Red motioned for Stevie to stop. Grinning widely—Stevie could be irresistibly funny—he lowered the fences, and Stevie finished the rest of the course in a lazy, relaxed style. Although Max shook his head with almost as much disapproval as he’d shown approval at Samson’s performance, everyone noticed that he had a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Goofing off on a regular basis could teach a horse bad habits, but Stevie’s occasional antics undeniably provided comic relief, especially during the recent stresses, and didn’t disrupt Belle’s normal training and exercise. With Stevie, it was usually all or nothing—she was either hypercompetitive or ultra lazy. Carole and Lisa had often witnessed her fretting over a dressage competition and vowing to beat the other entrants, but they had just as often seen her put on performances like this one.
Watching Stevie finish the course and take an elaborate bow from the saddle, Lisa couldn’t help wishing for a moment that she could be like her friend and take a break now and again from trying so hard. Although Stevie sometimes got into fights with her brothers or got frustrated when she couldn’t see her boyfriend, Phil, enough, she never dwelled on things the way Lisa did. All Lisa’s life—at school or taking part in the many lessons that her mother had signed her up for—she had strived for perfection. She worried over her grades, which were usually straight As; she worried over her ballet classes; and she even worried about silly things like embroidery.
Today, however, Lisa couldn’t think depressing thoughts for long. The exhilaration from her first practice round was just too wonderful. Riding Samson, who jumped so easily and gracefully, was like dancing with a great partner. She was ready to jump the course again, right then, with none of the butterflies or sweaty palms from the first round, Lisa was surprised, however, that Max hadn’t given her more precise criticisms after her round. But after all, she told herself, what could be wrong with Samson’s jumping? And how could I do better than a clean round?
Max let Carole and Lisa try the course two more times, with Stevie good-naturedly retiring from practice to watch. Both times, Starlight and Samson jumped clean again. Then Max called the jumping to a halt and beckoned Carole, Lisa, and Stevie over with a pleased smile. “We can’t risk making the horses sore two days before the show,” he said. “Good job today. Let’s do some trotting, and then you can cool them down. Remember, no jumping tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll check over all the equipment, make sure that all the tack is clean, and pack up the van. I’ve asked other Horse Wise members to pitch in and help us out with the equipment check and cleaning, but I expect,” he said, looking sternly at all three, “to see a certain three riders logging in major hours in the tack room today and tomorrow.”
Under ordinary circumstances, The Saddle Club would have emitted at least a token groan about the prospect of cleaning tack for hours. Although they realized that the chore was necessary, tack required a lot of elbow grease and patience to keep it in good condition. With the Macrae only two days away, however, the three girls didn’t even make a face. They cheerfully agreed with Max and started trotting the horses around the ring.
After cooling the horses down, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie took them into the stable and gave each of them an extra-special grooming—Carole and Lisa because of the Macrae and Stevie because Belle loved the feeling of the currycomb. Whenever Stevie groomed her, the mare stood very still and at times even closed her eyes, nickering in pleasure. “Maybe I’m scratching an itch that she can’t reach,” said Stevie, shaking dust out of the currycomb and starting on Belle’s hindquarters.
Using a metal mane comb, Lisa carefully pulled strands out of Samson’s mane to make it more even. She then began smoothing the hairs with a water brush. “Well, it’s not like horses can just reach up with their hooves and scratch their backs,” she said.
“True, but they can always scratch their backs against a tree, right?” said Stevie. “Don’t bears do that?”
“I only hope that if there comes a moment when Starlight scratches his back against a tree, I’m not on him!” said Carole, grinning.
Laughing and chattering, the group finished grooming the horses and then fed and watered them. “TD’s?” Stevie suggested when they had finished. TD’s was the ice cream parlor where The Saddle Club often went after a day at the stables.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Ms. Tack Manager?” asked Carole.
Stevie looked blank for a second, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, right, cleaning the tack. Darn. The growling in my stomach completely erased my memory. We’ll put in a couple of hours and then go, okay?”
