Silver Stirrups Read online

  “Oh, you’re getting talent, all right. Just wait’ll you get a look at this boy,” said the driver in an appreciative tone.

  When the ramp was secure, Carole walked up it to get the horse. A pretty chestnut face with a white blaze turned toward her, ears pricked. In the dim light Carole couldn’t really see what he looked like. What she could see was that no expense had been spared in shipping him down to Pine Hollow. The horse was resplendent in maroon and white, wearing every kind of bandage, boot, blanket, and head gear. In the stall next to him were a huge maroon-and-white tack trunk; two smaller trunks, also matching; and a number of grooming kits, buckets, and garment bags.

  “Ready up there?”

  “Ready!” Carole cried. She snapped a lead shank to the chestnut’s halter and opened the stall door. As she did so, she glimpsed the nameplate gleaming on the leather cheek piece: Country Doctor.

  “Okay, here we come!”

  Taking care that he didn’t rush (risking a scrape or injury), Carole led the gelding down the ramp to the driveway. He walked perfectly calmly until they got to the ground. Then he threw up his head and neighed loudly.

  “That’s right, boy. You’re in your new home now,” Carole murmured, stroking the glossy neck.

  At the sound of the whinny, Stevie and Lisa emerged from the barn, followed by Red and then Max. Red whistled. “That is one good-looking horse,” he remarked.

  Stevie and Lisa looked at one another and laughed. Only at Pine Hollow would the men be so impressed by a beautiful horse. Still, the girls could see that Red was right. Even covered in his travel gear, the chestnut was a looker.

  “What’s his name?” Lisa asked.

  “Says here, Country Doctor,” Carole supplied.

  “That must be his show name,” Stevie guessed.

  Carole nodded. “Yeah, we ought to give him a barn name, huh?” Most show horses went by short nicknames for easy reference.

  “How about Doc?” Lisa suggested.

  “Doc it is,” Carole pronounced. She led the horse forward to stretch his legs.

  “Hey, why don’t we take some of this stuff off him,” Stevie volunteered.

  “Great,” said Carole. She held the gelding steady while Stevie and Lisa removed his blanket and shipping bandages. When they were done, Carole got her first real look at him. She drew her breath in sharply. Doc looked like … like her dream horse! He was a bright chestnut with four white socks, about fifteen and a half hands high. He looked both strong and elegant. “Wow,” Carole said with a sigh. “He is beautiful.”

  Lisa glanced at Carole. “No more beautiful than Starlight,” she reminded her.

  “Of course not, Lisa,” Carole said hurriedly. “But that’s like comparing apples and oranges. This horse is a top-of-the-line junior hunter. He probably cost more than—well, more than we could imagine.”

  “Thousands?” Lisa asked.

  Stevie grinned. “Thousands and thousands and thousands.”

  Their speculation was cut short by Max. “Lisa! Stevie! Can you two go help Red finish spreading the bedding for our new arrival? Carole, walk him a good half hour or so, so he can really stretch, okay?”

  “Okay, Max!” Carole called, as Lisa and Stevie ran to help Red. “Come on, boy, time to work out the kinks,” she murmured. She started walking down the long driveway.

  “Mind if I join you?” a voice asked.

  Carole turned. It was the driver of the van. “I should probably work out the kinks, too. I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.”

  “Where to next?” Carole asked politely as the man fell into step with her.

  “I’ve got to pick up two horses in North Carolina and bring ’em over to Tennessee. One of them’s a real handful. Not like this guy,” said the driver.

  Carole smiled. One of the things she loved most about riding was horse talk. There was nothing like swapping stories, one horsey person to another. “So this guy’s a champion up north?” she inquired.

  “You got that right. Owner’s absolutely horse-crazy. Takes him to every show she can.”

  “She?” Carole repeated absently.

  “Young girl—’bout your age. Been riding since she could walk.”

  Ignoring the last comment, Carole asked, “So she rides hunters, not equitation?”

  Most horse shows offered hunter classes, which judged the horse’s form, and equitation classes, which judged the rider’s form. Carole had done some of each with Starlight.

  “Both,” said the driver. “And they win in both.”

