Stable Hearts

by Bonnie Bryant

  RL 5, 009–012

  STABLE HEARTS

  A Bantam Skylark Book/February 1997

  Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in 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 © 1997 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  Cover art copyright © 1997 by Paul Casale.

  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: 978-0-307-82563-6

  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

  TROUBLE IN LOVE

  As soon as they arrived on the Cross County grounds, Stevie ran from the car. Lisa and Carole followed more slowly, heading for the horse van Max had brought from Pine Hollow. They could see Phil detach himself from a group of Cross County riders and hurry toward Stevie with a big smile on his face.

  “Uh-oh,” Lisa said. “Is that an invitation in Phil’s hand?”

  Carole looked and nodded. “Trouble,” she said.

  A moment later they could hear Stevie’s shriek carried back to them on the wind: “What do you mean you don’t want to go to my dance?”

  I would like to express my special thanks

  to Kimberly Brubaker Bradley for her help

  in the writing of this book.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  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

  About the Author

  “PINK BREECHES! Now I’ve seen everything!” Stevie Lake said, dropping the currycomb she was holding. Stevie’s horse, Belle, was standing on cross-ties in the aisle of Pine Hollow Stables while Stevie groomed her. Belle swung her head around as if interested, and Stevie gave her a pat.

  “Where?” asked Lisa Atwood, one of Stevie’s two best friends. She looked up and down the aisle but didn’t see anyone wearing breeches, besides herself. Lisa’s were classic-cut beige ones, however.

  “Pink? You’re not serious!” Stevie’s other best friend, Carole Hanson, sounded appalled. Carole was a very good and very correct rider. She knew that only traditional neutral colors, like beige, light gray, and rust, were considered suitable for the horse show ring. “I’ve never even heard of pink breeches,” she declared.

  Stevie laughed. “Have you heard of Veronica diAngelo?” she asked. She pointed out the window of Belle’s nearby stall, and the three girls hurried into the stall for a closer look. Outside, in the stable’s drive, Veronica, another Pine Hollow rider, had just gotten out of her family’s chauffeur-driven Mercedes. She was wearing a white fluffy sweater and hot pink breeches. In the drab winter landscape, the breeches stuck out like a neon sign.

  “That’s pink,” Lisa agreed. “I think my mom grows peonies that color.”

  Carole shut her eyes as if in great pain. “They don’t make breeches that color,” she said. “They can’t. They wouldn’t.”

  “I hope they do,” Stevie said. “I’ll get some. I think they’re fantastic.”

  Carole groaned and Lisa giggled. Of the three of them, Stevie was by far the most flamboyant. She usually rode in tattered jeans and boots, because breeches were so tame.

  “It could be a Saddle Club uniform,” Lisa suggested teasingly. “We could get matching pairs, and I could embroider a Saddle Club logo on the hip pockets.”

  Long ago the three friends had formed a club, The Saddle Club, dedicated to horses and each other. The only rules were that members had to be horse-crazy and had to help each other out. There was no rule regarding uniforms.

  Now Stevie groaned. Lisa was neat and practical, as well as very smart, and because her mother was lesson-crazy, she’d learned to do all sorts of things. “Trust me, Lisa,” Stevie said. “You don’t need to embroider anything. Just as long as I don’t have to be nice to Veronica.” Not long ago they had all made New Year’s resolutions. Lisa’s was to learn embroidery, which she had—sort of. Stevie’s was to be nice to Veronica, which she hadn’t. Veronica was a horrid snob.

  Veronica walked into the barn and down the aisle. “Did I hear you mention me, Stevie?” she asked, sticking her head in the stall door. “My, my, a committee meeting. Is there a reason you three are all in here while your horses are standing in the aisle?”

  “Carole was just pointing out a section of Belle’s windowsill that needs to be repainted,”Stevie lied with great dignity. “And we couldn’t help but admire your breeches. Did you get them at The Saddlery?”

