Course of Action

  Course of Action

  Pine Hollow, Book Eight

  Bonnie Bryant

  My special thanks to Catherine Hapka for her help in the writing of this book.

  ONE

  “Don’t let her shy away from the road,” Carole Hanson called, tightening her reins as a large delivery truck roared past on the two-lane highway near where she and Stevie Lake were riding. “She needs to be ready for any distractions that may come up when she’s in the ring—you can’t let her forget you’re in charge.”

  Stevie gave Carole only a brief, disgruntled glance, saving most of her concentration for her horse, a spirited bay mare named Belle who was currently prancing sideways and shaking her head. “It’s okay, girl,” Stevie murmured, using all her riding skills to stop the mare from skittering away from the loud noise. She could tell the horse had been startled by the truck—the quiet country road was sparsely traveled, especially at four o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, and not a single vehicle had passed them in the five minutes they’d been trotting along the grassy verge.

  Once the truck had disappeared around a bend, Belle settled down. Stevie gave her a pat, then turned her away from the road and onto a faint path that led through a line of evergreens and into a broad, sun-dappled field. Even though it was the last day of October, the grass in the field was still green and lush, thanks to the lingering warmth of Indian summer in the girls’ northern Virginia town of Willow Creek.

  Carole caught up to Stevie on the other side of the trees, matching the pace of the big black gelding she was riding to that of Stevie’s horse as she shifted down to a walk. “Sorry if I sounded like Max junior back there,” Carole said apologetically, tucking a strand of curly black hair back under her hard hat. “I know you knew what to do.”

  “No biggie.” Stevie grinned at her friend. “I know you can’t help it. Anyway, you’ve got a long way to go before you’re as bossy as Max. You didn’t say a word about keeping my heels down.”

  Carole grinned back. “Well, now that you mention it …”

  Stevie adjusted her position slightly and tossed Carole a sloppy salute. “Thanks for the tip, Max junior,” she joked. She knew Carole wouldn’t mind the teasing, especially if it involved being compared to Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow Stables, where both girls boarded their horses. Everyone who knew Carole knew that Max was one of her role models, and Stevie knew her better than most. The two girls had been best friends since junior high. Stevie knew that Carole’s dream was to work with horses full-time someday soon, just as Max did, although Carole still hadn’t decided whether she wanted to be a stable owner and riding instructor or explore some other career involving horses. At sixteen, she still had time to narrow down her choices. But she had gotten a jump start on her goals by taking on a part-time job at Pine Hollow.

  Stevie glanced forward between Belle’s pricked ears, automatically judging the footing ahead and noting the brief incline at the far end of the field. The sun felt warm on her face, and she was enjoying the nice weather, the fresh air, and the feeling of the responsive horse beneath her.

  But this was different from the many pleasure hacks she and Carole had taken over the years. For one thing, their other best friend, Lisa Atwood, wasn’t with them. And instead of meandering through a few of the many miles of quiet, remote trails behind the stable, where the silence was broken only by the sounds of birdsong and the soft clopping of the horses’ hooves, Carole had mapped out a wide-ranging course that would carry them past as many unusual and distracting sights and sounds as possible. It had begun on a short trail past Max’s house, where the stable owner’s young daughters and their puppy were playing noisily outside. After a quick jaunt through some thickly wooded parkland, the riders had emerged at a spot where a small stream tumbled down a steep hillside in a splattering waterfall. Taking a short detour past an electrical substation, they had reached the country highway and trotted along it for a short while, passing a cow field and several houses. Now they were leaving the road behind on their way toward a local goat farm.

  Despite the unusual route, Stevie was having a wonderful time, as she almost always did when she was riding her horse. It was definitely a pleasant change of pace from all the chores her parents had been making her do at home all week. “This is fun,” Stevie commented contentedly, steering Belle around a large stump in the field. She shot Carole a slightly guilty glance. “I mean, I know it’s totally serious and everything, too, and that it’s supposed to help the horses get used to unexpected sights and sounds or whatever, so they won’t get spooked.” She shrugged. “But it’s nice to just get out and ride like this, Colesford Horse Show or no Colesford Horse Show.”

