Horse Trade (9 page)

Stevie grinned. Phil’s method of dealing with Teddy actually seemed to work.

When they got to Cross County, bleachers had been set up outside the fence of the ring. A few younger riders who wouldn’t be participating were setting up a table with cookies and lemonade.

Suddenly Stevie’s stomach lurched. There were so many things that could go wrong. The duet could turn out to be a big flop, and everyone could laugh. Or Teddy could be spooked and run wild. Or, as she had been thinking all morning, No-Name could break out in hives. More than anything, Stevie wanted to do well in front of Mrs. Marsten, who must think she was a nut after hearing her sing the other day. Ever since that embarrassing moment Phil and Stevie had practiced to a tape of Lisa singing “Almost.”

Phil waited for Stevie to tether No-Name in her usual spot outside the ring. Stevie shook her head and said, “We’re going inside with you guys.”

Once No-Name was hitched to a post where there was no grass or weeds in eating distance, Stevie went to check on that delicious patch of greenery where No-Name usually liked to munch.

Just as she thought. There was grass in No-Name’s patch, but also several varieties of weeds. A horse will avoid poisonous weeds, like deadly nightshade, Stevie knew, but they will eat other weeds. Stevie examined a plant with curly green leaves and a pale-yellow flower. Could this be the culprit?

Unfortunately, Stevie decided, the only way to handle the situation was by waiting—something Stevie hated doing. The only way to make totally sure that these weeds had caused No-Name’s allergy was to let her eat some. But that was something Stevie would never do without consulting Judy Barker.

“Hi, Fox,” came a voice from behind her. Stevie looked over her shoulder and saw a Cross County rider who had been on the mock fox hunt that had been held at Pine Hollow several months ago. Somehow people never got tired of teasing her about being chosen to play the fox.

“Hi,” Stevie said, standing up.

“How’s your scent?” the boy said.

These fox jokes would be the death of her, Stevie thought. Never, ever would she be a fox again—though, in fact, she had been a fabulous fox.

“Never better,” she said, letting herself into the ring.

She got up on No-Name, wondering if this day was
going to be one long fox joke, when she heard,
“Steeevie.”

She looked up and saw Carole, Lisa, and Hollie. Lisa was holding the music for the duet, and Hollie had the list of dressage maneuvers they were going to perform to the strains of “Almost.”

“Just a quick sound check,” Hollie said, going over to the barn to check the microphone, which was in a metal wall box just inside the front door. “Testing—one, two, three, four,” she said. The sound was so loud that a couple of horses jumped.

Hollie adjusted the sound and said into the mike, “Gooooooood afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”

It was funny, Stevie thought. Hollie was beginning to sound like a show-business personality.

Carole came over to Stevie and Phil and said, “The most important thing is to let the horses star. The exercises should flow out of them, as if everything were their idea.”

“Like No-Name stood awake nights thinking about shoulder-ins,” Stevie joked. She wanted to lighten the mood. She could see that Phil was beginning to tense under all this advice.

“Teddy’s no genius,” Phil said. “He’s just a horse.”

Carole opened her mouth, and Stevie figured that she was about to explain that in their own way horses are
geniuses, which would probably make Phil even more edgy.

“Stevie,” came a voice from where the cars were parked. There was something about that voice, Stevie thought, and something about that car. Yes! It was her mother’s voice, and the Lake family car.

Stevie watched her parents walk across the grass and thought that it was great that her parents were there, but it would not be so great if her brothers were there, especially Michael. If Michael saw the duet, he would be singing “Almost” and teasing Stevie about Phil forever.

“Mom,” Stevie said. “This is great. Did you bring—?”

“We left Michael at home,” her mother said with a smile. “He’s cleaning the guppy tank.”

Stevie let out a sigh of relief.

“The Marstens called us and told us you choreographed and wrote the music for an exhibition number yourself,” Mrs. Lake said. “It really sounds special. I’m so proud of you, Stevie.”