  Veronica laughed a tiny artificial laugh. “Oh, dear, of course not,” she said. “You can’t get these in stores. I had them custom made, and they cost a fortune! But they’re great for the valentine season. Like the color? It’s called cyclamen.”

  “Lovely,” Lisa said. “Your legs look just like my mother’s flowers.”

  Veronica looked as though she wasn’t sure if this was a compliment. “Well, I’m off to fetch Danny,” she said. Danny was her gorgeous Thoroughbred. “If you see Simon, tell him I’ll be ready in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Simon?” Stevie sputtered. Simon Atherton had been a geeky rider who had moved away from Willow Creek, Virginia, during what Stevie’s mother would have referred to as his “awkward period of adolescence,” and come back transformed into a total hunk.

  “Of course,” Veronica said sweetly. “We’re going on a trail ride.” She stroked the fluffy arm of her sweater. “My clothes are a little hint to get him to invite me to the Valentine’s Day dance.”

  Veronica walked away toward Danny’s stall. The three members of The Saddle Club walked out to the aisle and watched her go. Lisa shook her head. “Now I’ve seen everything. She’s a walking valentine.”

  The girls walked back into the aisle and Carole slumped against Starlight, her horse. “Custom made,” she said disbelievingly, stroking the horse’s back. “Stevie, you can’t get those breeches in stores.”

  Stevie laughed. “Given Veronica’s motive for wearing them, I’m not sure I’d want a pair. I mean, really!”

  Lisa picked up a brush and began untangling Prancer’s mane. Prancer was the Pine Hollow mare she usually rode. Lisa didn’t have her own horse, but she loved Prancer. “I can’t decide if I like them or not. I know they aren’t traditional, Carole, but I think they’re kind of fun. But if wearing pink breeches could attract Simon’s attention—”

  “Don’t say it!” Stevie yelled. “Yuck! Lisa! How could you? I know he’s gorgeous, but who cares? If he likes Veronica, there
has to be something seriously wrong with his personality.”

  “I didn’t say I would wear them,” Lisa said. “I was going to say that if wearing pink breeches is what it takes to attract Simon’s attention, then maybe I wouldn’t want to wear them.”

  “Oh, come on. He’s not that bad, you guys. And he’s not the first unsuspecting boy Veronica’s sunk her hooks into,” Carole objected. “He seems nice. Cute, too. Too bad he ignores us, even though I can hardly blame him, after the way we ignored him for years.” She carefully brushed Starlight’s ears. “It’s hard to believe it’s almost Valentine’s Day already. I can’t wait until the dance.”

  Every year, Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow, put on a big Valentine’s Day dance in the hay barn. It was always a lot of fun for all the kids and adults who rode at Pine Hollow.

  “Eight days,” Stevie said with satisfaction. “Eight days until my night of perfect romance.” She batted her eyes dreamily and Carole and Lisa groaned. Stevie had a boyfriend named Phil Marsten. She wasn’t usually dreamy about him, but then, a Valentine’s Day dance was something special.

  “I think the dance will be fun, but I don’t think it will be romantic for me and Carole,” Lisa said. Neither of them had boyfriends. “I wish there were some decent boys in Horse Wise.” Horse Wise was Pine Hollow’s Pony Club. There were a lot of girls in it, a few very young boys, and some older boys who weren’t showing any signs of Simon’s miraculous transformation.

  “Maybe you’ll meet some cute guys from Cross County tomorrow,” Stevie suggested. “I could get Phil to introduce you.”

  Carole and Lisa groaned again. Cross County was the Pony Club Phil belonged to. The next day the two clubs were meeting to practice mounted games for an upcoming competition.

  “I’m not up for an instant boyfriend, thank you,” Carole said. “Lisa and I will enjoy the dance on our own.”

  “We could invite everyone from Cross County, though,” Lisa suggested. “Why not? I’ll ask Max if we can.” In addition to owning and running Pine Hollow, Max was the leader of Horse Wise.

