Stable Witch (3 page)

Stevie glanced back at the paper. She couldn’t exactly say that beating Veronica was her one and only goal. It would be very bad sportsmanship—not to mention the fact that Max would find it unacceptable.

“My goal for the schooling show is to improve my position over fences,”
she wrote finally. There. That would meet Max’s requirements
and
it was the truth. If she had to take posture lessons every day and walk with books on her head for two weeks straight, she was going to beat Veronica in equitation.

Next to Stevie, Carole chewed on her pencil. She
had written,
“My goal is for Starlight and me to enjoy ourselves, and for Starlight to get more exposure to competition, and for me to be able to keep him quiet in the ring and not let him speed up at the end of the course.”
She hoped it wasn’t too wordy, but she really had a lot to say. She could hardly wait until the show. It would be an incredible treat for both her and Starlight to ride only in jumping classes.

Lisa was still contemplating her piece of paper. As she pondered, she glimpsed Veronica out of the corner of her eye, shoving her paper into her pocket. “Aren’t you going to write anything?” Lisa asked.

“No, I’m not, as a matter of fact. I’m going to give Max a blank piece of paper if you must know,” Veronica retorted. “Because I’m going to
blank out
all the other riders! Get it? I’m going to win, no matter what it takes.” With that, she gave the group an icy stare and strode off.

“That’s what you think,” Stevie muttered darkly.

Lisa just shook her head. Veronica’s response was exactly what she expected. She glanced back down at the paper. It certainly was tempting to focus on winning. After all, who wouldn’t kill for a blue ribbon in equitation? Sure, it was only a schooling show, but with the personalities at Pine Hollow, it might end up being more competitive than a real show.

Lisa wasn’t about to make the same mistake—not being prepared—as she had at the other show where Prancer had been disqualified. Frowning over the piece of paper, she slowly wrote,
“I am going to work very hard for the next two weeks and at the show to jump more confidently so that Prancer will, too. I am going to do the best I can to get her ready for the show and to ride well on the day of the show.”
And, Lisa added silently to herself, I’m going to start right now.

“Coming, Lisa?” Stevie asked. She and Carole had put their tack away and were making plans to go back to the Lakes’ and hang out for the afternoon.

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve got some work to do here,” Lisa answered. There, she had done it. By deciding to stay at Pine Hollow, she had already started to work toward her goal.

W
HEN
C
AROLE AND
Stevie had left, Lisa returned to Prancer’s stall. She had decided to check over her grooming job. As Max always said, grooming was an important part of success in any riding competition—horsemanship began from the ground up.

Thinking of the ground prompted Lisa to look at Prancer’s hooves. She seemed to remember skimping a little on picking them out after the lesson. She cross tied Prancer and methodically picked up her feet, one by one. Sure enough, the near hind hoof betrayed her sloppiness: there was a small flat stone lodged between the shoe and heel. Chastising herself for her carelessness, Lisa began to dig it out gently.

It took a while to remove. Finally she stood up, satisfied but sorry that Prancer had had to suffer even a minor discomfort. She then began to go over the mare’s coat, mane, and tail until they gleamed. Already, Lisa felt better about the morning’s practice. She had no idea why she had felt so insecure, but she knew that she could ride well at the show if she prepared extra hard. She planned to work on every last detail of her position, from head to toe. There was no reason why she and Prancer couldn’t be as good as the others. They would just have to put in more hours, since they had the handicap of their own inexperience.

“There,” Lisa said, stepping back to survey her grooming job. “You look clean enough to eat off of.”

“Wish I could say the same about my kitchen floor,” Mrs. Reg commented, joining Lisa in the aisle. “But I’m afraid it’s covered with riding boots, bran mash, and horsehair as usual.”

Lisa laughed and greeted Mrs. Reg warmly. Max’s mother was a favorite among The Saddle Club. She always seemed to be around to lend a helping hand or a sympathetic ear. She knew more about horses than almost anyone, but she never made a rider feel stupid or ignorant. “Still grooming, huh?” Mrs. Reg asked.

Lisa nodded. “With two weeks to the schooling
show, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I figured I’d start today with doing a better job of grooming,”

“Good idea,” Mrs. Reg said approvingly. “It should be a great day. We’re expecting about thirty Pine Hollow students and thirty outsiders, so that will keep it manageable. And the judges are all well known to Max and me.”

“That’s good to hear,” Lisa said. She knew how important it was to find judges you could trust. Horse shows were incredibly subjective. At their level, there wasn’t usually too much question over the placement. But at top-level shows, like the American Horse Show, the horses and riders were so evenly matched that it was nearly impossible to understand how the judges could differentiate.

In addition to knowing lots about horses, Mrs. Reg had a knack for getting at whatever was bothering any of the Pine Hollow students, no matter how hard they tried to pretend that everything was fine. Today was no different. She watched Lisa rubbing Prancer for a few minutes and then asked, “So, are you looking forward to jumping? Max told me he’s entered your whole lesson group in Equitation Over Fences.”

Lisa sighed. There was no point in trying to keep a stiff upper lip around Mrs. Reg. Besides, it might make her feel better to admit her insecurity. She looked up
at the older woman, a timid expression on her face. “To be honest, Mrs. Reg,” she admitted, “I’m not so sure. I mean, I love jumping, and I love Prancer, but jumping Prancer—I don’t know. It’s definitely going to be a challenge. Today we had some problems. I was convinced the jumps were going to attack me!”

