guys were in perfect harmony—much better than Prancer and me on our first try.” She unconsciously stroked the neck of the mare she was riding, a lesson horse named Prancer. She longed for a horse of her own, but she loved Prancer very much. Harmony, however, was not always one of the strong points of their relationship. Lisa was studious and quiet; Prancer was flighty and skittish. Over the jumping course she’d bucked three
times. If Prancer were a person, Lisa often thought, she’d be a three-year-old girl, prone to temper tantrums and fond of frilly dresses. Fortunately, Prancer was a horse.

“If you keep riding like that,” said Stevie, “and Lisa can hold Prancer together—you coped with her really well, Lisa, even though she did buck—and if there aren’t any coop jumps on the course on Saturday—”

“Don’t count your chickens,” Lisa advised, at the same time as Carole said, “You’re psyching yourself out of coop jumps. Stop it.” All three of them laughed. They understood each other very well—so well, in fact, that they had formed a club called The Saddle Club. Its only two rules were that members had to be horse-crazy and that they had to be willing to help one another out.

“Quiet over there,” Max ordered, looking toward the group. The girls instantly quieted. They loved Max, who ran Pine Hollow with a firm hand, and they knew perfectly well that they were not supposed to be talking during one of his lessons.

“But there’s so much to talk about!” Stevie whispered. Carole and Lisa nodded understandingly. It was finally spring, warm and pleasant. The horses had shed their winter coats and were full of spring vigor. That vigor would soon be put to good use: On
Friday, they were all leaving for a weekend-long Regional Pony Club cross-country rally, where Stevie, Carole, and Lisa would compete as a team.

On course, Meg approached the final jump with Barq, who was another of Max’s lesson horses. Barq apparently didn’t like the look of the stone wall, because as Meg turned him toward it, he tried to keep turning and run past the jump. Meg corrected him quickly and pressed him forward. Barq jumped it a little awkwardly, but he did jump it—and in a cross-country competition that was all that counted.

“Nice job, Meg!” Carole called out, despite Max’s rule. She knew Max wouldn’t mind this time—and Meg had done well. Carole had ridden Barq quite a bit before she had gotten Starlight, and she knew he could be difficult sometimes.

“Yes,” Max said, with a half grin in Carole’s direction. “Very well done, Meg. Remember to keep your head about you like that on Saturday. Barq will jump anything if you’re confident enough about telling him to. Who’s next? Veronica, go ahead.”

“The same course, Max? Or should I try something a little more difficult?” A black-haired rider named Veronica diAngelo trotted toward Max. Her elegant gray Thoroughbred, Danny, curved his neck against the bit. “I do like Danny to feel he’s been
slightly
challenged.”

With difficulty, Stevie stifled a groan. She hated Veronica so much! It wasn’t just that Veronica was rich enough to buy the most expensive, perfect horse Stevie had ever seen, and the most expensive, elegant riding gear. It wasn’t just that she had a talent for making all the other riders feel shabby and insignificant. It was, Stevie decided, that she didn’t seem to care about anything except proving that she was the most important person around.

At Pine Hollow, all the riders were expected to help care for their horses and to do extra work around the stable. Veronica never lifted a well-manicured finger to help. Why Max tolerated her was something Stevie never fully understood. She didn’t think it was just because of Veronica’s money or her family’s social position. Lisa had once said that she thought Max wanted to reform Veronica—that he thought if he worked with her long enough, she might actually start to care about the horses she rode. Lisa thought that might take decades; Stevie was sure it would take much longer than that.

“Let’s stick with this course,” Max said rather sternly. “Remember, even Danny can’t be perfect unless you give him the chance. You’ve got to pay attention and ride him well.”

Veronica nodded, suddenly serious. She was a good rider—that was the worst of it. She was tough
competition, and she, Meg, and Betsy would be one of the teams up against The Saddle Club this weekend.

“ ‘
Even
Danny’?” Stevie whispered angrily. “I can’t believe Max would phrase it like that! Danny’s not
that
good!” She patted her mare’s neck defensively. Belle was a mixed-breed horse, half Saddlebred and half Arabian. She was sweet and wonderful and Stevie loved her, but she never floated across the ground with anything like Danny’s well-bred grace.

“Yes, he is,” Carole said as Veronica and Danny took the first fence. “He’s the best horse I’ve seen since Southwood.” Southwood had gone to the Olympics.

Lisa agreed with Carole. Danny really was that good—and it was a rotten shame that he had a jerk like Veronica as an owner. Max and Red, Pine Hollow’s groom, made sure that Danny was always well cared for. But Lisa thought Danny should have been loved, too.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Stevie said bitterly. “Veronica might finish at the top of every class, but her
team
won’t necessarily be unbeatable. They’re going to combine everyone’s scores, you know.”

“I know,” Carole said. “And winning isn’t everything. If we all do our best, I’ll be more than happy.”