Secret of the Stallion (12 page)

N
IGEL
H
AWTHORNE SAT
proudly at the head of the table. He was having dinner with the Horse Wise team and seemed very pleased to have the four girls as his guests. He had wanted to include Tessa in the invitation, but she’d had to get back to Dickens. She had a very important errand there.

“Oh, do have another slice,” he said to Stevie.

“Thank you, Nigel, but I couldn’t,” Stevie said, more truthfully than she and her friends wanted to admit.

“Well, I know Americans think theirs is the best pizza in the world, but I thought you’d like to have a taste of English-style pizza while you’re here.”

Veronica started to say something. Carole didn’t like the look on her face, so she started talking instead.

“It’s delicious,” she assured him. “It’s just that all the excitement of the show and all—you know.”

“Oh, I do,” Nigel said, taking another slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “I must say, aside from watching your team perform brilliantly, my favorite part of the day was hearing my personal fan club cheer me from the competitors’ section.”

“Were we clapping too loudly?” Stevie asked.

“Not at all,” said Nigel. “I truly appreciated it. In fact, it seemed as if it was the only appreciation I got all day.”

Carole remembered the man who had greeted Nigel so unpleasantly at the exit gate of the arena. “Was that Lord Yaw—what’s his name?”

“Just call him Yaxley,” Nigel said. “And yes, it was. He’s none too happy with me and Sterling.”

“But you were wonderful and Sterling was doing his best,” Stevie said.

“Apparently my wonderful and Sterling’s best are not good enough for Yaxley. He explained to me in clear tones that he’d been hoping for better.”

“He’s tougher than
Max
,” Carole said.

Nigel laughed. “Much. And more unreasonable, too. Still, I reminded him that dressage isn’t Sterling’s event. He’ll do better tomorrow, and better still in the jumping. A stallion like Sterling is too high-strung for the discipline of dressage.”

“And we’ll cheer for him even more loudly, then,” Lisa promised.

“I’ll be listening for it,” Nigel said. “And I’ll be cheering for Horse Wise at the mounted games, as well.” Nigel lifted his glass to the team, and they lifted theirs to him. Veronica didn’t say a word about English pizza—or any other pizza. Any time Veronica didn’t say something was a good time as far as The Saddle Club was concerned.

When dinner was finished, Carole asked Nigel if he could drop them off at the stables so that they could be sure their horses were properly bedded down for the night.

“I’d be pleased to do that. I wish I could come with you, but my own team is having a meeting. I have an early start time tomorrow. Will you look in on Sterling while you’re there?”

“Definitely,” Carole said. “In fact, I brought an extra carrot just for him.”

Nigel led the girls to his car. “Next stop, the stable.”

“Could you just drop me at the hotel?” Veronica asked. “I have a little more confidence in the lads at the stable than my teammates do, and I’m
so
tired …” She stretched her arms out as if to prove a point that nobody believed anyway.

A few minutes later, Stevie, Lisa, and Carole hopped out of Nigel’s car at the stable, thanking him sincerely for a wonderful dinner and the ride.

“See you tomorrow!” Nigel said.

“Good luck!” called Stevie. Nigel waved and off he went.

The long summer twilight was finally turning to darkness
as the girls entered the stable tent. ’Ank sat with his feet propped up on his desk, sound asleep. Behind him, a horse snorted. ’Ank woke up with a start.

“Well, what are you doing ’ere?” he demanded when he saw the three girls in front of him.

“Just checking on our horses,” Lisa said.

“Ay, the Dickens ’orses, Oi remember,” he said. “You know the way. Get on with it.”

The girls took that as permission and made their way down the aisle. Their first stop was Sterling. He seemed relaxed, as if he knew that the hardest part of the event was over for him.

Carole slipped him his carrot and patted him. He remained aloof, as if seeming grateful were undignified.

“Oh, come on, boy. Everybody loves a carrot!” Carole teased. She held out her hand to pat him. Finally he gave in. He stepped over to the door of the stall and allowed Carole to give him a pat and then a hug. Then, as if he were embarrassed by his show of affection, he stepped back into the corner of the stall.

“Good night,” Carole said. She turned to her friends. “He’s just bashful,” she explained. Lisa and Stevie agreed.

Their next stop was to check on their own horses. They were fine and in good spirits and all welcomed the late-night snack. Nickleby enjoyed his as much as the others did.

“We’re sorry you got Veronica,” Stevie said. “She’s too selfish to come here herself, but we promise to take as
good care of you as we do the other horses. We’ve gotten good at making up for her shortcomings!” Nickleby seemed unconcerned. He was just happy to have a sweet carrot to munch.

