Horse Care (7 page)

“It looks great,” she said sincerely.

Marguerite smiled. “I know,” she said. “Just wait until you meet the people. My friend Shannon will probably be here later—she has a full-blooded Arabian. And my friend Jack might be here, too. His parents own half the shopping malls on the East Coast. He rides a Thoroughbred.”

Lisa couldn’t resist speaking up. “I ride a Thoroughbred back at Pine Hollow,” she said. “Her name is Prancer. She’s really sweet and eager to please, and she—”

“Did I mention my friend Kelton?” Marguerite interrupted. She didn’t even seem to realize that Lisa had spoken. “His dad’s a senator, and Kelton has two horses: a Hanoverian and a Morgan.”

Lisa didn’t see why one boy needed two horses. After all, he could only ride one at a time. But she didn’t say so. In fact, she gave up entirely on talking and just followed along quietly as Marguerite continued to reel off a list of her friends and their purebred horses.

Her monologue got a little easier to take once they entered the stable building and Lisa could see the horses herself. She didn’t think she had ever seen so many beautiful horses in one place. Every single one seemed to be a purebred of one kind or another. More importantly, every one appeared well cared for and healthy.

As Marguerite led her on a quick tour, Lisa saw that the stable itself was a little smaller than Pine Hollow, but it was just as spotlessly clean. And Lisa knew that her mother would consider it a lot more elegant. Every stall had a large, polished brass nameplate by the door. The tack room had cedar-lined walls and fancy saddle racks. The people they passed were all dressed to the nines—even the ones Marguerite pointed out as stable boys.

After a while Lisa realized that she still hadn’t asked Marguerite about her own horse. She quickly did so.

Marguerite smiled. “We’re just getting to her stall.” She hurried down the aisle they were in and paused beside a stall door. “Here she is. This is my horse, Amber.”

Lisa looked into the stall and gasped. The horse inside was gorgeous. Amber was a light bay mare, about sixteen
hands tall, with a refined head and lively, soulful eyes. She turned and gave Lisa a curious, intelligent glance, then returned to her previous occupation of picking at the hay in her hayrack.

“Do you like her?” Marguerite said complacently. “She’s a purebred Trakehner. Those come from Germany, you know. In Europe.”

Lisa knew that the Trakehner was a breed from Germany. As a matter of fact, she also knew that Germany was in Europe. But she kept quiet. She was busy looking at the horse. Amber was amazing.

For the first time, Lisa started to feel a little more positive about the day. She was starting to think that spending an afternoon riding one of these impeccably bred creatures could be pleasant.

“She’s wonderful,” she told Marguerite sincerely, reaching out to pat Amber’s soft nose. “So, are you ready to ride?”

“Sure,” Marguerite said. She headed toward the tack room.

Lisa followed silently for a few steps. She couldn’t wait to find out which horse would be hers. Finally she cleared her throat. “Um, so who will I be riding today?”

Marguerite stopped short and gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no!” she cried. “I knew there was something I forgot.”

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked, confused.

Marguerite spun around and hurried down the hallway
in the other direction, toward the offices she had pointed out earlier. “I’m so sorry, Lisa. I forgot to arrange a horse for you.” She tossed Lisa an abashed grin over one shoulder. “But don’t worry. I’m sure we can scrounge up something.”

L
ISA SIGHED AND
glanced up as she prepared to mount. “Okay, Tiny,” she said. “Here we go.”

The mare didn’t respond to her name. Lisa didn’t blame her. It wasn’t exactly appropriate. Tiny was a large, heavy gray horse, swaybacked and slow-moving.

“Um, I didn’t notice Tiny on the tour you gave me,” Lisa said, trying to be tactful. She mounted, feeling her leg muscles stretch a bit. Tiny was a lot broader across the back than slender, athletic Prancer.

Marguerite shrugged. “I know,” she said. “Her stall’s way in the back. They don’t like to keep her where people will see her. She’s not exactly up to par with the other horses here, you know.”

Lisa nodded, but she gave Tiny a quick pat, too. Tiny looked around and snorted as if in appreciation.

