Secret of the Stallion

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Fire!” Stevie repeated, deciphering the sound.

  “Oh, no!” said Carole. “I’m going to the stable. You get help!” she said. Stevie spun around to go back to a telephone. Carole hurried to the stable.

  The two of them ran as fast as they could, blessing the fact that they were sensibly dressed as Roundheads. Hoopskirts were no good in an emergency.

  Carole assessed the situation quickly. Something was on fire in the tent. The tent itself must be made of fire-retardant material, but the straw and wood inside would burn furiously, endangering every horse inside. And, she knew, in a hot enough fire, anything would burn. There was no time to spare—soon the canvas would catch fire and collapse, trapping every living thing under a deadly blanket.

  “Lisa! Enrico!” Carole shrieked.

  “In here!” Lisa called back.

  Carole found her friends frantically running from stall to stall, opening each one and trying to herd the horses out into the paddocks beyond. The noise, confusion, heat, and flames had awakened old ’Ank, and he was directing them.

  “As long as the horses just leave, they’ll be fine,” Carole told Lisa. “Our job is to keep them from panicking.”

  That was easy to say and hard to do. Horses were prone to panic in unfamiliar situations, and they seemed to have a primal fear of fire. They knew it was dangerous and they wanted to run, no matter what obstacles—like other horses—might be in their way.

  When Carole reached the tent, the fire was still relatively contained. But it was burning intensely and was about to spread. When it did, it would go from dangerous to deadly. There were only seconds.

  ’Ank pointed, telling Carole where to begin. She set to work.

  She began opening stall doors and shooing horses out as quickly as she could, working toward the center of the fire so that she could help Lisa and Enrico where they most needed her, while moving the horses away from it.

  Closer to the flames than Carole, Lisa pulled another stall door open. The bay gelding inside was terrified and didn’t want to budge. Lisa’s job was to make him want to move. She stepped in quickly, but not running. She didn’t want to scare him more than he was scared already. She took him firmly by the halter and tugged gently, as if she were telling him it was time to go saddle up and compete. He reacted just as naturally, following her lead the same way he’d followed humans’ leads from the first time a halter was ever put on him. As soon as he was out of the stall, Lisa gave him a gentle, encouraging slap on his flank. He knew what to do. He ran for safety.

  “Next,” she said out loud, trying to encourage herself. Nearby Enrico was working silently, diligently, and efficiently. Open door, reach in for horse, lead horse out, move horse along. Next. With each horse, they came closer to the intensifying fire.

  Lisa freed two more horses and then realized she was at the hottest part of the fire—near Sterling’s stall.

  The hay next to Sterling’s stall was crackling in flames, and the blaze was spreading quickly. Right then, the fire was moving in the other direction, but Lisa knew that the slightest breeze would bring it right to Sterling’s stall.

  When Lisa saw the stallion, he was cowering in the back of his stall, as frightened as the bay she’d just freed. But he snorted and sniffed, and, smelling the sharp acrid bite of smoke, he was terrified into action. He whinnied loudly in protest.

  “It’s okay, Sterling. You’re going to be okay, boy,” Lisa said, pulling his stall door open.

  She wished she believed her own words. Stallions were notoriously unpredictable and dangerous. A frightened stallion was treacherous. Lisa wouldn’t be helping anybody if Sterling hurt her.

  The smart thing to do would be to free another horse. There were many that only needed their stall doors opened and a little encouragement. She couldn’t afford to waste time trying to save an unsavable horse.

  Then Sterling rose on his hind feet, flailed his front feet in the air, and seemed to scream with terror. One look at the terrified stallion and Lisa knew she couldn’t abandon him. She had to save him. She also knew she couldn’t just walk into the stall. He could bludgeon her in an instant with one flailing foot. But, like the other horses, he was just waiting to be told what to do. The question was how to tell him so that he would understand.

  “Lisa, you have to leave him!” Enrico said. “You can’t save him if he won’t save himself.”

  “I have to try,” she said. “I just have to!”

