Stable Witch (7 page)

Sluggishly the remaining riders organized themselves and headed out to the rail. “But Max, what about Veronica?” Betsy Cavanaugh asked.

“What about her? She’s being taken to the Willow Creek hospital. I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Max replied.

“But her stirrup leather was—” Polly Giacomin started to say, her eyes on Stevie.

“Polly, did you hear me say ‘Start warming up’? Because it looks like you’re standing still,” Max commented drily.

B
EFORE LONG, THE
Pony Clubbers had snapped back to attention. They warmed up and prepared for the mock competition. The judges seemed a bit skeptical about carrying on as if nothing had happened, but they followed Max’s lead. By the time the course was set up, everything was almost back to normal. It was funny, though, hardly any of the students rode as well as they had in practice. The bad feeling that Veronica’s fall had generated was hanging over the whole stable.

Stevie and Carole managed to do fairly well. Both got around the course without incident, although there was something lackluster about their performances. Belle didn’t have the flair over fences that she had shown on Tuesday, and Starlight didn’t even try to get strong. He almost seemed bored.

Lisa wasn’t as lucky as her friends. All morning she had been looking forward to her ride, eager to prove how much the extra practices had helped Prancer and her. But now the incident with Veronica weighed heavily on her mind. As she headed toward the first jump, a low brush fence, all her confidence drained away. She felt Prancer hesitate. She knew that the horse just needed a strong reminder to keep going forward, but for some reason, Lisa got scared. She
dropped her hands and fell forward on Prancer’s neck right before the fence.

This time, instead of jumping anyway, Prancer stopped. Lisa could hardly believe it—a refusal! And at the first fence!

Yet there was a part of Lisa that felt as if she deserved a refusal. She couldn’t expect Prancer to keep saving her when she messed up. An old school horse might have packed her around, but not a young Thoroughbred. What was wrong with her all of a sudden? It felt as if she had unlearned everything she had worked on so hard. Everyone would think she was hopeless. She glanced anxiously at Max as she made a circle to approach the jump again.

Because it was supposed to be a mock competition, Max had told them that he would not intervene unless absolutely necessary. After Prancer’s second refusal, though, he came forward to help. Lisa’s face flamed red with embarrassment. She was the first person all morning to need Max’s help. Of course what he told her were things she knew already: eyes up, sit firmly, don’t drop your hands right before the fence.

It was even more embarrassing when Max dropped the top poles of the second and third fences to the ground, lowering the jumps about six inches to make them more inviting. On her third approach, Lisa repeated
Max’s words to herself. This time, she got over it and continued around the rest of the course. The whole thing felt messy and uncomfortable, though, and she knew she wasn’t in sync with Prancer.

When she pulled up at the end of the ring, she was flustered and angry. Instead of talking with the others, as the previous riders had done, she went to walk Prancer by herself. At the moment, she couldn’t face anyone, not even Stevie and Carole. As she led Prancer away, she flashed back to the other morning when Mrs. Reg had told that silly story about the stable witch and the boy who got spooked every time he attempted the cross-country course. Am I being jinxed, too? she wondered.

Come on, Lisa, she told herself a moment later. That was just a dumb story.

Rubbing down starlight after the meeting, Carole debated with herself. Her friends’ troubles were all she could think about. Should she come right out and say, “Listen, Lisa, it’s obvious you’re still having problems with Prancer, but I
know
you can fix them by next weekend”?

And what about the Veronica situation? So far Stevie hadn’t said very much about the fact that everyone
thought she was the one who had sabotaged Veronica. Should Carole bring it up?

A moment later Carole sighed. If she were the one who had ridden poorly, she would hardly want her friends to mention it. And if she had been the one who was under suspicion, she would expect The Saddle Club, above everyone else, to believe in her innocence.

Slowly Carole thought back over Veronica’s fall. It irked her to think of how quickly everyone had jumped to conclusions about Stevie. Of course, Stevie’s rivalry with Veronica had been escalating all week, which made the situation even worse. Everyone had probably overheard at least one of Stevie’s disparaging remarks about Veronica. So everyone, naturally, had turned to Stevie as the scapegoat.

But for Carole it was different. She
knew
Stevie. Stevie was one of her best friends. And Carole could no sooner believe that Stevie had slit the stirrup leather than believe that she had slit it herself. But then, the question remained, who had?

Starlight blew through his nostrils, interrupting his owner’s thoughts. Carole shook her head in puzzlement and wished aloud, for probably the thousandth time in her life, “Why can’t people be more like horses?”

After thinking things over some more, she arrived at what she determined was a safe decision: a Saddle Club meeting at T.D.’s—pronto.

Lisa and Stevie said they were game. The three of them finished grooming, helped Red with the afternoon haying and watering, and convened in the driveway. Too late, they noticed the Pine Hollow station wagon returning from the hospital. All three of them were eager to avoid a run-in with Veronica. They hung back while the other riders and the judges ran over and surrounded the car. Veronica emerged, wearing a bulky bandage on her chin. Her face was red, and her eyes were swollen from crying.

“You poor dear, how are you feeling?” Mrs. Gorham inquired. She put a comforting arm around Veronica’s shoulder.

Before Veronica could answer, the rest of the group began clamoring for her attention.

“How many stitches did you have to get?” asked Jasmine.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” Simon wanted to know.

“What did the doctor say?”

“Can you still ride?”

“Are you going to get back on Garnet?”

