It didn’t get much better when we went for our ride. I guess Eli and Jeannie must have been talking about us to the campers, who have been here a couple of days already. They took one look at Stevie and me in our brand-new Western riding clothes and they started calling us dudes. Most of them are from out West and they don’t have a very high opinion of English riding. They’ve got a lot to learn on that subject, but we didn’t do much of a job teaching them today.
First of all, I was having trouble with my horse. He’s a good horse (I don’t think there’s any such thing as a bad horse, just bad riders), but we aren’t used to one another yet. I forgot for one little second that in Western riding you use neck reining. The horse didn’t do what I wanted and three of the kids kept laughing about it. Little monsters. Remind me to tell you more about Lois, Larry, and Linc. Stevie dubbed them the Lions. It’s just like her to come up with something like that. Anyway, these kids are really obnoxious, and I’m sure they’re going to be our biggest problem.
Check that. I’m not sure they’re going to be our biggest problem. I’m beginning to think that we are going to be our biggest problems. We don’t seem to have any idea of what’s going on. Every time the triangle rang, everybody else knew exactly what to do and Stevie, Kate, and I were left standing there, looking blankly at one another. The kids thought it was hysterical. Eli seemed a little perturbed, and Jeannie, who never quite recovered from having to dig us out of bed this morning, just looked peeved.
What’s weird is that the three of us arrived here thinking of ourselves as Eli and Jeannie’s saviors. We thought they had all these gigantic problems that we were going to solve, and now it looks like the three of us—Stevie and me particularly—are just causing more problems.
And I haven’t even told you what happened when we tried to help in the garden this afternoon. Trust me, you don’t want to know. I’ll only say that it had to do with a worm that one of the L-ions dug up and everybody else thought it was a riot. It wasn’t.
So, although Dad always tells me not to complain, here I am complaining. I can’t help it. If we don’t start being useful to Eli and Jeannie pretty soon, I’m sure they’re going to want to put us on a plane and send us back home. I wouldn’t blame them one bit, either.
But I’m not going to let that happen. Neither will Stevie or Kate. We came here to be helpful and we’re going to be helpful. Whatever it is that Eli and Jeannie need us to do, we’ll do. If we don’t know what we’re supposed to do, we’ll ask, and we’ll learn, really fast. At least I hope so.
Eli told us what our morning chores are for tomorrow. Stevie’s going to work in the vegetable patch (no worms!) and I’m supposed to collect eggs from the henhouse. Kate is going to help with the kitchen crew.
So, when do we get to ride again? Oops, that sounded like a complaint. I didn’t mean it. I may even cross it out. No I won’t. This is a diary and diaries are supposed to be honest. Grrr.
Good night.
Carole
Stevie’s High Meadow Diary
Too tired to write now—remember to write more tomorrow about chicken biting Carole and stupid difference between stupid onions and stupid weeds.
Carole’s High Meadow Diary
What a humiliating day! I can’t believe I actually fell off my horse during our trail ride. Yes, Lisa, you read that right—I fell off my horse. It was just a stupid mistake, because I wasn’t paying close enough attention, but Stevie and Kate and I seem to be making a lot of stupid mistakes today. For instance, this morning I made the mistake of thinking the hens in the henhouse wouldn’t mind one bit if I took all their eggs. Well, one of them sure taught me different, and I have the scratch to prove it. Kate’s big boo-boo of the day was herding all the horses into a field where they weren’t supposed to be, so she basically had to do the same job twice.
Who ever said we were here to help Jeannie and Eli? As far as I can tell, all we’re doing is causing extra problems. Stevie says we just have to try harder. My only question is: How?
Stevie’s High Meadow Diary
Today we had a stampede on our cattle drive, but it turned out okay in the end. Too tired to write more. Good night.
Carole’s High Meadow Diary
It’s been pretty peaceful here at camp for the past couple of days while the others are off on their cattle drive. They’re supposed to get back tomorrow, I think. Actually, I think they were supposed to be here today, but Eli called Jeannie this morning and told her they would need an extra day. I don’t know what that’s all about. I just hope Stevie and Kate are doing better than I did here for the first day or two after they left. See, what happened was I separated the wrong horse from the herd. The horse that was supposed to be in a field by himself ended up with the rest of the horses. His name is Arthur, and he’s a troublemaker—in the middle of the night, he ended up convincing all the others to follow him as he jumped the fence and took off for the hills. I ended up having to go out and round them up. Jeannie was happy that I was so successful at that—though I’m sure she would have been a lot happier if I hadn’t made the mistake that caused the problem in the first place.
Since then, though, things have been a lot better. I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of the routine around here. It’s a little lonely without Stevie and Kate, but like I said, they’ll be back soon. I can’t wait to hear all about the cattle drive!
Dear Diary,
From what they wrote in their diaries, it sounds like my friends had a terrible time at High Meadow! Well, they didn’t. Not really. They told me all about it after I got back from Europe last week. It sounds like there were some problems, especially early on—they had trouble getting used to all the chores on a working ranch, like weeding the garden and collecting eggs, and some of the younger campers made fun of them and called them dudes because they knew more about English riding than Western. But they got the hang of it all eventually, and in the end they were as sad to leave the ranch and the campers as the campers were to leave them.
