Show Horse (11 page)

“We’ll see,” Cam said, laughing.

C
AROLE COULDN
’
T BELIEVE
the difference in Starlight. It was as if he understood that he’d made a mistake in the last class and this time he wanted to make up for it. Carole used Cam’s suggestions, and Starlight responded immediately. He was being the joy he usually was when they rode together. He did everything she wanted, exactly when she wanted him to do it. The Pleasure class was going beautifully, and Carole was very excited.

She was too excited to notice that Stevie was having a hard time. Just before the starter told Stevie it was time to go into the ring, Stevie had a flash of a recollection, remembering how unbelievably wonderful it had been to win a blue ribbon and gallop around the ring.

First prize
, she whispered to herself, liking the sound of it. She glanced at the other competitors. Just a few minutes earlier Stevie might have thought of them as classmates, fellow riders, maybe even friends. As she entered the ring, however, she found herself thinking of them in another way: competitors. Even her best friend was in competition with her. Carole didn’t
know yet how wonderful it was to win a blue ribbon. Right then, Stevie didn’t care if she ever found out. As far as Stevie was concerned, the only person in the world who should ever win another blue ribbon was Stevie Lake. And Topside. Then she remembered that that was what Phil had said—that she’d do better than her friends. It had made her feel a little uncomfortable when he’d said it, but now she felt as determined as she had ever been. She was determined to win this blue and every other one. She would take the championship. She would do it.

“You’re up!” the starter declared, smiling brightly at Stevie. It was her turn. She was ready.

She gave Topside a kick, and the two of them entered the ring once more.

F
ROM HER VANTAGE
point in the stable loft, Lisa saw it all. She saw Carole, a glow of joy on her face, now in complete control of her horse and glorying in every minute of the Pleasure class. It really looked as if riding were a pleasure for her, unlike the way it had seemed in the previous class.

Stevie, on the other hand, was having a terrible time. She had a dark and determined look on her face, and it seemed as though Topside were doing all the work. Lisa was surprised to realize that Stevie was simply trying too hard. Her body was stiff and nonresponsive. It looked as if Stevie was doing one thing and Topside another. They were in different riding classes! The one thing Stevie didn’t seem to be doing was
having a good time, and that was what the Pleasure class was about.

Lisa’s eyes went to the judges’ stand. She could see that the judges were talking about Stevie. One shook his head. This was a bad sign. Lisa didn’t realize that the judge who’d shaken his head was the same judge who had excused her from the ring. It did not occur to Lisa that the head shake was anything but a fair judgment of the mistakes that Stevie was making. The judges felt sorry for Stevie. So did Lisa. The difference between Lisa and the judges was that Lisa knew what was wrong and wanted to tell her friend. Then Lisa realized that there was no reason why she shouldn’t tell her friend. Maybe it would be too late for this class, but it wouldn’t be too late for the next one. Stevie was good. She could win. She just had to remember that she
was
good and let Topside do the work he’d been so well trained to do.

It was no surprise when Carole took the blue in the Pleasure class. Cam came in second. Stevie came in sixth. She was almost as angry coming back out of the ring as Lisa had been when she’d been excused. However, the difference, as Lisa saw it, was that Stevie hadn’t been doing a good job. She deserved to come in sixth.

Lisa left her perch on the hay bales and hurried down the narrow staircase of the loft to the main floor of the stable. She dashed out from the dark stable and ran into the temporary housing. She knew she would find Stevie by Topside’s stall. And there she was.

Stevie had a steely look on her face. One thing about Stevie, when she was unhappy, there was no hiding it. She was definitely unhappy.

“Oh, Stevie!” Lisa began.

“What do you want?” her friend asked coldly.

“I saw it,” Lisa said.

“You saw me blow it, you mean?”

“I saw you make a mistake,” Lisa said. “That’s all it was—a mistake.”

“I blew it,” Stevie said. “I got one blue ribbon, and all of a sudden I think I’m the champion of the world—that I’ll get every blue ribbon there is. Well, I won’t. I didn’t. I was kidding myself. I’m no good.”

