Horse Trade

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Mom,” Stevie said. “This is great. Did you bring—?”

  “We left Michael at home,” her mother said with a smile. “He’s cleaning the guppy tank.”

  Stevie let out a sigh of relief.

  “The Marstens called us and told us you choreographed and wrote the music for an exhibition number yourself,” Mrs. Lake said. “It really sounds special. I’m so proud of you, Stevie.”

  “I had a lot of help,” Stevie said.

  “You’ll be great,” Mr. Lake said. “I’ve brought my camera.” He raised it to show her.

  Great, Stevie thought. If she and Phil messed up, it would be preserved forever on videotape. Her brothers would certainly like that.

  But before she had a chance to dwell on what else could go wrong, Mr. Baker’s voice boomed over the microphone, “Cross County riders and guests mount up. The Fifth Annual Cross County Dressage Exhibition is about to begin.”

  “MS. WINDSOR IS not a formal judge,” said Mr. Baker to the assembled riders, and to their fans in the bleachers. “She is here as a commentator and friend. And we are truly honored to have her. Ms. Windsor, as I’m sure you all know, is a former member of the American equestrian team, and one of the country’s leading dressage judges.”

  The woman Stevie recognized from the lecture at Pine Hollow took the microphone and said, “I am here only as a commentator to give advice to those who need it.” She looked directly at Stevie, who was sitting on No-Name next to Phil on Teddy.

  Uh-oh, Stevie thought, remembering that Hollie and The Saddle Club had been talking and giggling during most of Ms. Windsor’s talk at Pine Hollow. I’m truly a dead duck, Stevie thought. Ms. Windsor was, in fact, staring directly at Stevie, her long nose quivering with distaste.

  “We’ll start with a medley of dressage steps by members of Cross County and end with a duet by Phil Marsten and Stevie Lake, which incorporates these steps into a choreographed event,” Mr. Baker said.

  Stevie and Phil looked at each other. A choreographed event! This sounded like a big deal.

  Music blared from the public-address system as three Cross County horses and riders entered the ring.

  “Riders will demonstrate the countercanter,” Mr. Baker explained.

  The horses cantered to the left with their right legs leading. This was the opposite of what they instinctively wanted to do. At first the horses and riders showed great skill, but then one horse broke into a disunited canter.

  In a disunited canter a horse has his left legs tucked under him and his right legs spread in full gallop position. This is one of the silliest-looking things a horse can do. It’s also dangerous because a horse can easily lose its balance.

  Carole watched the disunited canter and shook her head. “Once one horse gets off the gait, the rest will go too.”

  Sure enough, the second horse broke into a disunited canter and then the third.

  Abruptly the music stopped and Mr. Baker spoke over the microphone, “That was a good beginning. A few more practice sessions and the horses will have it. Perhaps Ms. Windsor has something to say.” He passed the microphone to Ms. Windsor.

  “A fine attempt,” Ms. Windsor said. “I can see that this Pony Club takes dressage seriously.”

  Stevie was surprised the woman didn’t say more. Maybe she was saving her most critical comments for Stevie and Phil.

  The next demonstration was of the serpentine. This time the horses and riders rose to the occasion, weaving around the edge of the ring with grace and speed. After that five horses pirouetted to the left and then to the right. Stevie noticed that Mr. Baker looked very pleased.

  And then the whole of Cross County did left half passes and right half passes, getting their horses to walk sideways by crossing their legs. As they backed toward the center, so that together the horses looked like the rays of a sun, the audience burst into applause. Ms. Windsor took the microphone and said, “A very creditable exhibition. A Pony Club shows its true stamina and class when it refuses to let itself be daunted by an initial mishap.”

  There was a pause while the audience digested this thought, and then there was a round of applause.

  “And now Stevie Lake and Phil Marsten will perform a dressage duet to the music of”—Mr. Baker looked at the slip of paper in his hand more closely—“ ‘Almost,’ which will be sung by Lisa Atwood, the star of a recent local production of Annie.”

  Stevie swallowed. Never had she been in an exhibition when there were so many uncertainties. For a second—just a second—Stevie wished that her parents weren’t there. Her father was smiling proudly and had his camera raised.

