Hayride

by Bonnie Bryant

  A MYSTERIOUS CALLER

  The phone rang at the Marsten household. Phil answered it, hoping to hear Stevie’s voice again. Instead, a female voice he didn’t recognize right away spoke to him. “Stevie Lake was at the mall with Bob Harris yesterday. They were sitting together in the back of a restaurant, laughing a lot. They seemed to know each other quite well. If I were you, I’d do something … fast.”

  “Who is this?” Phil demanded. The line went dead. He listened to the dial tone for a minute, frowning.

  RL 5, 009–012

  HAYRIDE

  A Bantam Skylark Book / February 1993

  Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.

  “The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  The Saddle Club design/logo, which consists of a riding crop and a riding hat, is a trademark of Bantam Books.

  “USPC” and “Pony Club” are registered trademarks of The United States Pony Clubs, Inc., at The Kentucky Horse Park, 4071 Iron Works Pike, Lexington, KY 40511-8462.

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1993 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-82513-1

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1

  I would like to express my special thanks to Caitlin C. Macy for her help in the writing of this book.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  CAROLE HANSON SPRANG out of bed. The bright light streaming through her windows told her that it would be a perfectly cloudless day. She glanced at the clock radio on her bedside table: 9:34 A.M. It was a Sunday morning, and Carole had arranged to go trail riding that afternoon with her two best friends, Lisa Atwood and Stevie Lake. She did some quick calculating. They were supposed to hit the trail at noon. If she hurried, it would take under an hour to get dressed, eat breakfast, and get to Pine Hollow, the stable where the girls rode. As long as she got there by eleven, she’d be fine. She could give her horse, Starlight, a special Sunday grooming, go for a ride, and still have plenty of time to help out with afternoon barn chores.

  Carole and her friends always pitched in at Pine Hollow, partly to help the stable’s owner, Max Regnery, but also because they couldn’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon than surrounded by horseflesh and horsey people. All three girls loved horses and riding. In fact, they had started a club just for horse-crazy people. It was called The Saddle Club, and the only other requirement for membership was that members had to be willing to help each other out.

  As Carole combed her long, black, curly hair, she thought about her two friends. Other than their love for horses, Lisa, Stevie, and Carole were very different, both in looks and personality. That was part of what made it so much fun to belong to The Saddle Club.

  Lisa was the oldest in age but the newest rider. She was a total perfectionist who always got straight A’s in school. Stevie, on the other hand, was anything but an A-student. She preferred practical jokes to studying, and her grades and sparkling hazel eyes showed it. As for herself, Carole knew her friends sometimes thought she had a split personality. At school she lost homework assignments, stuffed crumpled papers into notebooks, and got caught daydreaming. But as soon as she set foot in the stable, she was all business. Even her father had said that she understood horses better than she understood humans.

  A sudden knock on her door interrupted Carole’s musing. “Your POV will be leaving in forty-five minutes,” Carole’s father announced.

  “What’s a ‘POV’?” Carole asked, poking her head out the door.

  “A privately owned vehicle, ma’am,” Colonel Hanson replied smartly. Then he confided in a whisper, “In this case, a blue station wagon.”

  Carole smiled. Translated, her father’s announcement meant that she wouldn’t have to take the bus to Pine Hollow, as she sometimes did, because he was going to give her a ride. “Yes, sir!” Carole replied, giving him a crisp salute.

  The colonel eyed her skeptically. “It appears that the private—er, daughter—is still wearing her nightgown.”

  “I’ll be ready for inspection in two minutes, sir!” Carole promised.

  “Okay, honey,” Colonel Hanson said, letting his commanding-officer stance lapse. “Pancakes and bacon—if you’re hungry, that is,” he called back over his shoulder.

  Because Colonel Hanson had been in the Marine Corps for so many years, he had a way of adding a military flair to things. Carole loved it when the two of them joked around together. Having such a great father helped make up for the absence of her mother, who had died when Carole was eleven.

  Catching a tempting whiff of the bacon frying, Carole quickly pulled off her nightgown and grabbed her riding clothes. Usually she kept everything at Pine Hollow—clothes, boots, etc.—but she had brought stuff home the night before to wash and polish. Everything she needed was laid out on her chair: the old rust breeches she used for every day—she saved her newer buff pair for Pony Club meets and shows—long-sleeved cotton shirt, light sweater, windbreaker, and tall boots. As usual, getting her tight-fitting boots on took several yanks of the boot-pulls. Carole knew, though, that if they slid on easily, they’d probably be too loose for riding.

  As soon as she was dressed, she joined her father downstairs at the breakfast table.

  “So do I pass?” Carole demanded, turning around for Colonel Hanson to inspect her outfit.

  “With flying colors,” her father answered. “Here’s your reward.”

  Carole gladly accepted the heaping plate of pancakes and bacon and then dug in hungrily.

  “THERE’S SOMETHING I want to talk to you about,” Colonel Hanson said as he and Carole drove over to Pine Hollow.

  Carole looked up, surprised by her father’s stern tone. A quick glance at his profile, however, assured her that his dark eyes were twinkling.

