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  Read all the Saddle Club books!

  Horse Crazy

  Horse Shy

  Horse Sense

  Horse Power

  Trail Mates

  Dude Ranch

  Horse Play

  Horse Show

  Hoof Beat

  Riding Camp

  Horse Wise

  Rodeo Rider

  Copyright © 1990 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  “The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  “USPC” and “Pony Club” are registered trademarks of the United States Pony Clubs, Inc., at The Kentucky Horse Park, 4071 Iron Works Pike, Lexington, KY 40511-8462.

  Visit us on the Web! randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  eISBN: 978-0-307-82486-8

  Originally published by Bantam Skylark in 1990

  First Delacorte eBook Edition 2012

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  “EASY, BOY,” CAROLE Hanson said, patting the black foal’s neck gently. Samson eyed Carole warily, then glanced at his mother, Delilah, who stood nearby.

  Carole held a halter in her hand. She showed it to the foal. He looked at it curiously, but there was no fear in his eyes. This was the third day in a row that Carole had brought the halter to the fence by his paddock. She thought he was ready to try it on.

  Although Carole was only twelve, she was an experienced rider. With Samson, she hoped to become an experienced trainer as well. Samson had been born at Pine Hollow Stables, just a few months before. Carole and her best friends, Stevie Lake and Lisa Atwood, had been present at the birth. It had been one of the most exciting experiences they’d ever had. It was hard to believe, even now, that the fine strong foal who stood next to Carole had once been the scrawny newborn, struggling to stand up and take his first sip of milk. He’d grown tremendously in the first months and could now run around the paddock he shared with his mother for long periods of time. Still, he was just a baby, Carole thought with a smile. Every time she stepped into the paddock, the little foal ran to hide behind his mother’s tail.

  Stevie and Lisa stood by the fence outside the paddock. Lisa held Delilah on a lead rope. The girls knew that if the mother stood still, the foal was more likely to stand still as well. Stevie and Lisa held their breaths while Carole put her arm over Samson’s neck to place the halter on his head.

  The three girls were accustomed to working together. They’d become best friends at Pine Hollow and had formed The Saddle Club. The club had only two rules. The first was that members had to be horse crazy. That was easy for them. The second rule was that they had to be willing to help one another. Since there was always plenty going on, they’d worked together a lot.

  Carole was the most experienced rider. She’d been brought up on Marine Corps bases where, as a colonel’s daughter, she had taken riding lessons all her life. She was determined to spend the rest of her life with horses, as well.

  Stevie, the only girl in a family of four children, had started riding so she would have something to do that was different from anything her brothers did. She worked hard at her riding and she was very good—as long as she wasn’t in trouble with Max, the owner of the stable. Stevie had a knack for practical jokes and getting into hot water and frequently seemed to lead her friends right into it with her!

  Although Lisa, at thirteen, was the oldest of the trio, she was the newest to horseback riding. She had started only a few months before and had begun riding because her mother thought it was something every proper young lady should know something about. Mrs. Atwood hadn’t been prepared for the fact that, after her first lessons, Lisa had wanted to learn everything about it. When Lisa discovered how much fun riding was, and when the three girls had formed The Saddle Club, Lisa had somehow found the courage to tell her mother she wanted to give up some of the other “proper young lady” activities her mother had insisted upon, like painting, ballet, violin, and needlework. Mrs. Atwood hoped this was a temporary situation, but Lisa knew better. Her mother was no more enthusiastic about Lisa’s horseback riding than she was about her daughter’s straight-A report cards. Mrs. Atwood didn’t think proper young ladies needed straight A’s.

  “Okay, boy,” Carole spoke softly, “here we go.” She stood by the foal. Although she knew the foal could not understand her words, she wanted to keep him calm with her tone of voice. Samson stood still. She laid the nose strap of the halter across his muzzle. He pulled back quickly. Carole stood her ground. She touched his muzzle with the leather once again. This time, Samson didn’t pull back. She removed it. He stood still. She looked over toward the fence, wanting reassurance from her friends.

  “You’re doing fine,” Lisa said. “He’s ready. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Carole patted the foal once again. Then, while talking to him softly and confidently, she slipped the halter around his muzzle and drew the crown strap up behind his ears. She had it buckled before Samson knew what was happening.

  The foal shook his head, trying to rid himself of the halter. It didn’t budge. That made him shake all the more. He looked to his mother for help. She only glanced at him, then turned her attention to the sugar lump Lisa held for her.

  “Good boy,” Carole said. “That’s it. That’s all there is to it. Good boy,” she repeated. She tried patting him, but he was shaking his head too vigorously to notice.

  Carole thought that was enough for the first day. As quickly as she’d put it on, she removed the halter. Samson shook his head a final time, then discovering the odd feeling had gone, he turned his attention to his mother’s udder. He was ready for some lunch.

  Lisa released Delilah’s lead rope. Carole climbed the fence quickly and the three of them watched the horses together.

  “That was really neat,” Lisa said. “Everybody should be able to see that kind of thing happen.”