  But then Stevie looked over at Max, who was standing at the rail next to Mr. Baker. Max’s blue eyes seemed to be staring right into her, making her calm.

  Lisa sang,

  “You belong to me … almost.”

  Stevie and Phil raised their hats to each other and rode in opposite directions in a sitting trot. They met on the word “almost” and leaned toward each other, almost touching. Then they headed into a serpentine, and when they neared each other, they reached out their hands, barely missing on the word “almost.” The crowd was into it now, laughing and clapping. Phil and Stevie spun off into giant figure eights that got smaller and smaller and closer and closer, until it seemed as if they were about to fall into each other’s arms. Again, at the word “almost,” they missed and spun off into revolving pivots. As their horses met at the opposite end of the ring, they slid into a countercanter, moving gracefully back around the ring.

  Lisa sang,

  “With a love that’s free … almost.”

  The smoothness of No-Name’s canter and the swell of Lisa’s voice was exhilarating. As Stevie and Phil moved toward one another for the final time, Stevie raised her arm, ready to join hands with Phil. Phil raised his arms. The crowd cheered. Stevie and Phil reached for each other so they could hold hands.

  Excited by the applause, No-Name did a perfect piaffe. Seeing her, Teddy started a piaffe of his own. Next thing Stevie knew, she and Phil were waving their arms, trying to keep their balance. In the stands Stevie could see the horrible black eye of her father’s camera. This disaster was being recorded for posterity.

  A terrible silence hung over the ring. Then Lisa, show-business veteran that she was, sang,

  “Almost!”

  It brought down the house. The people in the bleachers stood up, cheering and laughing. Stevie’s parents made victory signs. Even Mr. Baker was smiling. By this time Phil had gotten Teddy under control and Stevie was upright in the saddle. Phil rode back to Stevie and took her hand, and when the two of them raised their hands, everyone cheered louder.

  “I’m speechless,” Mr. Baker said over the microphone. “I’m going to turn for comment to Ms. Windsor.”

  Here goes nothing, Stevie thought.

  Ms. Windsor took a deep breath.

  Stevie looked at Phil and whispered, “Prepare to die.”

  “I have witnessed many exhibitions of so-called horse dancing,” Ms. Windsor said, “and as a rule I tend to turn a disapproving eye on them.”

  “I bet,” Stevie whispered to Phil.

  “But I must say that this one was remarkably lively, and the ending did make me smile.”

  Stevie looked at Ms. Windsor. Could it be true? Yes, Stevie saw that under her long, dour nose, Ms. Windsor was actually smiling.

  “Congratulations to Stevie Lake and Phil Marsten,” Mr. Baker said, looking intensely relieved. “ ‘Almost’ will be remembered at Cross County for a long time.”

  “We had a lot of help,” Stevie said, but since no one could hear her, Mr. Baker motioned her over to the microphone. “We had a lot of help,” she said, hearing her voice boom to the crowd. “As you all know, the singing was done by Lisa Atwood.” There was a round of applause for Lisa’s great singing. “The concept, choreography, and songwriting were done by Hollie Bright.” For her there was an even bigger round of applause.

  “Where do you
get your great ideas?” someone called.

  Stevie carried the microphone over to Hollie, who sneezed loudly.

  A puzzled silence followed. Stevie said hastily, “I think Hollie got her concept from Phil and me.” She looked over at Phil. “I guess she thinks we’re ‘almost’ kind of people.”

  This raised a laugh, but Mr. Baker stretched out his hand for the microphone and said, “Stevie’s too modest. I’m sure that none of you realize it, but the horse she’s riding is a talented but difficult horse. We had …”

  “No-Name,” Stevie supplied. “Her name is No-Name.”

  “How unusual,” Mr. Baker said with a smile. “In any case we had No-Name at Cross County for a couple of weeks, and we liked her, but those were difficult weeks. She kept coming down with hives, and we couldn’t track down the cause of them. And although she’s an intelligent, spirited horse, she isn’t easy to handle. So I think we all owe Stevie an extra hand for bringing No-Name to the exhibition with no hives and no discipline problems.”