“That’s not true!” Lisa told her. “You’re very good and Topside is, too! You just made a mistake.”

“And
you
know what it was?” Stevie challenged.

“Well, sure,” Lisa said, surprised that Stevie would even doubt it.

“All of a sudden, you’re an expert?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I knew what you did wrong.”

“Maybe, but don’t bother to tell me. It won’t make any difference. The judges aren’t going to change their minds.”

“Maybe not for this class, but you can do better in the next one,” Lisa said.

“You think I’m going to go out there again, after that experience? I go from a blue ribbon to sixth place, and then I’m going to go for it again?”

“But of course!” Lisa said, astonished to realize that Stevie was ready to pack it in. “You have to!”

“Says who?”

Stevie had a sharp tongue, and she was using it. Lisa didn’t care, though. She loved Stevie too much to let her make a mistake like this one. Just because she’d done poorly in one class didn’t mean she could just quit. Lisa told her as much.

“Look, the trouble was that you were trying too hard. You completely forgot to have fun—”

“It wasn’t fun,” Stevie said icily.

“Well maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can’t
look
like it’s fun. You’re good at pretending, Stevie, and I just know that when you get into the next class, you’ll remember to relax, and then you will have fun. The next class is the Trail class. Trail riding has always been something you’ve enjoyed a lot. All you have to do is pretend that you are in the woods behind Pine Hollow—you’ll do great!”

“You mean it, don’t you?” Stevie asked.

Lisa nodded. She did mean it. She couldn’t stand the idea that her friend Stevie was going to be a quitter.

“You really think I can do better?”

“Honestly, I do,” Lisa said.

Stevie looked over at her horse. “What about you, Topside? Think we can improve from sixth place this time?”

Later both girls swore that Topside nodded. It was a small nod, but it was a nod. He was a very smart horse.

“All right. I’ll take your advice,” Stevie conceded. “I’ll try again. I won’t quit. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“That you take your own advice, too.”

“Me?” Lisa asked. But she saw that she was speaking to thin air because Stevie had walked away toward the tack room mumbling something about saddle soap.

“Me?” Lisa said, echoing herself. She sighed. She couldn’t imagine what Stevie was talking about.

T
HE STABLING AREA
suddenly filled with riders, grooms, family members, and interested onlookers. The Pleasure riding class was finished, and that meant there was a half-hour break before the Trail class. There would be a general lunch break after that, and then the only class in the afternoon was jumping.

Lisa was concentrating so hard on Stevie’s words that she didn’t notice her mother approaching.

“Well, dear, how’s it going?” Mrs. Atwood asked brightly. “I got a schedule and it looks like—what’s the matter?”

Seeing her mother reminded Lisa of all the things that had happened to her in the awful morning that was now almost done. She’d been waiting for Mrs. Atwood to arrive and take her home. Ever since the
judge had excused her, she’d wanted her mother to be there. There was something about a mother at a difficult time that nothing else could replace. Lisa knew she could count on her mother to take her side. Her mother would understand that what the judge had done wasn’t fair. Her mother would comfort her and make it all better.

Without a word, and unable at that moment to describe how awful the morning had been, Lisa simply held out her arms and let her mother give her a comforting hug. Mrs. Atwood’s arms surrounded her daughter, gave her warmth, love, and support—just what Lisa needed.

The tears came again then, flooding down Lisa’s cheeks and onto her mother’s shoulder.

“My dear, dear, Lisa. What
is
going on?” Mrs. Atwood asked, holding her daughter tightly. She patted Lisa’s shoulder, just as she had a thousand times since Lisa had been an infant. It felt very loving and caring.

When Lisa thought she could talk, she led her mother to a quiet corner outside the stalls. She didn’t want everybody in the world overhearing what she had to say. They had all seen her humiliation. They didn’t need to hear about it.

The story flooded out just as the tears had.

