Pleasure Horse Read online

  RUNNING OUT OF TIME

  “You mean you think if we get Samson to tolerate the stirrups Max will let him stay?” Lisa asked.

  “Definitely. I’m sure that’s why he suddenly decided to send him to a trainer—he thinks we can’t solve this problem.” Carole stood to hang up the bridle she’d been oiling. “Luckily, Max is going to be at that dressage show, so we’ll have plenty of time.”

  Lisa nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

  “Can’t hurt? It’s our only chance to keep Samson here,” Carole replied.

  “Okay, then,” Lisa said after a minute, “count me in.”

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  by Jerry Piasecki

  RL 5, 009–012

  PLEASURE HORSE

  A Skylark Book / February 1996

  Skylark Books is a registered trademark of Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and elsewhere.

  “The Saddle Club” is a registered trademark of Bonnie Bryant Hiller. The Saddle Club design/logo, which consists of a riding crop and a riding hat, is a trademark of Bantam Books.

  “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

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 1996 by Bonnie Bryant Hiller.

  Cover art copyright © 1996 by Paul Casale.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  For information address: Bantam Books.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-82548-3

  Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

  Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words “Bantam Books” and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.

  v3.1

  I would like to express my special

  thanks to Caitlin Macy for her

  help in the writing of this book.

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Skylark Books

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  About the Author

  “I’D BETTER GET OFF before I fall off!” Stevie Lake exclaimed. She hopped to the ground and shook her finger reprovingly at Belle, her bay mare. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hadn’t been out of your stall in months!”

  “It must be the weather,” said Lisa Atwood. “Prancer was just as bad. She spooked at the same corner of the ring nine times!”

  “Ditto for Starlight,” said Carole Hanson, dismounting to join her two friends. “You’d think by February they’d be used to the sound of the wind blowing outside the indoor ring, but Starlight was as skittish as a colt today.”

  The girls had just finished their Tuesday-afternoon riding lesson at Pine Hollow Stables and, as usual, were heading into the barn together to untack. Besides taking lessons in the same group, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie spent practically every waking hour together.

  Since all three of them loved horses, a lot of those hours were spent at Pine Hollow. Stevie and Carole boarded their horses there, and Lisa always rode Prancer, a Thoroughbred stable horse. To make the time there even more fun, the girls had started a club for people who were horse-crazy. It was called The Saddle Club. Besides being horse-crazy, the only other requirement was that members be willing to help each other out in any kind of situation.

  “Skittish as a colt?” Lisa repeated Carole’s comment. “Hey, speaking of colts, weren’t we going to work with Samson today?”

  Samson, a coal-black colt, had been bred and born at Pine Hollow. The Saddle Club had been helping out with his training since day one—or even before, since they’d taken care of his mother while she was in foal and had been there at his birth. With all the patient care he had received, it was no wonder that he was maturing into a lovely horse. Of course, his breeding was important, too. Samson was the son of Delilah, an attractive palomino mare that was one of Pine Hollow’s best pleasure horses.

  Samson’s father was Cobalt, a black Thoroughbred. Cobalt had been an amazing jumper until he had broken a leg in a tragic accident caused by his rider’s carelessness. Veronica diAngelo, a spoiled, snobby girl who rode at Pine Hollow, had ignored instructions and taken Cobalt over a jump in a dangerous way. The horse had fallen and injured himself so badly there had been no choice but to put him down. Despite missing Cobalt, The Saddle Club was thrilled that Samson seemed to have inherited his sire’s spirit, and also his dam’s sweet disposition.

  “That’s right, we are supposed to work with Samson,” Carole replied, “and today we’re supposed to try the saddle with the stirrups on him.”

  “Good—that’s an important step for him,” said Lisa.

  The Saddle Club had seen Samson go from wearing a halter for the first time to getting used to a bridle and saddle. They took the task of training the colt very seriously and had made sure to go slowly to avoid upsetting him. So far Samson had only worn a saddle without stirrups, but the girls had decided he was ready for the next step.

  “Before long he’ll have a rider on his back,” Stevie predicted.

  “Won’t that be incredible?” Lisa cried. “I wonder who will be the first to sit on Samson.”

  “I’ll bet Max will want to do that part himself,” said Carole.

  Maximillian Regnery III, Max for short, was the owner of Pine Hollow Stables and the girls’ riding instructor. He had inherited the farm from his father, who had inherited it from his father, usually referred to as Max the First. The current Max was an experienced all-around horseman. If he was the first to ride Samson, there was no doubt that he would do an excellent job.

  “Still, maybe if we do our best, he’ll consider letting us at least help out on the big day. And then, you never know,” Stevie said, her hazel eyes twinkling.