  A small flame sputtered to life in the straw near the open door of Sterling’s stall. Lisa snuffed it out with her boot.

  “Lisa!” Enrico said, now frightened for her safety.

  She ignored Enrico’s entreaty and turned around, trying to think what she could do. Then she saw a rope hanging on a hook and she knew the answer, but she couldn’t do it on foot. She needed a horse.

  Sterling’s stall was at a place where two aisles came together. The Dickens horses were just two aisles over.

  “Keep the flames out of here,” she told Enrico. “I’ll be back with help.”

  Enrico took off his jacket and used it to flail at the next outburst of fire.

  Lisa ran to the Dickens stalls, grabbing the big circle of rope on her way. She threw open the doors of three of the stalls, freeing Miss Havisham, Copperfield, and Nickleby. She needed Pip for herself. The horse seemed to be waiting for her, ready to do as he was told. Lisa knew what she was going to tell him.

  She opened his stall, hurried in, and pulled herself up onto his back. Then, without a bridle or a saddle, she rode Pip back to Sterling’s stall. At first, Pip resisted, but he was well behaved and well trained. He was also a horse with an enormous amount of heart. Lisa knew that about him. If he could help, he would.

  With only her legs on his belly and gentle signals on his neck, using his mane as a rein, Lisa got Pip to return to Sterling’s stall.

  Enrico was there, beating out the tongues of flame as they licked upward from the stall floor.

  “Lisa, what are you doing?” he cried out to her when he saw her on Pip.

  “I’m just a wild American cowboy,” she told him. And with one swift motion of her right arm, she let out the lasso and began swinging the noose—just the way she’d learned to do it at Kate Devine’s dude ranch. Enrico couldn’t put out the flames anymore. Lisa knew that time had run out. She had one chance and one chance only to snare Sterling and run him to safety.

  Enrico backed away from the stall. The lasso circled above Lisa’s head, making a wide, easy arc.

  “Now!” she said, and at that instant she freed the noose, sent it flying toward the startled stallion, and watched it settle over his head onto his neck.

  “Yahoo!” she cried, tugging at her end of the rope to tighten the noose before Sterling found a way to shake it off. As soon as he felt the rope collar, he settled down. It was just the same way the bay had relaxed when Lisa had tugged at his halter. The desire to please, to follow a human’s instructions, was the foundation of a horse’s training. Now it was saving Sterling’s life.

  Lisa tugged at the rope; Sterling followed. She and Pip led him out of the stable as fast as they could go. Enrico followed, running.

  The fire was hot behind them, now burning completely out of control and spreading almost as fast as they could run.

  In seconds, Lisa, Enrico, Sterling, and Pip were in the glorious freedom of the cool night air, safe from harm. Lisa unhitched the lasso from Sterling’s neck and let him run free in the paddock. She slid down off Pip’s smooth back and turned him out with his friends. Enrico took Lisa’s hand and led her to the paddock fence. They climbed up, perching on the top rail to watch the flurry of activity around them.

  Lisa was surprised to see all that was happening. She and Enrico had been so engrossed in freeing the horses that they’d been unaware of the arrival of the fire brigade and a hundred well-dressed volunteers from the costume ball.

  Carole and Stevie found Lisa and Enrico and joined them on the fence. Togeth
er they watched. It was too late to save the stables. In a minute, the tent collapsed. But because Lisa and Enrico had been there and others had come quickly, not one horse was hurt. The fire brigade was able to contain the fire so that it never even reached the tack tents beyond the stable.

  When the last flame was doused, Stevie said a most Stevie-like thing.

  “I’m starved.”

  Lisa looked at her watch. It was five minutes to midnight. Almost time for the sumptuous buffet. She had just enough energy to race her friends back to the ballroom. The fact that Enrico held her hand all the way helped a lot.

  THE BALLROOM WAS abuzz with talk about the fire, the fire brigade, and the miraculous facts that every horse was safe and the tack tent was untouched, thanks to the swift report of the fire.

