Secret Horse (9 page)

At the rail Carole cried out. She charged toward her friend. “Don’t move, Lisa! Don’t try to get up!” she commanded. After a fall, a rider’s instinct was to jump to her feet. But it was important to lie still, right where she had fallen, in case of broken bones or concussion.

For a few minutes Lisa concentrated on breathing slowly and answering yes-or-no questions about her condition. When she sat up, she saw Carole peering down at her. “Are you okay? Anything hurt? Can you talk?”

Lisa nodded as a feeling of shame overtook her. “I’m fine,” she mumbled. The physical shock had been such that the mental shock was coming only now, a few minutes later.

Eventually Lisa was helped to her feet. “That was a real cruncher,” Carole said sympathetically.

“I should have made him wait another stride!” Lisa said. “It was all my fault!” She stared numbly at the ground, reliving the last moments before the takeoff. “I let him get fast. I didn’t even try to slow him down—”

“Oh, come on,” Carole said, gently brushing the dirt from Lisa’s shirt and breeches, “he’s green! That was
bound to happen. I’m just glad it happened now so that we can correct it. I mean—I’m not glad you had to fall, but just think, next time you’ll know what to do.”

“I guess,” Lisa mumbled. Now that she knew she wasn’t hurt, her disappointment was enormous. She could barely look Carole in the eye. Here she’d been out to prove how great she was, how she deserved to be the one to ride Samson in the Macrae! Hot tears came to her eyes, but she checked them. She wasn’t going to let herself cry, not now in front of Mr. Grover.

Mr. Grover led Samson over. “He’s a little shaken, but you’ll calm him right down,” the trainer said kindly to Lisa. “Are you ready to get back on?”

Panic seized Lisa at the idea of remounting. She had forgotten the necessity of getting back on a horse right after a fall. Otherwise, a rider could lose her nerve. Lisa nodded vigorously, hoping Carole and Mr. Grover wouldn’t notice. “Sure,” she said. “I’m just waiting for my leg up.”

“You’re sure, now?” said Mr. Grover. “I don’t want to rush things.”

“No, really—the sooner the better. Everyone takes a spill now and then, right?” Lisa said, making an effort to keep her voice light.

“That’s a good attitude,” said Mr. Grover. He held out his hands for Lisa to step into.

Once Lisa was on Samson’s back, she realized the saying “The sooner the better” was true. If she’d waited any longer, she would have been too scared.

Carole went over to the vertical and dropped the top pole to the ground. That lowered the jump by six inches. “See how you feel, and when you’re ready you can finish the course.”

“Okay,” Lisa said shakily.

Ten minutes later she still felt nervous. But she couldn’t put it off any longer. Starting with the fence before the vertical, Lisa rode Samson around the course. This time she hardly even noticed the red-and-white fence. She hardly noticed anything. Her mind was set on finishing … finishing … finishing …

When it was all over, Lisa rode to the rail and dismounted in a hurry.

“You go ahead, Carole,” she said. “I don’t want to hog him.”

“Okay,” Carole said readily. “You did a great job getting back on, you know.”

“Thanks,” Lisa said wanly. “I’m going to go wait in the barn for a little while. I think the sun is getting to me.”

At Carole’s and Mr. Grover’s concerned looks, Lisa tried to look more robust. “Be back soon!” she promised.

Inside the cool of the barn, Lisa leaned against a stall door. Her head was throbbing. What had gone wrong?
She had been riding along, completely confident, when all of a sudden she had hit the ground—hard. Sinking down onto a hay bale, she tried to tell herself it was no big deal. The truth was, every rider
did
fall now and then. If you didn’t, you weren’t a real rider. “But why did I have to fall today?” Lisa wondered aloud. Now she would never have the guts to ask if she could ride in the Macrae. It had been a wild dream, anyhow, she thought angrily. And it had ended the way wild dreams did: in disappointment.