  Carole and Lisa grinned. It was much too early to guess who would get to ride the colt first, but with Stevie Lake on their team, it was true: You did never know. Stevie had an incredible talent for getting people to do what she wanted. Even though the talent seemed to be inborn, with all the adventures she’d gotten The Saddle Club into and out of, Stevie had found plenty of opportunities to develop it.

  “Anyway, let’s get him used to the stirrups first, okay?” Lisa suggested.

  “Right. How about we untack and meet back in the indoor ring in half an hour?” said Carole. “I’ll bring Samson. You guys bring a saddle with stirrups.”

  The girls agreed and split up.

/>   CAROLE HUMMED AS she groomed Starlight on the cross-ties. She loved fussing over the bay gelding, but today she couldn’t wait to work with Samson. He was more than just another horse to Carole. She felt she had a special bond with the colt because she had ridden his sire. Whenever Veronica had been too lazy to exercise Cobalt, Carole had taken the stallion out. For a short time, right before the accident, the two of them had made a great team.

  When Cobalt had been put down, Carole had thought she would never ride again. In the end, though, her love of horses had won out. She’d gotten back in the saddle and kept riding. Now she had her own horse, Starlight, whom she adored. But she had never forgotten Cobalt, and it made her extremely proud that she was helping train his son to become as fine a horse as he had been.

  After she finished rubbing Starlight down, putting him away, and checking his hay and water, Carole went to Samson’s stall. The colt stuck his nose over the door the minute he heard Carole’s voice.

  “Hey, Mr. Friendly,” Carole said, patting the glossy black neck. She snapped a lead line to his halter and led him out into the aisle. Even though he was still at the “awkward stage,” with his rump a good hand or two higher than his withers, Samson had the makings of a very handsome horse. His short back, sloping shoulder, and refined head spoke miles about his good breeding, even at this young age.

  “All right, I’d better stop admiring you,” Carole admitted reluctantly. “I wouldn’t want you to get conceited—at least not yet.”

  Samson playfully nodded his head and danced on the end of the lead line as Carole led him into the indoor ring.

  “He looks raring to go,” Lisa observed.

  “He is full of energy today,” Carole agreed.

  As they always did, the girls spent a few minutes patting and speaking to the colt. All of the training they had done so far followed the methods of natural horsemanship they’d learned from Denise McCaskill, a college student who sometimes worked at the stables. “Natural” horsemanship meant training by positive encouragement instead of by force, or, as Stevie liked to say, “By the carrot, not the whip.” It involved many techniques, including equine massage and voice training. The focus of each training session was supposed to be teaching, not correcting.

  “I think I’ll take him for a couple of turns around the ring to let him check things out,” Carole said.

  Even though Samson had seen the indoor ring hundreds of times, Carole knew that it was important to go slowly at every step of the colt’s training. Letting him walk around for a while instead of shoving a saddle on him right away would set a relaxed tone for the rest of the lesson.

  “We’ll go with you,” Stevie volunteered. “I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs, either.”

  “Sore from Max’s class?” Lisa asked.

  Stevie shook her head. “Riding? No way. It’s sitting at a desk all day that makes me stiff!”

  The girls laughed. Unlike Lisa, who breezed through school and liked it, or Carole, who tolerated it, Stevie maintained an active dislike for all things academic.

  “Well, just think,” said Lisa, “Presidents’ Day is coming up, so there’ll be a long weekend soon—three days to stretch your legs instead of two.”

  Stevie perked up. “I almost forgot about the long weekend. I don’t know how on earth, but I did. Actually, that reminds me. We’re going to visit my relatives in New Jersey. There’s going to be a big party for my cousin Angie’s sixteenth birthday. It should be fun.”

  “What’s your cousin like?” Carole asked. “Doesn’t she ride?”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty good. I haven’t seen her for a few years, but we’ve always gotten along well—probably because she’s horsey, too. She has her own horse and goes to lots of shows. I’ll probably be able to ride while we’re up there because my aunt and uncle have horses, too. I guess the only bad part will be that I’ll miss a couple of days working with Samson.”

  “We’ll give you a full update when you get back,” Carole promised.

  By the time they had circled the ring twice, Samson seemed quieter. He pranced when the wind outside picked up and shook the rafters, but otherwise he was calm. Stevie got the saddle from the jump where it was resting and she and Lisa placed it carefully on Samson’s back.

  “Make sure the stirrups don’t hit him,” Carole said.

  “Don’t worry—they’re still rolled up. He can’t feel a thing,” Lisa assured her. She waited while Stevie gently tightened the girth.

  “All right, we’ll unroll them now. Okay, Carole?” Stevie asked.

  Carole nodded. So far the lesson was going perfectly.

  Moving quietly, Lisa and Stevie each unrolled one of the stirrups so that the irons hung down below the saddle flaps. Carole was about to ask Samson to walk forward when the colt seemed to realize that something was swinging from the saddle. He shied to the side in surprise.

