The Painted Horse Read online

  “YOU’RE GOING TO BE famous?” Lisa asked Veronica. “Famous for what?”

  Veronica twirled a lock of glossy black hair around her finger. “Station WCTV is planning a special feature on talented young people. It’s called ‘Genius Kids.’ ”

  “Oh,” Lisa said. From the glow in Veronica’s eyes, she could tell that the other girl was telling the truth. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “But of course,” said Veronica.

  “What are you a genius at?” said Lisa.

  Veronica’s dark eyes flashed, and she put her fists on her hips. Her bright red lips came together in an angry line. “Riding, of course.”

  Lisa and Carole exchanged startled looks. Veronica was a pretty good rider—though she wasn’t good at taking care of her horse and her tack—but she wasn’t exactly a genius.

  “Who decided you were a genius?” Lisa asked. The question went unanswered.

  Wheels splashed in the mud outside. Carole stepped over to the window of the tack room. A white-and-blue WCTV truck was pulling up.

  When it stopped, Melody Manners, a star reporter at the station, climbed out of the passenger side. She had fine blond hair and dazzling blue eyes.

  Melody held a raincoat above her head and ran toward the stable. Lisa noticed that the reporter was wearing a pink jacket and a pale green blouse. Below the waist, though, she was wearing blue jeans and a pair of sensible brown boots. Following her was a cameraman.

  Melody looked at the three girls. “Now, which of you is Veronica?”

  Veronica stepped forward with a smile. “That’s me.”

  Melody took in Veronica’s fancy boots and breeches and perfect hair. “I should have known,” she said. “Mr. Wall said you’d be fantastic.”

  “Who?” said Veronica.

  “The head of the station,” said Melody. “He gave us your name.”

  Veronica’s smile faded, and her eyes narrowed. Color rose to her cheeks. Lisa and Carole looked at each other. Veronica’s father knew everyone who was rich and powerful in Willow Creek. He must have talked a friend into naming Veronica a Genius Kid.

  Lisa realized that Veronica thought she had been named a Genius Kid on her own, without her father’s help. Lisa suddenly felt sorry for Veronica.

  “You’ll be great,” Lisa said.

  “Of course I will,” said Veronica, glaring at Lisa.

  Carole stepped forward. “Listen, you’re representing Pine Hollow Stables, and that’s what’s important.”

  “Good thinking,” came Max’s deep voice from behind Carole. “All our riders represent us, and I know that Veronica will do a fine job.”

  “She’s a good rider,” Lisa said.

  Anyone else would have been grateful for the compliment, but Veronica bit her lip and looked from Lisa to Carole with fury.

  “So what’s on the program?” Melody asked Max. “What would you guys be doing if I weren’t here?”

  Max grinned. “Do you want to know the truth?”

  “Absolutely,” said Melody. “I want this show to be true to life.”

  “On a rainy day like today, we’d be polishing tack,” Max said.

  “Then we’ll do that,” said Melody.

  Veronica looked scared. Her usual method of cleaning tack was to get someone else to do it.

  Melody motioned for the cameraman to start shooting. “We’re at Pine Hollow Stables with Genius Kid Veronica diAngelo. Being a Genius Kid isn’t all ribbons and applause. A lot of it is plain hard work. Today, Veronica is going to clean tack.”

  Veronica looked around desperately. Then she caught sight of the halter that Lisa and Carole had just cleaned. She leaned down and picked it up, and then she picked up a stiff, muddy halter.

  “This is before,” said Veronica, holding up the dirty halter. “This is after,” she said, holding up the polished one.

  “That’s some difference,” said Melody, peering at the two halters. “You did a great job, Veronica.”

  “Thanks,” Veronica said with a smug smile.

  “Show us how it’s done,” said Melody.

  Fear flickered in Veronica’s eyes.

  No way was Lisa going to let Pine Hollow look bad. “I’ll get your saddle,” she said to Veronica. Veronica gave her a suspicious look.

  Carole gave Lisa a quick nod. “And I’ll get the saddle soap and the sponges,” she said.

  As Lisa and Carole headed off, Max threw them a grateful look.