“I have an apple in my locker to tide you over,” offered Carole. Stevie’s appetite never ceased to amaze her or Lisa, nor did the crazy concoctions she ordered from TD’s. Stevie could eat enormous amounts of food, and if her parents would let her get away with it, she would eat things like cookies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner—and not gain a single ounce.
“Thanks,” Stevie said. “That should be just enough until I order my sundae. I’m considering peanut butter ice cream with pineapple sauce and coconut.” Carole and Lisa wrinkled their noses and groaned.
On their way to the tack room, The Saddle Club passed a group of younger riders, all of whom had watched the day’s lesson. The Saddle Club was well liked by the younger riders at Pine Hollow, and Carole often got asked for advice about riding and horses. She was known not only as the most experienced rider, but also as the person most willing to dispense information.
Today, however, the younger riders didn’t seem interested in Carole and instead focused their attention on Lisa. “Lisa, do you think I can ride Samson? Just once, please?” begged May Grover.
“How about me?” chimed in Jasmine James, May’s good friend.
Momentarily confused by the attention, Lisa said, “Well, Samson really belongs to Max, so I guess you’ll have to ask—”
“Do you think you can teach me more about jumping?” interrupted Dawn Mooreland, a beginning rider who had just joined Horse Wise.
“Yeah, how fast do you want to be going when you make the turns between the jumps?” asked May.
Lisa’s cheeks flushed pink. She was embarrassed by all the attention, but she was undeniably flattered by it, too. As long as she had been at Pine Hollow, no one had ever sought her out for advice about riding like this. Lisa had joined Horse Wise with minimal riding experience, but with frequent riding lessons, a lot of practice, and, of course, help from her fellow Saddle Club members, she had progressed very quickly.
One of Max’s most important rules at Pine Hollow was that before a horse show, riders had to write down their goals for the show. He tended to frown upon riders who insisted that they wanted “to win the blue ribbon,” even though Stevie, who could be pretty competitive, was hard to discourage in that area.
Lisa had written down her goals for the Macrae as soon as she knew she and Samson were to compete, and she had wisely kept them modest. “Gain experience in competing in shows like the Macrae,” she had written.
Now, surrounded by a bunch of younger riders clamoring for her advice, Lisa began to feel even more optimistic about her chances in the Macrae. Maybe she had a better chance than she’d thought to win the junior jumping division. Maybe she wasn’t so far behind Carole, after all. And maybe what she lacked in experience, Samson would more than make up for with his incredible jumping talent.
“Well,” she began confidently, in a style completely unlike her usual one, “when I ride Samson toward the first jump, I usually hold the reins like this.” She demonstrated her grip for the younger riders, who hung on every word.
Stevie looked at Carole, raised one eyebrow, and grinned. Was this the Lisa they knew?
AT SIX-THIRTY IN the morning, Pine Hollow was usually a peaceful place. Few riders ever made it to the stable at that hour, and Red and Max were often the only people awake for morning chores. This Friday morning at six-thirty, the scene at the stable was completely different—one of constant activity and a lot of
running around, mostly by Stevie, who was trying to coordinate the final loading of equipment and horses. The Pine Hollow horse trailer, hitched to Max’s van, was parked in the driveway. The girls had cleaned it and loaded it with hay the day before.
Carole and Lisa were in the stable, bandaging the horses’ legs and throwing blankets over them to protect them for the long ride. Max was discussing some last-minute business with Red, who was taking over the Saturday lessons while Max was away. Stevie, holding a clipboard with a checklist attached to it, was scannng the items in the trailer and marking them off on her list.
Although The Saddle Club had packed most of the tack and equipment into the trailer the night before, Stevie still wanted to make one final check that all the essentials were there. What Veronica defined as necessary, however, took up an entire stall of her own. Stevie confirmed, with disgust, that Veronica had no fewer than four tack trunks—Carole and Lisa had only used one each—and she also knew that Veronica’s trunks were probably loaded with extra saddles, bridles, and other tack that she wouldn’t even use at the show. Stevie had also been expected to load two bulging suitcases into the van for Veronica—suitcases stuffed with her extra riding outfits. Stevie did these things because she didn’t have time to argue. Besides, she knew Veronica was going to get her comeuppance soon. That was enough to make Stevie smile while she lugged and loaded.
