After hearing Carole’s little speech, Lisa felt a sinking feeling. Now she really couldn’t admit her purchase of the pink jacket to either Carole or Stevie. Still, neither of them had said that non-hunt riders were forbidden to wear pink jackets, right? It wasn’t as if there were a rule against her wearing a pink jacket in the Macrae.
More than ever, she wished she hadn’t bought the jacket. But it was too late now.
“Uh-oh,” Stevie said a few minutes later. “Trouble coming, straight ahead.” Riding toward them on their horses were the three girls who had been present when Samson had been unloaded from the van.
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had the eerie feeling they were looking at a mirror image of themselves—at least, what they would have looked like had they been rich and spoiled. The other three girls appeared to be exactly the same age as they were, and they were riding horses that matched the colors of The Saddle Club’s mounts: one black, one bay, and one gray. “It was like meeting our evil twins,” Stevie said later.
Quickly checking over the other girls’ horses, Carole had to admit they were impressive. The redheaded girl rode the black horse. He was bigger than Samson and had a white star on his forehead and three white socks.
Because the earlier run-in with the group had been so unpleasant, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie pointedly ignored the three riders and continued to laugh and talk among themselves.
As The Saddle Club passed the other three girls, however, they overheard the redhead say something about “… those girls and their circus ponies.” Lisa immediately knew they were referring to Samson and her difficulties in unloading him, and she blushed in shame.
Stevie, who noticed Lisa’s embarrassment, charged to the rescue. She stopped Danny and called over to the three girls. “Do you have a problem?” she asked challengingly.
With a bored expression, the redheaded girl reined in her horse, which stopped and snorted impatiently, and said to her two friends, “We don’t have a problem, do we, girls?” She turned and looked condescendingly at The Saddle Club. “I’m Margie,” she said. “This is Belinda, and this is Melinda. This must be your first time at the Macrae, so I guess it’s understandable why you haven’t learned how to handle your horses at a big show like this. We’ll just forget the whole thing, shall we?”
“Belinda and Melinda?” Stevie repeated in disbelief. “Do all the names of your evil sidekicks rhyme, or just these two? Or did you make them change their names just to suit you?”
Margie frowned. “Hmmm, I guess there’s no way of guaranteeing that people like you will know how to behave at a show like the Macrae,” she said coldly.
“People like us? What do you mean? Good riders? Nice manners?” Carole asked pleasantly.
Just then, Margie’s horse pulled his head up and snorted. During the exchange, Margie had kept her horse on a very tight rein, so his head had been uncomfortably high. Suddenly she eased off on the reins, and the black horse pranced sideways, almost bumping into Lisa and Samson, who were closest. Samson, as any horse would, pinned his ears back and shook his head warningly. Lisa, however, managed to calm him down quickly before anything else happened.
“My, my!” Stevie drawled. “Now who’s putting on the Wild West Show? It’s like: Get control of your horse before you come to the show.”
Margie gave Stevie an icy look as she shortened her reins again. Without saying another word, she motioned to Belinda and Melinda, and the three rode away.
“Just as if she had a leash around their necks,” said Stevie, noticing how devotedly the two girls followed Margie’s lead.
“I think we should head back,” said Carole. “We’re all starving, and it’s time to let the horses rest for the night. And besides,” she added, “this area has gotten a little … crowded.”
“I can’t believe how awful those three girls are,” said Lisa. “Will everyone be like that?”
“Not everyone, no,” Carole said. “But I’d forgotten how mean some horse show people can be. I wish the sport didn’t attract snobs, but competing in horse shows usually takes a lot of money and a good horse. That’s why you sometimes see these rich kids with bad attitudes who like competing because of the prestige and because it’s an expensive thing to do. But I think we’ve just met the few rotten apples in the bunch. Not everyone is so cutthroat, self-centered, spoiled—”
“Hey, isn’t that Veronica?” Stevie asked, pointing.
UNLIKE THE SADDLE CLUB, who were disheveled after their long van ride and dressed in their old riding clothes, Veronica looked as fresh as if she had just woken up and showered. And no wonder. As the girls found out later, the plane ride to Philadelphia had taken less than an hour, and Veronica had then ridden in an air-conditioned limousine to the show grounds.
