The deal was struck. All three girls returned their horses to their stalls, and Carole brought the longeing tack from the storage room.
The term longeing—usually pronounced like lunging—came from the French word for “long,” and longeing was done with long tack. The horse was fitted with a set of equipment that included a saddlelike pad, a bridle, and a very long rein, designed to be used from one side of the horse by someone in the center of a ring. It made it look as if the horse were on a leash, but the bridle had a bit and the horse could be controlled with that and with the aid of a long whip. Longeing could be used for many things. For example, it allowed a rider to watch her own horse in particular gaits. And in the case of a horse that couldn’t be under saddle for whatever reason, it was a very good way of seeing to it that the horse got enough exercise.
Carole took the longe line and the whip. She and Lisa stood in the middle of the ring and began exercising Honey-Pie, who responded immediately to Carole’s long-distance aids.
“She loves it, doesn’t she?” Lisa asked, watching the horse closely.
“I think so,” Carole said. Honey-Pie wasn’t going fast—just moving at an extended walk—but already it was clear that she was happy to be exercising. Her ears were perked straight up, flicking this way and that—she was alert to everything around her. She held her head high, and her stride was elegantly smooth.
Stevie was perched on the top of the rail fence, flipping through the Cross County Tack Shop catalog while keeping an eye on the doings in the ring. It was good to see Honey-Pie respond so well to the longeing.
“I bet she’s done this a lot,” said Stevie. “Or else she’s just taking to it naturally.”
“I don’t know,” Carole said. “This is a horse that was ridden a lot and loved it. I mean, she loves people. Her previous owner—I guess that must have been Aunt Emma—was really lucky. I wish we could ride her, too.”
“Let’s see how she trots,” Lisa suggested.
Carole gave the mare a signal and Honey-Pie shifted smoothly into the faster gait.
Stevie become aware that they had company only when she felt the fence move a bit—someone was climbing it. She turned to see who was joining her. It was Paul Fredericks.
“Hi, Sammy,” he said.
“Stevie,” she corrected him.
“I’m sorry. Right church, wrong pew, huh?”
“Sort of. It’s short for Stephanie,” she told him.
“Oh, of course. That makes sense.” He pulled himself up over the top rail and settled awkwardly next to Stevie. “What are they doing?” he asked, looking into the ring.
Stevie explained what longeing was and why they were doing it. Paul watched for a while.
Stevie was uncomfortably aware of his presence. It wasn’t that he was doing anything wrong or bad. He just didn’t belong there. Once again, he was dressed in very expensive clothes. Lisa would have been able to tell her the brand names and Veronica would have been able to pinpoint the price, but Stevie didn’t need any help to know that wool slacks, cashmere sweaters, and tassel loafers had no business sitting on a rail fence in a stable yard.
“Would you like me to get you a chair or something?” Stevie offered. “I mean, those clothes …”
“Nah, I’m fine,” Paul said. “I don’t care if something happens to these old things. I just want to be sure Honey-Pie’s okay.”
“Honey-Pie’s fine,” Stevie assured him.
“Well, you know, I only want the best for her,” Paul said.
“We know. And that’s what she’s getting.”
Wanting the best for a horse made Stevie think of the catalog in her hand. Although she and her friends had been working hard to raise money for CARL by getting people to order from Cross County Tack, the pennies were mounting up a lot faster than the dollars, and they had a long way to go. It occurred to Stevie that someone who thought of expensive clothes as “these old things” might be in the market for some goods for his horse.
“You know,” Stevie began, “I’ve been looking over Honey-Pie’s equipment, and although she’s got most of what she needs, she could use a few items. Perhaps you’d like to consider, say, um, a new blanket. Look, there’s one in this catalog.”
She showed Paul a lovely dark green blanket that would look good on Honey-Pie, explaining that anything he ordered would help CARL buy a horse van.
“She’s got a blanket, doesn’t she?” he asked.
“Yes, but it’s old and it’s light. She’d do well to have something warmer for the winter, especially when she’s not being ridden. If she got too cold, it could cause all kinds of problems.”
