There was a pause as Lisa’s words hung in the air. Then Veronica diAngelo’s sharp voice demanded, “I guess we should all feel blessed by your presence, huh? Grateful that you could make it at all, right?”
Lisa bit her lip for an instant, her face distraught. All at once she burst into hysterical tears. Turning Prancer toward the barn, she urged her into a trot and fled the scene.
“Polly, why don’t you ride next?” Max suggested quietly. He nodded to Carole and Stevie that they could go after Lisa.
Lisa pulled up beside the stable doors and jumped off. She buried her face in Prancer’s neck, sobbing. Seeing her standing there, Red O’Malley put down the bale of hay he was carrying and went to find out what was wrong.
“I’ll put Prancer away for you. You just try to calm yourself,” he told Lisa, taking the mare’s reins.
Lisa was too upset to protest. All day—all week—she had been on the brink of bursting into tears. Veronica’s comment had been the last straw. She had been trying her hardest to please everyone, and instead it seemed as if all she got was criticism from every side. What could she do now? She was so confused, she couldn’t think straight anymore. She had to get away—from Pine Hollow, WCCT, everything. Choking back tears, Lisa ran blindly toward the woods behind the barn as fast as she could.
“ANY SIGN OF her?” Carole called hopefully. She was holding Starlight and Topside while Stevie took a look around for Lisa.
“Not a trace,” Stevie answered, emerging from the tack room. “And Red said he had volunteered to put Prancer away for her.”
“Then I guess we’d better get back to the lesson,” Carole said after a pause.
Stevie nodded glumly. Neither she nor Carole seemed to want to guess where Lisa had vanished to in such a hurry. Admitting that she had left Pine Hollow to go to rehearsal would be the same as admitting that she was going to choose acting. For good. And neither of them was ready to admit that.
“ONE MORE CANTER, one more trot, and then we’re through, boy,” Stevie murmured.
After Lisa’s departure she had remounted Topside and begun her dressage test. Topside was behaving beautifully, as usual. Stevie didn’t like to be cocky—or at least not too cocky—but she couldn’t help thinking that they were having the best ride of anyone in the class. The gelding’s black tail swung rhythmically in the sun as they trotted down the long side. He looked confident, and so did Stevie.
“One-two, one-two,” she hummed to herself. “Steady as a rock, that’s right, boy, one-two, one-two.” On the exact moment that they crossed the letter A, Topside cantered. His canter was so smooth that all Stevie had to do was sit up straight and think about her own position. She imagined that she was a grand prix rider at the Olympics. When they came down the center line, Stevie was actually a little sorry that her ride was over. She had to turn back into a D-3 Pony Clubber as soon as she saluted.
“As good as I would expect on a horse like Topside,” Max commented.
Stevie took his judgment as a compliment.
“Ride like that in a week, and you’re sure to get a low score,” Betsy said.
“That was great, Stevie,” Polly added.
Stevie thanked them both. She was about ready to launch into a long discourse on the merits of riding a great horse like Topside when Carole cut her short. “Speaking of getting a low score, everyone meet in the locker room after getting untacked to talk stable management. If we don’t get organized soon, we could be the best riders in the region and still finish last.”
“That may be the case, but I won’t be able to make it, unfortunately,” Veronica announced. “You can be assured that my tack and turnout and personal grooming will be as immaculate as always. Mother’s sending a man over to do Garnet on Friday, and I’ve just bought a new stock tie, ratcatcher, and coat.”
“Boy, that’s really the Pony Club spirit,” Carole grumbled.
“No new breeches?” Stevie asked sarcastically.
Veronica gave her a withering glance. “I’ve only worn my old ones once—I think they’ll do.”
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Carole asked.
“Oh, nowhere in particular,” Veronica replied airily. “But if certain people don’t have to stay for the riding part, why should I have to stay for the stable-management meeting?” With that she wheeled Garnet and headed for the barn.
“Unbelievable,” Carole muttered, staring after her angrily.
“No—just Veronicable,” Stevie replied.
