Secret Horse (11 page)

“As far as information,” Stevie said, “all I know now is that thanks to my failed mission, Veronica is doing everything in her power, as we speak, to prevent any of us from getting a foot—or rather, a hoof—anywhere near that van. She was talking about renting out the whole thing.”

The three girls sighed in unison. “I did hear Mrs. Reg say Mrs. diAngelo was on the phone about a half hour ago,” Lisa commented.

“That’s nothing, though. She calls every day,” Carole pointed out.

“True,” said Lisa. “And look on the bright side,
Stevie. At least you got to look at all those fascinating pictures of—” Lisa’s final words were lost as Stevie smothered her in hay.

When they had settled down, Carole persuaded Stevie to tack up a horse and take a trail ride with them. Stevie chose Barq, a pretty Arabian that Max had owned for years. When they were ready, the girls led the horses out into the driveway and got on.

“Boy, am I glad you two are with me today instead of Veronica,” Stevie said. “Talk about a waste of a good trail ride. How was Mr. Grover’s, anyway? I was so busy keeping Max at bay I barely got a chance to ask you yesterday.”

“It went really well,” Carole responded. “Mr. Grover thinks Samson’s going to be ready for the Macrae.”

In the midst of Stevie’s enthusiastic replies, Lisa noticed that Carole had left out any mention of her fall. That was like Carole: She would never say anything to make any of her friends feel bad—or even any of her enemies. That, to Lisa, was true confidence. Lisa felt that way herself—about schoolwork. She never bragged about all the A’s she took home, knowing how much harder it was for some of the other kids. Still, she thought she ought to mention what had happened. When there was a pause in the conversation, she spoke up. “I took a spill yesterday, Stevie,” she said.

“How’d that happen?” Stevie asked.

Lisa explained about the jump, how Samson had left out a stride and she had reacted too late to stay on.

“That’s great!” Stevie exclaimed.

“Great?” Lisa said uncertainly.

“Sure.” Stevie turned around in the saddle to explain. “You know how it is with falls. Once you have one it’s like having money in the bank. Now you won’t fall again for a long time.”

“Knock wood, Stevie!” Carole sternly instructed.

Stevie reached out to the next tree they passed and rapped a branch. “Seriously, though. It always happens that way. Now you’re probably safe till next year. Or at least till well after the Macrae, which is the important thing.” Turning back around in her saddle, Stevie thought of something else, something she’d been meaning to talk to Lisa and Carole about. “Say, you guys? With all this work we’ve been doing to train Samson, has it occurred to either of you that someone’s going to have to
ride
him … in the Macrae? I mean, he can’t jump those junior jumper courses himself. Well, he
could
, but I don’t think the judges would be too happy about it.”

Carole waited a moment before saying, “We were actually wondering how you felt about that.”

“Me?” Stevie said. “Oh, no. This is between you two. I can’t make the choice, it wouldn’t be fair. Now, Carole, you did have a special attachment to Cobalt, a very
special attachment. And you have a lot of horse show experience. But Lisa, you discovered Samson’s ability. You took the first risk by jumping him at all. And it would be a great opportunity for you …”

Lisa and Carole let Stevie go on weighing the alternatives for several minutes. Finally Lisa said, “But what about you, Stevie. Do you want to ride him?”

Stevie laughed heartily. “That’s a good one. You think I, Stevie Lake, could be
paid
to put on a jacket and breeches in the middle of summer and compete against dozens of Veronica wannabes? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Tell me another.”

Now it was Lisa and Carole’s turn to laugh. When they’d had a chuckle over Stevie’s unqualified no, Lisa said, “But Stevie, you’re normally so competitive.”

“Yeah, I’m competitive,” Stevie said. “But I’m not … 
competitive.
”

Stevie’s friends didn’t have to ask what the difference was. They knew exactly what she meant. Each of them was competitive in some way—but, thankfully, they were competitive in different ways.

Carole explained that between her and Lisa the matter was settled. “Then what are you doing dragging me into it?” Stevie complained.