  “Sure,” said Carole. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Well, you can invite the whole club if you want to, but I’ve got a special invitation for Phil. I’m giving it to him tomorrow.” Stevie turned slightly pink. “I made it.”

  “You made it?” Lisa asked. “You’ll be doing embroidery next.”

  “Lisa, stop!” Carole scolded. “Stevie, that’s nice. Phil will really like it.”

  “It’s just a heart cut out of red construction paper,” Stevie said. “But I really want this dance to be special.” She dropped her brush into her grooming bucket. “Let’s go ask Max now about inviting Cross County. He’ll be teaching a lesson by the time we get back from our ride.”

  Lisa and Carole agreed. As they walked toward the stable office, the office door swung open and they heard Max say, “So if you don’t mind, Mom, I’d really appreciate it if you’d handle the decorations for the dance.”

  “I’ll be happy to do it,” Max’s mother replied. Her name was Mrs. Regnery, but she was always called Mrs. Reg, and she managed the stable for Max.

  “Oh, good!” Carole said under her breath. Lisa and Stevie nodded. It was their private opinion that Mrs. Reg had not been herself lately. Late winter was always a gloomy time of year, but Mrs. Reg had seemed more distracted than anyone else at Pine Hollow. They hadn’t heard her laugh for a week.

  “What could be peppier than a bunch of bright decorations?” Stevie said. “Plus, Mrs. Reg will do a great job. Phil will be really impressed!”

  “I hope he’ll pay more attention to you than to the decorations,” Lisa said.

  “Atmosphere is really important,” Stevie said seriously.

  “Hi, girls!” Max said, walking out the door and catching sight of them.

  “Hi, Max!” they chorused. Just then, they heard Mrs. Reg laugh inside the office. Carole was relieved that Mrs. Reg was laughing—but surely the idea of decorating the hay barn hadn’t pepped her up so quickly. Carole looked toward the door in puzzlement.

  Max intercepted Carole’s glance. “My mother’s entertaining a new rider,” he said. “Come in and meet him.” He held the door open and the girls trooped inside.

  A slender old man rakishly dressed in a cowboy hat and bolo tie was leaning against the corner of Mrs. Reg’s desk. He had thin gray hair, a neat gray mustache, and bright blue eyes. When he saw the girls he straightened and politely tipped his hat to them. Max introduced the three members of The Saddle Club. “This is Mr. Stowe,” he said to the girls. “He’s our newest … rider.”

  Carole thought she heard a pause between newest and rider. Max looked faintly amused, too, and Carole thought she knew what these things meant. Old Mr. Stowe must not be much of a rider. He was certainly trying to look like one, though, with the cowboy hat and boots he was wearing. She felt sorry for him—he must not know that those things were meant for Western, not English, riding.

  Mr. Stowe leaned back on Mrs. Reg’s desk. “I was telling your boss here about the first dance I ever went on,” he told them. “I swung my partner so hard I tripped her, and we both fell down!”

  Mrs. Reg laughed. Max chuckled. Carole didn’t understand what was funny. She’d die if some boy tripped her in the middle of a dance.

  “I don’t think we’ll be doing any square dancing at our Valentine’s Day dance,” Lisa said politely.

  “I hope not,” Stevie said, less politely. “Phil and I—”

  “Oh, well, times have changed,” Mr. Stowe said. “Don’t you agree, Mrs. Regnery?”

  “Oh, please,” Mrs. Reg said, “call me Elizabeth.”

  “Call me Howard,” Mr. Stowe returned.

  Max gave a small cough and started to leave. “Wait, Max!” called Lisa. She hurriedly asked him about Cross County. Max thought inviting the other Pony Club was a splendid idea.

  “One other thing,” Carole said, remembering something she had noticed earlier. “Dime is up here in the stall next to Starlight, where Mr. Anderson’s horse used to be. Did somebody make a mistake, or has Dime’s stall been changed?” Dime was one of the Pine Hollow lesson ponies. All the horses had permanently assigned stalls.