Stevie would have loved to persuade Paul to buy an expensive blanket, but she wasn’t lying. Honey-Pie’s blanket was a summer-weight one, and she would need something warmer, though Max would surely supply one if she didn’t have her own.
“She can make do,” Paul said, shrugging off Stevie’s suggestion. “But since it’s all for a good cause, could I make a donation?”
“Oh, of course!” Stevie said, delighted. She hadn’t even thought of that possibility.
Paul shifted his weight to reach the wallet in his back pocket. Like everything he wore and everything about him, it was clearly expensive—alligator skin, shiny, and new. Veronica would have known for sure, but the wallet alone must have been worth a significant percent of their fund-raising goal.
“Our goal is to raise five hundred dollars,” Stevie said, wondering how much he might consider contributing.
“Well, I certainly want to be a part of something that’s going to mean so much to the horses in this county,” he said, reaching into his wallet.
Stevie could feel her heart quicken. She kept her eyes off Paul’s fingers as they shuffled among the sheaf of bills in the wallet. It would be rude to stare. She just smiled and waited, accepting the two bills he pressed into her hands.
“Thanks so much,” she said sincerely. “You can’t imagine what this is going to mean.”
“I’m glad to help, in my own small way,” Paul said.
Stevie put the bills into her pocket. She wasn’t worried for a second that she would leave them there. She was proud of herself for telling Paul about the fund-raising drive and felt real joy that he’d made a contribution to their cause. Maybe he didn’t know much about looking after Honey-Pie, but he cared, and that mattered. And he’d contributed, and that mattered more.
“Look at this, uh, Paul,” Carole called out to him. She was as uncomfortable as her friends calling the man by his first name. “Do you see how happy Honey-Pie is?”
“Oh, sure, I can tell right away,” he said, though Stevie didn’t think he really knew when a horse was content. “Why don’t you try to get her to trot?” he asked.
“She is trotting,” Carole said.
“Doesn’t look very fast to me,” said Paul. “I thought trotting was faster than that.”
“Well, trotting isn’t the speed, it’s the gait,” Carole said.
“Trotting is definitely faster than that,” said Paul.
“Not really,” Stevie said. It was easier for her to explain because she was sitting next to him. “See, trotting is a two-beat gait. The legs on opposite corners of the horse go together in a trot. Left fore, right rear are together; right fore, left rear are together.”
“Shouldn’t she be going faster?” he insisted to Carole in spite of Stevie’s explanation.
“I guess she’s warm enough,” Carole said. She signaled Honey-Pie for a canter. Honey-Pie responded immediately.
“Now she’s galloping, right?” Paul asked Carole.
“No, this is a canter,” Carole called back.
“A canter is a three-beat gait,” Stevie said, ready to explain if necessary. It wasn’t necessary, or at least there wasn’t any point in it because Paul wasn’t listening. He seemed interested simply in getting the horse to go as fast as possible.
“Make her gallop, then,” he ordered.
“I
can’t, really,” Carole said.
“Just hit her with the whip!” he commanded.
“No, that’s not the reason Carole won’t gallop her,” Stevie said, but it was clear Paul still wasn’t listening. He apparently didn’t want to hear about the dangers of overworking a sedentary horse on a longe line.
“You said she was obedient. She’ll gallop for you if you whip her,” Paul repeated, calling out to Carole.
Carole couldn’t understand why Stevie wasn’t explaining the situation better. True, Carole was known for giving explanations that were too long and complicated, but Stevie ought to be able to make it clear that Honey-Pie’s first workout shouldn’t strain her muscles. She brought the horse back down to an easy walk, handed the longe line to Lisa, and went over to talk to Paul herself.
“Gee, Mr. Fredericks—” she began.
“Call me Paul,” he said automatically.
