Starting Gate

by Bonnie Bryant

  They watched as Skye tried to mount Mabel for the third time. This time the other groom came over and held the saddle to keep Mabel steady. The two grooms were able to hold the horse still enough for Skye to finally put both feet in the short racing stirrups.

  “Bravo!” shouted George, clapping his hands loudly. “He actually mounted the horse! What a performance!”

  Mabel jumped once at the sound of hands clapping, but Skye managed to hold her still.

  “Okay,” said the director. “Let’s get her into the starting gate.”

  With Skye perched on Mabel’s back, the grooms began to lead her down the track. She took about three strides, then began to walk sideways. When Skye and the grooms tried to straighten her out, she lunged at one groom, then tried to bite the other. As the man jumped away from her snapping teeth, he let go of her bridle. Mabel saw her chance. In a flash she turned from racehorse to bucking bronco, twisting and turning and finally rearing high into the air. Skye hung on the whole time, desperately trying to rein the horse away from the terrified crew members and the expensive movie equipment.

  “Somebody grab that horse!” shouted the director. “She’s going to kill somebody!”

  The grooms ran after her, grabbing at her bridle. After a few more moments of bucking and snorting, Mabel finally calmed down enough to allow them to seize her bridle. Skye remained in the saddle the whole time, ready to rein Mabel in again should she take off once more.

  “Okay, Skye,” the director called disappointedly. “Jump down and take ten. Something’s definitely wrong here. George, come on over here. We need to talk.”

  The girls watched as Skye dismounted and strode over to where George and the director were conferring. Another tall, skinny bald man joined the group from the other side of the set.

  “Who’s that?” asked Lisa, watching as the four men began talking at once.

  “I don’t know,” Stevie replied. “But be quiet and maybe we can hear what they’re saying.”

  “What’s wrong with this movie is Ransom!” the girls heard George say angrily. “He’s just not the horseman he guaranteed us he was!”

  “Now hold on,” said the skinny bald man. “I’m Jim Young, Skye’s agent. I’ve heard all the rumors that have been flying around this set. Let me remind you two that Skye Ransom has ridden horses very successfully in five feature films and half a dozen television dramas. Nobody has ever complained about his ability to ride!” He glared at George. “I think somebody sold you a bill of goods on this horse!”

  “That’s baloney!” George snapped, grabbing Mabel’s reins. “This horse has been in more movies than Ransom, and she’s carried her riders perfectly! I’m not going to stand here and listen to this malarkey!

  “Come on, Mabel!” he cried, tugging the horse back toward the barn. “You need to get away from these movie stars who just think they can ride horses!”

  George sneered at Skye, then led Mabel back to her stall. Everyone else on the set milled around as Skye and the other two men conferred, waiting to see what would happen. Carole and Lisa were observing Skye intently when Stevie poked them in the ribs.

  “Look!” Stevie whispered.

  “Be quiet, Stevie!” Carole replied. “This is important. This might ruin Skye’s career!”

  “I know, but look anyway.” Stevie pointed to the other side of the track, where a vaguely familiar red horse van had just lumbered up.

  “So?” Carole said. “It’s a horse van. There are about fifty more parked behind the stable.”

  “No, really look,” Stevie insisted. “Look again at the name on the side.”

  Carole and Lisa squinted their eyes. “Good grief!” Lisa cried. “That’s the In-Transit van!”

  “Those are our horses!” Carole’s dark eyes danced with joy.

  They jumped up from the bench and ran across the track to the trailer. They reached the van just as the driver climbed out of the cab. He looked at all the cameras and lights, then scratched his head. “Is this Ashford Farms?” he asked as the girls ran up beside him.

  Before anyone could say a word, another voice rang out from behind them.

  “Thank heavens!” a woman’s voice cried. “I knew we were going to need some extra horses. How wonderful you delivered them so promptly.”

  The girls turned. Marcella stood there, beaming at the van driver.

  “You need to drive these horses up to that barn, now.” She pointed to one of the track barns. “Just put them in whatever stalls you find available.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the driver said as he climbed back in the cab.

