Horse Trade (10 page)

As the audience applauded, Stevie sneaked a look over to the stands and saw that Mr. Lake was getting all this on tape. Now Stevie couldn’t wait until her brothers saw it.

“With Stevie and No-Name I think we see a perfect rider-horse combination,” Mr. Baker said. “Can anyone guess why this is so?”

Carole, sitting in the stand, raised her hand and said, “Because they’re so much alike?”

Mr. Baker nodded. “Good horse-and-rider combinations are often like that. They understand each other because they’re so similar. What you want to watch out for are opposites, like a bullying rider and a timid horse. Or a bullying horse and a timid rider.”

The crowd laughed.

“At any rate, I’d like to thank Ms. Windsor for her contribution to this event,” Mr. Baker said, “and also the riders from Pine Hollow.”

“What a day,” Stevie said, turning to Phil. “I didn’t think things would turn out so well.” But then suddenly she remembered that she’d forgotten about Teddy. “Is he okay?” she said, looking down at him.

“Teddy’s fine,” Phil said. “He can tell that everyone is happy, so he’s happy.”

“You know the best thing of all?” Stevie said happily to Phil.

“What?”

“No hives,” she said, pointing to No-Name’s neck. “Not one.”

Phil leaned over, checking No-Name’s ears and face, especially the upside-down white exclamation point that ran up her nose. “You’re right.” He looked up at Stevie. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

“I think so,” Stevie said. “You see that green patch outside the fence? That’s where I used to tie No-Name. But today I didn’t, and I checked and it’s full of weeds.”

“That would do it,” Phil said. “That green spot must look like a splendid feast to her.”

“Poor No-Name,” Stevie said, nodding. “It’s like being allergic to fudge sauce.”

“That’s where you two are not alike,” Phil said with a grin.

“Nice work, Stevie,” said Mr. Baker, coming over. “I’ve had a few rides on No-Name myself, so I can appreciate what you were up against. You got her under control without making her feel angry or oppressed.”

“Who could oppress a horse with an exclamation point on her nose?” Stevie asked. When Mr. Baker smiled, she
added, “You know, I think I’ve found what No-Name is allergic to.”

“What?” Mr. Baker said.

“Something in that patch of weeds over there.” She pointed to the weeds outside the fence.

“That could be,” Mr. Baker said thoughtfully. “It’s not uncommon for horses to be allergic to weeds. I’ll get rid of that patch right away. Thanks, Stevie.”

Mr. and Mrs. Lake appeared next to Stevie, looking proud and happy. “You were great,” Mr. Lake said. “That ending was pure genius.”

Stevie and Phil looked at each other and grinned.

“Not only was Stevie great in the performance,” Mr. Baker said, “but she’s tracked down her mount’s allergy.”

Everyone was looking at Stevie, so she figured that she might as well explain. “I took a scientific approach and tried one possible allergen at a time. The first time I tried fly spray, which is the most common cause of horse allergies. The next time I tried saddle soap.”

By then a crowd had gathered around Stevie. It included Hollie, Carole, and Lisa, as well as Phil’s parents and his younger sister, Rachel. Naturally, Mr. Lake was taping the whole thing.

“But neither of those was the culprit,” Stevie said, truly enjoying herself because her parents seemed to be bug-eyed
with wonder at this new responsible, scientific Stevie. “So I made a mental list of the times No-Name came down with hives, and I realized that each time she had just visited Cross County.”

Stevie noticed Mrs. Marsten give Rachel a nudge. Phil saw it, too, and he looked over at Stevie and gave her a small nod, as if to say—lay it on.

“So I thought of all the things No-Name had done at Cross County, and I realized that she hadn’t been inside the barn, so it must have been something outside. And she had come fully saddled, so it couldn’t be tack. So it must have been something outside, probably something she ate. And then I had this memory of her munching those weeds over there.”

“Big deal,” Rachel said softly.

“It
is
a big deal, Rachel,” Mrs. Marsten said. “Those hives can be life threatening to No-Name.”

“I’m proud of you, Stevie,” Mrs. Lake said. “This makes me realize that you’re on your way to being a responsible adult.”

