Stagecoach (6 page)

L
ISA PUT DOWN
her pen with a flourish. “History paper, done,” she said aloud. How good the paper was, she couldn’t be sure. “At least it’s done,” she told herself.

The digital clock by Lisa’s bed read 9:09. Unbelievably, she was right on schedule—actually, three minutes ahead of time. She even had a five-minute break scheduled between “Write paper” and “Memorize Lines.” That meant eight whole minutes of free time. Without another thought she dialed Stevie, who conference-called Carole.

The first thing Lisa wanted to hear about was what she had missed in the dressage lesson. Carole and Stevie described the class to her, including Max’s advice to Stevie and Stevie’s reply.

“A sack of potatoes?” Lisa demanded. “You’ve never looked like a sack of potatoes in your life!”

“I know! Maybe a sack of carrots or a sack of onions or even a sack of flour—but potatoes? Really!” Stevie said haughtily.

“To Max, hunching your shoulders for two beats translates as looking like a sack of potatoes,” Carole commented dryly.

Lisa asked how Starlight had done. Carole said she was pleased. “I really think he’s improving every day. Today was perfect for him because we’d already jumped, so he was a lot quieter on the flat. He’s still not bending around the corners, but at least he seems to be listening.”

“I wish I could have been there,” Lisa said. “Prancer and I really could have used that individual attention.”

Tactfully Carole changed the subject to Lisa’s rehearsal. Lisa obviously felt bad enough about not riding in the second lesson without their going on and on about it.

“You really want to know?” Lisa asked.

“Of course! We just haven’t seen you very much, so we haven’t had the chance to ask you,” Carole said.

Naturally, Lisa couldn’t wait to tell them about being in the play. She had saved up stories about the different actors and the funny mistakes people made—like the time Mr. Ryan had come onstage at the wrong time.
Instead of stopping the rehearsal, he had said, “Oh, dear, I seem to be in the wrong scene. Won’t you excuse me?” and walked offstage, still in character.

When she had finished, Stevie said, “It sounds great, Lisa.” She really meant it, too. Before, she had thought actors all took themselves very seriously. From what Lisa said, though, there was at least as much clowning around at
Annie
as there was at Pine Hollow.

“It is great. It really is. It’s just—” Lisa stopped mid-sentence. In the middle of talking her voice had choked up.

“What?” Carole asked. “What’s wrong?”

Lisa gulped. She went on, her voice quavering. “It’s just that everyone else is ten times more experienced than I am, and I have to ask stupid questions every two seconds. It’s so embarrassing. Hollie—this girl who’s a great actress and really nice, too—she’s been helping me. But I feel like a total ignoramus! I didn’t know what ‘blocking’ was, or ‘downstage’ or ‘stage right’ or anything. And everyone else knows. It’s not like the school plays, where there are always a bunch of little kids in the chorus. WCCT is really serious. I feel like I’m out of my league.”

“But even though they’re really experienced, you’re the one who got the lead, Lisa. You can’t forget that,” Carole said.

“I guess so,” Lisa said glumly. “Sometimes that makes
it worse, though. I have the feeling that they think I don’t deserve the lead.”

“Who’s ‘they’?” Carole asked. “The director? She cast you as Annie. Mr. Ryan? You said he told you you had a great voice. Hollie? She sounds really friendly.”

“Oh, she
is
,” Lisa said. “I know you both would like her. She’s as crazy about acting as you—I mean, we—are about riding. But I still wish there were a production just for idiots. This afternoon I had to ask what ‘off book’ meant.”

“Well, what does it mean?” Carole asked.

“Just what it sounds like: It means you don’t need to use your script anymore. We’re supposed to be ‘off book’ by tomorrow, or the end of the week at the latest. Of course I had to interrupt Mrs. Spitz to ask that.”

“Everybody has to interrupt the director to learn that stuff when they get their first part. If I started to act, I wouldn’t know,” Stevie pointed out.

“That’s right, they should be sympathetic,” Carole added.

Lisa had to admit that most of the cast was helpful and nice to her. “I guess I’m letting one girl get to me too much,” she said. She told them about Anna, the girl who didn’t like the smell of horses. Since that first incident she had continued to be rude to Lisa, laughing when Lisa asked a question and whispering behind her back.

“Sounds like she’s the Veronica diAngelo of the play,” Stevie said.

In spite of herself Lisa started to giggle. Stevie had really hit the nail on the head. Anna
was
the Veronica of the play. She was stuck-up, she was spoiled, and she was mean. Somehow, comparing the two girls helped put things in perspective. After all, Lisa had always been able to handle Veronica, so why should she let this other rude girl get the better of her?