  “If everybody came here to see it happen, it wouldn’t be so special for us,” Stevie said. “We wouldn’t be able to get our front-row seats, would we?”

  “No, I don’t want everybody here,” Lisa said thoughtfully, rolling up the lead rope as she spoke. “I just wish everybody could understand the experience—share in it, you know? Like, I think it would be great to be able to write about that kind of thing and let people know how it feels to be with horses.”

  “Well, maybe,” Carole said dubiously. “Except that I’d never be able to describe it.”

  “Some people can,” Lisa argued, following Carole into the stable. “There are a lot of great writers who would know just exactly what to say.”

  “But they weren’t here,” Stevie reminded her. “So, now, it’s just us who know what it was like to watch Samson have a halter on for the first time.”

  Lisa slung the looped rope over her shoulder and led the way back to the locker area where they would change their clothes. She thought she could still feel her heart beating with the excitement of the scene—the first training of a foal. It had been exciting. Why
couldn’t that experience be shared?

  “Ooh, pee-yew,” Stevie groaned, entering the locker area. “I just hate the smell of paint, don’t you?”

  Carole wrinkled her nose. “Sure,” she agreed, “but it’s got to be done.” Carole could be very matter-of-fact sometimes.

  Stevie peered into the tack room where the paint smell originated. “What a disaster area!” The floor was scattered with saddles, bridles, halters, and spare parts. The walls were freshly white.

  “Maybe we should offer to help put the stuff back,” Carole suggested.

  “You don’t have time,” Stevie reminded her. “You promised to sell tickets at the shopping center for the library raffle today and tomorrow, remember?”

  Carole’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no!” she said. “I’d forgotten all about it.”

  Stevie smiled at her friend. “You always forget everything, unless it has to do with horses, don’t you? That’s one of the reasons you keep me around—to remind you, right?” she kidded Carole.

  Carole sat down on the bench and removed her boots. “I can’t believe I forgot about that! The problem is—” She paused and crinkled her nose in concentration.

  “I bet we can help,” Lisa said brightly. “Whatever it is.”

  “Maybe you can,” Carole conceded. “The problem is that I’m supposed to be there all day tomorrow so I won’t be able to work with Samson. Today’s lesson should be reinforced right away.”

  “That’s no problem at all,” Stevie said quickly. “Lisa and I can do that. All we need to do is to get the halter on for a few seconds, right?” Carole nodded.

  Lisa slipped out of her riding clothes and into her street clothes. Stevie and Carole chatted about the library raffle. The first prize was two weeks at Moose Hill, a sleepaway riding camp. All three of them had daydreamed about going, but it seemed unlikely that their parents would go for it. They’d already been on two trips this summer—to a dude ranch and to New York City! Stevie said she wanted to buy all the raffle tickets, then realized that she didn’t have any money.

  Normally, Lisa would have joined in the conversation, but just then, Lisa’s mind was on something else. She couldn’t stop thinking about Samson’s first training lesson and how much she thought other people would enjoy learning about it. She smiled, remembering.

  “Say, dreamface,” Stevie said, noticing Lisa’s faraway look. “What’s on your mind? You planning to go to Moose Hill by yourself?”

  “Oh, no. I was just thinking about Samson,” Lisa said. “It was just so much fun to be a part of his first lesson. Everyone should be as lucky as we are! It’s news that people should get to hear about.”

  “News, news,” Stevie echoed, then her face lit up. “That reminds me. I’ve got some news! I can’t believe I forgot!”

  “Well?” Carole prodded, pulling on a pair of gold cotton shorts.

  “What is it?” Lisa asked. Stevie sounded excited and Lisa had learned long ago that when Stevie was excited about something, it was usually something neat, even when it meant trouble.

  “I’m going to have a sister!” Stevie announced.

  “Your mother’s—?” Lisa began, stunned. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d thought her own mother was going to give her a baby sister or brother. She hadn’t been excited at that prospect at all!

  “Oh, no!” Stevie said, giggling. She pulled her T-shirt over her head and started to tuck it into her denim cutoffs, then changed her mind. She left the shirt untucked. “Not a baby. What I mean is that this girl, Trudy something, is going to stay with us for a couple of weeks. She’ll be like my sister because she’s just about our age, and finally I’ll have an ally against all those brothers of mine!”

  “Hey, now that’s news,” Lisa said enthusiastically. “Is she some kind of foreign exchange student or something?”

  Stevie shoved her boots to the back of her cubby and crammed her riding clothes into a zipper bag. “If you call Washington a foreign place, then yes,” Stevie said. “See, her mother works with my mother in D.C., and her parents won this trip to Hawaii, but it’s only for two. Her mother was going to give it up because they couldn’t take Trudy, but Mom invited Trudy to visit us. Her mother said she’s never been to the country before. Can you imagine?”

  “Sure I can imagine,” Lisa said. “After all, except for the American Horse Show in New York City, it’s not as if we’ve spent much time in the city, is it? I think it would be weird living in a city, and I bet Trudy will find it weird living with you.”

  “I just hope she isn’t too weird,” Stevie said. “After all, it’s going to be my only chance to have a sister.”