“Hey, not so fast,” Stevie joked. “I’m not so sure I’m ready to be a responsible adult.”

“I can just see it,” Mrs. Lake said dreamily to her husband. “Stevie arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court.” The Lakes were both lawyers.

“Sorry.” Stevie shook her head. “I’ve already got my plans made. I’m going to be a horse detective.”

“That’s it,” Mr. Lake said. When everyone turned to look at him, he explained, “That’s going to be the title of this videotape:
Stevie Lake: Horse Detective
.”

“H
OW DID YOU
raise Stevie so well?” Mrs. Marsten asked Mrs. Lake. “She’s so mature and thoughtful.”

“Oh, we just did what comes naturally,” Mrs. Lake said airily. “We followed our instincts.”

“And prayed a lot,” Mr. Lake added.

This broke the ice. In a second the Lakes and Marstens were smiling at each other—with the exception of Rachel, who said, “You think I want to turn out to be a creep like her?”

“Rachel, dear,” Mrs. Marsten said, “I have the feeling your chickens are getting hungry.” She looked at her watch. “And this time of day they’re probably laying eggs.”

“I’m out of here,” Rachel said, and streaked out of the ring toward the Marstens’ home.

“Would you like to join us for lunch?” Mrs. Marsten said to the Lakes.

“There’s a new Japanese restaurant in the shopping center,” Mrs. Lake said.

“I love sushi,” Mrs. Marsten said.

Mr. Marsten and Mr. Lake looked at each other with dismay.

“I don’t know why,” Mr. Lake said, “but I’m just not in the mood for raw fish today.”

“Strange, isn’t it? Me neither,” said Mr. Marsten with a grin. “Usually I’m dying for raw fish, but right now I’m just not in the mood.”

“How about a hamburger?” Mr. Lake suggested.

“And fries,” Mr. Marsten said, brightening. “And onion rings. Watching all that exercise made me hungry.”

Mrs. Lake turned to Phil and Stevie and said, “How long will it take you two to get ready?”

But Stevie didn’t want to stop riding, and when she looked at Phil, she saw that he felt the same way. “We’re not dressed for a restaurant,” she said. “Do you suppose we could stay and ride?”

“After a performance like that I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Lake said.

As Stevie and Phil headed toward Mr. Baker to get his
permission to go trail riding, she said, “You know, I’ve got to try being responsible again sometime. It really goes over well.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Phil said. “I like you just the way you are.”

Mr. Baker said that not only would it be fine for Phil and Stevie to ride on the trails behind Cross County, but that he would be glad to supply horses for Carole, Lisa, and Hollie, too. At that moment Phil’s redheaded friend, A.J., appeared and asked if he could join, so they made up a party of six.

As soon as everyone was saddled up, Phil led the way to a road that curved through a harvested oat field that was now nothing but brown stubble with shoots of tender new weeds. Knowing that this was exactly the kind of delicacy that No-Name liked—and shouldn’t have—Stevie kept a close rein on her. Soon they entered the forest, slipping into the cool, leafy shade of the oak trees, seeing the haze of spiderwebs over the trail.

It was the first time all day that Stevie hadn’t been on edge. She felt her neck relax, and then her back, and then her legs. Off to the left she could hear the hum of a brook. This was what riding was all about. Practice and exhibitions were great, but the best moments were when horses and riders were wandering through the countryside, free to do whatever they wanted.

They came to a clearing, and Stevie looked up from her reverie to see that this field wasn’t like the fields around Pine Hollow. It had a fierce outcropping of rock near the top, and the jagged shape of the grassy slope showed that this wasn’t a hill, but a foothill of the Silverado Mountains.

Phil stopped Teddy and raised his hand for the riders to gather around him. “I know you’re used to the country around Pine Hollow,” he said, “so I have to warn you that under the grass there are rocks, and in the bushes there are ravines. Be sure to stay on the trail because the footing here is full of surprises.” He looked from one rider to the next to make sure that they understood. His gaze rested on Hollie.

“I’ve dot it,” she said. “I’ll stay dight on the drail.”