Now she rushed up to Danny, greeting him with an ostentatious show of affection. “You sweet thing!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his nose repeatedly. Danny, startled by the sudden flurry of activity in front of his nose, pulled his head back and backed off a few steps.
After getting him to stand still again, Stevie raised her eyebrow—a sure sign of sarcasm to come. “If you love him so much,” she asked, “why aren’t you exercising him instead of me? Why weren’t you there when the van broke down today and we had to unload and reload Danny? As a matter of fact, are you sure this is your horse? I’m afraid I’ll have to see some identification before I let you take him, miss.”
Veronica glared at Stevie. “Just because my parents want me to be comfortable and rested,” she began, “doesn’t mean that I have to take your—Why, what’s this?” she suddenly said, noticing Lisa and Samson.
During Stevie’s round of insults with Veronica, Carole and Lisa had completely forgotten about The Saddle Club’s secret—Samson. Now Veronica was staring at the black horse with amazement. Although Samson was the son of Cobalt, Veronica had never taken much interest in the young gelding’s training or progress. But now she was disconcerted by the sight of Samson, and the girls knew why. Veronica had assumed she knew exactly who her competition at the Macrae was going to be, and she was now discovering that she was wrong.
“Why are you riding Samson?” Veronica asked Lisa. “Where’s Prancer? Has Samson even jumped before? Is he any good?”
“Well, he’s—” began Lisa.
“After all, Cobalt was his sire,” continued Veronica, not letting her finish. “And Cobalt was an amazing jumper—as all of my horses have been. Does Samson jump like Cobalt?”
“Well, he’s—” said Lisa.
“How much training have you given him?” Veronica asked.
“Well, we’ve given—” said Lisa.
“And who else has seen him jump?” Veronica said. “How high has he jumped? How—”
“We’ve taken him over a few jumps, here and there,” Carole interrupted smoothly. “He’s shown some beginning talent,” and here she paused, struggling not to giggle. Remembering the way Samson had soared over all his jumps, it was hard not to brag about him to Veronica.
“Really, we don’t know anything about him yet,” Stevie said casually. “We’re just hoping to get him used to the atmosphere of a horse show—you know, get him some experience and exposure,” she added with a straight face. After all, they weren’t exactly lying to Veronica. They were hoping that Samson would become accustomed to the big-show atmosphere.
“I may ride him in a few classes, but I haven’t decided yet,” Lisa finished quietly. “Max wasn’t sure if he was ready to be here, so we’re just going to see what happens.”
“Why are you riding him?” Veronica asked suspiciously. “I always thought it was a bad idea to pair a green horse and a green rider. Especially in a big event like this one. When you mess up, everyone who’s anyone will know.”
“Lisa’s hardly a green rider,” Stevie began angrily, but Veronica had already lost interest in the conversation. She tended to lose interest in any conversation that didn’t concern her. Bored, she waved good-bye a
nd walked off, once again forgetting about Danny and the obvious fact that he needed to be untacked, groomed, fed, and watered for the night.
The three girls made their way back to the Pine Hollow stalls. They were uncharacteristically quiet—Carole and Stevie because they were hungry and tired, and Lisa because she was smarting inside from Veronica’s remarks about the green horse and green rider. Although Veronica had seemed fooled about the extent of Samson’s talent, she had still taken the opportunity to ridicule Lisa for competing in a show like the Macrae.
True, Lisa had started riding and showing well after Carole, Stevie, and Veronica. But Carole and Stevie were always telling her how good she was. And Max wouldn’t have let me ride Samson in the Macrae Valley Open if he hadn’t trusted me, she told herself.
The more Lisa thought about it, the more focused her anger at Veronica became. As she untacked Samson and sponged him off, she vowed to beat Veronica in the jumping competition. I’ll show her, she thought. Won’t she be surprised when Samson and I walk off with the blue ribbon? she asked herself, forgetting, for the moment, that her goal at the show was to gain experience.