“Well, it’s not a good idea to take a horse—an older horse at that—who’s been in a small enclosure like Honey-Pie’s paddock and make her go too fast all at once. There’s no benefit to it at all, and there could be some harm. Now, if she were out in a field and decided on her own to gallop somewhere, well, that would be another thing altogether. See, a horse’s muscles are very much like a human’s, but the leg muscles can be quite fragile. As you can see, the horse’s hind legs are substantial, but the forelegs are relatively slender, yet they support more than half of the horse’s weight.”
Stevie knew what was coming. It was Carole’s forty-five-minute talk on horse anatomy. Stevie wanted to do something to stop her friend, but it turned out to be unnecessary because they were interrupted by Veronica.
“What are you doing taking up the entire ring with that old nag?” Veronica asked Lisa in her usual demanding tone.
“We’re longeing her,” Lisa answered, as if it were necessary to tell Veronica what was going on.
“Well, I want a chance to work with Danny on some exercises my private jump instructor recommended. Red will have him tacked up in ten minutes, and I hope you’ll be done with Honey-Pie”—she said the name as if she were holding it at arm’s length—“by then. See that you are, all right?”
“Perhaps you’d like to clear that with Mr. Fredericks?” Lisa said, nodding toward Paul, Carole, and Stevie.
Veronica had a sudden personality change. Since Stevie, Lisa, and Carole couldn’t stand any of her personalities, it didn’t make the slightest difference to them. Paul, on the other hand, seemed quite charmed.
“Oh! Why, hello! It’s so nice to see you,” said Veronica.
“Who else was she expecting to have arrived in a Jaguar?” Stevie whispered to Carole. Veronica had not acknowledged the existence of the other two girls.
“Why, that sweet old horse of yours must be exhausted by now,” Veronica said. “Why don’t you tell the hands to put her away? I’m planning to ride my Thoroughbred out here in a few minutes. Perhaps you’d like a chance to see a real horse in action?”
Paul climbed down from the fence. “No thanks. I think I’ve seen enough horse action for one day.” He turned to Stevie and Carole. “Thanks, and keep up the good work with Honey-Pie, okay?”
“Okay,” Stevie said. Carole started to suggest talking about an exercise schedule for the mare, but Paul wasn’t paying attention. He just headed directly to his car. Carole had also wanted to let him know where to find Max so that the two men could talk about the mare’s care, but before the words were out of her mouth, Paul had the engine purring and was pulling out of Pine Hollow’s driveway.
“Strange,” Stevie said. Lisa brought Honey-Pie to a halt and drew in the longe line. The horse came over to her willingly, as she did everything.
“Okay, girl, time to get back to your stall.”
“Most important, it’s time for our trail ride,” Carole said.
“Last one tacked up is a rotten egg,” Stevie challenged.
AS FAR AS Stevie was concerned, there was nothing in the world nicer than seeing the woods, hills, rocks, trees, and streams of Willow Creek, Virginia, from the back of her horse. She loved trail rides. And even better, her two best friends did, too.
The three of them trotted briskly along the trail they knew well, Carole first, then Lisa, then Stevie at the rear. They didn’t have to talk about where they were riding. They were going to their favorite place: the creek. Carole was securing Starlight’s reins to a bush and Lisa was dismounting by the time Stevie joined them.
“That was great!” Stevie said, swinging her leg over Belle’s back and lowering herself to the ground.
“It always is,” Lisa agreed.
“Nothing cures what ails you like a ride in the woods,” said Carole, heading for the rock where they could dangle their feet in the water—if it wasn’t too cold.
One touch of the water told Carole that it was too cold, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a chat while they sat together in the sunshine.
“And a lot ails us,” Carole said, finishing her thought.
“Yeah, like how we can convince Max we’re worthy to look after Honey-Pie the way Paul said we should,” said Lisa.
“But even more, like what’s up with Call-me-Paul,” Carole said. “Imagine wanting to get a horse who’s been cooped up in a stall to gallop on a longe line. That’s weird.”
“He’s a little weird, if you ask me,” said Lisa.
“Oh, don’t be too hasty,” Stevie said, recalling his donation to CARL for the horse trailer. “He didn’t want to buy anything for Honey-Pie, but he gave me money.”
“Great!” said Carole.