  Carole felt like frowning, but she forced another smile. “I’ve done both, too,” she said.

  The driver looked at her. “You got your own horse?”

  “Yup. He’s a half-Thoroughbred mix named Starlight. I trained him myself. I—” Carole paused, embarrassed that she had started to brag.

  Luckily, the man didn’t seem to notice. “Good for you,” he said. “Training a horse is a real test of horsemanship—more than any of this horse show business, if you ask me.”

  Carole glowed. I’ll bet Doc’s owner can’t say that she’s trained a horse, she thought. Then she stopped. Why was she comparing herself to Doc’s owner, a girl she’d never met? Why did she feel as if they were already in competition?

  After a second Carole recovered herself and walked forward beside the chestnut. To her relief, the driver had continued talking, oblivious to the thoughts that were running through her mind.

  “Anyway, this horse ought to be a great addition to the stable, eh? Not to mention his rider …”

  “Yes,” Carole said tightly, “I’m sure they’ll—they’ll help our Pony Club teams a lot.”

  Carole and the van driver reached the end of the driveway, turned around, and headed back. At the stables, Max came out to thank the man again and give him directions back to the highway. Carole lingered for a couple of moments, letting Doc nibble at the grass outside the barn. She was glad that the gelding seemed happy and relaxed. As he grazed, she looked him over a second time. His conformation was truly striking: a sloping shoulder, a short back … Try as she could, Carole couldn’t find a single fault. A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience. Starlight was beautiful, too. And Starlight had excellent conformation. The only thing this horse had that Starlight didn’t was a price tag. But that was because Carole’s father had bought him for her when the horse was young and relatively unschooled. By now he was probably worth a lot more.…

  “You guys seem to have hit it off,” a voice observed.

  Carole glanced up, startled. She felt as if Max had read her thoughts—thoughts she wasn’t proud of. Since when did she care how much Starlight was worth? Why would she want to put a price tag on him?

  “Who wouldn’t hit it off with a horse like this?” she said lightly.

  “You’ve got a point,” Max agreed.

  “So, I hear his rider is supposed to be very good,” Carole remarked. She knew she ought to leave the subject alone, but she couldn’t. A side of her that until now she hadn’t known existed seemed to have taken over.

  “You bet. I don’t know how good, but I’ve heard she’s hot stuff. Her name’s Andrea Barry.” Max paused and smiled down at Carole. “And I have the feeling you and Andrea Barry are really going to hit it off. This girl might be just as horse-crazy as you.”

  “Great,” Carole said, her voice flat. To cover up her lack of enthusiasm, she added, “I can’t wait to meet her. When is she coming?”

  “I’m not sure. I think her family was having some trouble with the move,” Max replied. “Say, Carole, why don’t you exercise this boy till Andrea arrives? It would be good for you to try another horse, and I’m sure you’d have fun with him.”

  “Great!” Carole said, only this time she meant it. Since her first look at Doc, she’d been itching to try him out.

  It only made the opportunity sweeter when Max added, “You’re one of the few students I feel comfortable entrusting a new horse with.” Before she could thank him,
Max said brusquely, “Red and the girls are set with the stall. Better bring him in before it gets too late.”

  Feeling ten times better, Carole led Doc inside. Now she felt silly. Why was she getting all bent out of shape because an expensive show horse had arrived at Pine Hollow? She, Carole Hanson, was still the number one junior rider at Pine Hollow. Max trusted her to ride Doc—and he was counting on her to bring the Silver Stirrups Trophy home to Pine Hollow.

  Besides, for all she knew, Doc’s owner would turn out to be another Veronica diAngelo. Veronica had a lot of money. She had an expensive, nearly perfect show horse, Go For Blue. And she had won a lot of ribbons in competitions. But, as Carole knew, Veronica won not because she was a great rider. Veronica won because she was a decent rider—okay, even a good rider—who owned a great horse. She didn’t have to make do with a young horse, a green horse, a horse with bad habits, a horse that didn’t like to jump, a “bad mover,” or even a horse like Stevie’s mare, Belle, who had a mind of her own. Veronica could just sit there on Danny (Go For Blue’s barn name) and win ribbons. Of course, she usually lost her temper or messed up or figured out some other way to ruin her chances, Carole thought with a grin. And Andrea Barry might be just like that.