CAROLE PUT STARLIGHT away quickly. There was no time today to linger over combing out his tail and painting on hoof polish: She had a rally team to organize. She decided to get a jump start on the meeting by walking around and catching people while they were untacking to ask them for their completed feeding schedules and equipment checklists.
It didn’t take long. First Betsy, then Polly, and finally, Stevie, told her that they hadn’t quite finished doing the charts. Resignedly Carole told them just to hurry and meet in the locker room as soon as possible. While she waited for the three girls, she took a pencil stub from her pocket and scribbled an equipment list. It didn’t look too bad. Everything was pretty straightforward and could probably be scrounged from Pine Hollow.
As soon as they had all gathered, Carole began to read from the list. She told them to copy everything down. “Okay. First, the obvious: bridle, saddle, saddle pad, hat, boots, coat, shirt—”
“Excuse me, but why isn’t the stable manager taking care of all this?” Polly asked.
“The stable manager isn’t taking care of all this because there is no stable manager yet. If you’ll remember, we’re supposed to be getting a younger member of Horse Wise to help out,” Carole replied a little impatiently. “Unfortunately, May Grover’s birthday falls on the same weekend as dressage rally, and every young equestrienne in the state of Virginia is invited to a slumber party Friday night. So we’re still looking. Any suggestions?”
“Um, well—no,” Polly replied.
“Fine. Then let’s go on. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Saddle, saddle pad, hat, boots—”
“Excuse me, but are we going to have gray-and-green Horse Wise saddle pads under our regular ones like last time?” Betsy asked.
Carole frowned. She wasn’t sure. Usually they wore matching pads in Horse Wise’s colors at competitions, but no one had mentioned it. “I’ll have to ask Mrs. Reg,” she said, writing a note to herself.
“Don’t forget to ask her about the Horse Wise banner, while you’re at it,” Betsy reminded her.
“Right,” Carole said. “Okay, coat, shirt—”
“Do we wear our black coats and stock ties since it’s a dressage rally?” Polly asked.
Carole bit her lip. She wasn’t positive about that one, either. Dressing herself for a show had never been Carole’s strong point.
“If we do, I’m in trouble because I don’t have a black coat,” Betsy said.
Carole smiled. She had an answer. “You can use the Pine Hollow spare,” she said. Over the years Mrs. Reg had kept a collection of all the garments riders had abandoned or forgotten so that they could be used in a pinch.
“But I was counting on using the spare—I used it for combined training rally last year,” Polly wailed.
Carole glared at her. “All right. I will ask Mrs. Reg,” she said through gritted teeth. “Now, may I continue? We will also need grooming kits assembled according to United States Pony Club standards—and that means all the brushes have to be spotless—as well as the team first-aid kit that we always take. Also—”
“Uh, Carole?” Stevie asked timidly.
“Yes?”
“I hate to say it, but someone’s going to have to buy and stock a whole new first-aid kit.”
“And why is that, Stevie?” Carole inquired.
“Because the old one got lost on the overnight trail ride.”
“I see,” Carole said calmly. She smiled calmly. She calmly held up the piece of paper with the list on it.
Then she calmly tore it into a hundred tiny pieces and calmly threw them up into the air.
“Uh, Carole?” Stevie asked.
“Yes, Stevie.”
“Should we take this as a sign that you’re through with organizing the stable management?”
“In a word, Stevie, yes, I QUIT!” Carole cried.
Stevie knew a crisis when she saw one. She was so used to getting herself into them that she could often help other people get out of them. The Horse Wise Pony Club was facing a dressage-rally crisis that had to be solved immediately.
“All right,” Stevie said, jumping to her feet. “Here’s my solution. Everyone takes care of her own stuff—equipment, horse, clothes—everything. The stable manager—when we find one—will be there on the day of the show to help out, but we have to get ourselves ready. And we can’t bother Mrs. Reg, either. She’s already volunteered to drive the van. Okay? Does everyone agree?”
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of who’s going to organize the team equipment,” Betsy pointed out.
“How about you?” Stevie asked. She had decided that it was too late in the game to beat around the bush.