AFTER GIVING THE horses measures of grain and hay and making sure they had enough water for the night, the girls closed the stall doors and went in search of Max and Mrs. Reg. They found both of them leaning against the Pine Hollow van, talking merrily to an older man they all recognized—Jock Sawyer, a former USET member and an old friend of Max’s and Mrs. Reg’s. Jock had been a judge at a Pine Hollow schooling show in which The Saddle Club had taken part.
“Girls,” said Mrs. Reg when she caught sight of them, “you remember Jock Sawyer, don’t you? Jock, here are three representatives from Pine Hollow—Carole Hanson, who will be riding Starlight; Lisa Atwood, who will be riding Samson; and Stevie Lake. Stevie’s one of our best riders, especially in dressage, but for this occasion she generously volunteered to be our tack manager. And I must say,” Mrs. Reg added, smiling, “she’s done a wonderful job so far.”
“Good for you,” Jock said approvingly, shaking Stevie’s hand. “I learned a lot about horses that way, volunteering to be tack manager.” Stevie glowed with pride at his approval and at Mrs. Reg’s praise. They had all liked Jock—and he looked like their idea of a horseperson, with a tanned face and an easy smile and big hands. Even now, out of riding clothes, he still looked horsey. He was wearing a soft shirt and a worn tweedy jacket with leather patches on the elbows, and his legs were muscled and fit. He looked ready to jump on a horse at any second.
“Oh, and here’s Veronica diAngelo, another young rider from Pine Hollow,” said Mrs. Reg, catching sight of Veronica walking toward them. The Saddle Club almost groaned, but since Jock was present, they restrained themselves and waited politely for her to join them.
“Max! Mrs. Reg! Isn’t this all just marvelous?” said Veronica, gesturing vaguely at the show grounds. She gave them a dazzlingly bright smile, which she then turned full force onto Jock Sawyer. “And who’s this distinguished friend of yours? I insist on an introduction.”
Mrs. Reg made the introductions with an expression of mild amusement. “You remember Jock,” she said dryly. “He judged that event for us a while back.”
“Oh, of course I remember you,” said Veronica, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. “How nice you were to judge our little show! Especially,” she added, glancing around, “since you obviously have much more important things to do.”
Stevie, Lisa, and Carole all rolled their eyes at each other. The purpose behind Veronica’s gushing was starting to become obvious.
“I enjoyed seeing Max’s stable,” Jock said quietly. “I always like to see young riders get caught up in the spirit of fair competition. Reminds me of how I began my own career.”
“Yes, well,” said Veronica, smiling. “You’ve certainly had a distinguished riding career. Now that you’re not a member of the USET, I bet you’re doing even more interesting things. Are you training horses? Teaching riding? Mmm, are you judging big events … like this one?”
Stevie telegraphed a knowing message with her eyes and eyebrows to Carole and Lisa, and they nodded in agreement. Veronica thought Jock was one of the judges for the Macrae! And as such she was buttering him up, hoping to win his good will. It was enough to make anyone sick to their stomach.
Jock, however, also seemed to grasp what Veronica was hinting at. He answered, with a twinkle in his eye, “Oh, I’ve been doing this and that. But no, I’m not judging the Macrae. I was asked, but I’m here on another mission.”
Veronica’s face fell. “Oh, you’re not? Too bad. Well, Max and Mrs. Reg,” she addressed them brightly, “I simply must get back to the hotel. Mummy rented a suite for us, and I’m sure she’s going mad with worry over where I must be! We’re going to eat in a four-star restaurant, you know.”
“Sorry you won’t be joining us for dinner, Veronica,” said Mrs. Reg. “Maybe another time.”
Veronica hastily departed, and The Saddle Club exploded in laughter. Max looked bewildered by the outburst, but Mrs. Reg and Jock grinned in understanding. “Guess I disappointed her by not being a judge,” Jock said, shaking his head. “Things never change, do they? In my time on the junior jumping circuit, I remember meeting a few Veronicas here and there.”
“Yes, we’ve already met our share,” said Stevie, making a face.
“Not everyone’s like that,” Jock said. “Horse people are still my favorite people in the world. Can’t get enough of the show circuit.”
Out of curiosity, Carole asked, “What is your mission here. Are you just checking out the scene?”