In addition, Veronica had demanded that Stevie find room for the special feed that she had insisted Max buy for Danny. Max was an expert on horse care and feed, and in the two weeks before the Macrae, he had helped The Saddle Club determine the balance of grain and hay that would maximize Samson’s and Starlight’s energy for the show. But Max’s expertise wasn’t enough for Veronica. She had pushed him to order the most expensive feed from his supplier, even though he had advised her that it wasn’t necessary, and she had insisted that several bags of it be carted along to the Macrae.
After inspecting the van one last time, Stevie went into the stable, where Carole and Lisa were waiting with the horses. “Have you checked over your personal gear bags?” she asked them sternly.
Carole and Lisa nodded soberly.
“Okay then,” Stevie said briskly. “Let’s do a last-minute check of your gear. I’ve already inventoried the tack and grain in the van. Hair nets?”
“Check,” answered Carole and Lisa together.
“Boot polish?”
“Check.”
“Boots?”
“Check.”
“Hard hats?”
“Check.”
“Jackets?”
“Check.”
After five minutes, Stevie marked off the final item on her list with a flourish. “Well,” she said cheerfully, “that’s everything.”
Carole and Lisa looked at each other, then at Stevie, in complete awe. “I think she’s had a personality transplant,” Lisa said to Carole. “I’ve never seen her this … this …”
“Together?” finished Stevie, grinning. “Let me tell you a little secret. I’ve always been this organized. I just keep my organizational skills hidden when you’re around, that’s all. If I were this organized all the time, you’d confuse me with yourself. We couldn’t have that, now, could we?”
Laughing, the three girls led Samson, Starlight, and Danny outside and loaded them one by one onto the horse trailer. After closing the gate of the trailer, they climbed into the backseat of the Pine Hollow van and waited for Max to finish talking to Red. Stevie, unconcerned by the early hour, opened a bag of cookies and offered it around. After hearty refusals from Carole and Lisa, she began munching.
Lisa looked at her watch. “Where’s Veronica?” she asked.
Stevie laughed. “Oh, didn’t you know?” she said. “Veronica isn’t riding with us. She’s flying to Philadelphia and then taking a limo to the show. She’s going to meet us there. Darn,” she said, suddenly frowning. “I should have found out who her driver was and given him the wrong directions to the Macrae!”
The thought of Veronica lost in the backwoods of Pennsylvania in her ultraluxurious limousine made the group dissolve in laughter. When they had recovered, Stevie said, “Actually, we don’t need Veronica to get lost before the show. She’s already lost the competition, thanks to you two and Starlight and Samson.”
Max climbed into the driver’s seat of the van. “All set?” he asked, turning to the three girls. They nodded, and Stevie gave him a thumbs-up sign. “You’re sure you haven’t forgotten anything?” he asked, concerned. “We don’t want to have to borrow or buy anything once we get there.”
“Like a horse?” Stevie asked brightly. Max chuckled, and after Stevie showed him her checklist, he gave her an approving smile and asked no more questions.
Lisa looked at her watch again and frowned. “I wonder where my mother is,” she said. “She said she was coming to see us off, but I guess she decided to see me at the show.”
Mrs. Reg opened the door and got into the front passenger seat. After Max had found out that Veronica wasn’t going in the van, he had invited his mother to ride along with the group instead of taking a separate car. She turned around in her seat and smiled at Lisa. “I think there’s someone who wants to say good-bye to you,” she said.
Lisa looked out the window and saw her mother. She stuck her head out and waved good-bye. “Bye, Mom!” she called out. “See you at the Macrae!” Her mother, she knew, was planning to leave soon and meet them at the show.
