Lisa Read online

  When we were younger, I thought he was the greatest thing—I used to follow him around every chance I could. I even used to beg to wear his old clothes! I know Stevie is always complaining about her three brothers, and maybe it’s different when you’re close in age like they are. But when I was eight or nine and Peter was sixteen or seventeen, I just couldn’t spend enough time with him. He didn’t seem to mind, either. He did lots of neat stuff with me, like playing detectives, baking a six-layer cake for Mom’s birthday, or helping me build a scale-model Egyptian pyramid for my third-grade school project. He even taught me how to drive a car right after he got his license, and a couple of times he let me steer in the parking lot at the mall—not that I would ever tell Mom and Dad about that!

  In any case, I’m starting to wonder if he really does still think of me as the little girl I was then, tagging along after him and impressed by everything he did. I mean, we haven’t really had much of a one-on-one relationship for the past few years. He sends cards on my birthday and stuff like that, but usually I’m just included in his general phone calls and letters to the whole family. I mean, I never knew he was interested in writing, even though I am too. It’s almost like we don’t know each other at all these days. For all I know he might not like peanut butter and banana sandwiches anymore.

  Anyway, I’m not sure how to respond to his letter.

  He’s probably not really expecting me to write back. I could just ask Mom if I can add a note at the end of her next letter.

  But every time I think of doing that, I remember the look on Peter’s face when he first showed me how to shift the car out of neutral. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” he told me with a wink. “It’s a secret brother-sister thing.”

  I can’t help thinking this letter should be strictly a brother-sister thing, too. Maybe it’s a chance for us to get to know each other again.

  Now, just one question remains: What should I write about? It’s obvious that he doesn’t realize how important horses are to me. Maybe I should start by telling him about some of the stuff that happened last week at Pine Hollow—all the work we did (though I think I’ll skip the part about Mr. French). That should give him an idea of what the new, improved, grown-up me is like. And the best part is, I won’t have a bit of trouble remembering everything that happened, since I’ve already written it all down here.

  See? This diary is coming in handy already!

  FROM: HorseGal

  TO: LAtwood

  TO: Steviethegreat

  SUBJECT: What a week!

  MESSAGE:

  Hi, guys! Now that I’ve finally had a chance to catch up on my sleep and rest my weary bones for a few days, I’ve been thinking about everything that happened last week. If you think about it, there really is a bright side to it all. I know we spent an awful lot of time worrying and feeling stupid (I’m sure I won’t be able to watch a basketball game without blushing for at least a year!), but we also did a lot of good work. I’m not just talking about the obvious stuff, like painting the stable. We also got a lot of extra practice taking care of horses. Since Max always says we’re learning anytime we’re doing anything to take care of horses, I think we must have skipped forward at least a whole grade or two in horse school. Right?

  FROM: Steviethegreat

  TO: HorseGal

  TO: LAtwood

  SUBJECT: What a week! (2)

  MESSAGE:

  Okay, Carole, I totally shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve decided to look on the horsey side of all this. As for me, I’m also choosing to look on the bright side. Sure, we made fools of ourselves a couple of times, and we lost a little sleep. But it all turned out better than fine in the end, and do you know why? Because we’re The Saddle Club, that’s why. And when we put our minds to it, we can do ANYTHING!!!!:-)

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t believe it’s October already and I haven’t written! So much for my vow about writing every week … I’ll have to do better if I want to make this diary as good as the ones in that article. I guess my excuses for not writing are pretty lame, but after all the writing I did after the busy, busy week when we thought Mrs. Reg’s pin was lost, I spent the next couple of weeks working on my letter to Peter. I had some trouble getting started, since I was worried about sounding too babyish or dorky. Also, it seemed kind of hard to explain everything that happened when Peter’s never even met Stevie or Carole, or Mrs. Reg or Max, or Diablo or Prancer … I mean, airmail is kind of expensive, and I didn’t want my letter to end up being longer than one of Peter’s college textbooks. So finally I just went ahead and wrote down what happened and then sent it off before I could change my mind. That was almost two months ago, and I haven’t heard back from him. I’m not that surprised, really—I sent it to his college housing in London, and he probably didn’t even get back there until a few weeks ago. And if he’s half as busy with the new school year as I’ve been, well, let’s just say I bet neither of us has had time to write to anyone!

  First of all, it was back-to-school shopping time—with Mom in charge, that starts around the beginning of August. Then, of course, school started and I was busy getting settled, organizing my notebooks and supplies, making covers for my textbooks, and doing homework. I always like to put some extra time into my homework at the very beginning of the year. If you get started right, everything afterward is easier. Besides, teachers really notice the extra effort in those first few weeks and they usually remember it all year long.

  But I’m planning to get back on track with my diary now. My creative writing teacher, Ms. Shields, says that when it comes to writing, the best practice is more practice. She says that along with reading a lot, the best thing to do if you want to improve your creative writing is to write as much as you can, any way you can think of. She told us that even a grocery list can be thought of as creative writing.