“Well, yes and no,” he answered. “I’m here as sort of an unofficial talent scout for the USET. I’m still in close touch with all the members, and they’re really on the lookout for new talent.”
Stevie promptly raised her hand. “That’s me!” she said. “Where do I sign up?”
Jock laughed. “You know as well as I do that you have to work your way up through the show ranks,” he said. “But it seems like you’ve got a pretty good start on that. No, I’m on the lookout for equine talent—for any promising horses that the USET can train for its team.”
Max looked at his watch. “It’s almost six o’clock!” he exclaimed. “We’ve got to rest up for tomorrow. But first, does anyone want to watch the elimination round of the Grand Prix event?”
Carole was the only one who mumbled tiredly in response, “Sure, Max.” Lisa was resting against the van with her eyes closed, looking exhausted, and Stevie was clutching her stomach, miming extreme hunger.
Mrs. Reg laughed. “I think Stevie is trying to remind us that we’re all starving. And I think Lisa is trying to tell us that we’re all exhausted. Let’s go and have dinner, and then check in at the motel. We all need some food and rest.”
THE SADDLE CLUB gobbled burgers, french fries, and milk shakes at a nearby fast-food restaurant. Mrs. Reg insisted that the girls also eat a salad with their meal. “Got to have your vegetables,” she said over the girls’ protests that, surely, ketchup was a vegetable. Then the group checked into their motel, which had been chosen for its convenient location—only twenty minutes from the show grounds—and because it was a lot less expensive than the place where Veronica was staying.
Although Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had each traveled before with their families and with each other on a few occasions, it always felt special to stay in a motel together for a horse show. Since Mrs. Reg was in a separate room, they felt almost grown-up and independent, although they knew she would check on them if she heard any noise.
“I can’t believe they don’t have a pool here,” said Stevie as Carole inserted their room key into the lock. “I packed my bathing suit and everything. I thought big motels like this always had pools. I wish we had picked somewhere else to stay. I wish—Hey, what’s that?” As Carole opened the door, Stevie had glanced inside. She gave a whoop of happiness. Shouldering her way past her friends, she ran through the door and s
topped in front of the large-screen television that dominated the room.
“Oh, did I mention that they have ninety-six channels here?” Carole said, grinning and dropping her bag on the bed. “The desk clerk happened to tell us that, but I guess you were too busy thinking about the pool.”
“Pool? Who wants to go swimming?” Stevie said in rapture. She plunked down on the spare cot that they’d requested so that the three of them could share one room. “I’ll take the cot,” she said unnecessarily, since she was already stacking pillows, kicking off her shoes, and making herself comfortable. “After all, it’s the closest to the television.”
With a lot of not-so-gentle persuasion from Carole and Lisa, Stevie reluctantly agreed to brush her teeth and change into her pajamas. But after that she settled down on the cot, remote control in hand, and began seriously flipping channels. “Hey, look, I found a great film on the life of an Alaskan sled dog owner!” she called out.
“She’s out of commission for the rest of the night,” Carole said to Lisa with a chuckle. “I’m going to take a hot shower to relax, okay?”
Lisa nodded. “Sure,” she said. “I promised to call my mother after we checked in.”
Mrs. Atwood was staying at the same hotel as Veronica and her parents. She had tried to persuade Lisa to stay there, too, but Lisa had refused, knowing she would have much more fun sharing a room with Stevie and Carole. Digging a card with the hotel’s name and number out of her bag, she plunked down on the bed and dialed. After a minute the hotel operator connected her to her mother’s room.
“Hi, Mom, it’s me,” said Lisa when the phone was answered on the second ring.
“Lisa!” Mrs. Atwood said in a chirpy voice. “I was just looking over my outfit for tomorrow. Darling, I didn’t see you at the show today. Did you get there okay?”
“Yeah,” answered Lisa. “We had a lot to do, though.”
“Did you see who was in the VIP box at the Macrae?” Mrs. Atwood continued in excitement. “The mayor of Philadelphia. Mrs. Grace Fairhill, the leading patron of the arts in Philadelphia. Mr. and Mrs. Charles Van—”
Show Jumper Page 6