  As The Saddle Club, plus Tessa and Enrico, made their way to the buffet table, they heard snippets of the conversations.

  “Can you believe it?”

  “Some kids, I think …”

  “That’s what the fire marshal said …”

  “An American girl it was …”

  “… three Americans.”

  “And an Italian boy,” Lisa said, wanting to be sure that Enrico got credit.

  She would have stopped to explain more thoroughly, but the delightful scents wafting toward her from the buffet table were too inviting. It was filled to capacity with the most delicious assortment of foods. There were trays of meats, vegetables, breads, and salads. It was hard to decide where to begin.

  Stevie picked up a plate. She wondered if she could get everything onto one plate or if she should take two to begin with.

  “Excuse me, miss,” one of the caterers said politely. Stevie looked up at him. “There’s a special buffet for the young riders.”

  He pointed. There, to the left, was a huge table filled with food specially prepared for the Pony Clubbers. Stevie blinked, wondering if she was seeing correctly.

  “Pizza!” Lisa said, daring to utter the word first. Resignedly, the group headed for their own table and took a selection of the food.

  A few minutes later, they were sitting in a circle, joined by the other young riders. Everybody at the dance had helped in one way or another to save the horses and put out the fire, but The Saddle Club and Enrico had been at the heart of it. The other kids wanted to know what had happened.

  Carole told about Stevie’s running for help. Stevie told about Carole’s miraculously hearing Lisa’s cries. Lisa told about Enrico’s stamping out the fire. Enrico told about Lisa’s saving Sterling.

  “You what?” Stevie asked.

  “I lassoed him, just like John Brightstar taught me.”

  “And you got him on the first try?” Carole asked.

  “Yes, I did,” Lisa said. “I’ve never done that before and I’ve been thinking about why it was I did it this time.”

  “And?” Stevie prompted.

  “I think it was because I had to. There was no time left. If I hadn’t roped him on my first try, he would have died in the fire. I knew it. So I did it.”

  “There you are, Lisa!” Nigel Hawthorne came over to the young riders. “I’ve been looking all over for you because I’ve just heard what you did for me.”

  “For Sterling, too,” Carole said.

  “For Sterling, definitely,” Nigel said. “I can’t believe how you managed to save the poor creature.”

  “I couldn’t leave him,” said Lisa. “You would have done exactly the same thing. Anybody would.”

  “Except maybe Lord Yaxley,” said Nigel. “He’s probably annoyed to know that Sterling was saved from near certain death. Just this morning, he was telling me that the horse was worth more to him dead than alive.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say,” Lisa blurted out, setting her pizza down. “Why, that horse is so strong and so brave. All it took was just one little tug at his—what did Yaxley say to you?”

  Nigel was a little surprised by the U-turn Lisa had made in her ranting, but he obliged her by repeating Yaxley’s remark. “He told me the horse was worth more dead than alive. But surely you don’t—”

  Some things were becoming clear to Lisa, and at just that instant she saw something that made everything clear as crystal. A couple she’d never seen before walked past where the kids were sitting. The woman was helping the man because he was limping, favoring a leg that had probably got hurt while trying to rescue a horse.

  “Oh, no,” said Lisa.

  “What is it?” Nigel asked, concerned by the look on Lisa’s face.

  “You said Yaxley left at noon, didn’t you?”

  “That’s right. He told me he couldn’t bear to watch any more of the cross-country competition and he was taking the noon plane back to London.”

  “But he didn’t go back to London then,” said Lisa.

  “Of course he did,” Nigel said.

  “No. Seeing that man limp by just now made me remember that I saw Yaxley in a pub downtown this evening. He was having a beer with a man we’ve seen before. A man with a limp.”

  “Who?” Nigel asked.

  “Him again?” said Stevie.

  “Who?” Nigel repeated.

  “The man with the limp,” Carole explained. “We saw him hanging around the stables a couple of times. He was just sort of lurking. I didn’t know he was a friend of Lord Yaxley’s, though.”