The others laughed, but The Saddle Club also exchanged looks. Obviously, Hollie’s allergies were back.

“Okay,” Phil said. “Let’s go.”

He turned, and Teddy took off along the road, which was filled with tufts of grass. No-Name raised her head as if at last the fun was beginning and took off after Teddy in a beautiful gallop, with long, light steps. It was like floating, Stevie thought, or being a butterfly. As they entered the woods, climbing the stony mountain slope, dark hemlock branches brushed Stevie’s arms.

Phil and Teddy disappeared over a rise, and No-Name,
taking huge steps, scarcely working at all, followed into what looked like a giant saucer filled with silver grass.

Phil raised his hand. “If you’re really quiet, you can hear the wind grass singing.” Stevie knew that this was a kind of grass that grew only in windy, exposed places. The funny thing about wind grass was that sometimes its dry blades picked up the sound of the wind.

The riders closed their eyes. At first all Stevie could hear was the whine of a jet plane overhead. Then it came, a sound halfway between a buzz and a song.

Stevie giggled. For some reason the sound of wind grass made her nose itch.

Phil pointed to a slow gray ribbon that wound itself through the green fields below. “That’s the Silverado River,” he said to Hollie.

“It’s fantastic,” she said. But she didn’t sound right. The words came out slowly and painfully, as if she had to force them.

“Are you okay?” Stevie asked.

Hollie didn’t respond at first. Instead she was taking shallow breaths that didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“I’m dine!” Hollie said, and from the way she said it, with a toss of her head, Stevie knew that she was trying to raise a laugh. But there was nothing to laugh at, because Hollie had turned pale, with faint blue shadows under her eyes.

A.J.’s expression was concerned. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

“It’s her horse allergy,” Stevie said. She reached across to put her hand on Hollie’s face, feeling its clammy sweat. “You’re allergic to horses, aren’t you, Hollie? Tell me the truth.”

But Hollie’s eyes were glassy and vague, and her skin was getting paler.

“Can you hear me?” Stevie shouted. “Hollie!”

Hollie focused on her and whispered, “Yes.” It came out as a horrible wheezing sound.

Stevie remembered what Judy Barker had said about allergic asthma. Suddenly Hollie’s “cold” wasn’t funny. It might even be deadly.

“We’ve got to get her back,” Carole said. “She’s got to go to the hospital.”

Stevie glanced around anxiously. She knew that Carole was right, but the only way to get Hollie back was on a horse, and Hollie was allergic to horses. Still, that was their only option.

“Help me put her on No-Name,” Stevie called to Phil. “I’ve got to move her fast.”

Phil started to say something, and she knew that he was thinking that No-Name was an untested horse—who knew how she’d react to a second rider? But then Phil, sitting on Teddy, gently put his arms around Hollie and
lifted her off her horse while Carole, who had dismounted, held Hollie’s legs. They slid her onto No-Name in front of Stevie. The girl was too weak to protest.

With her arms supporting Hollie, Stevie pressed in with her knees.

Immediately No-Name understood. She was off, stumbling down the trail, her shoes hitting a rock so hard, they sent off sparks. A hollow in the trail filled with spongy ground slowed No-Name to a stumble.

This isn’t fast enough, Stevie thought, trying not to panic. With her left knee she pressed No-Name lightly.

No-Name headed into a hemlock forest that was dark and tangled underfoot. For a second No-Name balked, but then she cantered over the dark ground, head down, dodging trees.

“Hollie,” Stevie said, shaking her, “stay awake. Don’t give up. I need you.”

Hollie wheezed something that Stevie couldn’t understand.

Stevie looked up and saw that No-Name was headed straight for a tree. At the last second the horse bent left—a real dressage move—saving them all.

“Stay calm,” Stevie told Hollie. “Make yourself be calm. Think of something. Think of …” But Stevie couldn’t think of what to think of.

No-Name was falling, feet caught in an avalanche of
stones, but without changing direction or losing speed, she angled onto the hard ground next to the trail in a perfect shoulder-in.

They came to a stone fence, and No-Name easily soared over it.