Lisa knew better than to write off a horse because of its appearance. Just because Tiny wasn’t a gorgeous purebred like the other Fox Crest horses—and clearly not challenging enough for a good rider like Lisa—that didn’t mean she was useless. “She must be handy for new riders,” she commented.

“You’re kidding, right?” Marguerite laughed. “Nobody
here would be caught dead on a horse like that. The only reason Tiny’s here is because someone donated her as a tax write-off. She’s so slow and dull that they take her along to shows and stuff to keep the other horses calm.” She glanced over at Lisa as she swung aboard Amber, who was prancing and snorting and seemed full of energy. “I’m really sorry you’re stuck riding her, Lisa. My mom is going to kill me when she finds out. But Mr. Keit said there just wasn’t any other horse available right now.”

“It’s okay.” Lisa settled her feet firmly in the stirrups and gathered her reins, preparing to start. Tiny was standing still, her head drooping. Every once in a while she let out a snort or a whinny, responding to things around her. Lisa smiled as the big horse nickered at a passing bird. “At least she’s chatty.”

Marguerite rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.” She sent Amber into a fast walk.

“Lead the way!” Lisa said, trying to sound cheerful. She signaled for Tiny to walk, and for a second the mare seemed reluctant to move.

Lisa was more than a little annoyed, though it had nothing to do with Tiny’s laziness. She knew that none of this was the sweet old mare’s fault. If Marguerite had done what she was supposed to, Lisa could have been riding a horse much more suited to her ability.

A strange, nagging feeling came over her as she followed the other girl out of the stable yard. She urged
Tiny into a ponderous trot to keep up with Amber’s brisk walk. Something was bothering Lisa, but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then she realized what it was. She missed the lucky horseshoe.

The lucky horseshoe was a Pine Hollow tradition. It was nailed to the wall by the stable door, and Lisa, like all the riders at Pine Hollow, was always careful to touch it before setting out. No rider who had done so had ever been seriously hurt.

“Oh, well,” Lisa whispered to Tiny, keeping her voice low so that Marguerite wouldn’t overhear. “I should know better than to expect any good luck around here.”

Tiny nickered and glanced back toward the stable building. Lisa smiled and gave her another pat. She could tell that the old mare didn’t want to be out there any more than she did. Then Lisa glanced up at the sky.
Maybe Tiny and I will get lucky after all
, she thought hopefully as she saw still more gray clouds gathering at the horizon.
It looks like it’s going to pour pretty soon. Then Tiny can get back to her hayrack, and I can get back to Pine Hollow early!

“I’
M STARTING TO
wonder if Tate is ever going to ride with our class,” Stevie grumbled. She and Carole were at Calypso’s stall. The Horse Wise meeting and the girls’ jump lesson had both come and gone, and there had been no sign of the new boy. The girls were on their way to the grain shed to mix the feed for the next week, but they had stopped by to see the pregnant mare first.

Carole could tell that Stevie was disappointed because Tate hadn’t shown up. She had to admit, she was a little disappointed, too. But she was also relieved. Whenever the new boy was around, she felt kind of awkward. She wasn’t sure whether that had anything to do with Tate himself or whether it was purely a result of Stevie’s
matchmaking. She decided it was time to change the subject. “The Horse Wise meeting was fun, wasn’t it? Belle seemed to catch on quickly to what you were asking her to do.”

Stevie’s eyes lit up. “She did do well, didn’t she?” she said. “Even Max said—”

Carole never got to hear what Max had said. Stevie was staring past her down the aisle, grinning widely. “What is it, Stevie?” Carole asked, turning to look.

“Hi there!” Tate called, walking toward them. “How’s it going?”

“Tate!” Stevie exclaimed. “We’re so glad you’re here. We need your help. Max asked us to mix grain this week, and usually Lisa helps us, but she’s not here today. We could really use an extra set of hands. How about it?”

Tate looked a little surprised, but he shrugged agreeably. “Boy, Max really is a slave driver, isn’t he?” he said with a laugh. “Sure, I’ll help you out.”