Lisa didn’t want Carole and Mr. Grover to worry, so after a few minutes she headed back out to the ring. She was just in time to see Carole finish what must have been a perfect course. Lisa could guess it was perfect based on Mr. Grover’s burst of applause and Carole’s ear-to-ear grin. Forcing herself to think of the team effort, Lisa strode forward, congratulations forming on her lips.

“Y
OU
’
RE OUR BIGGEST
ally yet,” Carole said to Mr. Grover as he turned his pickup off the main road. The trainer was giving the three of them—two girls plus horse—a ride back to Pine Hollow.

“I’m honored to be included in the plan,” Mr. Grover responded. “If you have trouble convincing Max, have him call me. I’ll vouch for Samson’s Macrae-readiness.”

“We might take you up on that!” Carole said.

So that Max wouldn’t suspect anything, the girls un-loaded
Samson at the top of the driveway. That way Mr. Grover could turn around right there and they could walk Samson the rest of the way to the barn. Both Carole and Lisa thanked their driver profusely.

“This was a great opportunity for Samson,” Carole said again. “And for us.”

Mr. Grover waved off the thanks and climbed back into the truck. “Say,” he said curiously, “who’s going to ride him in the show?”

Lisa turned her head aside, modestly allowing Carole to answer. The fall had erased all her hopes of receiving that honor.

“Max will have to make the final decision, of course,” Carole said, “but it certainly won’t be me.”

Lisa caught her breath. Had she heard right?

“I’m committed to Starlight,” Carole went on. “I think we have a good chance of doing well, and I couldn’t let him down now.”

“I’ll second that,” said Mr. Grover. He gave a wave and threw the truck into gear, leaving Carole, Lisa, and Samson standing there.

“So what do you say, Lisa?” Carole asked. “Are you up for it?”

Lisa stared. “But—But I fell off today!” she said, her voice trembling. “How could I ride him in the Macrae after that?”

Carole raised her eyebrows at her friend. “Since when does taking a spill have anything to do with getting back on and riding in a horse show?”

Lisa half smiled. “But I—I just assumed—”

“You assumed wrong. If you want to ride Samson, I’m all for it,” Carole said as they headed down the driveway.

Lisa felt a rush of gratitude toward her friend. “Oh, Carole, I do! I do want to ride him—more than anything!”

“Great,” said Carole as if what Lisa said was no big deal. “You might have to fight Stevie for it, but I doubt it. She’s so busy competing with Veronica, I don’t think she’ll care about
actually
competing. So talk to her, and when the time comes, we’ll try to convince Max.”

Lisa felt dazed. After her days of worry, Carole had just handed her the opportunity on a silver platter. “You’re not sad because of Cobalt—and—and everything?” Lisa asked.

Carole didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she said quietly, “I thought about that. And you know, even if I rode Samson in the Macrae, it wouldn’t bring his sire back.”

Lisa nodded. Instinctively she understood that this was as important a moment for Carole as it was for her.
The girls walked a few paces in silence, Samson ambling along between them. When Carole finally spoke, it was in a totally different tone. “Besides,” she said, “I’ve got Starlight to think of. And you know what? I miss him already!”

S
TEVIE WOKE TO
sunlight streaming through her bedroom window. Another gorgeous summer day. She sat up happily. Without school and homework, she didn’t even mind getting up early. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Then she remembered where she had to go. All at once it seemed as if several dark clouds had covered the sun. She lay back down and pulled the covers over her head. Unfortunately, that didn’t change the fact that she was due at Veronica diAngelo’s in an hour.

“Why me?” Stevie groaned, putting on normal clothes instead of riding clothes for the first time that week.

With a scowl on her face, Stevie sat stonily through breakfast, barely hearing her brother Chad’s comment about getting up on the wrong side of the bed.

“How would
you
feel if you had to go to the diAngelos’ for the day?” Stevie snapped.

“Veronica diAngelo’s?” Chad said. “I thought you couldn’t stand her.”

“I can’t!” Stevie wailed. “That’s why I have to hang out with her today!”

Chad looked at Stevie’s twin, Alex, his eyebrows raised. “Girls,” Alex said succinctly.