  Lisa picked up Veronica’s saddle. It was a tawny dressage saddle with a deep seat and long flaps. It was light and perfectly balanced. A saddle like this should belong to a great rider like Carole, Lisa thought. But, in a way, that didn’t matter. This saddle deserved good care, no matter who owned it. She put the saddle on a wooden saddle horse.

  Carole came over with a bucket of water and a carrier filled with tins of polish, saddle soap, and sponges. She held them out to Veronica.

  Veronica knew enough to know that soaping a saddle was not a simple matter. If she did it the wrong way, there were bound to be TV viewers who would notice and complain.

  Carole didn’t want to let Max down, so she said, “Why don’t I clean it while you explain what I’m doing, Veronica?”

  Veronica looked relieved. She turned to the camera and smiled. “Cleaning a saddle isn’t as easy as you might think.”

  Carole took off the girth, the stirrup leathers, and irons. “I’m stripping the saddle,” she whispered.

  “Carole is stripping the saddle,” Veronica said.

  Holding the saddle by the pommel, Carole held it over the bucket of water and washed the inside with a sponge. When she was done, she dried it with a chamois cloth. And then she got a dry sponge, opened the tin of saddle soap, put a dab on the sponge, and applied it with a circular motion.

  “You need a dry sponge and a wet sponge,” Carole whispered.

  “Notice that she uses two sponges,” said Veronica. “One wet. The other dry.”

  Lisa sneaked a glance at Max. He was looking relieved. It wasn’t his fault that Veronica had been picked as a Genius Kid. He would have picked Carole if he’d had a choice.

  Carole put the saddle back on the saddle horse. She washed the seat, the flaps, and the leather underneath the flaps with the wet sponge. She struggled to get rid of a greasy black mark. “It’s called a jockey,” she whispered.

  “Those marks are called jockeys,” Veronica said. “They must be removed.”

  Lisa sighed with relief. The demonstration was going well. Veronica looked good, Carole looked good, and Pine Hollow looked good.

  Carole dried the wet leather with a chamois cloth. “If it’s not dry, there’ll be lather,” she whispered. “When it dries, lather collects dust.”

  “Make sure the leather is dry before you put on the soap,” Veronica said. “Otherwise the soap will lather. And the lather will dry and accumulate dirt.”

  “Great,” Melody said. “But now we want to see you do something, Veronica. Why don’t you provide the finishing touches?”

  Veronica picked up a dry sponge and a tin. The only problem was that she hadn’t picked up the tin of saddle soap. She had picked up a tin of black leather polish.

  “Er,” Lisa said. “Wait—”

  “I think I know what I’m doing,” Veronica snapped.

  “Please,” whispered Carole, looking at the black polish with an expression of misery.

  Veronica threw Lisa and Carole a scornful look. She lifted the lid of the tin and put her sponge in the black polish.

  “Excuse me,” Carole said, reaching for the polish.

  Veronica rolled her eyes and put a bold black streak across the saddle.

  STEVIE WAS IN big trouble. She knew she had to choose a special object for her paper—she really needed this grade. And she knew Ms. Dodge was keeping an eye on her. But she couldn’t make up her mind. Everything looked equally boring.

  There was something called a highboy, which was actually just a large chest of dr
awers. Stevie couldn’t understand why something so boring had such an interesting name. And then there was a triangular chair. Ten minutes sitting in that chair and you’d feel like a pretzel. And then there was a footstool covered with shiny black fabric.

  “Isn’t that nice?” said Ms. Dodge with a sigh.

  “I guess,” said Stevie.

  “Do you know what it’s covered with?” said Ms. Dodge.

  “No,” said Stevie.

  “You’ll be interested, Stevie, because I know you love horses,” she said.

  Stevie wondered what a footstool had to do with horses.

  “That shiny black fabric is horsehair,” Ms. Dodge said.

  Stevie jumped back. What a way for a noble horse’s mane and tail to end up—on a footstool.

  Ms. Dodge couldn’t seem to tear herself away from that footstool. Stevie wandered out onto the balcony to look through the huge glass window at Central Park. She saw a squirrel scramble up a tree and scoop a nut out of a hole. A pair of blackbirds sat on the back of a bench, cawing at each other. One rose; then the other rose. They swept up into the sky. There’s freedom out there, Stevie thought.