  “Ahem.” Colonel Hanson cleared his throat. “Some of us may have forgotten that a certain girl’s birthday is a week from yesterday, but I, personally, am planning to celebrate, even if it’s a party for one.”

  Carole sighed. It wasn’t that she had forgotten her own birthday, it was just that she hadn’t come up with any great plans for celebrating it yet. Most of the kids in her class were starting to have boy-girl parties, which was what Carole wanted to do, too. She just wanted her party to be something different and special.

  “Well, I had to bring it up,” Colonel Hanson continued. “You’re so full of boots and spurs and bone spavins that you haven’t even been hinting about a party.”

  “It’s not that,” Carole said.
“It’s just that I don’t know what I should do.” She explained her birthday dilemma to her father. “I can’t think of a single kind of party that would truly be fun for everyone,” she said.

  Colonel Hanson was full of ideas. Unfortunately, most of them seemed more appropriate for five-year-olds. First, he suggested a magician. Carole groaned.

  “But you loved it when we got the mysterious Merlin to come and do tricks,” her father protested.

  “In first grade Merlin was mysterious. Now he’d be more like—embarrassing,” Carole explained.

  “How ’bout Bozo the Clown—I could get Corporal Gleason to dress up and—”

  “Dad, I’m too old for clowns,” Carole interrupted. “I’d die if my friends—” Carole stopped midsentence when she heard her father trying unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.

  “Oh, Dad, you’re no help,” Carole grumbled.

  “I’ll bet Stevie and Lisa will have some ideas,” Colonel Hanson assured her.

  “They haven’t had any so far,” Carole said. The problem was that when she was with her Saddle Club friends, practically all they ever talked or thought about was horses. That was great most of the time, but it wasn’t much help when you needed to plan a birthday party.

  Carole and her father fell silent. They were both trying to think of a special way to celebrate Carole’s birthday. Carole glanced out the window at the rolling countryside of Willow Creek, the small suburb of Washington, D.C., where they lived. They were driving through the most rural part of the town, past fenced acres and farms. Rolls and bales of hay left from the summer dotted the fields.

  “I’ve got it!” Carole cried suddenly.

  “What?” her father asked.

  “A hayride!” Carole exclaimed. “I can invite lots of friends—even the nonhorsey ones—it’ll be perfect, Dad! Absolutely perfect!”

  “When we Hansons put our heads together, perfection is usually the result,” he said modestly.

  Carole grinned. Her father had been almost no help whatsoever, but his heart was surely in the right place.

  The rest of the way to Pine Hollow, Carole and her father discussed the birthday plans. They decided Carole would have a party at the house first—her father said it was okay to invite boys as long as there were a couple of adults on hand to chaperon—and then have the hayride. They would serve lots of food, and Carole’s friends could bring their favorite CDs for dancing. For the hayride Colonel Hanson planned to ask Mr. Toll, a local farmer, to drive his big hay wagon pulled by his matched pair of Clydesdales. There wouldn’t be much time to organize everything and invite people, since Saturday was less than a week away, but the two agreed they could pull it off. They would start late that afternoon, by making lists of everything that had to be done. To give them more time, Colonel Hanson volunteered to pick up Carole at Pine Hollow after the football game he was planning to watch had ended, around four-thirty.

  Carole couldn’t wait to tell Stevie and Lisa the news. When her father pulled into the lot at Pine Hollow, she gave him a quick hug and fairly leapt out of the car. As she jumped, her sweater snagged on the car door. She tripped and fell to the ground, twisting her ankle as she landed.

  “Carole!” Colonel Hanson cried. He got out of the car and rushed to her side.

  “I’m fine, Dad,” Carole said automatically, not wanting to worry her father. To prove it to herself, she jumped back to her feet. She felt her ankle smart as soon as she stood up. It would probably be okay in about five minutes.

  “Are you all right?” her father asked anxiously, helping her to steady herself on her feet. “That was a nasty fall.”

  For a split second Carole thought about telling her father how much it hurt. Her ankle was throbbing already. But the consequences made her change her mind instantly. She wouldn’t get to ride Starlight, or hang out at Pine Hollow, or see Stevie and Lisa, or tell them her birthday plans. She gritted her teeth. No silly fall was going to keep her inside on a gorgeous day like this.

  “Really, Dad, I’m fine,” she assured her father. She brushed the dirt off her clothes briskly. “Now for heaven’s sake, don’t worry. Get to your game. See you at four-thirty.”

  “We-ell—all right,” Colonel Hanson said uncertainly. “I’ll have to trust you. But if you feel one ounce of pain anywhere, you call me, and I’ll be right back for you.”

  “I promise, Dad—I won’t ride if it hurts.”

  After a final reassurance that Carole was all right, Colonel Hanson got back into the station wagon and headed down the driveway. Carole waved and then started in to the barn. As she walked, she noticed that it hurt to put weight on the twisted ankle—the left one. She resolved to put it out of her mind, at least until they had ridden.