Carole gave Calypso one last pat, then followed as the others headed down the aisle toward the feed shed. After a moment, Stevie dropped back and gave her a conspiratorial wink.

“What do you think?” she whispered. “This will give you some quality time to get to know each other. Especially if I have to step out for a while to go to the bathroom …”

“Don’t!” Carole whispered back, her eyes widening.

Stevie just grinned, winked again, and hurried forward after Tate.

“… A
ND THEN THERE
’
S
wood shavings,” Tate said happily, leaning back against a large sack of alfalfa pellets. “They’re easy to find, and mucking out isn’t a problem as long as you have a scoop and a shavings fork. They’re comfortable, too, and most horses won’t try to eat them. However, it’s best to avoid oak shavings. There’s tannic acid in oak, and that can be damaging to a horse’s hooves. Then there’s sawdust.…”

Carole sighed and scooped out another batch of bran to add to the mix she and Stevie were working on. Tate had been going on and on about stalls and bedding for what seemed like forever. Carole hadn’t thought she could ever get tired of hearing about horses, but now she was beginning to wonder.

She was also beginning to wonder about Tate. Didn’t he notice that neither she nor Stevie had spoken for at least ten minutes? Didn’t he care? Or did he care more about showing off what he knew than talking to them? It also hadn’t escaped Carole’s notice that Tate wasn’t helping much with the grains. Still, that might have been partly Stevie’s fault. She had insisted on making Tate sit on a stack of empty burlap bags next to Carole, where he couldn’t reach any of the ingredients except the barley. Since Max’s feed mix didn’t use much barley, Tate didn’t have much to do.

“What’s going on in here?” an unpleasant voice demanded.

Carole was startled out of her thoughts. She looked up and saw Veronica standing in the doorway of the grain shed, her hands on her hips and a suspicious expression on her face.

Tate grinned at her. “Hey, Veronica,” he said. “How’s it going?”

Veronica’s expression quickly changed to a big smile. “Hello, Tate,” she cooed. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

Yeah, right
, Carole thought with disgust. She was sure that Veronica had known exactly where Tate was. Otherwise, why would she have bothered to come out to the grain shed?

Stevie seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Thanks for offering to help us, Veronica,” she said sarcastically. “Luckily we’ve got everything under control. Oh, and I heard Max calling you a few minutes ago. You’d better go see what he wants.”

Veronica shot her a poisonous glance. “That’s okay, Stevie,” she said smoothly. “I just talked to him. He asked me to supervise what you’re doing in here.”

Stevie glowered at her, and Carole bit back a laugh. She knew as well as Stevie did that there was no way Max would have asked any such thing.

Tate didn’t seem suspicious at all. “Cool,” he said, scooting over to make room for Veronica next to him.
“We were just talking about stable management and stuff.”

“Oh, really?” Veronica sat down and then moved a couple of inches closer to Tate. She smiled at him and batted her eyelashes. “It figures. These two never want to talk about anything but horses, horses, horses. But I’d much rather hear more about you.”

“Oh, really?” Tate smiled back at her. Without seeming to realize what he was doing, he reached into the barley bag and dumped a whole scoopful into the batch of feed they were working on.

Carole opened her mouth to protest, since that batch already had its full share of barley. But before she could, Stevie leaped to her feet.

“Hey!” Stevie shouted. “Did you hear that? I think it’s your mom’s car horn, Veronica. You’d better go check it out.”

Veronica scowled. “You’re hearing things, Stevie,” she said. “I didn’t hear a horn. Besides, I’m not getting picked up until later.”

“I didn’t hear anything, either,” Tate put in. He dumped another scoopful of barley into the mix. “So anyway, Veronica, I heard you guys were working on the pirouette in your Pony Club meeting today. That’s a fourth-level dressage move, you know. Some of the other moves added at the fourth level are …”

As Tate continued to talk, Carole was really getting annoyed. It was obvious that Tate wasn’t paying attention
to what he was doing. He was totally messing up the grain mix. He should know better. So should Stevie, for that matter. But she had dropped her scoop and was staring at Veronica with a determined look on her face.