  “You’ve got to see this fire screen,” Mrs. Martin called to Ms. Dodge. Ms. Dodge hurried off to look.

  There were people who thought fire screens were exciting, Stevie realized. That was okay. It was a free country.

  Stevie turned back to the window. Sometimes there were horses in Central Park. She knew this because she had ridden there on the previous visit when she and Lisa and Carole had met Skye Ransom.

  If only she were on the other side of the glass. If only she were outdoors.

  “Now, Stevie.” Stevie jumped guiltily. It was Ms. Dodge. “It’s time to select your object,” she said. “We’ll meet in the main hall near the museum store at four.” She smiled. “Don’t forget to get a postcard of your object.”

  “No problem, Ms. Dodge,” said Stevie.

  As soon as Ms. Dodge moved away, Stevie looked at her watch. She had a whole two hours. She looked at the park. It wouldn’t hurt to take a break from all this culture. In fact, she owed it to herself. A breath of fresh air was all she needed.

  She walked through the Egyptian exhibit back to the main hall. To the right was the museum gift shop. Stevie could buy postcards later.

  She wiggled through the knot of tourists and hurried down the stairs. She ran along an endless fountain and turned left. Suddenly she was in the park.

  Fresh air. Freedom. She raised her arms and a bird burst up out of a bush.

  “Way to go,” she said to the bird. “Don’t let anybody keep you down.”

  She climbed a sloping sidewalk until she was on a hill behind the museum. The road was filled with joggers, skaters, cyclists, and kids on tricycles.

  Stevie felt excitement rise inside her. It was like the beginning of a cross-country event or the beginning of a hunt. If she’d been on Belle, she’d have leaned forward and said, “Go, girl.”

  She was alone now, so she said it to herself. “Go, Stevie.”

  Next thing she knew, she was part of the stream of cyclists and skaters and runners. She was on the move.

  VERONICA GASPED AT the black streak. Lisa gulped. This was really going to make Pine Hollow look bad. Their supposedly best rider didn’t know the difference between saddle soap and leather polish.

  “Somebody got the lids reversed,” Carole said. “Veronica thought she was picking up saddle soap when she was picking up black polish.” The truth was that Veronica hadn’t bothered to check that she was taking the right tin, but Carole was trying to make the stable look good.

  Veronica rolled her eyes significantly. She was clearly implying that Carole had gotten the caps mixed up.

  Lisa was furious. No one was going to do that to Carole.

  “It’s me,” she said. “I’m so absentminded. I just do these things. I don’t know why.”

  Carole couldn’t believe her ears. Lisa was the least absentminded person she knew. But she knew that Lisa was only trying to protect the honor of Pine Hollow. “It was both of us,” Carole said quickly. She picked up a clean sponge and loaded it with saddle soap. Their only hope was to get the black polish off the saddle before it sank into the leather.

  Lisa picked up another sponge, loaded it with more saddle soap, and started scrubbing, too.

  Veronica crossed her arms and watched as Lisa and Carole struggled to remove the polish.

  Lisa’s and Carole’s heads bumped as they scrubbed. This might be Veronica’s saddle, but it was a beautiful one. They wanted to make it like new again.

  “Ohhh,” Lisa groaned as she scrubbed at a particularly tough spot. Finally it came away. She stood back. There was no trace of black polish.

  Lisa and Carole looked at each other and sighed with relief.

  “Thank goodness,” said Melody. “I really thought that saddle was ruined.”

  “Yes,” Veronica said. “It was a close call. It shows what carelessness can do.”

  Lisa nodded solemnly.

  “I’d like to commend Lisa and Carole,” Veronica continued in a sugary voice. “This shows that even if people make errors, they can fix them.”

  The cameraman turned the camera to Lisa and Carole, who grinned bravely.

  Meanwhile, Lisa was thinking that all her friends watched WCTV. They’d want to know how she could make such a silly error. From now on her life was going to be miserable. She looked over at Carole. She could tell that Carole was embarrassed, too.