  If only he knew, Stevie thought. That final piaffe hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.

  As the audience applauded, Stevie sneaked a look over to the stands and saw that Mr. Lake was getting all this on tape. Now Stevie couldn’t wait until her brothers saw it.

  “With Stevie and No-Name I think we see a perfect rider-horse combination,” Mr. Baker said. “Can anyone guess why this is so?”

  Carole, sitting in the stand, raised her hand and said, “Because they’re so much alike?”

  Mr. Baker nodded. “Good horse-and-rider combinations are often like that. They understand each other because they’re so similar. What you want to watch out for are opposites, like a bullying rider and a timid horse. Or a bullying horse and a timid rider.”

  The crowd laughed.

  “At any rate, I’d like to thank Ms. Windsor for her contribution to this event,” Mr. Baker said, “and also the riders from Pine Hollow.”

  “What a day,” Stevie said, turning to Phil. “I didn’t think things would turn out so well.” But then suddenly she remembered that she’d forgotten about Teddy. “Is he okay?” she said, looking down at him.

  “Teddy’s fine,” Phil said. “He can tell that everyone is happy, so he’s happy.”

  “You know the best thing of all?” Stevie said happily to Phil.

  “What?”

  “No hives,” she said, pointing to No-Name’s neck. “Not one.”

  Phil leaned over, checking No-Name’s ears and face, especially the upside-down white exclamation point that ran up her nose. “You’re right.” He looked up at Stevie. “You’ve figured it out, haven’t you?”

  “I think so,” Stevie said. “You see that green patch outside the fence? That’s where I used to tie No-Name. But today I didn’t, and I checked and it’s full of weeds.”

  “That would do it,” Phil said. “That green spot must look like a splendid feast to her.”

  “Poor No-Name,” Stevie said, nodding. “It’s like being allergic to fudge sauce.”

  “That’s where you two are not alike,” Phil said with a grin.

  “Nice work, Stevie,” said Mr. Baker, coming over. “I’ve had a few rides on No-Name myself, so I can appreciate what you were up against. You got her under control without making her feel angry or oppressed.”

  “Who could oppress a horse with an exclamation point on her nose?” Stevie asked. When Mr. Baker smiled, she added, “You know, I think I’ve found what No-Name is allergic to.”

  “What?” Mr. Baker said.

  “Something in that patch of weeds over there.” She pointed to the weeds outside the fence.

  “That could be,” Mr. Baker said thoughtfully. “It’s not uncommon for horses to be allergic to weeds. I’ll get rid of that patch right away. Thanks, Stevie.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Lake appeared next to Stevie, looking proud and happy. “You were great,” Mr. Lake said. “That ending was pure genius.”

  Stevie and Phil looked at each other and grinned.

  “Not only was Stevie great in the performance,” Mr. Baker said, “but she’s tracked down her mount’s allergy.”

  Everyone was looking at Stevie, so she figured that she might as well explain. “I took a scientific approach and tried one possible allergen at a time. The first time I tried fly spray, which is the most common cause of horse allergies. The next time I tried saddle soap.”

  By then a crowd had gathered around Stevie. It included Hollie, Carole, and Lisa, as well as Phil’s parents and his younger sister, Rachel. Naturally, Mr. Lake was taping the whole thing.

  “But neither of those was the culprit,” Stevie said, truly enjoying herself because her parents seemed to be bug-eyed with wonder at this new responsible, scientific Stevie. “So I made a mental list of the times No-Name came down with hives, and I realized that each time she had just visited Cross County.”

  Stevie noticed Mrs. Marsten give Rachel a nudge. Phil saw it, too, and he looked over at Stevie and gave her a small nod, as if to say—lay it on.

  “So I thought of all the things No-Name had done at Cross County, and I realized that she hadn’t been inside the barn, so it must have been something outside. And she had come fully saddled, so it couldn’t be tack. So it must have been something outside, probably something she ate. And then I had this memory of her munching those weeds over there.”

  “Big deal,” Rachel said softly.

  “It is a big deal, Rachel,” Mrs. Marsten said. “Those hives can be life threatening to No-Name.”