When the barrage of questions finally ended, Veronica began to speak. She put on a brave front but
was clearly upset and very close to crying again. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to jump next weekend,” she said gravely. “It’s not as if I broke my leg or anything, but my cut is throbbing pretty badly. I don’t know if I could take the jostling over the jumps. Besides, I bruised my knee and calf on the stirrup iron.”

“Of all the horrible things to happen,” Mrs. Gorham said. “I’m sure your mother was terribly shaken.”

Veronica nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Gorham, she really was. Most of all, she couldn’t believe someone would do this to me.” Veronica paused and let her eyes rest suggestively on The Saddle Club. After a sniff, she continued, “She didn’t want me to come back here, but I know I have to get back on a horse today. For now, I’ll walk a little. And I’ll just have to wait and see if I can make it next week.”

A sympathetic murmur went up from the crowd. Half a dozen Pony Clubbers volunteered to tack up Garnet again. Another bunch helped Veronica limp into the stable. She went slowly, favoring her bruised leg.

The Saddle Club watched her go. Carole and Lisa felt a twinge of sympathy. They knew Veronica well enough to realize that she was enjoying all the attention, but it seemed mean to even think about that.
The fact was, she was hurt and might have to miss the show. It would be a hard thing for anyone to take.

When Lisa glanced at Stevie, she noticed that their friend still didn’t share their sympathy. Her face showed nothing but disdain. If anything, she was scowling harder now than in the ring.

“What are you guys looking at?” she asked Carole and Lisa bluntly. “Do you honestly think I care whether Veronica can ‘make it’ next weekend?”

“Stevie,” Carole began timidly, “aren’t you at all sorry for her?”

“Hardly,” Stevie retorted, her face flushed. “How can I be? Veronica’s blaming me for cutting her stirrup leather. I had nothing to do with it. So why should I pretend to care who did?”

Carole didn’t have an easy answer for Stevie. But she did know that it was crucial that the three of them get to T.D.’s—and fast. That way, they could sort out the day’s events and devise a plan for sticking together through the next few days, days that were sure to be an ordeal for them if Veronica had her way.

T.D.’
S WAS BUSIER
than usual, even for a Saturday afternoon. One look around, and it was easy to tell why. The Saddle Club weren’t the only ones who had had the idea to adjourn to the ice-cream shop to discuss the morning’s events. A number of tables were filled with other Horse Wise members. The whole contingent who had come over from Pine Hollow looked up when Carole, Lisa, and Stevie entered. Carole and Lisa couldn’t help but glance at Stevie to see how she would react.

Stevie took one look around, jutted out her chin defiantly, and glared right back at every table of Pine Hollow riders. Then she headed purposefully toward
The Saddle Club’s usual booth, where she sat down and began reading the menu intently.

Carole and Lisa followed, feeling terrible. They wanted to seem as confident as Stevie; instead they felt as guilty as criminals.

After Stevie had ordered, she got up to go to the ladies’ room, and Carole and Lisa held a quick consultation. Naturally, both of them wanted more than anything to believe that their best friend was innocent.

“We have to look at the evidence, though,” Lisa pointed out in a worried tone. “Stevie
is
the world’s biggest practical joker. This is the girl who gave us plaster of paris instead of pancakes. From the day I met Stevie, she’s always had a trick up her sleeve.” Lisa was thinking back to her first lesson at Pine Hollow when Stevie had taken the stirrups off of Lisa’s saddle. When she went to mount, it was impossible.

At the time, Lisa hadn’t thought the joke was very humorous. But as soon as she had gotten to know Stevie, she had realized that the prank was Stevie’s idea of a harmless good time. Since then, there had been a number of Stevie Lake “classics”—boot swapping, horse swapping, the works. And Lisa had laughed right along with everyone else at the results—or even taken part in the setup. This time, though,
the joke wasn’t very funny, nor had Stevie mentioned a word about it to her friends.

“Stevie does go pretty far sometimes, but isn’t slashing someone’s stirrup leather a bit more than a practical joke?” Carole asked. She had been thinking of Stevie’s past escapades, too. Not one of them came even close to slashing someone’s leathers so that the rider would fall off a horse.

“Maybe she figured Veronica would see it right away,” Lisa reasoned, “or that the judges would find it and criticize Veronica during her inspection. Then Veronica would have either had to admit she didn’t clean her own tack, or take the blame for missing such an obvious problem when she did clean it.” Lisa paused. “You and I both know that nothing would give Stevie more pleasure than watching Veronica make a fool out of herself a week before the show. Heck, except for Simon Atherton, every one of us was probably hoping that she’d trip herself up somehow so that the judges would see what a spoiled brat she is.”

“You’re right. And it was just a fluke that the judges didn’t inspect us more carefully. If they had, we all would have thought it served Veronica right,” Carole admitted.

Lisa nodded. “Besides, everyone knows how badly
Stevie wanted to beat Veronica. It doesn’t look good for her, Carole.”

“I know,” Carole replied glumly. “I keep thinking about how she suddenly decided to lend a helping hand to the younger kids—”

“And so she was at the stable unusually early,” Lisa finished.

“She even tightened Veronica’s girth for her,” Carole said.

“Right, but Veronica did ask her to,” Lisa said.

“Or at least Stevie told us that Veronica asked her to,” Carole said. She and Lisa exchanged heartsick glances. It felt terrible to be talking like this. They were practically putting their friend on trial. When the waitress arrived with their ice creams, they couldn’t touch them. Even the sight of Stevie’s typically outrageous sundae failed to cheer them up.