Starting Gate (5 page)

Skye took a big drink of water and sighed. “Well, if I could just figure out what I’m doing wrong, it could be really great. The character I play, C.G., is a hopeful trainer and jockey. C.G.’s father was a trainer as well, but he was accused of shady dealings in the race world and killed himself because of it.”

“Oh no.” Carole frowned. “How awful.”

“I know. Anyway, C.G. loves the horse business as much as his father did, and he wants to do great things, but he’s got to live down his father’s legacy. He’s at the starting gate of his career, with one chance to succeed and establish his own reputation. If he can ride this one horse and win, he’ll be well on his way.”

Stevie interrupted. “And this horse is played by the infamous Mabel?”

“Right.” Skye sighed. “This race means everything, but two other trainers at the track are doing everything they can to see that C.G. fails. Turns out that these two trainers were the ones who fudged the business when his father was accused, and they’re afraid C.G. will find out the truth.” Skye stared at the bread basket, his expression suddenly serious. “Their best chance is to make me fail and drive me out of the business as well.”

“What happens next?” asked Carole.

“Well, while I keep Mabel’s true ability a secret from them, I manage to fall in love with one of their daughters, played by Sherry.” He laughed. “It’s kind of a Romeo and Juliet thing.”

“And?” Stevie hunched forward on the edge of her seat.

“And just before I ride Mabel to an amazing victory in the race, I learn the critical piece of evidence
that clears my father’s name and will ultimately convict the bad guys.”

“So you ride off into the sunset with the girl and the horse and the trophy,” Carole guessed.

“Right.” Skye grinned. “It’s a pretty well-written script, and it should do well at the box office.” He sighed and shook his head. “It’s too bad the set is so odd. Half the crew act like they hate me.”

“I can’t believe anybody could hate you, Skye!” Lisa glanced at her friends. They were finally about to get to the mystery of all this.

Skye broke off a piece of bread. “Well, they do. There’s this guy on the set, George Gamble. He’s the trainer for all the horses in the movie.”

“We met him,” said Stevie. “I could have sworn I recognized him from somewhere else.”

Skye smiled. “Well, the reason you think that is—”

“Really, Stevie, how could you possibly think you know a horse trainer for the movies?” Veronica interrupted with a snide little laugh. “I mean, you’ve barely been out of Virginia.”

Skye frowned at Veronica, then turned back to Stevie. “Anyway, George has acted like he’s resented me from the first day of filming. And now Shev and Marcella are acting weird, too.”

“Weird like how?” asked Carole.

Skye shrugged. “I don’t know. They aren’t friendly at all. If a take doesn’t go well, they always blame me.
Yesterday a couple of horses messed up a scene that I wasn’t even in, and they told everybody it was my fault!”

Lisa reached over and gave Skye’s hand a supportive squeeze. “I bet they’re just jealous,” she said. “You’ve got more talent in your little finger than they do in their whole bodies, and they’re just envious!”

“She’s right, Skye,” agreed Carole. “After all, isn’t moviemaking a pretty cutthroat business?”

Skye laughed. “You’ve got that right. I guess this is just the first time my throat’s been the one getting cut!” He made a funny face, then a whole fleet of waiters streamed out of the kitchen, bringing their dinner to the table.

“Wow,” said Lisa after five huge plates of scrumptious-looking food had been spread out before them. “This looks wonderful.”

“Everything smells delicious!” Carole said as she took a bite of perfectly cooked trout.

Stevie looked over at Veronica’s plate, which was covered in a strange multicolored stew. “What did you say that was again, Veronica?”

“
Ragoût fin
,” Veronica replied, lifting up one pale green morsel of food with her fork. “We often have it at home. I’m sure you’re familiar with it, Skye—”

“Hey, look,” said Skye as a group of people sat down at a nearby table. “There are some people from the production. Excuse me for a moment, girls.”

They watched as Skye got up and greeted the newcomers. None of their faces looked familiar. Apparently, these were people they had not met earlier.