  When she said the name of the upcoming event, she felt a little thrill of excitement that belied her casual words. The prestigious Colesford Horse Show was being held in a nearby town in a couple of weeks, and it was attracting top competitors from all along the East Coast. Stevie could hardly believe that she and Belle were really going to be a part of it. The other four riders Max had chosen—Carole, Ben Marlow, George Wheeler, and Denise McCaskill—were the best of the best. Stevie knew she was a good rider, too, but she also knew that it had been a leap of faith for Max to choose her to help represent Pine Hollow. She wasn’t going to let him down if she could help it.

  “I know what you mean.” Carole glanced over at Stevie and smiled. “Nobody says serious training has to be a drag, right?”

  “No way.” Stevie grinned and returned her glance. When Carole turned to check on their path, Stevie’s gaze lingered on the big black horse her friend was riding. Samson, a talented half-Thoroughbred gelding, had been born at Pine Hollow, but he had only recently returned to the stable after an absence of several years. During that time he had blossomed into an athletic, talented jumper, which was why Max had asked Carole to ride him in the Colesford show. Carole’s own horse, an eager bay gelding named Starlight, had always been a good jumper, but Max had thought he wouldn’t be a match for the level of competition expected at the show.

  Samson should be up to it, though, Stevie thought, still watching the black horse appraisingly. Carole, too. I know this is going to be a tough show, but if the two of them don’t place somewhere in the ribbons in show jumping, I’ll eat my hard hat.

  She didn’t tell Carole what she was thinking, knowing that her modest friend would only launch into a description of all the stiff competitors she would be facing. Instead she glanced at the farm they were approaching. Just ahead was a small pasture where half a dozen goats grazed, but Stevie’s gaze wandered past it to the farmhouse visible just beyond the goats’ enclosure. The white frame house was decorated with cutouts of witches and ghosts. A large jack-o’-lantern sat grinning on the slightly sagging front porch, and fake cobwebs drooped from the mailbox.

  Stevie’s good mood flagged slightly as she took in the decorations. “I can’t believe it’s Halloween and I’m grounded,” she said. “While everyone else is out having fun tonight, I’ll be stuck at home, probably helping Mom organize the attic or changing the oil in her car or something. I’m going to miss the whole holiday. If that’s not cruel and unusual punishment, I don’t know what is.”

  Carole noticed that Stevie’s voice had suddenly taken on a grumpy tone. Halloween had always been one of Stevie’s favorite days of the year—it was tailor-made for her fun-loving, adventurous, fearless personality. In her younger days she and her three brothers had found countless ways of getting into all sorts of spooky mischief and causing mayhem, playing endless practical jokes on each other and everyone else they knew. These days they were all a little older and more mature, but Stevie and her twin brother, Alex, still weren’t above dressing up and doing their best to scare the trick-or-treate
rs who came to their door.

  “Look on the bright side,” Carole advised. “At least your parents are still letting you be in the horse show. That’s practically a miracle, right?”

  “True,” Stevie agreed, tugging firmly at Belle’s reins as the mare tried to stretch her neck toward a patch of weeds near the goats’ fence. “Plus they’re okay with my running Scott’s campaign.”

  “How’s that going?” Carole asked. With everything else that had been happening lately, she had almost forgotten that Stevie was in charge of their friend Scott Forester’s campaign for student body president at Fenton Hall, the private school that he and Stevie attended. Carole went to Willow Creek High, the local public high school, so she had to rely on Stevie for updates. “Was there any fallout from the party? You know, because, well …”

  “Nope.” Stevie shook her head. “Veronica was as good as her word. She’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that she and Scott were practically the only ones who kept their heads and didn’t drink.” She grimaced slightly. “Believe me, it’s not easy for me to admit, but Veronica diAngelo has actually been a help. I don’t know what we would have done if word had gotten out that Scott was drinking. Even though he really only had a few sips of beer, I’m sure Valerie Watkins’s friends would have made him out to be some kind of total boozer loser.” She shuddered at the thought.