As Stevie put it, it was wonderful, it just didn’t seem that way all the time. I guess that’s sort of how my trip to Europe was, too. Looking back on it now, all I seem to remember most of the time are the wonderful parts. But at the time, I can’t say that I had fun every second of every day.
Now that I think about it, I guess that’s the whole point of this diary—or scrapbook or whatever I should call it. It’s supposed to help me remember the wonderful times in my life. And if it helps me remember the not-so-wonderful ones at the same time, well, I guess that will just make the wonderful ones seem even better.
Speaking of this diary—I can hardly believe it. I just realized that there are only a few blank pages left. When I first got it, I was sure it would last for ages, but I’ve filled it up in just one year, even though I feel as though I didn’t write nearly often enough. Still, I’m pretty happy with it overall. I think writing in here has helped me sort through things. I also think it’s helped me “find my own voice,” as Ms. Shields would put it. That means I think that the stuff I write in here is the truth as I see and describe it, and I don’t try to write it for anyone else but myself. Or something like that, anyway.
I think writing all those letters to my brother helped with that, too. At first I was trying to impress him, but once I relaxed and wrote what I was really thinking and feeling, everything got a lot better.
Reading back over what I just wrote reminds me of the one thing I wrote to Peter that wasn’t what I really thought or felt. I still feel weird about lying to him about what I thought of his screenplay. Should I have been more honest, even if it meant being hurtful? Should I have tried to come up with some more constructive criticism? Should I have just pretended the stupid thing got lost in the mail and never got here? I really don’t know. I guess I’ll have to think about that some more.
But not now. Mom’s calling. A letter just came for me from Peter!
Dear Lisa,
It was so great to hear yo
ur voice on the phone the other day! I hope you and Mom and Dad enjoyed your last evening in Italy, and that you had a good flight home.
That’s not really why I’m writing, though. I have some bad news. I hope you won’t be too disappointed, but I’ve decided not to finish Riding for Your Life. I was reading it over the other day and I realized I wasn’t writing because I really believed in the story—I was writing because I thought some people off in Hollywood might be interested in that kind of story. It really wasn’t what I wanted to write at all. I don’t care about escaped murderers or shadows and suspense. I don’t even go to see that kind of movie—why should I waste my time trying to write one? I hope you’re not too disappointed that you and your friends won’t be appearing “at a theater near you” anytime soon, or that you’ll never get to see how the story might have turned out. I know kids your age like that kind of movie. But I know now that I couldn’t possibly finish a script I don’t care about. I hope you can understand that. At this point, I don’t quite know what I want to write about instead, but I’m sure I’ll figure that out when the time is right. In the meantime, that old screenplay is going in the bottom of my suitcase. I was tempted to throw it out, but I figured I might need it someday to remind me what not to do.
In any case, my new job here in Africa is keeping me so busy I don’t have as much time as I thought I would for writing. That’s okay, though. I’m meeting some really interesting people in the villages we’re visiting, and my professor—oops, I guess now I should say my boss—is becoming a good friend even though he’s quite a bit older than me. I’m realizing more and more what a special time this is in my life. I really want to savor it and appreciate every moment. Maybe someday, when it’s all over, I’ll decide to write a screenplay about my experiences. Or maybe I’ll write about something else. But it will definitely be something I know something about.
Anyway, Lisa, I really hope you’re not offended or anything like that. I don’t mean to imply that I quit that script because I don’t care about you or think your life isn’t interesting. You should know that that’s not true. It’s just that I sort of forgot what all my writing teachers told me throughout school: “Write what you know.” I never thought that old saying was true; I figured if it was, nobody could ever write about visiting other planets or traveling to the past or the future. But I guess that’s not really what they meant. They just meant that if you’re trying to write a story you’re pulling from somewhere outside of yourself, or for some reason other than because you really, really want to tell it, it will never work. It has to come from inside. Does that make sense to you? I hope so, because I think it’s important. I also hope you’ll keep writing to me about what you’re doing even if it’s not going to be in the movies. Because whatever else I’ve learned from that ridiculous screenplay, the most important thing I’ve learned is to appreciate my little sister again.
Love,
Peter
Dear Diary,
Well, I just pasted in Peter’s letter and then went back and read through the entire diary. I sure did a lot this year! Fun things just always seem to happen whenever Carole, Stevie, and I get together. I guess that’s the magic of The Saddle Club. Or maybe it’s just the magic of friendship. Or maybe they’re one and the same.
As things turned out, I’m glad I didn’t tell Peter what I really thought of his screenplay. Maybe someday, when I can sit down and talk to him face to face, I’ll explain that not everybody my age likes the same things. Some kids might have loved that silly horror movie he was trying to write. In fact, Stevie’s twin brother, Alex, probably would have thought it was great—he has terrible taste in movies. But my friends and I will probably end up liking whatever Peter writes next a lot better, especially if it comes from his heart instead of his ideas about kids my age.