“I had a lot of help,” Stevie said.

“You’ll be great,” Mr. Lake said. “I’ve brought my camera.” He raised it to show her.

Great, Stevie thought. If she and Phil messed up, it would be preserved forever on videotape. Her brothers would certainly like that.

But before she had a chance to dwell on what else could go wrong, Mr. Baker’s voice boomed over the microphone, “Cross County riders and guests mount up. The Fifth Annual Cross County Dressage Exhibition is about to begin.”

“M
S
. W
INDSOR IS
not a formal judge,” said Mr. Baker to the assembled riders, and to their fans in the bleachers. “She is here as a commentator and friend. And we are truly honored to have her. Ms. Windsor, as I’m sure you all know, is a former member of the American equestrian team, and one of the country’s leading dressage judges.”

The woman Stevie recognized from the lecture at Pine Hollow took the microphone and said, “I am here only as a commentator to give advice to those who need it.” She looked directly at Stevie, who was sitting on No-Name next to Phil on Teddy.

Uh-oh, Stevie thought, remembering that Hollie and
The Saddle Club had been talking and giggling during most of Ms. Windsor’s talk at Pine Hollow. I’m truly a dead duck, Stevie thought. Ms. Windsor was, in fact, staring directly at Stevie, her long nose quivering with distaste.

“We’ll start with a medley of dressage steps by members of Cross County and end with a duet by Phil Marsten and Stevie Lake, which incorporates these steps into a choreographed event,” Mr. Baker said.

Stevie and Phil looked at each other. A choreographed event! This sounded like a big deal.

Music blared from the public-address system as three Cross County horses and riders entered the ring.

“Riders will demonstrate the countercanter,” Mr. Baker explained.

The horses cantered to the left with their right legs leading. This was the opposite of what they instinctively wanted to do. At first the horses and riders showed great skill, but then one horse broke into a disunited canter.

In a disunited canter a horse has his left legs tucked under him and his right legs spread in full gallop position. This is one of the silliest-looking things a horse can do. It’s also dangerous because a horse can easily lose its balance.

Carole watched the disunited canter and shook her
head. “Once one horse gets off the gait, the rest will go too.”

Sure enough, the second horse broke into a disunited canter and then the third.

Abruptly the music stopped and Mr. Baker spoke over the microphone, “That was a good beginning. A few more practice sessions and the horses will have it. Perhaps Ms. Windsor has something to say.” He passed the microphone to Ms. Windsor.

“A fine attempt,” Ms. Windsor said. “I can see that this Pony Club takes dressage seriously.”

Stevie was surprised the woman didn’t say more. Maybe she was saving her most critical comments for Stevie and Phil.

The next demonstration was of the serpentine. This time the horses and riders rose to the occasion, weaving around the edge of the ring with grace and speed. After that five horses pirouetted to the left and then to the right. Stevie noticed that Mr. Baker looked very pleased.

And then the whole of Cross County did left half passes and right half passes, getting their horses to walk sideways by crossing their legs. As they backed toward the center, so that together the horses looked like the rays of a sun, the audience burst into applause. Ms. Windsor took the microphone and said, “A very creditable exhibition.
A Pony Club shows its true stamina and class when it refuses to let itself be daunted by an initial mishap.”

There was a pause while the audience digested this thought, and then there was a round of applause.

“And now Stevie Lake and Phil Marsten will perform a dressage duet to the music of”—Mr. Baker looked at the slip of paper in his hand more closely—“ ‘Almost,’ which will be sung by Lisa Atwood, the star of a recent local production of
Annie
.”

Stevie swallowed. Never had she been in an exhibition when there were so many uncertainties. For a second—just a second—Stevie wished that her parents weren’t there. Her father was smiling proudly and had his camera raised.

But then Stevie looked over at Max, who was standing at the rail next to Mr. Baker. Max’s blue eyes seemed to be staring right into her, making her calm.