“Too bad we’re not in the play, or we could really make things hard for this Anna character,” Stevie said, doing her best to imitate a gangster in an old movie.

“I’ll just have to rely on Hollie’s and my ability to get even,” Lisa said. “She’s my stage coach, you know.” Lisa explained what the term meant and how Hollie had noticed that Lisa used horsey words even to describe things that were totally unrelated to horses.

“That’s the spirit, Lisa. You’ve got to wake these actors up to a whole new world outside of stage right and stage left. Maybe they’ll learn something, too,” Stevie said enthusiastically.

“Exactly,” Carole added. “Who knows—in some way Hollie might learn as much from you as you do from her. It’s like when you and May Grover teamed up.”

Lisa had to laugh. Carole was referring to Lisa’s partnership with May Grover, a younger rider at Pine Hollow. Supposedly Lisa had been teaching May how to
harness a pony to a cart. Instead, May had taught Lisa everything.

“One thing’s for sure,” Lisa said, “I’d like to teach Anna Henchman a thing or two!” She was surprised to hear herself joking around. Then again, she thought, with Stevie and Carole it was impossible not to. Of course the eight minutes had long since passed. Lisa didn’t mind, though. She always got more work done when she was in a good mood. She did have to go, however. Reluctantly she got ready to say her good-byes.

“Time to memorize, huh?” Stevie asked.

“You got it,” Lisa said. Before hanging up she thanked Stevie and Carole for all their support and apologized for all the time she hadn’t spent with them. And there was one more order of business to take care of. If they were going to be at Pine Hollow, Lisa wanted them to assure Max that she was doing everything she could to spend all the time possible at the stable. “Could you tell him I’m working with Prancer as much as I can?” she asked. “I’m absolutely, positively going to be there for the rally—although I might have to leave just a tad early—and I promise, cross my heart, to do everything I have to so Prancer will be completely ready in two—I mean one and a half—weeks,” Lisa finished breathlessly.

Stevie and Carole knew that Max would respond better if Lisa’s pledge came from Lisa, not from them. They didn’t want to add another worry to her list, though.
Both girls promised to do all they could to persuade Max that Prancer would be ready.

After Lisa hung up, Stevie wasted no time in summing up the situation. “Well, she hasn’t forgotten about us yet,” she said.

“No, she hasn’t. And we’re not going to forget about her, either. We’ll smooth things over with Max about practice,” Carole vowed.

“Even if everything’s okay with him, though, it’s going to be tough for Lisa to get Prancer ready. I think the worst thing would be for her to go and really mess up, like she did at the last show with Prancer,” said Stevie.

Carole agreed. “I might want to quit riding after two horrible shows,” she speculated.

“I can hardly see you wanting to quit, Carole Hanson,” Stevie remarked.

“You’re right,” Carole wailed. “I don’t have anything else to do!”

Stevie burst out laughing. She knew exactly what Carole meant, but it sounded hilarious. Both she and Carole were completely happy riding, doing Horse Wise, seeing their boyfriends, Phil and Cam, when they could, and—for Stevie’s part—getting in and out of trouble. They liked to think of school as something they did on the side.

Lisa was different. She cared a lot about grades, and
judging from her success at the auditions, she was a talented actress.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Stevie said when she had controlled her chuckles. “We’re both afraid that being great at two things—four if you count acting, singing, and dancing, all of which she has to do in the play—is going to force Lisa to choose.”

“And she might not choose riding,” Carole finished. “Especially if she thinks she’s not doing a good job.”

“You know what I say? Saddle Club meeting at Pine Hollow tomorrow afternoon,” Stevie decided.

“Without Lisa?” Carole asked. She didn’t want them to get too used to having two-person meetings.

“Lisa will be there in spirit, because that’s what we’re going to talk about,” Stevie answered, “Getting her to this rally and keeping her in The Saddle Club. If we don’t have the meeting, her days being there for real might be numbered.”

Carole had to agree.

W
HEN
C
AROLE GOT
to Pine Hollow the next day, she was all set to sit down with Stevie and plan their attack. She had spent her English and math classes jotting down points they could use to persuade Lisa to put acting second—at least once the play had ended. Stevie, however, seemed to have already made—and activated—her own plan. She was saddled up and riding outside. She waved to Carole from the outdoor ring. Carole waved back automatically and then stopped in her tracks. Instead of Topside Stevie was riding Prancer.

Suddenly it hit Carole. Why hadn’t they thought of that before? Prancer needed work, and so did Stevie. Topside, on the other hand, did not. The most important thing was keeping him fresh and interested for the
rally. A little light schooling and a trail ride or two would do the trick. Riding Prancer, Stevie could sharpen her skills
and
help Lisa get the mare ready.