“I think it’s time to get back,” Lisa said. “We’ve got to work out our costumes for tomorrow night.”

“Oh, right. It’s only Veronica who is having something expressed across the Atlantic, isn’t it? We have to
do
something.” Stevie sighed.

“Okay, let’s go,” Carole said, giving Miss Havisham a final pat.

They said good night to ’Ank and began the pleasant walk back to their hotel. The girls chatted about their costumes as they walked, trying to decide exactly what to do with their hair so that they’d look like Roundheads.

“Mousse,” said Stevie. “That can hold it flat.”

“Gel,” Carole suggested.

“Why don’t we just wear ponytails?” Lisa asked. “I don’t think they had mousse in the sixteen-forties.”

“But they had greasy stuff. I’m sure,” Carole said.

“Did you bring some gel?” Stevie asked.

“Uck, no. I hate the stuff,” said Carole.

“I do, too, but I brought it anyway,” said Stevie.

“I brought mousse,” Lisa said. “But I still think ponytails will do it—as long as we can make our hair lie flat.”

“Look, here’s what we can do,” Stevie said. She wanted to demonstrate how to brush and comb their hair so that
it would come out perfectly. She stepped in front of her friends and began walking backward rapidly so that they could see what she was doing.

“If we brush it upwards and then—”

She didn’t mean to walk -right into the man in the trench coat, but she never saw him, and because he had a limp he couldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

Both of them fell to the ground. Stevie popped right up.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said.

The man just grumbled as he struggled to right himself. “Here, I’ll help you,” Stevie said, offering him a hand. He took it grudgingly.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” Stevie said.

The man just glared. Then he limped on slowly. He never said a thing to Stevie.

“How rude,” Stevie muttered as the girls continued their walk.

Carole and Lisa agreed. Even though Stevie shouldn’t have bumped into him, she had helped him up and had apologized.

“Some people,” Stevie said finally.

“Some people shouldn’t walk backwards in the dark,” Carole said.

“I know,” Stevie conceded. “But I do have this great idea for our hair. Still, I guess I’m going to have to wait until we’re back in the room.”

A few minutes later in their hotel room, Stevie had the
chance to demonstrate. It involved ponytails, gel,
and
mousse.

“It looks pretty awful, but very roundheaded,” Lisa admitted.

By the time Stevie was finished with her hairdressing demonstration, Lisa had assembled an outfit that would work for all of them. “If we go as boys—you know, the apprentices who were the first ones to sign up with the Roundheads—then we can really just wear our riding clothes, breeches, high boots, loose blouses, and no jackets.”

“And then if we get a chance to buy some orange ribbon, we can add orange sashes. That was what the Roundhead soldiers wore,” said Carole.

“Perfect,” Lisa agreed. “And that’s that.”

“Except for masks,” Stevie said. “What are we going to do for masks?”

“Do you think we could get hold of some Groucho glasses—you know, nose and mustache?” Carole asked.

“Not what I had in mind,” said Stevie. “For this kind of costume ball, you’re supposed to have the kind of mask that you sort of hold up to your face.” She scrunched her face in thought. “If only we had some cardboard—any cardboard.” Then her eyes came to rest on the desk, where a booklet about the hotel’s amenities lay. “Ah!” she said. “The room service menu!”

Ten minutes later, each girl had a small mask cut from
the room service menu. Lisa and Carole agreed that nobody but Stevie would have thought of that.

“A good night’s work,” Stevie declared.

Her friends agreed. It was time to sleep. Tomorrow would be another very busy day.

Cummington Castle
July 20
                   

“C
OME ON, LET
’
S
get going. No dawdling,” Carole said the next morning, sounding more like a parent than she’d meant to. She herded her two friends through the village and over to the stables. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

“For someone who can be flaky about a lot of things, you certainly are being organized this morning,” Stevie said, trailing after her friend.

“We have to be there for Nigel,” Carole reminded Stevie and Lisa. “He said he’s got an early start time for the cross-country jumping and he needs us to cheer him on. We can’t let him down!”

Lisa and Stevie both began walking faster.

They found Nigel at Sterling’s stall, doing a final check on the stallion’s grooming. Standing next to him was the man they knew was Yaxley. He didn’t seem any happier this morning than he had been yesterday afternoon. The girls didn’t want to get in the way. They stood nearby, trying to appear as if they weren’t listening. Yaxley paid no attention to them. He just scowled while Nigel talked, and nothing Nigel said seemed to please him.