  “I’m proud of you, Stevie,” Mrs. Lake said. “This makes me realize that you’re on your way to being a responsible adult.”

  “Hey, not so fast,” Stevie joked. “I’m not so sure I’m ready to be a responsible adult.”

  “I can just see it,” Mrs. Lake said dreamily to her husband. “Stevie arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court.” The Lakes were both lawyers.

  “Sorry.” Stevie shook her head. “I’ve already got my plans made. I’m going to be a horse detective.”

  “That’s it,” Mr. Lake said. When everyone turned to look at him, he explained, “That’s going to be the title of this videotape: Stevie Lake: Horse Detective.”

  “HOW DID YOU raise Stevie so well?” Mrs. Marsten asked Mrs. Lake. “She’s so mature and thoughtful.”

  “Oh, we just did what comes naturally,” Mrs. Lake said airily. “We followed our instincts.”

  “And prayed a lot,” Mr. Lake added.

  This broke the ice. In a second the Lakes and Marstens were smiling at each other—with the exception of Rachel, who said, “You think I want to turn out to be a creep like her?”

  “Rachel, dear,” Mrs. Marsten said, “I have the feeling your chickens are getting hungry.” She looked at her watch. “And this time of day they’re probably laying eggs.”

  “I’m out of here,” Rachel said, and streaked out of the ring toward the Marstens’ home.

  “Would you like to join us for lunch?” Mrs. Marsten said to the Lakes.

  “There’s a new Japanese restaurant in the shopping center,” Mrs. Lake said.

  “I love sushi,” Mrs. Marsten said.

  Mr. Marsten and Mr. Lake looked at each other with dismay.

  “I don’t know why,” Mr. Lake said, “but I’m just not in the mood for raw fish today.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? Me neither,” said Mr. Marsten with a grin. “Usually I’m dying for raw fish, but right now I’m just not in the mood.”

  “How about a hamburger?” Mr. Lake suggested.

  “And fries,” Mr. Marsten said, brightening. “And onion rings. Watching all that exercise made me hungry.”

  Mrs. Lake turned to Phil and Stevie and said, “How long will it take you two to get ready?”

  But Stevie didn’t want to stop riding, and when she looked at Phil, she saw that he felt the same way. “We’re not dressed for a restaurant,” she said. “Do you suppose we could stay and ride?”

  “Afte
r a performance like that I don’t see why not,” Mrs. Lake said.

  As Stevie and Phil headed toward Mr. Baker to get his permission to go trail riding, she said, “You know, I’ve got to try being responsible again sometime. It really goes over well.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” Phil said. “I like you just the way you are.”

  Mr. Baker said that not only would it be fine for Phil and Stevie to ride on the trails behind Cross County, but that he would be glad to supply horses for Carole, Lisa, and Hollie, too. At that moment Phil’s redheaded friend, A.J., appeared and asked if he could join, so they made up a party of six.

  As soon as everyone was saddled up, Phil led the way to a road that curved through a harvested oat field that was now nothing but brown stubble with shoots of tender new weeds. Knowing that this was exactly the kind of delicacy that No-Name liked—and shouldn’t have—Stevie kept a close rein on her. Soon they entered the forest, slipping into the cool, leafy shade of the oak trees, seeing the haze of spiderwebs over the trail.

  It was the first time all day that Stevie hadn’t been on edge. She felt her neck relax, and then her back, and then her legs. Off to the left she could hear the hum of a brook. This was what riding was all about. Practice and exhibitions were great, but the best moments were when horses and riders were wandering through the countryside, free to do whatever they wanted.

  They came to a clearing, and Stevie looked up from her reverie to see that this field wasn’t like the fields around Pine Hollow. It had a fierce outcropping of rock near the top, and the jagged shape of the grassy slope showed that this wasn’t a hill, but a foothill of the Silverado Mountains.

  Phil stopped Teddy and raised his hand for the riders to gather around him. “I know you’re used to the country around Pine Hollow,” he said, “so I have to warn you that under the grass there are rocks, and in the bushes there are ravines. Be sure to stay on the trail because the footing here is full of surprises.” He looked from one rider to the next to make sure that they understood. His gaze rested on Hollie.