Rounding a bend in the trail, the small group emerged from the woods into a meadow. Lisa had to blink hard in the sun. She felt as if she were blinking hard inside, too.
It was decided then, at least among her friends, at least among The Saddle Club: She was going to ride.

T
HE NEXT DAY
The Saddle Club was back to early-morning schooling as usual. After the trail ride the girls had sat down to map out some particulars. They knew they couldn’t put off revealing their hopes to Max much longer. The show was less than three weeks away. To prepare properly, they would need real instruction from him as soon as possible. Reluctantly Carole had suggested making the next day—today—the dress rehearsal. If it went well, they would stage the demonstration the following afternoon. If it didn’t go well … “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!” Stevie had declared.

As planned, Carole was riding Starlight and Lisa was riding Samson. That left Stevie, moaning and groaning, to be the solitary jump crew. “You realize I’m not doing this out of friendship!” she warned, dragging a pole over to a pair of standards.

“We know!” Lisa said. “You’re doing it out of enemy-ship!”

“You’re darn right. And if one of you doesn’t beat Veronica, you owe me! Big!”

The combination the girls were schooling over was difficult. A combination was any set of two or more jumps placed close enough together so that each affected
how the rider took the other. For instance, there might be a first fence followed by a tight turn to a second fence. Or a fence that had to be jumped at an angle so as not to miss the second fence. Carole knew that at the Macrae, the courses would be extremely technical and challenging. Anything was fair game.

“I can’t seem to turn early enough after the first fence,” Lisa said after two failed attempts. “Our angles are all wrong. I don’t know if it’s me or Samson.”

“Do you want me to try him once or twice and see if I can get him through it?” Carole volunteered. “You could follow me on Starlight.”

“That would be great,” said Lisa. She was happy to have Carole school Samson over a rough spot, especially if she could learn from Starlight at the same time. Because now more than ever, every second counted.

The two of them dismounted and made an efficient switch of horses. Stevie was about to relinquish her position on the rail to see if they needed any help when she heard a noise behind her. Turning her head, she saw that the noise was the impatient, repetitive tap of a crop against a boot. A tall black boot. A well-worn tall black boot. A boot she recognized.
Max’s boot
! Stevie looked up. Max was walking directly toward the ring.

Stevie glanced desperately toward Lisa and Carole. Both of them were intent on circling for the combination. It was too late to do anything, to warn them, to tell
them not to jump. Max was already standing beside her. “Have you seen Veronica?” he demanded.

Stevie shook her head. “She doesn’t usually, uh, show up this early.”

“I know that,” Max said shortly. “But she signed up for an early-morning private lesson this morning and she’s half an hour late.”

“Oh,” said Stevie. She was too nervous to say anything else.

“All right, I just wanted to check and make sure she wasn’t out here. I’ll be in the barn if anyone needs me.” Max turned on his heel.

Stevie crossed her fingers. She held her breath. She prayed. She willed him to keep walking. And then he stopped. And spun around. “Is that Samson?” he demanded.

“Um … no?” Stevie tried.

Max came closer. “Yes, it is. It is Samson. I’d recognize him anywhere.”

“Except in the back of a trailer,” Stevie mumbled.

“What? What did you say?” Max looked closer. He frowned. “What are you doing with fences set up? He doesn’t jump yet.”

Stevie gulped. She stared straight ahead. Out in the ring, Carole cantered straight ahead. She cantered toward the combination and flew over the first fence. She made a tight turn and flew over the second fence.
Lisa, a few paces behind on Starlight, followed suit. Carole yelled something to Lisa. The wind carried her words over to the rail. “Let’s finish the course!” she cried. Stevie saw Lisa nod and urge Starlight on. Stevie didn’t move a muscle. Their dress rehearsal had just become opening night.

Carole led the way, crouched over the black horse’s neck. They took two fences on the rail, turned down the diagonal, and flew over a fence in the middle of the ring. Samson jumped each jump with two feet to spare. Carole clearly had to struggle to keep her balance. But she did it. Finally they headed for the tires. Carole put the horse into it just right. She landed smoothly and pulled up just in time to see Lisa make a nice landing behind her. “Great job!” she called.