“Pretty good idea, huh?” Stevie called, trotting down the long side of the ring.

“Are you kidding? It’s a
great
idea!” Carole yelled after her. She watched the mare’s briskly swinging trot for a few minutes in admiration. She looked energetic but relaxed. Stevie sat proudly in the saddle. At the end of the ring they picked up a canter. Prancer chucked the bit up in her teeth and shied away from the rail. Stevie laughed and made her trot until she stopped playing. They were obviously enjoying each other immensely.

“Want someone to watch you?” Carole asked when Stevie approached again.

“Definitely—we can use all the constructive criticism we can get.” She brought Prancer down to a walk and came over to Carole for a quick chat.

“I’ll be your ‘stage coach’ first, as Lisa said, and then we can switch,” Carole commented.

“It’s a deal,” Stevie said.

For the next half hour the two girls gave Prancer an intensive private lesson. Carole planted herself in the middle of the ring and barked criticism and commands. “Too fast! Too late! Canter now!” Far from being an annoying chore, watching and coaching was more fun than Carole could have imagined. As she critiqued
Stevie and Prancer, she found herself thinking how high-spirited and eager Prancer was. She was sleek, fast, and feisty and could be difficult.

Funny, Carole mused, that sounded a lot like Stevie. In the long run, the mare would probably do better with someone who was steady, organized, and methodical—someone like Lisa. For now, though, both she and Stevie would benefit from the partnership.

Carole had them walk, trot, halt, walk, trot, canter, trot, halt, trot, walk, trot, canter until Stevie was breathing hard and Prancer was sweating even in the brisk fall air. Then she put them through circles, figure eights, leg yielding, center lines, and more circles. As they worked, the girls compared their impressions of how Prancer was doing. A couple of times the mare bucked while cantering, and once she trotted right over the low dressage-ring rail. “You get right back in there, you bad, bad girl,” Stevie commanded, not missing a beat. “May I remind you that dressage takes place
within the ring!
”

When Carole had stopped sputtering with laughter, she told Stevie to try the movement again, this time keeping her outside rein tighter and her outside leg firm so that Prancer couldn’t bow away from her.

“Good advice, Carole,” Max commented. He and Mrs. Reg had come outside and had been observing the “lesson” quietly.

Carole spun around. “Thanks, Max. We thought we’d
kill two birds with one stone, having Stevie and Prancer both get practice.”

“And you are—?” Max inquired.

Carole grinned sheepishly. “I’m helping them out. I’m the ‘stage coach.’ ”

Max and Mrs. Reg laughed. “I’ve often said that riding a dressage test is like being onstage,” Mrs. Reg commented.

Carole grinned at the older woman gratefully. Mrs. Reg could be as tough as her son, but she was always helping out in a pinch and making them feel good about their Saddle Club plans and projects.

“It’s a nice idea, and
they’re
obviously learning a lot, but …” Max let his voice trail off.

“But?” Carole asked, fearing the worst.

Max looked at her directly. “I hate to say it, Carole, but you know as well as I do that Lisa should be the one riding that horse. She needs as much ring time as possible before the rally, and instead she’s getting less than usual.”

Remembering her promise to Lisa the night before, Carole tried to defend her friend. “I know, Max, and so does she. At least Prancer’s getting ridden. That should help get her ready. And Lisa’s really trying to get here as often as possible.”

Max looked unconvinced. In a kind but firm voice he
remarked, “
Trying
to do something isn’t always enough, especially when it comes to riding horses.”

Reluctantly, Carole nodded. She knew anything else she said or did would sound like a lame excuse.

Max and Mrs. Reg watched Stevie and Prancer for a while longer. They seemed to enjoy seeing the feisty pair in action as much as Carole. For her part Stevie liked having an audience. She rode as well as she could for the Regnerys. Finally Max excused himself to go give a lesson. Before he left, he complimented Carole once again on her good teaching.

“I think I’ll stick around to watch the end of the lesson,” Mrs. Reg said, her eyes sparkling.

Carole was flattered that Mrs. Reg referred to their schooling session as a lesson. She felt even better when Mrs. Reg put an arm around her and whispered, “Maybe trying isn’t everything, but it sure can help!”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Reg!” she cried. Across the ring Prancer used the sudden, loud noise as an excuse to shy. Stevie’s good-natured rebuke brought her right back into line.

Back at the stable Stevie peeled off her riding clothes exhaustedly. “Boy, do I pity your future students,” she announced to Carole. They were sitting in the locker room with Mrs. Reg, enjoying the rosy-cheeked glow that came from riding outdoors in autumn.