  Carole didn’t bother to answer. She still felt shocked when she thought about how many of her friends had started drinking at a party Stevie and Alex had thrown the previous Saturday night. Stevie’s older brother, Chad, had left some beer in the garage, and someone had found it. Before long everyone knew it was there, and it had seemed to Carole that almost everyone had been eager to help themselves. It had all come to a screeching halt when a neighbor had called the police, but Carole still remembered how helpless she had felt when she’d realized that the party was spinning wildly out of control.

  She urged Samson closer to the fence and let him stretch his head curiously toward the goats that had gathered on the other side, pushing and nipping at each other in their eagerness to get a look at the newcomers.

  Stevie nodded at the closest one, a large brown goat with a scraggly beard, one horn, and a surly expression. “What do you think? Doesn’t that one there remind you of Veronica?”

  Carole giggled as the goat in question bleated loudly. “I think it’s insulted,” she commented.

  “Sorry,” Stevie told the goat contritely. “You’re right. You’re way more intelligent and classy than she is. Better-looking, too.” She rolled her eyes. “Plus, you probably don’t butt in with your stupid opinions about everything all the time, right?”

  At that moment the billy goat turned and butted at another goat that was angling for a position at the fence and let out a loud bleat of annoyance. “I don’t know, Stevie,” Carole joked. “That sounded an awful lot like something Veronica might say.”

  “Tell me about it.” Stevie snorted. “Ever since Veronica decided to sink her hooks into Scott, she’s been even more obnoxious than usual. She’s so busy trying to impress him with how helpful she is to his campaign that she’s totally getting in my way.”

  Carole nodded sympathetically, but she didn’t comment. Until a couple of years earlier, Veronica diAngelo had ridden regularly at Pine Hollow, and Carole had learned the hard way that it was usually better to ignore the spoiled, wealthy girl as much as possible. But Stevie had never quite learned that lesson. While age and different interests had softened the two girls’ antagonism, Stevie and Veronica could still butt heads like a couple of ornery goats when the right situation arose.

  After a moment the two girls rode on, heading for the shortcut through the woods that would lead them back to Pine Hollow. “The worst part,” Stevie commented, obviously still thinking about Veronica as she flicked a fly from Belle’s dark mane, “is that Scott is actually listening to some of her ideas.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Her latest is for Fenton Hall to get in on the Willow Creek High School homecoming dance. Miss Fenton has been promising us a fall dance in a couple of weeks, and since we don’t even have a football team and are totally homecoming-deprived, Veronica figured she could convince her to arrange things with your principal to combine the two dances into one big bash.”

  Carole raised an eyebrow. “Really? But homecoming’s this weekend, isn’t it?” She scanned her memory, wondering if she’d gotten the date wrong. Sometimes she got mixed up about things that didn’t have to do with Pine Hollow, but she definitely recalled hearing an awful lot about homecoming in the morning announcements at school for the past week or so.

  Stevie nodded. “The dance is Saturday night. Sounds like an impossible dream, right? But apparently Veronica spent quite a while discussing it with Scott at the party, and they’ve been working on it all week.” She pushed back the cuff of her riding glove and glanced at her watch. “Actually, Scott is meeting with Miss Fenton and Mr. Price even as we speak.”

  “Hmmm.” Carole didn’t want to say so, but she had to admit that the idea wasn’t as terrible as Stevie was making it out to be. Willow Creek was a small town, and most of the students from the public high school had friends at Fenton Hall and vice versa. While Carole herself wasn’t planning to attend the homecoming dance—she had too much work to do at the stable—she was pretty sure most students at both schools would love the idea of holding a joint dance.