“… and then, when the judge ran her hands down Prancer’s leg, Prancer just up and bucked, kicking the judge and knocking her down. I was excused.
We were both sent out of the ring. ‘Disqualified,’ was the word they used. It was
awful
!”

“The judge ran her hand down the horse’s leg?” Mrs. Atwood said in surprise. “Well no wonder the horse bucked! What right did the judge have to do that? She must have had it in for you. There certainly is no excuse to send you out of the ring for something your horse did, and it’s clear that the judge did something very improper. I mean what did she think—”

“It wasn’t really improper, Mom,” Lisa said. “The judges do that to all the horses. It’s a way of checking the horse’s conformation and making sure she’s in good condition.”

“It is? But it must be very annoying to the horse!”

“She did it to all the other horses,” Lisa said. “None of them seemed to mind it.”

“Well, she must have done it wrong to your beautiful horse,” said Mrs. Atwood. “Otherwise, just give me one good reason why your horse would have felt it necessary to hurt her.”

“I don’t know, Mom. Prancer has always been a little odd and unreliable around adults. We don’t know why that is, but it’s just a character trait of hers. If the judge had been a young person, maybe Prancer wouldn’t have done that.”

“Well, why didn’t they have a young judge for Prancer then?” Mrs. Atwood asked.

What a crazy idea, Lisa thought. How could her mother expect the whole show to adjust to her horse’s peculiarity?

“It’s not their job to have a special judge for a horse,” Lisa said, speaking more sharply than she would have expected herself to. “It’s the rider’s job to have the horse ready to be inspected by the judge.”

“But your horse was ready,” Mrs. Atwood said. “I know you groomed her more carefully than anybody else, and she’s so beautiful!”

“She is that,” Lisa said. “She’s the most beautiful horse I’ve ever seen. But beauty isn’t all that goes into being fit for a horse show. She has to have manners, too. Prancer doesn’t have her manners yet.”

“Manners? Of course she doesn’t have manners,” Mrs. Atwood said. “How can they expect a young rider like you to teach a horse manners
and
control a horse? The judges are out of their minds if they blame
you
for something your horse does! I think I’ll give them a piece of my mind! Just where can I find these so-called judges?”

On one hand, it was wonderful. Mrs. Atwood was doing exactly what Lisa had known she would do and had thought she needed her mother to do. She was supporting Lisa against everybody else. On the other hand, Mrs. Atwood’s ideas of what was important in a horse show were so far off kilter that Lisa just had to try to explain. She couldn’t have her mother going and telling the judges that they had been mean to Lisa! And with that thought, Lisa’s vision of what had happened began to change. She didn’t realize how much it changed until she heard her own voice speak the undeniable truth.

“No, no, Mom. You don’t understand,” Lisa said. “It is the job of somebody showing a horse to keep the horse under control. All the other riders managed it. I should have been able to do it, too. She’s a beautiful, wonderful horse, but she is young and inexperienced. She hasn’t learned good manners. She needs to learn them. She can’t be allowed to misbehave all the rest of her life. A horse needs to learn manners, or it can’t be trusted. A horse that can’t be trusted shouldn’t come to a horse show.” Lisa could hardly believe what she’d just said and when she thought about it, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t said it earlier!

Mrs. Atwood looked puzzled. “But Prancer is so valuable!” she said. “I mean, isn’t she a Thoroughbred racehorse?”

“Valuable?” Lisa echoed. She nodded. She was thinking. She was thinking hard for the first time since she’d heard about Briarwood. And, she realized, she was beginning to follow her own advice to Stevie. She wasn’t thinking like a quitter.

“Yes, she’s valuable, in a way,” Lisa said. “That means she’s an expensive horse—or that somebody probably paid a lot of money for her at one time. But she’s not a racehorse anymore, Mom. She’s retired from the track, so I can’t really call her a valuable racehorse. She’s got a weak bone in her foot that would certainly be passed on to any offspring, so she’s not a valuable brood mare. She’s got excellent conformation and tremendous potential as a show horse or a hunter—”