Mrs. Reg nodded sympathetically. “Everyone probably feels that way at one time or another,” she said, “even Nigel Hawthorne.”

Lisa smiled. Nigel Hawthorne was a member of the British Equestrian Team and the husband of Dorothy DeSoto, a former Pine Hollow rider. Nigel regularly jumped six-foot fences and higher. It was hard to imagine him thinking a picket rail had teeth! “In any case,” Lisa said, forcing herself to sound confident, “I’m going to put in extra hours this week and next to make sure we’re ready—if that’s all right with you and Max.”

“That’s fine, Lisa. Will Stevie and Carole be joining you?” Mrs. Reg asked. Max’s mother was fully aware of the three girls’ tight friendship.

Lisa shook her head. “I don’t think so. You should have seen Belle and Starlight today—they definitely don’t need the extra practice.”

Mrs. Reg frowned ever so slightly. “Does that mean you want to beat your friends?” she inquired.

“Oh,
no,
Mrs. Reg!” Lisa cried. It had never even occurred to her that she would do better than Carole and Stevie. She tried to explain. “I’m not trying to beat them—I just want to do well myself, and they’re the standard that I measure myself against.”

Mrs. Reg looked pleased with Lisa’s response. “So you’ll be coming to Pine Hollow more often for the next couple of weeks?”

Lisa explained that she was hoping to come in the mornings—starting with tomorrow morning. Mrs. Reg agreed to let her ride at seven
A.M.
the next day. “You know, this reminds me of a young man who …”

Lisa bit her lip. Mrs. Reg had a habit of launching into lengthy, seemingly pointless stories when she wanted to tell a rider something. Lisa knew another story was coming.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Reg went on, oblivious to Lisa’s reaction, “this young man used to ride at Pine Hollow, and he competed in lots of three-day events.”

Lisa tried to listen attentively. The story was about a rider whose horse was just fine in the ring at jumping and dressage but had a lot of trouble in practice with the cross-country course. First the horse and rider would be off the pace—too slow—and come in over the allowed time, which meant receiving time
penalties. Another time, the rider would forget the course and miss a couple of fences or do them out of order. And once he had just plain gotten lost on the course.

“The funny thing was,” Mrs. Reg continued, her eyes staring off into space, “every time he went out on the cross-country course, he thought he saw the same girl. On his very first ride, he thought this girl had intentionally spooked his horse at one of the fences. The next time he went out, he caught a glimpse of her midway through the course. It took him five or six tries to get his horse over it, and it made him so furious and upset he couldn’t finish the course.

“After that, she was everywhere. He saw her at the starting gate; he saw her on the trail; he saw her lurking near fences. He even thought he saw her reflection at the water jump. First he thought perhaps she was just a spectator who happened to turn up to watch him practice. Then he thought maybe it was another competitor from Pine Hollow who wanted to see how he was doing. He got more and more flustered, and every time he went out on a course, he did poorly.”

Lisa shook her head. The poor guy, she thought.

“He asked everybody around the stable if they had ever seen her,” Mrs. Reg continued. “But none of
them knew who he was talking about.” The older woman paused dramatically.

“So?” Lisa demanded, her brow furrowed into confusion at what Mrs. Reg was trying to get at.

Mrs. Reg looked gravely at Lisa. Her voice grew quiet. “So? So, he came to think of her as a witch who had cast a spell on him and his horse.”

Lisa snorted with laughter. “But Mrs. Reg,” Lisa began, trying to recover her composure. After all, she didn’t want to be downright rude. “Everyone knows there’s no such thing as witches.”

Mrs. Reg shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean?” Lisa demanded. She was beginning to feel frustrated by the whole cryptic story.

“Do I really have to explain the whole thing?” Mrs. Reg asked. She sounded a little annoyed that Lisa hadn’t gotten the point yet. “All right, I’ll tell you how the story ends, and then you’ll see what I’m getting at. At the three-day event, the boy did very well in dressage and jumped clean in stadium. But he racked up so many points in cross-country that he didn’t even get a ribbon for his overall performance. Once again, he had seen the girl. And until the day he moved away from Pine Hollow, he always swore that there was a witch at the stable who had put a hex
on him. He never did do our cross-country course clean.”

“So, was the boy right or wrong—about the witch?” Lisa asked, hoping for an explanation even though she didn’t believe in witches.

Mrs. Reg glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear me, the time. And I was supposed to have these show schedules printed up at the copy shop for Max already. Well, I’d better run—can’t stand around all day telling old stories …” Before Lisa could get another word in, Mrs. Reg had bustled down the aisle.

Lisa had to laugh. Obviously Mrs. Reg was implying something that she wanted Lisa to understand—but what? Lisa tried to figure out the meaning on her own, but it was useless. Was Mrs. Reg trying to tell her that, even though Halloween had been months ago, Pine Hollow was haunted by its very own stable witch? If that was true—which, of course, rational Lisa knew wasn’t—then what was she supposed to do about it? The very thought made her giggle. Imagine going to Stevie and Carole and telling them that their next Saddle Club project was going to be doing some serious witch-hunting at Pine Hollow. They would think she was off her rocker.

“But we’ll keep our eyes open for brooms that fly, won’t we, Prancer?” Lisa whispered to the mare. She
gave her a quick hug, promising to be back at seven the next morning to work on jumping. “We’re going to improve so fast, nobody will recognize us, right?”

Lisa had to take Prancer’s methodical hay chewing as a “yes.”