“Me? If anyone should, it should be you. You’ve got the wonder horse. You don’t even have to practice,” Betsy said.
Stevie opened her mouth to object, but Polly cut her off. “What about Veronica? She doesn’t have to practice, groom her own horse, or anything. Make her do it.”
“If she does it, it obviously won’t get done,” Carole said.
“You know, this rally is turning into one huge hassle,” Betsy commented.
“Nobody said you had to go!” Stevie retorted.
“Fine! Maybe I won’t—if it would make you so happy!” Betsy cried.
The door to the locker room swung open. All four girls froze. Mrs. Reg’s kindly face peeked in. “Oh, good. I was sure you were here somewhere, preparing for next weekend. Keep up the good work, girls. Max and I expect great things from you. I’ll be off now. I don’t want to interrupt anymore.”
Carole, Stevie, Betsy, and Polly looked at one another self-consciously after the door closed again.
“Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?” Polly suggested.
“Sounds good,” Stevie said.
“Yeah, see you guys tomorrow,” Carole added. She started to gather up her stuff quickly. Suddenly they were all in a hurry to leave.
“TD’s?” Stevie whispered.
“Meet you outside in two minutes,” Carole whispered back.
Sitting in the traditional Saddle Club booth at TD’s still seemed wrong. After a moment’s hesitation Carole and Stevie once again chose a table for two.
“Still got only two thirds of the gang, huh?” the waitress asked. This time she sounded downright sympathetic.
They nodded glumly. “You going to waste my good ice cream again?” she asked Stevie.
“I think I can manage a dish of blueberry with marshmallow topping,” Stevie muttered.
“Make mine a chocolate cone, please,” Carole said despondently.
The waitress looked at the two of them and shook her head. “Hope the lost sheep comes back to the flock soon, girls,” she said.
“Thanks,” they said together.
This time they did manage to finish their ice cream—even faster than usual, since they hardly spent any time talking. “Maybe if we—” Carole began.
“Yeah?” Stevie asked.
“Nothing,” Carole said. They stared into space for a few minutes.
“How about—” Stevie paused. Carole raised her eyebrows. “Nah,” Stevie said.
Finally Carole suggested, “Let’s give Lisa a ring and see how she’s doing. I’ll bet she’s calmed down by now. Maybe she has time to meet us—just for five minutes.”
Stevie was doubtful, but they decided to try. They got change for the pay phone from the waitress and dialed Lisa’s home number. Mrs. Atwood answered. “Is Lisa there?” Stevie inquired.
“You mean she’s not with you?” Lisa’s mother asked.
“Us? No, she left Pine Hollow hours ago,” Stevie said.
“But I thought for sure she’d be with you because the director of the play has called three times looking for her,” Mrs. Atwood explained.
“You mean she’s not at rehearsal?” Carole demanded.
“No, she never showed up.” Mrs. Atwood was beginning to sound concerned. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone after she left Pine Hollow?”
Stevie told Carole that Lisa was missing, but they both knew the answer. If Lisa wasn’t at home or at the theater or at Pine Hollow, there was only one other place she could be.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Atwood. We know where to find her,” Stevie said.
ONCE THEY FIGURED out where Lisa was, Carole and Stevie were all business. They practically flew back to Pine Hollow, grabbed their hats, and put bridles on Starlight and Topside, It was an unwritten Saddle Club rule that for a quick trip through the woods, bareback was the way to go. “Race you to the creek!” Stevie called, and they were off.
Both horses were thrilled to be out of the dressage ring, cantering side by side through the back pasture and onto the trail. Stevie and Carole urged them on. They reached the creek in no time at all.
“Shh!” Carole put a finger to her lips and pointed. Lisa was sitting on the big rock, her legs tucked up under her and her face in her hands. They could hear her muttering to herself in between sobs. “Can’t ride, can’t act, failing all my classes,” she was saying.
At that last comment Stevie and Carole couldn’t help smiling. Lisa was incapable of getting a B. Even if she had handed in a blank page with her name at the top, her teachers probably would have given her an A out of habit.