Stevie gave them a withering glance. “This is a very complex situation involving high-level espionage,” she retorted. But then her scowl grew deeper. “And I have to miss a day at the barn because of it!” she whined.

Chad shrugged. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Yeah, you can hang out in that huge pool!” said Michael, Stevie’s youngest brother. “They have a slide and two diving boards.”

“And I’ll bet they have good snacks,” Alex pointed out. “With their private cook and everything.”

Stevie sniffed. “That’s true,” she said. Maybe her brothers were right. Maybe the day would be tolerable if not pleasant. Even Veronica could have her bearable moments. Stevie was about to take another piece of toast when she stopped herself. “I think I’ll save myself for the diAngelos’,” she announced.

After helping her brothers clear the table and load the dishwasher, Stevie went upstairs and threw on an old
bathing suit under her T-shirt and shorts. She took her bicycle out of the garage, hopped on, and headed over to the diAngelos’.

For most of the ride she was in good spirits. It was already hot out, which meant it was going to be sizzling by noon. So skipping a day at the barn wasn’t the worst idea in the world. She even whistled a little in anticipation of diving into the cool, chlorinated water.

By the time she got close to Veronica’s house, her anticipation was so strong that she forgot to look where she was going and ran over a sharp rock. She felt her back tire blow out. And there was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t have a pump on her, and besides, she was almost there. There was just one hill between her and the Olympic-sized pool. She got off the bike and began pushing it. The hill had never seemed so long or so steep.

Finally the huge diAngelo mansion came into sight. Stevie wheeled the bike up to the house, leaned it against a large white column, and rang the bell. “Thank gosh that’s over!” she said, trying to catch her breath.

A minute later a uniformed servant opened the door. “I’m sorry, we don’t want any Girl Scout cookies,” said the man in a disapproving voice.

Stevie jammed her foot in the door before he could close it. “I’m not selling cookies!” she panted. “I’m here to see Veronica. I’m a—a friend of hers.”

The servant looked highly skeptical. “Wait here a moment,” he said coldly. Leaving Stevie to sweat on the steps, the man disappeared again. After what seemed like forever, he returned. “Miss diAngelo says you may come in and wait in the library. She forgot you were expected and is in bed.”

“She forgot?” Stevie said indignantly.

The servant ignored her. “She will be down presently. Please follow me.”

Stevie followed the man down a hall and into a dark, book-lined room. As she took a seat in an armchair, he announced, “Please do not touch anything you can’t afford to replace.”

Stevie felt her blood start to boil. “Of all the rude—!”

“Yes, miss? Did you say something?”

“Who, me?” Stevie mumbled sheepishly.

The man fixed her with an evil eye before shutting the door behind him.

“Trapped!” Stevie said aloud, unbelievingly. “I’m trapped in the diAngelos’ library!”

For twenty excruciating minutes, she sat sweating into the armchair. She didn’t dare open a book for fear it would crumble into dust in her hands. She didn’t dare leave the room for fear the butler—or footman or whatever he was—would catch her. “He’d probably lock me in the cellar and throw out the key!”

She tried to spy, but there didn’t seem to be much to glean about the Macrae from the bookshelves and expensive-looking statues. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. She rose and crept to the door. She was going to sneak out; it was now or never. Gingerly she placed a hand on the doorknob. To her surprise it twisted. Someone was opening it from the opposite side! Stevie sprang back as if she had touched hot coals. The door creaked open. Veronica stood there smiling.

“Why, Stevie. Hello! Jenkins told me you were here.”

“Nice of you to get out of bed,” Stevie muttered.

“Oh, really—it was no problem,” said Veronica, completely missing the sarcasm. “Say, do you want something to eat?”

Stevie’s eyes lit up. “And how! I bicycled over here and I’m dying of thirst and double-dying of hunger!”

Veronica led the way into the kitchen. Stevie noticed disapprovingly that her hair was elaborately curled and she was wearing a skirt and matching top. Stevie never wore anything nice for hanging out around the house. But then, she thought, maybe if your house was a mansion like Veronica’s, every day was a formal affair!