  “So what’s on for tomorrow?” said Melody, turning to Max.

  Max thought for a second. “To tell you the truth, we’ll be cleaning bridles.”

  Veronica’s eyes widened, but then she caught herself and smiled. “It’s one of my favorite things,” she said. “I love cleaning bridles.”

  Lisa and Carole gave each other despairing looks. Tomorrow they would have to be even more helpful.

  A HORSE-DRAWN CARRIAGE rumbled past Stevie as she walked through Central Park. The carriage had white wheels and red seats, and the driver was wearing a top hat and a black coat with tails. The horse looked kind of bored, but it was a real horse.

  Stevie followed the flow of skaters and joggers along a curving road. Eventually she came to a sign that said BOAT HOUSE in front of a cheerful redbrick building on the edge of a lagoon. At tables along the water, people were eating and talking. Stevie smelled the enticing odor of french fries. Fries would taste good right now, she thought. With ketchup. But she didn’t stop. It felt too good to be moving. She just wanted to walk outside.

  As Stevie walked past the lagoon, she saw people in rowboats. Other people were in a gondola propelled by a man standing up and handling a pole. She had never seen anything like it. But she didn’t stop to investigate. She wanted to see as much of the park as possible.

  The road turned right, and after a while she heard cheerful, tinny music. There was something familiar about it. She followed a path down the hill and saw a carousel with colorful wooden horses. She sighed. The horses in the carousel were beautiful.

  Stevie had to smile. There was a line of small kids with their parents. Stevie remembered that when she was little, riding the carousel in the Willow Creek mall had been the scariest and most exciting experience of her life. Stevie got in line, even though she felt a little silly because she was a lot younger than the parents and a lot older than the kids.

  When she got to the head of the line, the ticket seller, who was a chubby man with fuzzy hair, said, “How many?”

  “Just one,” Stevie said. “There’s only me.”

  “You can ride more than once,” the man said with a smile.

  When Stevie was little, she never got to ride the carousel for as long as she wanted. Now she could ride forever.

  “Give me five,” she said. “No, ten.”

  The man smiled more broadly and counted out the tickets.

  When the carousel stopped, half the kids didn’t get off. There were only two
horses left when it was Stevie’s turn to get on. She chose a black one and climbed on. She grinned happily. New York was starting to be a lot more fun.

  “Excuse me,” said a man with a baseball hat on backward. “Please strap yourself in.”

  “Me?” said Stevie. “I know how to ride.”

  “It’s the rules,” the man said, smiling at her.

  Stevie put the leather strap around her waist and buckled it. She remembered how safe the strap had made her feel when she was little. A bell rang, and the carousel lurched into motion. She thought about how when she was little the carousel had seemed as fast as the wind.

  There was a squeal of fear from a little kid in front of her. “I’m here,” his mother said, putting her arms around him.

  Stevie’s horse moved up. She imagined she was rising over the treetops. The horse went down. It was like sinking into the earth. Up and down. Stevie put a hand on the horse’s neck. “You’ve got nice gaits,” she said. “Very regular and smooth. If you weren’t wood, we could ride off into the sunset together.”

  “You can’t do that,” said the man with the baseball hat. He had climbed on the moving carousel and was taking tickets. “The carousel has been here since the turn of the century. This horse is about ninety years old.”

  “He looks pretty good for a ninety-year-old horse,” Stevie said.

  “He’s one of my favorites,” the man said with a smile. He walked forward to take more tickets.

  “I like you,” Stevie said to the horse. “I’m going to give you a name. I think I’ll call you Ralph.” When the carousel stopped moving, Stevie whipped her camera out of her backpack and took a photograph of Ralph.

  Stevie rode and rode until it seemed as if Central Park were moving and she and Ralph were standing still. Finally her tickets ran out. She climbed off the carousel and wobbled. She had been going around so long that she’d lost her sense of balance. In fact, she felt kind of strange.

  Standing on the grass was a mare with a rich brown coat and large, intelligent eyes. The mare had long white socks on the right side and short white socks on the left. She looked almost like Belle, Stevie’s horse.