Unaware of their presence, Lisa stared down at the running water. In her heart of hearts she had known, practically since the day she had first mapped out her schedule, that there was no way she was going to be able to ride in the rally and be Annie. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself then, but now she had to. Stevie and Carole would want her to quit the play so she could ride with them as usual, and why shouldn’t she? Hollie would be a great Annie. She even deserved the part more than Lisa. And Lisa could forget all about WCCT, mean Anna Henchman, long rehearsals. And, she thought sadly, she could forget being up under the lights, wearing her Annie costume, and having her parents and friends in the audience clapping wildly for her. Yes, she could forget acting altogether.
Stevie and Carole might have stood there watching her till night fell if Topside hadn’t taken the opportunity to nip Starlight, who squealed indignantly.
Lisa looked up. Her face was red, blotchy, and tear-stained. Stevie and Carole dismounted and walked toward her.
“Phew! I’m glad you’re here,” Stevie said brightly. “We thought a Broadway director might have whisked you off to New York for a starring role.”
“Fat chance. At the rate I’m going, the only starring role I’m up for is that of Queen Failure,” Lisa said bitterly. “Failure at Pony Club. Failure at Annie. Failure at school …”
Stevie jumped to attention. She was not going to let Lisa get away with putting herself down anymore. “First of all, by ‘failure at school,’ you probably mean you got, what, a couple of A-minuses?”
“Well, actually only one,” Lisa conceded sheepishly.
“Well, let me tell you—I would love to bring home that kind of failure to my mom and dad, because they would post that kind of failure on the refrigerator door,” Stevie said. “And secondly, if I had started riding when you did, I’d be lucky if I knew what Pony Club meant! And as for my famous career as star of stage and screen, let’s just say our home movies are embarrassing enough!”
The beginnings of a smile played on Lisa’s lips, but she kept her eyes downcast. Stevie thought fast. “Hey, look at me! Remember that time I tried to do a hundred things at once?”
Lisa nodded. No one in The Saddle Club would ever forget Stevie’s attempt to org
anize the school fair, run the hospital fund-raiser, and head up the student-government election, at the same time that a group of Italian boys were visiting. Watching her juggle all her commitments had been better than a three-ring circus.
“But you managed to do everything successfully, whereas I can’t even do two things,” Lisa pointed out. “The past two weeks—”
“The past two weeks you’ve been way overcommitted,” Carole finished for her. “When Stevie did all those things, she didn’t have to worry about learning a whole new skill.”
“That’s right—I had all the skills I needed: getting into trouble and having fun,” Stevie joked.
At Lisa’s wan smile, Carole hurried on with her pep talk. “No one ever said acting was easy, you know. But you walked in out of the blue and got the lead.”
“Sometimes I wish I’d never auditioned,” Lisa said, her voice threatening to crack again. “This is such a familiar feeling—being a beginner. Everyone else seems to have been born riding or acting.”
Carole and Stevie nodded sympathetically. Lisa was such a good rider now that both of them had practically forgotten that she had come to Pine Hollow less experienced than they were.
“At least I’m over the hump in riding,” Lisa said. “I don’t have to ask what a martingale is or how to pick out a hoof anymore. I can’t even remember not knowing. But being in Annie is like that time my French class went to Montreal. Everyone looks at you funny because you can hardly speak the language. At first it’s fun. But pretty soon you want to go home to Willow Creek—or Pine Hollow.”
“You mean you’re not going to quit riding, after all?” Carole asked.
“Quit riding?” Lisa repeated incredulously. “What ever gave you that idea?”
“We, ah—” Carole began sheepishly. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain their worry to Lisa.
“We thought you might have so much fun acting that you’d decide you liked the stage better than horses and that you’d want to be in a lot more plays. And then you’d start hanging around with the theater crowd at school, and pretty soon you’d get a personal acting coach and join a mime troupe and run off to Hollywood to star in movies and forget our names when we asked you for autographs,” Stevie explained.
Stagecoach Page 7