  “Mr. Anderson built a stable on his property, so he took his horse home today,” Max explained. “I moved Dime into that stall because it has a window low enough for him to look out of. I thought he’d like that.”

  “I bet he will,” Carole said. “He’s such a sociable little pony. I’m glad I asked, though, because I almost moved him back to his old stall when I saw him. I thought one of the little kids had made a mistake.”

  “Nope,” Max said. “In fact, I’m moving Romeo into Dime’s old stall. It’s bigger than the one Dime has now, and Romeo’s tall enough to look out the higher window.” Romeo was Polly Giacomin’s horse.

  “Okay, Max. Thanks!” The girls said good-bye to Mrs. Reg and Mr. Stowe and returned to their horses.

  “Geez!” said Lisa, as she picked the mud out of Prancer’s hoof. “What was that Mr. Stowe about? Did you see the way he was bugging Mrs. Reg?”

  “I can’t believe she told him to call her Elizabeth,” Stevie said. “I’ve never heard anyone call her anything but Mrs. Reg, except for Max and Deborah, and they call her Mom.” Deborah was Max’s wife.

  “That Mr. Stowe can’t be much of a rider,” Carole said. She asked them if they, too, had noticed the odd tone in Max’s voice.

  “Yes, I did, but I don’t think we should make assumptions just because he’s so old,” Lisa said. “Remember Dr. Dinmore?” The Saddle Club had once treated one of the best endurance riders in the country like a rank beginner because she was old.

  “Don’t remind me,” Carole said. “I’m still embarrassed about that. But I’m not entirely saying he must be a beginner because he’s old. Something in Max’s voice wasn’t quite right.”

  “Probably Max thinks he’s a nuisance,” Stevie declared. “I mean, all of us know bet
ter than to stand around wasting Mrs. Reg’s time. That would just give her more reason to put us to work.”

  Lisa and Carole laughed. Work was a Pine Hollow tradition. All the riders helped keep the stable clean and the horses cared for, and Mrs. Reg was widely known for her dislike of seeing any rider idle. Whenever she came across anyone who wasn’t already working or riding, she put that person to work in short order.

  “I adore Mrs. Reg,” Carole said, “but I agree. I sure wouldn’t want to be showing her how much free time I had.”

  “Who has free time?” Stevie asked. “What we’ve got now is riding time.”

  Lisa gave Prancer a pat. “And not a minute too soon!”

  THE GIRLS PICKED up their grooming buckets and went to get their tack. On the way out of the tack room, they heard Mrs. Reg laugh again.

  “I can’t believe it!” Lisa muttered. “He’s still in there bugging her.”

  Carole looked out the main door. “Max is teaching an adult lesson in the outdoor arena. Shouldn’t Mr. Stowe be riding in it?” she whispered.

  “Whatever he should be doing, he shouldn’t be bothering Mrs. Reg,” Stevie whispered back. “How can she concentrate on the dance decorations? He’s probably telling her more stories about how clumsy he used to be.”

  Stevie clomped over to the office with her saddle over her arm and Belle’s bridle hanging from her shoulder. She knocked on the open door. “Mr. Stowe!” she said. “We were just wondering if you wanted to …” Stevie paused. She couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence. What she was really wondering was how they could get Mr. Stowe to quit bothering Mrs. Reg. Stevie realized she should have consulted her friends before she opened her mouth. “Uh—” Stevie stammered.

  “Yes?” Mrs. Reg asked. “What is it, Stevie?”

  “We were wondering if Mr. Stowe wanted to go on a trail ride with us,” Carole said smoothly. Lisa and Stevie looked at Carole wide-eyed. Carole narrowed her eyes at them. It wasn’t her fault! Stevie had started it, and Carole had just finished her sentence in the only way that seemed both polite and possible.