“I guess that’s all we’ll find out about Skye’s set problems tonight,” whispered Stevie as Skye shook hands with a heavyset gray-haired man.

“I think we’ve found out enough,” said Lisa. “I mean, he definitely needs some Saddle Club help.”

“Maybe if we can help him work out his problems with Mabel, then the other problems will go away,” suggested Carole.

“Well, that’s something The Saddle Club can certainly do,” Stevie replied, shooting a look at Veronica. “We may not know movies, but we sure know about difficult horses.”

“Then we’ll have to do everything we can to help him with Mabel,” said Lisa.

They returned to their meals as Skye came back to the table.

“Sorry,” he said, replacing his napkin on his lap. That was my producer. I had to go and say hello.”

“I understand perfectly,” cooed Veronica, daintily taking a bite of her stew. “Business always comes before pleasure. That’s the way it is when you’re successful. Why, if I could tell you the number of times Daddy—”

“Anyway,” Skye continued. “That’s the story. If I would just figure out what’s wrong with Mabel, then
maybe certain people on the set would stop thinking I was a jerk.”

“I bet we could figure out what’s bugging Mabel,” Stevie said.

“You think so?” Skye grinned his famous movie-star smile. “Anything you could do would really help me out.”

“Well, first we have to figure out exactly what her bad habits are,” said Carole.

“Yes,” Veronica chimed in. “Like when Red O’Malley figured out that Danny didn’t like to pull on the right side of a cart.”

“What does Mabel like to eat?” asked Stevie. “I broke one of Belle’s bad habits by treating her with bits of carrot.”

“So far her favorite snack has been me.” Skye laughed and held up one nipped finger.

“Well, we’ll have to break her of that,” said Carole. “But that’s easy. What else does she do?”

Skye sighed. “She kicks and bites around other horses, she can’t stand to have her ears touched, and once you dismount, she tries to run away.”

“Whoa,” said Carole. “Sounds like you might need a horse whisperer.”

“A what?” Skye frowned.

“A horse whisperer,” repeated Carole. “Haven’t you ever heard of Monty Roberts’s famous join-up method?”

Skye shook his head. The girls looked at each other, then suddenly everyone was talking at once.

“If she wants to kick, you’ve got to keep her moving forward,” said Carole, spooning sour cream onto her baked potato.

“Or turn her in a big circle,” added Lisa. She took a bite of her fish. “Keep her too busy to get into any mischief.”

“Remember when Belle got that big crush on Starlight and she wouldn’t leave his side for weeks?” Stevie laughed as she buttered a piece of bread.

“Red told me that if your horse tries to bite the horse in front of you, then you need to close your legs around him and keep close contact with his mouth.” Veronica tried to sound as if she knew as much about horses as the other girls did. Nobody paid any attention to her.

The rest of the evening flew by. The girls told Skye all about their problems with Belle, Starlight, Danny, and Prancer and how they’d managed to solve them. By the time the waiter came to gather their plates, Skye looked like his old self again, smiling, laughing, and happy.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” the waiter asked as he began to remove their plates.

“Everything was wonderful,” said Skye.

“Oh, yes,” agreed Lisa. “I’ve never had a more delicious meal.”

“I have one question,” said Stevie, looking at Veronica’s empty plate.

“
Oui, mademoiselle?
” The waiter’s dark eyes flashed.

“I’d like to know what was in her dish of
ragoût fin
.”

“Oh, it is wonderful.” The waiter beamed. “It is full of the freshest asparagus and mushrooms and butter and sweetbreads.”

Stevie frowned. “Sweetbreads?”

“
Oui, mademoiselle
. Sweetbreads.”

Stevie looked at Veronica, who looked as puzzled as she did. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sure what sweetbreads are.”

“Uh, they are glands,
mademoiselle
.”

“Glands?” Stevie looked in horror at Veronica’s plate.

“
Oui
. The thymus gland of a calf.” The waiter kissed his fingertips. “
Magnifique
, if I do say so myself.”

“
Magnifique
, indeed,” chuckled Stevie as Veronica turned another intense shade of green. “I know my friend enjoyed them very much.”