Carole rolled her eyes while Mrs. Reg laughed. “I remember
watching Max teach his first group lesson. He was about sixteen and had just started getting paid by his father for teaching here. It was a group of little girls on ponies. Anyway, about halfway through the hour, they came into the middle of the ring and told him that they were all either going to faint, be sick, or fall off within the next five minutes, so could they please take a thirty-second break before any of those things happened.”

“Was I that bad?” Carole asked when the giggling had quieted down.

“Worse,” Stevie said. “Today I came several inches closer to being permanently bowlegged.”

It was great to sit and chat with Mrs. Reg. The Saddle Club rarely had a chance just to hang out with her. When they did, it was special and entertaining. They never knew when she would launch into one of her Max stories or share a Pine Hollow secret. Both Carole and Stevie knew that she had something on her mind, though, or she would have been hurrying off to take care of Pine Hollow affairs that kept her endlessly occupied. Sure enough, as soon as Stevie had changed, she got down to business.

“Now, girls,” she began. Stevie and Carole both looked up at the serious tone of her voice. “I know you’ve been busy with the riding part of this rally, but I wanted to remind you that you’ve got the whole rest of
the day to think about. And that means—” She paused to let one of the girls supply the end of the sentence.

“Stable management,” they said in unison.

“Yes. Exactly. Stable management. Which means health records, feeding schedules, loading the van, and tack and turnout, among other things.”

“Has Max picked a stable manager yet?” Carole asked. Usually, all of this organizing was supervised by the nonriding member of the team. Everyone was expected to clean her own tack, bathe her own horse, and provide the personal information necessary, but the stable manager pitched in and acted like everyone’s mother in the weeks before the rally. This rally had been planned so hastily that they hadn’t finalized who would take on the job.

“I thought one of the younger kids was going to do it,” Stevie mentioned, recalling Max’s suggestion from the first dressage rally meeting.

“That’s a fine idea,” Mrs. Reg said. “But you guys have got to get cracking and pick someone. Forget May Grover. It’s her birthday that Saturday, and she’s having a big party. In fact, you may have to forget most of the little kids—I think she’s invited all of Willow Creek. Personally, I’d rather go with someone more experienced, anyway. A lot of the unrateds and D-ones haven’t ever been to a rally before.”

“You’ve got a point, Mrs. Reg,” Carole conceded. “Besides, sometimes May and her friends seem to have enough trouble organizing themselves for lessons, let alone organizing all of us for a regional rally. Half the time they show up for class without their hard hats or crops.”

“Exactly,” Mrs. Reg said. “So choose wisely, and be prepared to do a good deal of the work yourselves. In the meantime let’s see checklists for everything. This is a real rally, you know, even though there’s no cross-country or stadium.” Mrs. Reg gave them both an encouraging grin before heading out to her office.

When she was safely out of earshot, Stevie groaned. “Was it my imagination, or did she just give us the classic Mrs. Reg I’m-relying-on-you-girls-to-take-charge-or-else look?”

“She gave us the look, all right,” Carole replied dully. “Too bad she didn’t tell us one of her stories. At least then we could have pretended we didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about.”

Stevie nodded. She and Carole both stared at the floor glumly. It seemed as if the rally were taking over their whole lives. Just when they thought they had made progress in one area—getting Prancer ready to compete—Mrs. Reg reminded them about another area that they had been completely neglecting. Obviously she was
counting on them. Veronica was never any help in stable management. Betsy and Polly were cooperative and helpful teammates, but they were lazy about cleaning tack. They tended to skimp on things unless someone got after them.

“But we’re no good at this sort of thing, either,” Carole said.

“You mean I’m no good at it, right?” Stevie asked. She knew she wasn’t exactly famous for her untamed enthusiasm for the nittier, grittier side of riding and the stable-management book work.

“No, I really do mean we,” Carole insisted. “I love doing all that stuff on my own for Starlight, but I can never seem to get everyone else as excited as I am.”

“And with people doubling up on practice already, it’s going to be even harder.”

“Maybe Betsy will take over,” Carole suggested hopefully.

“Maybe,” Stevie said.

“Her little sister might want to be stable manager,” Carole pointed out.

“Her little sister is six and hates riding,” Stevie said.

“Oh,” Carole said.

After staring into space for a minute or two more, they got up to go. There was still an hour of daylight left for Carole to ride.

“Look on the bright side,” Stevie said as they went to the tack room. “Prancer
is
doing much better.”

“And you are, too,” Carole added. At least one part of their Saddle Club project was working. It was just that there suddenly seemed to be about ninety-nine other parts.