  “Open sesame!” Stevie murmured, pulling back Doc’s stall door.

  While Doc nodded regally, Carole led him into his new quarters and unsnapped the lead shank from the halter. When a horse first arrived at Pine Hollow, Max liked to leave the halter on for a few nights, as a safety precaution.

  “This place looks like the Ritz,” Carole joked. Doc’s stall was bedded deeply, and he’d been given a new salt block and new buckets.

  “It should,” said Lisa, panting slightly. “Red had us use about a hundred bags of shavings.”

  From the stall next door, Red replied, “Only a hundred? Boy, you guys got off easy. Usually I use a thousand for a new horse.”

  Lisa grinned sheepishly. One thing they’d all learned about Pine Hollow—and yet always seemed to forget—was that the stall walls were thin. “I guess everybody deserves the red-carpet treatment once!” she responded.

  Carole gave the chestnut a good pat and joined the others outside the stall. “Judging from this guy’s equipment, I think Country Doctor gets the red-carpet treatment all the time,” she said. Gratified, Carole noted that she could make the comment without feeling jealous, simply as an observation.

  “You mean the maroon-carpet treatment,” Stevie corrected her. “Maroon and white.”

  Carole grinned. “You got me there.”

  Lisa looked puzzled.

  “Have you seen the tack room?” Stevie asked. When Lisa shook her head, Stevie explained, “Let me just say that this is a rider who believes in color coordination. You just saw the travel gear, but even his tack trunks are maroon and white!”

  Lisa nodded. She understood completely. “Do you think this is a case of the Veronica diAngelo syndrome?” she asked.

  “You said it,” said Stevie. “So far, they sure seem to have a lot in common.”

  Lisa giggled. “Yeah, I’ll bet … like tack trunks, garment bags, brush boxes—”

  Carole laughed along with her friends. “Now, now,” she chided them. “We have to remember how good it will be for Horse Wise to have another good jumper on the team.” Horse Wise was the name of the Pine Hollow chapter of the Pony Club. Stevie, Lisa, and Carole were all active members.

  Stevie rolled her eyes. “It might not be worth it if we have to put up with another rider like Veronica,” she said dryly.

  “Stevie—” Lisa began warningly. Nobody liked Veronica, but Stevie was the girl’s self-appointed archenemy.

  “I know, I know, but making up for Veronica’s bad horsemanship is about all one team can handle!” Stevie insisted.

  “Not to mention her lack of team spirit,” Carole put in. Veronica, as they all knew, only cared about one thing: winning. And she only cared about one person winning: herself. So, despite Danny’s good breeding and her own riding skills, she often jeopardized the team’s chances.

  Lisa spoke up. “All right, all right. You guys are being dumb! We haven’t even met this Andrea Barry yet and we’re already writing her off as another Veronica! She might be nothing like Veronica. She might be nice and smart and a great rider. Who knows? We might even ask her to join The Saddle Club. She might be just as horse-crazy as—as you, Carole!” Lisa concluded in a rush. “Right?”

  Carole started. Just as horse-crazy as you. Wasn’t that what Max had said?

  “Right, Carole?” Lisa prompted her.

  With her eyes on the bright chestnut gelding, Carole nodded. “Sure, Lisa,” she said quietly. “I guess there’s always that possibility, too.”

  AN HOUR LATER, the girls had helped with the evening feeding and were gathering up their things from the locker room. “See you guys tomorrow?” Lisa said, stuffing dirty breeches into her backpack.

  Stevie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I just realized that we only have a few days to practice for the schooling show.”

  “Hey … you’re right,” said Carole after a minute. “And I told Max I would give Doc some exercise.”

  “Maybe that’s good,” Lisa suggested. “You’ll have a little break from Starlight and come back refreshed.”

  “That’s true. And it is only a schooling show,” Carole said, thinking aloud.

  “What, saving yourself for Briarwood?” Stevie teased.

  “Yeah, right,” said Carole. “I don’t want to burn out before the big show.” She tried to keep her voice light, as if she were joking, but her words came out more serious than she had meant them to.