Lisa sang,

Stevie and Phil raised their hats to each other and rode in opposite directions in a sitting trot. They met on the word “almost” and leaned toward each other, almost touching. Then they headed into a serpentine, and when they neared each other, they reached out their hands,
barely missing on the word “almost.” The crowd was into it now, laughing and clapping. Phil and Stevie spun off into giant figure eights that got smaller and smaller and closer and closer, until it seemed as if they were about to fall into each other’s arms. Again, at the word “almost,” they missed and spun off into revolving pivots. As their horses met at the opposite end of the ring, they slid into a countercanter, moving gracefully back around the ring.

Lisa sang,

The smoothness of No-Name’s canter and the swell of Lisa’s voice was exhilarating. As Stevie and Phil moved toward one another for the final time, Stevie raised her arm, ready to join hands with Phil. Phil raised his arms. The crowd cheered. Stevie and Phil reached for each other so they could hold hands.

Excited by the applause, No-Name did a perfect
piaffe
. Seeing her, Teddy started a
piaffe
of his own. Next thing Stevie knew, she and Phil were waving their arms, trying to keep their balance. In the stands Stevie could see the horrible black eye of her father’s camera. This disaster was being recorded for posterity.

A terrible silence hung over the ring. Then Lisa, show-business veteran that she was, sang,

It brought down the house. The people in the bleachers stood up, cheering and laughing. Stevie’s parents made victory signs. Even Mr. Baker was smiling. By this time Phil had gotten Teddy under control and Stevie was upright in the saddle. Phil rode back to Stevie and took her hand, and when the two of them raised their hands, everyone cheered louder.

“I’m speechless,” Mr. Baker said over the microphone. “I’m going to turn for comment to Ms. Windsor.”

Here goes nothing, Stevie thought.

Ms. Windsor took a deep breath.

Stevie looked at Phil and whispered, “Prepare to die.”

“I have witnessed many exhibitions of so-called horse dancing,” Ms. Windsor said, “and as a rule I tend to turn a disapproving eye on them.”

“I bet,” Stevie whispered to Phil.

“But I must say that this one was remarkably lively, and the ending did make me smile.”

Stevie looked at Ms. Windsor. Could it be true? Yes, Stevie saw that under her long, dour nose, Ms. Windsor was actually smiling.

“Congratulations to Stevie Lake and Phil Marsten,” Mr. Baker said, looking intensely relieved. “ ‘Almost’ will be remembered at Cross County for a long time.”

“We had a lot of help,” Stevie said, but since no one could hear her, Mr. Baker motioned her over to the microphone. “We had a lot of help,” she said, hearing her voice boom to the crowd. “As you all know, the singing was done by Lisa Atwood.” There was a round of applause for Lisa’s great singing. “The concept, choreography, and songwriting were done by Hollie Bright.” For her there was an even bigger round of applause.

“Where do you get your great ideas?” someone called.

Stevie carried the microphone over to Hollie, who sneezed loudly.

A puzzled silence followed. Stevie said hastily, “I think Hollie got her concept from Phil and me.” She looked over at Phil. “I guess she thinks we’re ‘almost’ kind of people.”

This raised a laugh, but Mr. Baker stretched out his hand for the microphone and said, “Stevie’s too modest. I’m sure that none of you realize it, but the horse she’s riding is a talented but difficult horse. We had …”

“No-Name,” Stevie supplied. “Her name is No-Name.”

“How unusual,” Mr. Baker said with a smile. “In any case we had No-Name at Cross County for a couple of weeks, and we liked her, but those were difficult weeks. She kept coming down with hives, and we couldn’t track down the cause of them. And although she’s an intelligent, spirited horse, she isn’t easy to handle. So I think we
all owe Stevie an extra hand for bringing No-Name to the exhibition with no hives and no discipline problems.”

If only he knew, Stevie thought. That final
piaffe
hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.