  “But wait—” Stevie began.

  “Come on, Stevie,” said Carole. “Let’s just follow him and see if these really are our horses.”

  While the driver restarted the big truck, the girls cut across two training paddocks, running as fast as they could. They reached the stable just as the driver pulled up.

  “Didn’t I just see you three over there?” he asked as he climbed out of the cab.

  “Yes,” said Stevie. “They sent us over here to help you unload the horses.”

  “Whatever,” said the driver. He unlocked the huge doors at the back of the trailer and pulled out the ramp. The girls hurried inside. There, looking out from their traveling stalls, stood Belle and Starlight and Prancer and Danny.

  “I don’t believe it!” Tears rimmed Stevie’s eyes as she gave Belle a big hug. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “Don’t they look great?” Carole rubbed Starlight behind the ears and gave Danny a pat on the nose.

  “They sure do,” agreed Lisa, brushing a piece of hay off Prancer’s white face. “I feel like they’ve been gone for years!”

  The driver stuck his head in the door and asked, “Do you girls know where these horses are supposed to go?”

  Stevie, Lisa, and Carole looked at each other and started to laugh. “Actually, we do,” said Carole. “We may be the only people in America who know exactly where these horses are supposed to go.”

  “Well, who’s supposed to sign for them?” The driver held up a clipboard. “I can’t unload them until I get a signature.”

  “I’ll sign for them.” Carole stepped to the back of the truck and scribbled her name across the form. Carole Hanson, she wrote proudly. Pine Hollow Stables, Willow Creek, Virginia.

  A few minutes later, they had all the horses unloaded and settled into stalls. They seemed to be in good shape, although Danny looked tired and Starlight looked eager to stretch his legs in a big paddock. Belle was her usual playful self and tried to take a delicate nibble of Stevie’s hair.

  “Ow!” giggled Stevie as Belle’s soft mouth grazed the back of her neck. “I think listening to Mozart all the way across the country really did make Belle smarter. She now thinks she can eat my hair when I’m not looking!”

  “It didn’t seem to affect Prancer much one way or the other,” said Lisa, smiling as Prancer stood calmly in the stall next to Mabel’s. The movie horse was still kicking and trying to rear. “I guess racehorses get accustomed to being hauled around the country and it just doesn’t bother them anymore.”

  “That’s right,” said Carole. “I keep forgetting that Prancer was a racehorse when she was younger. She’s so calm and untemperamental—unlike most racehorses.”

  “She’s a great horse, whatever she was,” said Lisa. She reached up to hug Prancer around her neck when the stall beside her shuddered. Lisa looked next door. Mabel had given the wall a mighty kick and was glaring at Lisa, her ears slapped back on her head. Lisa frowned at the misbehaving mare, then she stepped back. Hmmm, she thought, an idea suddenly occurring to her.

  “Hey, Stevie, Carole—come over here,” she said. “Come have a look at this.”

  Stevie and Carole came and stood beside Lisa. “Good grief!” cried Stevie. “Why didn’t any of us see that before?”

  STEVIE, CAROLE, AND Lisa were sitting back on their bench by the time the director was ready to shoo
t the scene again. Though Skye was pacing beside his chair, looking worriedly at the ground, they all sat calmly, big grins on their faces.

  “Okay, everybody, places!” the director called through a small bullhorn.

  The lighting crew and cameramen scrambled for their equipment. Everyone held their breath as George led Mabel down from the stable, clearly expecting the horse to behave just as badly as she had before. Instead of being skittish and troubled, though, Mabel now walked as meekly as a lamb, following George agreeably despite his hard tugs on her lead. Everyone on the set gasped in disbelief, and even George looked around more than once, surprised at Mabel’s sudden change in behavior.

  “Oh boy,” whispered Stevie, nudging Lisa and Carole. “This is going to be good.”

  George led Mabel back to the middle of the track, then turned to Skye. “You want to see if you can saddle her now, Ransom?” he asked, his voice sneering. “Or should I call for some help?”