For now, though, I guess it’s probably better that Peter decided on his own to give up on his movie. Some things you just have to figure out for yourself. Even if I had told him what I really thought, it might not have made a difference—sort of the way I didn’t believe I could survive four weeks in Europe without my friends until I actually did it. Or the way Carole and Stevie thought they knew everything there was to know about ranch life until High Meadow proved them wrong. Or the way I was so sure that mare was going to foal despite what the vet said, or how I insisted on riding Prancer in that horse show when she wasn’t ready, or how I thought I could get away with letting May do all the work in our Big Sister/Little Sister project. I didn’t listen to anything anyone else tried to tell me any of those times—I had to learn the hard way. So did Kate, sort of, when she wanted to adopt that wild stallion with the nick in his ear. And it’s the same kind of thing as how Nigel and Dorothy didn’t believe we could really throw them a wedding until we proved it. Or how Stevie and I didn’t believe Alice Jackson might have reasons for not wanting to jump until we absolutely couldn’t avoid the fact anymore. Or how Stevie was so sure she had that feed order right that Pine Hollow almost ended up with a whole stable full of feed and hay it didn’t need. And about a million other things we all did this year that didn’t turn out the way we expected.
Maybe that’s the best thing about this diary. If I hadn’t just read about all those things, I might never have noticed how much I’ve learned and changed and grown just in the past year. I wasn’t planning to let Carole and Stevie read it, but maybe I will after all. I don’t want to hog all this learning to myself!
Dear Peter,
Wow, it seems weird to be writing to you in Africa. What’s it like there? You didn’t say that much about it in your last letter. I’d love to hear all about what you’re doing and seeing.
By the way, I’m writing the rough draft of this letter in the last few pages of my diary. For one thing, I thought it would be a nice way to remind myself of our correspondence. Also, I wanted to get what I want to say next just right.
It’s about your movie. Even though it would have been nice to see a movie all about The Saddle Club, I just want you to know that I’m not disappointed at all that you won’t be finishing that particular screenplay. You see, I understood exactly what you were saying about writing from inside, because that’s what I’ve been trying to do all year here in my diary. (Even if I didn’t quite know that was what I was doing until just recently.) Keeping track of my life here—and in my letters to you—has made it easier to learn from my mistakes. It’s also helped me remember all the fun and adventures I’ve had over the year. That’s why I’m sending you a brand-new diary along with this letter. It’s sort of an early birthday present, I guess. I thought it was important for you to have it now, in case you want to start writing down what you’re doing there in Africa. It will help you remember your time there forever, and who knows?—maybe someday it will help you write a fantastic, award-winning screenplay about your experiences! But even if it doesn’t, I think you’d get as much out of keeping a diary as I have. Now, and in the future, too.
When I went to the stationery store to buy you your diary, I picked up a new one for myself as well. Because like I said, this one is just about full. And when you’re part of The Saddle Club, life is always full of adventure.
I want to be ready!
Love,
Lisa
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bonnie Bryant is the author of more than a hundred books about horses, including The Saddle Club series, Saddle Club Super Editions, and the Pony Tails series. She has also written novels and movie novelizations under her married name, B. B. Hiller.
Ms. Bryant began writing The Saddle Club in 1986. Although she had done some riding before that, she intensified her studies then and found herself learning right along with her characters Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. She claims that they are all much better riders than she is.
Ms. Bryant was born and raised in New York City. She still lives there, in Greenwich Village, with her two sons.
Don’t miss the next exciting
Saddle Club adventure …
Saddle Club #88
There’s a new rider at Pine Hollow Stables, and her name is Tiffani. Carole Hanson and Lisa Atwood think Tiffani’s a good rider, but Stevie Lake can’t get over her riding gear—it’s pink and covered in lace and frills. On top of that, Stevie just doesn’t like Tiffani. It doesn’t make sense, but she can’t help it. When her boyfriend flirts with the new girl, Stevie stops seeing pink and starts seeing red. And when he praises Tiffani’s riding skills, Stevie goes wild.
Suddenly she’s in competition with Tiffani and she’ll do anything to win—even if it means learning to jump fences while riding sidesaddle. Stevie’s friends are convinced she’s lost her mind. But Stevie’s determined to “out-girl” Tiffani. She’s even bought a fluffy pink sweater!
MEET THE SADDLE CLUB
Horse lover CAROLE …
Practical joker STEVIE …
Straight-A LISA …
#1 HORSE CRAZY
#2 HORSE SHY
#3 HORSE SENSE
#4 HORSE POWER
#5 TRAIL MATES
#6 DUDE RANCH
#7 HORSE PLAY
#8 HORSE SHOW
#9 HOOF BEAT
#10 RIDING CAMP
#11 HORSE WISE
#12 RODEO RIDER
#13 STARLIGHT CHRISTMAS
#14 SEA HORSE
#15 TEAM PLAY
#16 HORSE GAMES
#17 HORSENAPPED
Lisa Page 21