“M
AX
?” S
TEVIE TAPPED
softly on Max’s door. “Are you awake?”

She pressed her ear against the door. For a moment she heard nothing, then she heard the sound of a lock being turned.

“What’s the matter?” The door cracked open. “Is something wrong?” Max poked his head out into the hallway. His eyes were heavy with sleep, and he’d slung a blue bathrobe around him.

“No, Max, everything’s fine,” Stevie whispered. “We just wondered if you would take us to the Ashford track.”

“The Ashford track?” Max frowned at his wrist, but he wasn’t wearing his watch. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little past five
A.M.
We wanted to get there early to help Skye with his horse, Mabel.”

Max rubbed his eyes as if this were some kind of bad dream. “Aren’t you guys riding in the Pony Club mounted games at eleven? I’ve got some horses lined up for you.”

“Yes, we’re looking forward to it. But we need to help Skye out first. If we could get a couple of hours in before the Pony Club games, it would be perfect.” Stevie smiled up at him. “Please? It’s just me and Carole and Lisa. Veronica’s sleeping in.”

Max shook his head and yawned. “Oh, okay. I’m up anyway. Meet me downstairs at the rental car in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, Max,” Stevie said as she hurried back to her room. “You’re terrific!”

By five-thirty Max had dropped them at the track and Skye was leading them toward Mabel’s stall. Except for an occasional swish of a tail and chomp of hay, the group’s footsteps were the only noises that echoed through the stable.

“Are we the only ones here?” whispered Carole.

“I think so,” Skye whispered back. “They reserved this barn for the movie horses. All the racetrack trainers are in another barn.”

“So creepy old George isn’t here?” Stevie asked hopefully.

Skye shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to be.” He gave a
small laugh. “I’ve noticed George doesn’t make many of the early calls.”

They turned the corner and neared Mabel’s stall. Already her pretty head was sticking out above the door, an anxious, worried look in her eyes.

“Uh-oh,” said Skye. “I think we interrupted her beauty sleep.”

“Let’s all stay back here and approach her one at a time,” suggested Carole. “Maybe crowds are what freak her out.”

“Okay.” Lisa eyed the cranky-looking horse. “Who wants to approach her first?”

“I vote for Carole,” Skye said with a laugh.

Everyone turned and looked expectantly at Carole. She smiled and pulled something from the pocket of her breeches. It was a sandwich bag filled with bits of apple and carrot and several lumps of sugar.

“I figured you guys might volunteer me for this, so I came prepared. Let’s see what works with Miss Mabel.” She took out a small piece of carrot and slowly approached the stall, holding both hands in loose fists and not looking Mabel in the eye. The big mare stomped but didn’t try to kick or shy back in her stall.

“Why is she walking like that?” whispered Skye.

“It’s the Monty Roberts way,” replied Stevie. “If you avoid eye contact, the horse won’t feel threatened.”

Slowly, Carole walked up to the stall, keeping her
gaze on the ground. Mabel watched her with her ears pricked. When Carole got to within a foot of the horse’s door, she extended her outstretched palm with the carrot. Mabel made a quick lunge at the tiny morsel of food, nipping Carole’s hand in the process.

“Ouch!” said Carole, jerking her hand back in spite of herself. “She certainly has a hearty appetite.”

“Particularly when fingers are on the menu,” chuckled Skye.

“Let’s try something else,” Carole said, frowning thoughtfully as Mabel chomped her carrot.

This time Carole held out a small piece of apple. Mabel again watched her like a hawk, but when she lunged for the food, Carole jerked her hand back.

“No, no, Mabel,” Carole corrected softly. “That’s not the way to take an apple from someone’s hand.”

She extended her hand again. Again Mabel watched for an opportunity to snap, and again Carole pulled her hand back. After several more tries, it occurred to Mabel that if she approached the apple slowly, it would stay in place for her to nibble.

“There.” Carole smiled as the horse finally took the apple gently, with her lips barely touching Carole’s hand. “Mabel’s just passed her first lesson in table manners.”