  “That’s okay,” Skye replied, trying to sound confident. “I’m sure Mabel and I will be fine.” With a deep breath, he picked up the tiny racing saddle and walked slowly toward the horse, George glaring at him the whole time.

  “Hey, girl,” Skye said softly, remembering to approach Mabel with his eyes lowered, just as Carole had. He reached out a hand to touch her, expecting her to flinch, but Mabel stood calmly, seeming to enjoy Skye’s hand on her neck. Gently, he put the saddle pad on her back, again expecting her to go crazy, but Mabel stood still. George began to cough, jerking the lead again in the process, but Mabel did not react. Skye put the saddle on her back and reached beneath her to tighten the girth. Amazingly, Mabel didn’t move a muscle. Skye looked at George and smiled.

  “Okay,” sneered George. “So you saddled her up. Now let’s see you get on her.”

  Skye buckled his jockey helmet, then grabbed the reins and put one foot in the stirrup. At first he tightened his muscles, waiting for Mabel to either knock him to the ground or run away sideways, but again, she stood calm. When he hoisted himself up in the saddle and settled gently on her back, he once again prepared to be thrown to the ground. But it didn’t happen. Mabel seemed to actually enjoy being in the middle of the racetrack with a rider on her back.

  Everyone on the set began to applaud. “Nicely done, Skye,” called the director. For the first time that day, the tension seemed to leave Skye’s shoulders.

  “Okay,” growled George. “Now let’s see if you can get her in the starting gate.”

  Skye took the reins firmly in both hands and squeezed his legs. He was obviously wondering if either of those aids would send Mabel into a buck or a rear or a flat-out run, but instead she just started walking easily in the direction Skye wanted her to go. Mabel didn’t even protest about going into the narrow starting gate. She stepped gracefully into the small, tight space without a flick of her ears and stood calmly as the grooms shut the doors behind her.

  Now grinning broadly, Skye looked over at The Saddle Club with a questioning gaze. All three just shrugged and then smiled as if they were three cats who’d just consumed three very delicious canaries.

  “We did it!” cried Carole in a whisper. “We actually did it!”

  “I know, but be quiet now,” replied Lisa. “I want to watch them film this scene.”

  The girls settled down and watched as the other horses and riders were loaded into the gate around Mabel. Again, Mabel behaved beautifully, appearing almost eager for the gate to open so that she could fly down the track. The director climbed on the camera truck that would film the racing horses from the front as they ran.

  “Okay, everybody, this is scene eighty-eight, take one. Remember, Skye is supposed to win, but I want horses number six and one to come in close as we enter the turn. Everybody got that?”

  Skye and the stunt riders nodded.

  “All right, then. Action on my mark!”

  The director lifted his arm, paused for a moment, then dropped it to his waist. Cameras began rolling. The starting bell went off and the gates flew open. Eight horses thundered down the track, Mabel running easily in the lead. Carole, Stevie, and Lisa stood on the bench to watch the action around the first turn.

  “How’s Mabel doing?” Stevie asked, squinting in the bright sunlight.

  “She’s doing great!” cried Lisa. “I think she’s ahead by two lengths!”

  The horses roared around the backstretch, then crossed the finish line in a blur. The director yelled “Cut!” Again, everyone on the set applauded.

  “Wonderful, Skye,” the director said, running over to shake Skye’s hand. “That was terrific!”

  “This is the craziest horse!” cried Skye, giving Mabel a pat on the shoulder. “Inside the barn she’s wild, but once you get her on the track, it’s almost like she’s come home. She runs like she really means it!”

  “No kidding,” gasped one of the stunt riders. “We couldn’t catch you after the first furlong. You’re going to have to pull her back if we’re going to make this look like a race!”

  The girls laughed and hugged each other on top of the bench, then they sat down quickly as George and Marcella stomped by.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” griped Marcella. “He didn’t have a clue about that horse ten minutes ago.”

  “Don’t worry,” George said softly. “He’ll mess up again, and it’ll cost the producer big time. We just have to keep our eyes open and point it out when he does.”

  The Saddle Club watched as George, Marcella, and Shev walked over to sit right beside the starting gate, glaring at Skye the whole time.