  “Easy, boy, don’t get all worked up. It’s only a pair of stirrups,” Carole said, trying to soothe him. She placed one hand on his neck. Instead of listening to her, Samson threw his head up and danced away.

  “Do you think he’s frightened by them?” Lisa asked anxiously.

  “I—I don’t know,” Carole admitted. She couldn’t say much more because it was taking all her concentration to steady Samson.

  “Or maybe it’s the wind again. It is loud,” Lisa suggested. It wasn’t like Samson to be so high-strung.

  “I don’t think he’s scared,” Stevie observed. “Look at his face. It’s more playful than frightened. I’ll bet he thinks this whole thing is a big game.”

  The girls looked. Samson did seem to be playing. By now he was virtually ignoring Carole, pulling and prancing and tossing his head around for emphasis.

  “You know, I think you’re right. He’s like a kitten with a new ball of yarn,” Carole remarked, thinking of her cat, Snowball. She had to raise her voice so that the others could hear her, because Samson had pulled her with him as he pranced his way down to the end of the ring.

  “Yeah, or a brother trying to beat you in an argument,” Stevie muttered, thinking of her three easily incensed siblings.

  Speaking firmly and with a couple of snaps on the lead line, Carole managed to get Samson back to the middle of the ring. But once there, he refused to stand still. Stevie and Lisa tried to help, but they weren’t sure what to do. When they approached Samson, he shied away; when they stayed back, he started to drag Carole around. Carole kept talking to him quietly and patting him and telling him everything was okay, but Samson didn’t seem to be listening. Finally Lisa suggested that they call it quits for the day, even though they’d only been out about ten minutes. “We don’t want him to get too excited,” she said. “And let’s face it: This is becoming a battle that we’re losing. He’s really out of control.”

  “I agree. And if he gets any sweatier, it’s going to take hours to walk him,” Stevie said, noting the wet shine that had quickly appeared on Samson’s dark coat. “What do you think, Carole?”

  Carole didn’t say anything at first, but then she nodded reluctantly. She hated to give up when the lesson had started so well, but she knew that her friends were right. A good horsewoman never continued when a horse got too worked up, especially a young horse. In one very bad session, a trainer could undo a lot of good work.

  Together, the three girls could barely get the saddle off. Samson kept lunging away, and it still wasn’t clear if he was spooked or just being silly. Exhausted, Carole relinquished the lead line to Stevie so Stevie could walk Samson to cool him off. “I don’t understand what I was doing wrong,” Carole commented, watching the colt slowly quiet down again.

  “I don’t think you were doing anything wrong,” Lisa said sympathetically. “He was just acting strange. Remember, every horse, trainer, and rider has off days. None of us knew what to do.”

  Carole nodded thoughtfully. Stevie had reached the end of the ring and turned Samson back toward them. Once again it hit Carole how striking the col
t was and how well he would perform under saddle someday. The thought made her feel better. “You’re right, Lisa,” she said brightly. “I guess I just thought that since he’s taken every other step of his training so calmly, this one would be no different. We’ll just have to go more slowly with the stirrups if he doesn’t like them, that’s all.”

  Overhearing, Stevie brought Samson up to the two of them. “I agree completely. So far we’ve had it easy, but training Samson is going to be a challenge, like most things about horses. And since all of our horses are working well for the moment, the three of us could use a little challenge around here.”

  “Don’t say that without knocking wood!” Lisa exclaimed.

  “Say what, that we need a challenge?” Stevie asked.

  “No! That all of our horses are working well!” Lisa cried.

  “All right, now you’ve both said it. Go knock on those cavalletti while I hold Samson,” Carole instructed. Lisa and Stevie ran and rapped on the jumps.

  “Satisfied?” Stevie asked.

  “With you, yes,” Carole replied. She turned to Samson and added, under her breath, “And more determined than ever to keep working with you.”

  STEVIE GRITTED HER TEETH. By all accounts, she should have been in a great mood. Here it was, the Friday of Presidents’ Day weekend. She had three whole days off from school, and she was on the train to visit a cousin who loved horses as much as she did. Unfortunately, her three brothers—Chad, the oldest; her twin, Alex; and Michael—were on the same train. Even more unfortunately, Stevie was stuck in a four-seater with them, all the way from Virginia to Philadelphia, while her parents snoozed in a double seat several rows away. Sometimes Stevie thought that the universe might not be big enough for her and her brothers. But she was absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent sure that one train seat was far too small.

  For a while Stevie had been pretending to be asleep so that she could ignore them, but it wasn’t working all that well. With her eyes closed, she only heard every annoying thing they said more clearly. Michael had been humming off-key for the last hour while Chad and Alex discussed all the cute girls they were planning to charm at Angie’s sweet sixteen party on Sunday.