  “I didn’t mean that it would be Trudy that’s weird,” Lisa said, pursing her lips so Stevie wouldn’t see her smile.

  “You think I’m the weird one?” Stevie challenged.

  Lisa couldn’t hold her giggle. Stevie joined her. Stevie was a little weird, but it was a nice weird as far as her friends were concerned.

  “Carole, your shirt’s on backward,” Stevie said, changing the subject as she watched her friend pull down the ends of her polo shirt.

  Carole looked down, confused. “I could have sworn …”

  “You know,” Stevie teased, “maybe you ought to wear shirts with pictures of horses on them. Then you’d always put them on right.”

  “Ha, ha.” Carole grinned, then shook her head. “The trouble is, you’re right. I am a total flake. Who knows what I’ll do next?” She jammed her hands into her jeans pocket. “Oh, no,” she said, genuine distress in her voice.

  “What’s the matter?” Lisa asked.

  “Where’s the money?” Carole began. She reached to the bottom of her pockets and wiggled her fingers in vain. “My dad’s birthday-present money …”

  “You’re getting him some tapes, aren’t you?” Stevie asked.

  Carole nodded. Her father was crazy about things from the fifties and sixties. She’d been saving for a while to get enough money to buy him some old record albums he particularly wanted.

  “In your riding pants?” Lisa suggested.

  Carole searched the pockets of her breeches, but the money wasn’t there. “It’s fifteen dollars! I can’t lose it. His birthday’s only a couple of weeks away. If I …”

  “How about your wallet?” Stevie suggested. “Where is it?”

  “Oh, that’s in this pocket,” Carole said, tapping her rear pocket. “But Dad’s birthday money isn’t there. See, if I kept it there, I’m afraid I’d forget that it’s special money and I’d spend it.”

  “Your bag?” Lisa asked.

  Carole tore the clothes out of her backpack, but there was no money there. She sat on the bench, put her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palms of her hands. She frowned, trying to think hard. “The last time I saw it, I had it in my hand. I remember that. I just don’t remember what I did with it.”

  Lisa felt awful for Carole. There was nothing she could do. Carole just was forgetful and a little flaky. This wasn’t the first time she’d forgotten something important. Lisa recalled the time Carole had almost left her clothes and sleeping bag behind when they’d gone on an overnight trip.

  “I sometimes carry money in my shoes,” Stevie suggested.

  “That’s it!” Carole said, brightening. “It’s in my boots.” While her friends watched, Carole reached into the toe of her right riding boot. “Got it!” she said, and pulled out two crumpled bills, a five and a ten.

  “Carole!” Stevie said. “That’s no way to treat money—especially big money like that.”

  “I know,” Carole sighed. “But I just have to find a place to stash it until I can get to the mall to buy the records for Dad.” She looked at Stevie. “You helped me find it,” she said. “Will you help me keep it?”

  “Of course,” Stevie agreed. “If you really want me to.”

  “That would be great. Then you hold on to it for the next three weeks. I’m going to the mall the Saturday before his birthday. Give it to me
then.” Carole slapped the money into Stevie’s hand. “Don’t give it to me before then no matter how much I beg, okay?”

  Stevie looked at the money and then looked at her friend. “Are you sure?” she asked. Carole nodded. Slowly, Stevie took out her own wallet, lifted the flap to a hideaway compartment behind the billfold portion of it, closed the flap back over the money, and tossed her wallet back into her backpack. “Don’t worry that it’s going to be mixed up and confused with my money,” Stevie said. “All I’ve got is four cents and nobody’s going to mix up your fifteen dollars with my four cents.”

  “I know that,” Carole said. “I trust you. Besides, you only ever have four cents! I’d better run. Thanks. See you both!”

  With that, Carole picked up her things and practically ran out the door.

  “You know, there are a lot of exciting things happening,” Lisa said to Stevie as she finished putting her things neatly into her cubby. “Between Samson’s training and your new ‘sister,’ there’s a lot of news at the stable.”

  “Sure, I can just see the headlines in tomorrow’s paper,” Stevie said sarcastically.

  Lisa thought it was all in the way you looked at it, and the way she looked at it gave her an idea. A great idea, she thought, with a secret smile.

  LISA CLUTCHED HER portfolio so tightly that she was sure she was crumpling the papers inside. She looked at the sign on the door. It read WILLOW CREEK GAZETTE. Her knees felt weak. She took a deep breath. It didn’t do anything to make her knees feel better. She knocked on the door anyway.

  “C’mon in!” a gruff voice responded from inside.

  She opened the door and peered around it.

  What she expected was something like The Daily Planet city room—a sea of desks, each with its own computer screen and keyboard, most being operated by frazzled and dedicated reporters, determined to tell the truth to the news-hungry people of Willow Creek.

  What she saw was something different. There were three desks. Each looked as if it had been rescued from the junk pile. One did, actually, have a computer on it. One of the others had an old-fashioned desktop manual typewriter. The third may have had a typewriter on it, but Lisa couldn’t be sure. It was piled too high with back issues of The Gazette to see anything else.