  “Don’t you see? ‘Friend’ isn’t the right word,” said Lisa. “What if he’s not a friend and not a horse show fan? What if Yaxley hired him to start that fire? Both Enrico and I noticed that the fire definitely began right next to Sterling’s stall. What if it wasn’t just a coincidence? What if the fire was started—”

  Stevie got the picture and finished drawing it. “—by a suspicious-looking man who’s been lurking around the stables and hanging out and drinking beer with Yaxley. What if Yaxley just said he was going to London to establish an alibi because he’d already told Nigel the horse was worth more dead than alive?”

  “Wow,” said Carole. “How could anyone be willing to kill a horse?”

  “He wasn’t just willing to kill one horse,” Enrico reminded the girls. “He only wanted to kill one, but he was willing to kill a stableful!”

  “What do you think, Nigel?” Lisa asked.

  “I think I’d better talk to the police,” he said.

  July 21

  Cummington Castle

  Dear Diary,

  If there was any doubt in my mind about the duke’s treasure, it was totally dispelled tonight. Tonight I found gold. It sits on the desk in front of me as I write, glittering temptingly.

  I tried to call home to let them know what I’d found and to tell Daddy to be sure to arrange for the serious digging equipment—just because a few jewels have worked their way to the top doesn’t mean the whole treasure is just inches below the surface. This will take some work. It will also take some experts, but Daddy can find those in Virginia.

  The problem was that I could barely hear my parents and they could barely hear me. There was an incredible racket of sirens and horns going on outside. I yelled out the window for everybody to be quiet. Fat lot of good it did me. I may call again later tonight, but, now that I think about it, the telephone lines may not be secure. What if somebody overheard me? No, I guess I’ll wait to talk to Daddy in person.

  According to the Chumsuns, the duke was supposed to have a huge treasure chest filled to the top with jewels, dripping with pearls and diamonds—the biggest collection of wealth in England, next to the king. And soon it will be mine.

  Oh, I know, you don’t have to tell me. Any treasure we find will certainly be claimed by the British government, and they should get some of it. But there will be a reward. There definitely should be. I can see myself now, tea with the queen.

  “Oh, it was nothing, Your Majesty,” I’ll say politely. But we’ll both know better, won’t we?

  I will sleep well tonight and then I can spend tomorrow packing. I don’t want to take a cha
nce of missing the plane. I’ve just got to get home …

  Veronica

  “WHAT’S THAT BRIGHT light?” Stevie demanded, shading her eyes with her sheet.

  “I’m afraid it’s Mother Nature telling us that it’s morning,” Lisa said. She sat up in bed. “It can’t be, though. It feels as though I just went to sleep twenty minutes ago.”

  “Shhhh,” Stevie said. “If you keep on talking, you might wake me up.”

  “Stadium jumping!” Carole announced, sitting bolt upright.

  “Wha?” Tessa asked sleepily.

  “It’s the last day of the competition. That means stadium jumping. Come on, we don’t want to miss a minute of it.” She glanced at her watch. “Hurry,” she urged her friends.

  “Hurry” was not in their vocabulary that morning. They had all been up until well past midnight. In fact, The Saddle Club had been at the police lineup for the man with the limp at two in the morning!

  Lisa swung her feet out over the edge of her bed and prepared to stand up. “I still can’t believe how quickly things happened last night,” she said.

  “Well, they did after you put everything together and told Nigel what had happened,” Tessa said. “You’ll go down in the annals of time as one of the world’s great detectives.”

  “In this case, I think it would have been better if she’d figured it out before the plot got so thick,” said Carole. “It was great to save all the horses. I just wish they hadn’t been endangered in the first place.”

  Stevie sat up. “I’m awake,” she announced. “But I’m not sure I’m happy about it.”

  “Welcome to the group,” said Carole. She tossed Stevie’s grooming clothes at her. “There’s work to do.”

  They talked as they dressed. It gave them a chance to go over the night’s events one more time.

  “The police never would have found that guy if he hadn’t been at the train station at one o’clock in the morning, waiting for the express train to London,” said Lisa, tugging on her T-shirt.