  “Can you believe that?” whispered Stevie. “They’re still out to sabotage Skye.”

  “Yes, but they won’t get the chance now,” said Carole. “This should be as much fun to watch as the filming.”

  The next shot was of the horses coming around one of the curves. A camera truck drove right alongside the horses to film the action. George and Shev and Marcella stood up and watched Skye’s riding like three evil hawks, but they could make no criticism. Skye rode beautifully, and Mabel ran as if she’d been a racehorse since the day she was born.

  “That’s a take!” the director called as Skye and Mabel again crossed the finish line. “Nice job, Skye! And somebody give that horse a carrot!”

  Much to The Saddle Club’s delight, George and Marcella just looked at each other and frowned.

  The filming took the rest of the afternoon as the director insisted on multiple takes of the horses coming out of the starting gate, running down the stretch and through the turns. But Mabel and Skye made a great team. In fact, Mabel carried Skye across the finish line a dozen times without even a flick of her tail, and Skye grew more confident of his abilities with each take. Even the more experienced stunt riders congratulated Skye on his riding skill.

  “I don’t know what you did to that nag, but it sure made a difference in her screen performance,” said one stunt rider. “She was so nervous at the start, I thought we were going to have to carry both of you across that finish line!”

  “I know.” Skye laughed and gave Mabel a good scratch behind her ears. “Now she’s so calm I’m afraid I might have to wake her up before the next shot!”

  The last shot was scheduled just as the sun began to set behind the California mountains. The director explained what he wanted after all the horses were loaded in the starting gate.

  “Okay, everybody. One more time around the track. This time we’ll have a handheld camera right behind Skye to give the audience a real sense of what it’s like to ride in a race. It’ll be tricky, but if our luck and Mabel’s good mood hold, we’ll be done for the day. Everyone ready?”

  The riders nodded, and the cameraman who was riding right beside them got ready to shoot.

  “Okay, then.” The director moved to the side of the track. “Action!”

  The gates opened and the horses blazed out. Though Mabel should have been exhausted from the day’s filming, she strode on like a true Thor
oughbred, her long legs gobbling up the ground. Everyone watched as Skye and the cameraman rode together around the track, then when they crossed the finish line, the director yelled, “Cut! And print! Good job, everybody. See you at seven A.M. tomorrow in the studio for interiors!”

  Almost everybody cheered as Skye pulled Mabel up and dismounted. Only three people sat frowning in silence—George, Marcella, and Shev. They got up from their perches beside the track and walked over to Skye and Mabel.

  “Well, looks like you got lucky, Ransom,” George said, grabbing Mabel’s reins away from Skye. “No more scenes that require a real rider in this movie. You can just bat your eyelashes at the camera from here on out.”

  For a moment Skye looked angry, then he smiled and handed Mabel a lump of sugar. “Whatever, George,” he said. “My only regret in this movie is that this poor horse has to be cared for by you.”

  George muttered something else, then he led Mabel back to the barn, the whole time shaking and jerking the lead line, trying to make her misbehave. Instead of jumping and biting, though, Mabel just followed calmly, nodding her head at some crew members along the way.

  From their seats on the bench, The Saddle Club could see the whole thing. “Come on,” said Lisa. “I want to find out what George is going to do next.”

  All three got up and followed George and Mabel, careful to stay far enough away to escape his notice. He jerked Mabel back to the barn, still failing to get a rise out of her. The longer he tried, the calmer she got and the redder his face became. By the time they reached her stall, he practically shoved the poor horse inside.

  “Get in there!” he snapped, popping the end of the reins on Mabel’s flank. As soon as she was safely in her stall, he slammed the door so hard the whole stable shook. Then, without ever noticing that the three visitors from Virginia were standing nearby, he stormed out of the stable, muttering something under his breath.

  “Wow,” whispered Stevie. “He’s really mad!”

  “I know,” Carole replied. “I pity the poor horse that belongs to him.”

  “Can you believe we actually did this?” cried Lisa, her blue eyes alight with joy.