  When Carole entered the barn, she spotted Stevie and Lisa emerging from the tack room, laden with saddles, bridles, and hard hats.

  “Hey, you guys!” Carole called to them, hurrying over to tell them her news. Or at least she tried to hurry—her ankle forced her to limp.

  Lisa and Stevie turned and waved. Both of their faces fell when they saw Carole limping.

  “Are you okay?” Lisa asked.

  Carole shrugged off the question. “Okay? I’m great! And I can’t wait to hit the trail.”

  “If I know my symptoms of lameness, Carole, you’re off in the left hind,” Stevie said. “And if I know you, you should probably be at home with that foot up on ice, but you didn’t want to miss a day at Pine Hollow for a silly little injury. Right?”

  “I just tripped and fell getting out of the car,” Carole said. “It’s really—”

  “We know—it’s nothing,” Stevie interrupted her. “Which means you’re planning to ignore it, whatever it is.”

  “Stevie’s right—you should probably be at home resting,” Lisa chimed in.

  “You guys sound like my father!” Carole said. “I’m here to ride. Is anyone coming?”

  Lisa and Stevie looked at each other. “Yes,” they said in unison, and laughed.

  “Great,” Carole said, “because I’ve got something to tell you that will require lots of discussion.”

  “What’s it about?” Stevie asked.

  “My birthday party—I have the greatest idea for it.”

  “What?” Stevie prompted.

  “Stevie!” Lisa exclaimed. “Let’s get going! We’ll talk about it after Topside and Barq are ready.”

  “Fine, but I might die of anticipation while tacking up.”

  “Meet me at Starlight’s stall in five minutes,” Carole told them. The girls agreed and went to get ready.

  After saddling Topside and Barq, Lisa and Stevie grabbed Starlight’s bridle and saddle from the tack room and rushed over to join Carole at Starlight’s stall. Starlight was standing quietly as Carole gave his coat a final swipe with a rag. His reddish-brown coat and black mane and tail gleamed in the morning sunlight.

  Mocking a tragic actress, Stevie put her hand on her forehead and wailed, “Put an end to my agony, Carole—what’s the idea?”

  Carole grinned at her friend’s theatrics. “A hayride. I’m going to have a hayride birthday party,” she announced.

  Judging by Lisa’s broad smile and Stevie’s whoop of joy, Carole could tell that the rest of The Saddle Club was just as excited as she was.

  “LET’S SEE, BESIDES The Saddle Club—including honorary members Phil and A.J., of course—we’ll invite everyone our age who rides at Pine Hollow and then maybe a chosen few from your school—oh, and Cam, I mean, he goes without saying—you did say it was going to be coed, didn’t you?” Stevie asked.

  Carole and Lisa dissolved into giggles. It was just like Stevie to plunge in and start inviting people to another person’s party. With anyone else Carole might have minded. But Stevie was so enthusiastic—and besides, all the people she was naming were people that Carole herself had been planning to invite.

  Carole managed to stop laughing and answer Stevie’s question. “I didn’t say, but, yes, it is going to b
e a boy-girl party. We’re going to have dancing, too. So I hope there’ll be even numbers of each. I want to kind of pair everyone off.”

  “That might be hard,” Lisa said as the three girls began tacking up Starlight. “So many more girls ride at Pine Hollow than guys.”

  “And the guys that do—” Carole began.

  “Exactly,” Stevie said. Lisa nodded. Without her saying it, both Lisa and Stevie knew what Carole meant: It was an agreed fact among the three of them that Max’s horses were a lot better looking than most of his male students.

  “Well, if I get desperate, I can always ask your brothers, Stevie,” Carole teased.

  Stevie groaned. Having her three brothers at a party where Phil and she would be together was one of her worst nightmares. Phil Marsten was Stevie’s boyfriend. He rode, too, and belonged to Cross County Pony Club. The Saddle Club belonged to Horse Wise. Stevie often saw Phil at mounted and unmounted meetings. But going to a party with him—not to mention the hayride after—would be very special. There was no way she wanted her brothers there to tease, bother, and generally humiliate her beyond belief.

  “Just kidding,” Carole assured her. “I’d never ruin a romantic evening like that.”

  Starlight, who was now fully saddled and bridled, nuzzled Carole inquisitively.

  “You’re right, boy. What are we doing keeping you inside when you’re all ready to go?” Carole said. “Let’s mount up and get riding.” The girls decided to reconvene at the good-luck horseshoe. Touching the horseshoe before riding was a Pine Hollow tradition. No rider who had touched it had ever been seriously injured.

  Stevie and Lisa went to get Topside and Barq from their stalls. On their way back out they passed by Starlight’s stall again. It was now empty, but in the one next to it, an impatient mare was pawing the floor and pacing back and forth.

  “Hey, Garnet, easy does it, girl,” Stevie said to the Arabian mare. A dark chestnut face peered hopefully over the door.

  “How can she leave her in that stall all day?” Lisa asked. She knew that Garnet’s restless movement was a sign of boredom, often exhibited by horses who spent too much time cooped up indoors.