  “You? Burn out? That’ll be the day,” Lisa said, shaking her head. “Maybe when you’re ninety-nine.”

  “Yeah, when you’re ninety-nine and you’ve won every silver stirrups, silver saddle, silver noseband, silver anything trophy on the East Coast!” Stevie laughed.

  Carole laughed, too, then looked serious again. “Say, you guys?” she began.

  Stevie and Lisa turned expectantly.

  “Do you really think …” Carole stopped. She couldn’t finish the sentence that had formed in her mind: Do you really think I’ll win the trophy?

  Carole couldn’t understand what had gotten into her. Only a truly self-centered person, only a bad friend—only a Veronica—would ask a question like that under the circumstances. Stevie and Lisa had already implied several times that they did think she would win it. To make them come right out and say it would be rude. Besides, Carole reminded herself, Stevie and Lisa were competing, too. They had every chance in the world to win the trophy themselves. It was only because they were such good friends with Carole that they didn’t mind being beaten by her. For her to go and rub their noses in it …

  “Do we really think what?” Lisa asked.

  “Oh—well—” Carole chewed her lip. “I mean, what I meant was, have you had a chance to really think about what classes you’re going to enter at Briarwood?” she finished lamely.

  “No, but let’s go check out the schedule now,” Stevie suggested.

  Carole agreed, but Lisa had to go. “I’ve got to go home and eat dinner. Or, actually, I’ve got to go home and set the table so the family can eat dinner.”

  Stevie’s hazel eyes started to sparkle. Lisa took one look at them and began to shake her head. “Oh no you don’t, Stevie Lake. You can’t convince me to try to get out of this one. The last chore you had me skip completely backfired.”

  Stevie did her best to look innocent. “What do you mean, Lisa? Didn’t I get you out of emptying the dishwasher?”

  “Yeah, and you got me into weeding the garden for a week as punishment!” Lisa exclaimed. She glanced at her watch. “Shoot! I’ve got to run!”

  Leaving Carole and Stevie to consult the class schedule, Lisa hurried toward the stable telephone to call her mother. She turned a corner and ran smack-dab into Red O’Malley.

  “I was about to come find you,”
said Red. “I’m headed out toward your house and I thought I could give you a lift.”

  “Really?” said Lisa. “That would make my mother’s day. She might even forgive me for being late to set the table.”

  Lisa about-faced and walked with Red to his truck, an old blue pickup. The truck was just like Red, Lisa thought: not flashy or showy, a little weathered, but totally reliable.

  “Pretty cool news about Briarwood, huh?” Lisa said when they were settled and heading out of the parking lot.

  “Very cool,” Red agreed. “And I think you kids have a great chance this year. You’re all riding well.”

  “I hope so,” said Lisa modestly. “Last year was so embarrassing!”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” Red insisted.

  “Maybe not for you!” Lisa said. “You stayed behind at Pine Hollow, as I recall!”

  Laughing, the two of them recounted The Saddle Club’s previous outing at Briarwood. Stevie and Carole had done well, but Lisa had made the mistake of bringing Prancer before either of them was ready. When Prancer, fresh from her life on the track, had acted up at the horse show, Lisa hadn’t been able to control her.

  The day had been a turning point for Lisa. She had learned that one of the most important responsibilities a rider has is knowing what she and her horse can handle, in or out of the show ring.

  “I’m glad we have the schooling show this weekend to tune up,” Lisa concluded.

  “Me too,” said Red.

  They drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Then Lisa looked curiously at Red. “Wait, you mean you’re glad that we’ll be able to tune up?” she queried.

  “Well … that, and—well, I’m just glad, I guess,” Red said, his eyes on the road.

  Lisa eyed him narrowly. Now she had to get to the bottom of this. “Do you mean you might ride in the schooling show?” she asked. It was a well-known fact at Pine Hollow that although Red was an excellent rider, he didn’t like to compete. He preferred to stay backstage, grooming, coaching, and exercising the boarders’ show horses for them.

  “Yeah, I thought I might take Kismet in the adult jumper class,” Red said offhandedly.