Pleased with her performance, Lisa pulled up, too. Side by side, the two of them jogged toward Stevie for a critique. But Stevie, they noticed, was not alone. She was sharing the rail with someone. In the same moment, Carole’s and Lisa’s brains made the click of recognition. The someone was Maximilian Regnery III.

L
ISA AND
C
AROLE
wanted to turn tail and run. Or at least stand still and think up excuses. Instead they were drawn toward Max as if he were a magnet. They inched over to the rail, staring down at their hands.

“That
looks
like Samson,” Max remarked dryly. “But as I was saying to Stevie, Samson doesn’t jump yet.”

There was an excruciatingly long silence. Carole and Lisa fiddled with their reins. Stevie picked at a loose wood chip on the rail.

“It’s my fault, Max!” Lisa cried, unable to bear his disapproval any longer. “It’s all my fault! I was riding Samson one day, and without thinking I—”

“But we went in on it with you!” Carole protested. “We’re just as much to blame.”

“I am, you mean!” Stevie corrected her grimly. “The plan was my idea!”

Max waited, his lips pursed in bewilderment, as the gathering descended into an angry fight over who deserved more of the blame for teaching Samson to jump. Eventually, though, the girls became aware that Max was watching them and saying nothing. They quieted down in embarrassment.

“So were you ever planning to tell me?” he inquired.

“Oh, yes! As soon as we were ready. Tomorrow, in fact,” Carole explained anxiously. “We were going to give you a demonstration of Samson’s jumping abilities tomorrow.”

“Why tomorrow in particular?” Max asked. “Why not a month from now?”

“A month?” Lisa blurted out in surprise. “But that would be after the Macrae!”

Carole and Stevie froze, waiting to see how Max would take this second bit of news. Then Lisa realized what she had said. “You see … that’s what we’re training him for,” she added, fumbling along, seeing no way out of a real explanation. “We—We want to enter Samson in the junior jumper division of the Macrae Valley Open.”

Max ran a hand through his hair. He gave a long, low whistle. “Junior jumpers at the Macrae,” he said. “That’s a tall order.”

Neither Lisa nor Carole nor Stevie dared move. A part of each of them had hoped—secretly hoped—that Max would love the idea the minute he heard it. That he would give them an instant stamp of approval. That he would cry, “I wish I’d thought of that myself!” But Max was a horseman. He was responsible for his horses and his students. By necessity he was very careful about giving his approval for anything, let alone a daring scheme like The Saddle Club’s.

Max put a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. He looked at each one of them in turn. “I’ll tell you what. My morning lesson doesn’t seem to be showing up. Cool off, untack, and come to my office so we can talk.”

The Saddle Club nodded solemnly. They watched Max start toward the barn. They were so wound up by that point that they almost missed it when he turned around to say, “By the way: Nice ride, you two.”

When he was safely gone, Stevie and Carole started talking at once. Stevie was sorry she hadn’t thought fast enough to distract him. Carole said at least he’d caught them in a good moment. “And saying, ‘Come to my office,’ is hardly a flat-out no,” Carole pointed out. They both began to plan for the meeting in his office.

“We should say he at least has to let us give him the demonstration we planned!” Stevie said.

“With anyone else I would agree. But it’s Max,” Carole reminded her. “He’s seen enough to judge.”

“Hmmm …” Stevie twisted her mouth around, plotting madly. “Maybe I should run up there now and start mucking stalls,” she suggested. “So all our barn work will be fresh in his mind.”

Carole laughed. “He’d know exactly what you were up to.”

“I guess,” Stevie admitted reluctantly. “But maybe if I just brought a pitchfork to the meeting—”

While her two friends grew more and more animated, Lisa remained silent. She had never felt less like a team player. She couldn’t seem to pay attention to what Stevie and Carole were saying. From the moment she had recognized Max at the rail, one creeping fear had preoccupied her: Max had seen Carole taking Samson around the course—perfectly. How would she ever convince him that she could do as well?