  Stevie shot her a quick glance as they reached the edge of the woods. “You can say it,” she said sourly. “The idea does make some sense. I can admit it. Even if Veronica’s the one who thought of it.”

  “Well, it’s probably too late for them to arrange it for this year, anyway,” Carole pointed out diplomatically.

  “Don’t count on it.” Stevie made a face. “Veronica’s stupid family connections have brought them this far in less than a week. Who knows what she can pull off in the next two days?”

  Carole was a little surprised that Stevie was so down on the dance idea, even if Veronica was the one who might make it happen. I thought the whole point was to get Scott elected, she thought. This sounds like it could only help.

  Suddenly she remembered Stevie’s grounding, and a little light blinked on in her mind. Of course. Even if Veronica and Scott worked a miracle and the dance came off, Stevie wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. She would be sitting home, doing chores to help pay for the damage the party had done to her house, imagining the fun her classmates were having, and wishing she could be right there with them, dancing with her boyfriend, Phil Marsten, and having a good time.

  She decided it was time to take Stevie’s mind off all that. “Belle looks good today,” she said, glancing at Stevie’s mare. “You two might just surprise everyone in the dressage competition.”

  “Thanks.” Stevie’s expression brightened slightly. “She does look good, doesn’t she?” She leaned forward in the saddle and patted her horse affectionately. “I just hope I can keep up with her.” She nodded at Carole’s mount. “I guess I don’t have to tell you how awesome Samson looks.”

  Carole grinned. “Nope. But it’s always nice to hear.” She was proud of the training she’d done with the big black horse. Samson had already been in terrific shape when he’d arrived at Pine Hollow, but thanks to Carole’s tireless work, he was now in peak condition. “He seems to get better and stronger and smarter every day.”

  “Thanks to you,” Stevie pointed out.

  “Thanks to him,” Carole corrected, ducking slightly to avoid a branch hanging over the trail. “He’s the best horse I’ve ever worked with. I sometimes think he’s teaching me just as much about jumping as I’m teaching him. It’s like sometimes you find a horse, a special horse, and you feel like you’re really speaking the same language, you know?”

  Stevie patted Belle again and smiled. “I know.”

  Carole sighed happily as she thought about the upcoming competition. She couldn’t wait to show off what she and Samson co
uld do together. “I’ve never really felt this way about a show before,” she commented. “I mean, I usually have an idea that I could do pretty well, or I know I probably shouldn’t be entering. But this time it’s like there’s nothing we can’t do. I’m not even talking about ribbons. It would be nice to win, but this time it’s really like Max is always telling us: I just want to go out there and do my very best. For my own sake, and for Samson’s, too. He doesn’t deserve anything less, and I don’t want to let him down.”

  “Whoa,” Stevie joked. “I knew you were smitten with our friend here, but this is sounding serious. Maybe you should just ditch ol’ Starlight altogether and get your dad to buy Samson for you for your birthday.”

  Carole blinked, startled by her friend’s words. For one thing, she’d almost forgotten that her seventeenth birthday was coming up in less than three weeks. But more importantly, the very idea of replacing her own horse with Samson gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  It’s probably because I’ve never really thought about the two of them together like that, she told herself. They’re so totally separate. I mean, Starlight is my horse, and I love him as much as ever. How could Stevie even joke about my giving him up?

  Suddenly she noticed that Samson was shaking his head, and she realized she’d tightened up on the reins without meaning to. She loosened them immediately, sending the big gelding a mental apology.

  But she still felt a bit tense as she thought about Stevie’s careless remark. She’d owned Starlight for so long now that it was something she took for granted. He was a part of her life in the same way that her father was, or her best friends. She couldn’t imagine tossing him aside for another horse, any more than she could imagine tossing aside any of the people she cared about.

  But where does that leave Samson? she thought. Isn’t he an awfully big part of my life these days, too?