Mrs. Atwood waved in return. “Good luck!” she called.
Lisa was touched by her mother’s gesture—that is, until her mother said, “I know you’ll win, honey, especially with that new outfit!” Then Lisa couldn’t help it—she rolled her eyes at Carole and Stevie. They grimaced understandingly. Parents just didn’t get it sometimes.
Max started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. They were off to the Macrae!
THE FIRST HOUR of the ride passed smoothly. In the front seat Max and Mrs. Reg talked business about Pine Hollow. In the backseat the three girls laughed and joked around. Not only had Stevie remembered to check all the tack and equipment in the van, she had also remembered to bring games for the long ride—a backgammon board with magnetic pieces, a deck of cards, and other things. In fact, she had packed so many games and snacks that the van’s backseat was quite crowded. Mrs. Reg, upon seeing the clutter asked with a twinkle in her eyes, “Are you sure you didn’t forget anything, Stevie? Like maybe a volleyball net, a Ping-Pong table, and the contents of your refrigerator at home?”
The three girls took turns playing games and listening to music; each of them had a Walkman. But mostly they talked about the Macrae—what the show would be like, whom they would get to see.
Lisa was trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. She wondered if it was caused by the doughnuts she had eaten for breakfast. Caroled father, Colonel Hanson—an early riser thanks to his military career—had volunteered to take the group over to Pine Hollow that morning. Although he had offered to treat them to a hearty breakfast, the three girls had wanted to get to the stable so badly that they had only stopped for doughnuts on the way. Stevie and Carole had eaten three doughnuts apiece and appeared to be suffering no ill effects. In fact, Stevie had already polished off the bag of cookies she had opened and was just starting on some potato chips. Carole was complaining that Stevie was getting crumbs all over the backgammon board, but Stevie serenely ignored her and continued to crunch away.
The sick feeling in her stomach felt worse than doughnuts, Lisa decided. She was starting to recognize the signs of a nervous stomachache. She always felt this way before a big event, like a dance performance or a piano recital or an important test: sort of hollow inside, with a cold feeling in the very bottom of her stomach.
After another hour passed and there was no improvement in her stomach, Lisa finally decided to share her feelings with Carole and Stevie. “I feel sick,” she said suddenly.
Carole and Stevie, in the middle of an elect
ronic game of Battleship, looked up. “Sick how?” Carole asked, immediately concerned. “Are you feeling feverish?”
“Aching bones?” added Stevie. “Stuffy nose?”
“No, just my stomach,” Lisa said. “Sick the way I feel before a test or a ballet recital. Sick as if something bad is going to happen to me. Do you think it’s just nerves?”
“Definitely,” Carole said reassuringly. “Before my first big horse show, I felt exactly the same way.”
“I threw up before my first big horse show—twice,” Stevie added helpfully. Carole gave her a grossed-out look but continued comforting Lisa.
“You just have to keep telling yourself that this is just a horse show,” she said. “Even though it’s one of the big ones, it’s still just a horse show. You’ve done this before.”
Lisa gave her a doubtful look. “The Macrae Valley Open is just a horse show?” she echoed. “I don’t think so.” She began to look even greener than before.
“Do you want some antacid tablets?” Stevie asked, picking up her clipboard. “I packed a first-aid kit.” She rummaged around in a bag on the floor. As she offered the tablets to Lisa, who took one gratefully and popped it in her mouth, she intercepted an amazed look from Carole, “What?” she said.
“You really didn’t leave anything out, did you?” Carole said. “I think all your hard work deserves a sundae at TD’s when we get back—anything you want, our treat, and we promise not to make faces when you place your order.”
“You’ve got a deal,” said Stevie, shaking Carole’s and Lisa’s hands.
Max’s voice interrupted their conversation. “Lisa, take a deep breath and look out the window,” he said. “Horse show nerves are completely normal. Every rider, at one point or another, feels nervous.”
“I remember this one rider,” Mrs. Reg said dreamily, “a really talented rider, one of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Show Jumper Page 4