“How much?” asked Lisa, ever the practical member of the group.
“Actually, I don’t know,” Stevie said. “It seemed rude to look while he went through his wallet, so I just took the bills and said thank you.”
“And where did you put them?” Lisa asked.
“In my pocket,” said Stevie.
“So?”
Stevie shifted her weight and reached into her pocket. She could feel the money there. She thought about the Jaguar, the Armani slacks, the Gucci shoes, the alligator wallet. Paul Fredericks was a rich man. He was generous, too. He’d offered to take her and her friends out on his yacht. Generous people made generous donations. Once again, Stevie was pleased that she’d thought to ask him to help with the CARL project.
The money had slipped down into the bottom of her pocket. She had to stand up to fish it out. She felt the paper, encircled it with her fingers, and pulled it out, holding it out to her friends.
There in her hands lay two slightly wrinkled one-dollar bills.
“Two bucks? That’s it?” Stevie said incredulously.
“There must be more,” Lisa said logically.
“No, there isn’t,” Stevie said, but she checked the pocket again, and then she checked all her other pockets. No, there was no mistake. Generous, wealthy, kind, horse-loving Paul Fredericks had given her two dollars. Period.
“Definitely weird,” said Carole.
“There’s something awfully strange going on here,” Stevie said.
“Very strange,” Carole agreed. “But we have to keep ourselves focused. See, it’s easy to get distracted by Jaguars and pinstripe suits, but the only thing that really matters is that sweet horse. We just have to keep doing our job, take the best possible care of Honey-Pie, and wait for Max to figure out that we know what we’re doing.”
“Deal,” said Lisa, holding up her hand. Stevie and Carole hit it and the deal was sealed.
Soon it was time for the girls to get back to Pine Hollow. It had been a long day already with their Pony Club meeting, the class, longeing Honey-Pie, collecting two whole dollars for CARL, and their trail ride. They remounted and had a leisurely walk through the woods back to the stable.
One good part of the day wasn’t over yet. Since it was a Saturday, they’d planned to spend the night together, and Stevie’s parents had given them permission to have a sleepover at her house.<
br />
One thing they agreed on as they rode back to Pine Hollow was that they wanted to talk to Max before they left for the day and make a list of the things he thought they ought to be doing with Honey-Pie. As soon as they’d bedded their own horses for the night, Stevie got out her notebook and the three girls headed for Max’s office.
They stopped before they reached the door, however. There was a conversation going on, and it was a heated one. Normally Max closed his office door when he was angry, but it wasn’t Max who was angry. It was Benjamin Stookey.
“Fredericks tells me you’re letting those three little girls act as Honey-Pie’s exclusive caretakers. I want to remind you, Regnery, that you are being paid handsomely to give that horse first-class treatment, and if anything happens to her …”
Stevie, Lisa, and Carole flattened themselves against the wall. They didn’t want to miss a word, but they also didn’t want Max to know they were there.
“… Honey-Pie’s primary caretakers should not be three adolescents! There are fiduciary issues here that I cannot overlook, and as the court-appointed guardian …”
He went on. Words and phrases like co-beneficiary and residual beneficiary poured out of his mouth, leaving three heads shaking in the hallway. They would have loved to see Max’s response. Then they heard it.
“Mr. Stookey, I have told both you and Mr. Fredericks that every single horse in this stable gets excellent care and much of that excellent care comes from my fine young students. I oversee their work when necessary, but there isn’t a rider here who doesn’t know how to take care of a sweet horse like Honey-Pie. I assure you, she’s getting first-class care, and if your fiduciary issues and residual beneficiaries are not satisfied, perhaps you’d better find another stable—”
“You—You were highly recommended,” Mr. Stookey stammered.
“And for good reason!” Max boomed.
The girls didn’t have to see Max’s face to know what it looked like. Max was often annoyed, but he rarely lost his temper. On the occasions when he did, however, it was memorable. His face turned red and his glare was icy. The three friends were very glad indeed that they weren’t the recipients of his glare at that moment.
Million-Dollar Horse Page 5