  I don’t know about that. When I think of creative writing, I think of stuff like short stories and poems, not “milk, bread, tomatoes.” But I really like Ms. Shields—her class is a lot of fun. So I’ll have to wait and see what she means when she says she expects us to get very creative with our assignments this year. The first assignment was to write a short story, but she sort of hinted that we’ll be doing all sorts of other things later.

  Anyway, aside from creative writing class, school is pretty much the same as last year. I have Mr. Ramirez for math, Ms. McCormick for science, Mr. Mathios for history. Nothing too exciting there. Not much has changed at good old Willow Creek Middle School, or at Pine Hollow for that matter. Just about the best news there is that Prancer’s leg is still improving. Max says he’ll probably let people start riding her in a month or two if Judy Barker, the vet, says it’s okay. I can’t wait—Prancer is such a wonderful, lovable horse (with kids, at least—she’s still skittish around most adults) that I’m sure she’ll love being ridden again. The more I get to know her, the more I love her, and I know Carole and Stevie feel the same way.

  Aside from that, as I said, not much new is happening. We’ve started a new season of riding lessons and Pony Club, of course, but most people have been so busy with school and everything that we haven’t been doing anything too interesting. (I hope Max never reads this, or he’ll have me mucking out stalls for hours! Ha ha!)

  FROM: Steviethegreat

  TO: LAtwood

  TO: HorseGal

  SUBJECT: The night when Evil is released and the Dead walk upon the Earth (a.k.a. Halloween)

  MESSAGE:

  Hi, girls! I just wanted to remind you that the most wonderful holiday of the year is coming up in a couple of short weeks, and we haven’t even talked about it yet. I’ve been thinking about costumes, and it occurred to me that the three of us should try to do some kind of three-way costume. I just had the idea, but I can already hear Carole saying it should be something horse-related. So how about the Headless Horseman? It would be kind of complicated to build, but I bet it would look fantastic. Carole could be the front of th
e horse; Lisa, you could be the rear end plus work the body in the saddle. I’m sure Max would let us borrow a real one, by the way (saddle, not body), and we could build the body out of straw, like a scarecrow, and dress it in one of my dad’s suits. As for the horse costume, I think I could talk Miss Fenton into lending us the one from last year’s senior class play. Oh, by the way, in case you’re wondering where I would fit into all this, I was thinking I would be dressed as a giant severed head. (You know, the one that the Headless Horseman is missing.) I could sort of pop out from behind the horse and scare people. Wouldn’t that be cool?

  If you don’t like that idea, here’s another one: a jump. You know, like in a horse show. Carole, you and I could be the two ends. We could dress all in white, or maybe red-and-white stripes, with a sort of wooden hat thing that would square off our heads. Naturally, we’d have to paint our faces to match. And on our hands, we could make some kind of mittens or something that would look like cups. Lisa, since you’re the lightest, I thought you could be the middle part of the fence. One of us would hold your feet and the other would hold your head, and you would stretch across the middle. I haven’t really decided what kind of jump we should be, exactly—maybe a brush fence, with Lisa all covered in branches. Or just a plain post-and-rail … The possibilities are endless!

  While we’re on the subject of endless possibilities, I just saw my devious brothers whispering together in the kitchen. I’m sure they’re already planning some lame Halloween pranks to play on me, and I want to make sure I’m ready to give as good as I get. Does either of you know where I could get a real human skeleton? I could also use some glow-in-the-dark paint and a pulley. Also, do you think Max would mind if I borrowed Topside for an evening? He’s a pretty calm horse—he probably wouldn’t be spooked by rattling chains or howls.

  Let me know what you think. Happy haunting!

  FROM: HorseGal

  TO: Steviethegreat

  TO: LAtwood

  SUBJECT: Bar None trip (what else?)

  MESSAGE:

  Hi, you two! It’s too late to call, but Dad just told me he talked to Colonel Devine about what time we need to be at the airstrip the day after tomorrow. If you want to meet at my house at nine, Dad said he’d drive us over there. Kate’s not coming along on the plane with her dad this time, but she’ll be at the airfield near the Bar None to pick us all up when we get there.

  Okay, I just read over what I wrote, and I can still hardly believe it’s true. We’re really flying off to the Wild West to spend Halloween at the Bar None Ranch with Kate and her family! It’s almost too good to be true.

  Isn’t it funny how you can just be going along with your daily life, not even suspecting that such a huge, wonderful thing is coming? I mean, when Dad and I were sitting in the den watching Psycho the other night and the phone rang, it just seemed like an unfortunate interruption. But then it turned out to be Kate calling, begging the three of us to come out and stay at her family’s dude ranch so that we can help her mother throw a Halloween party.

  And not just any Halloween party—but a fund-raising fair to help create an after-school program for the Native American children at the local reservation school to replace the activity center that burned down. Who could ask for a more worthy cause?

  I guess it’s lucky for us it’s so worthy. Otherwise I doubt any of our parents would have agreed to let us miss three whole days of school for this trip, even if Kate’s father is flying his private plane east specially to pick us up! I can’t wait to see him—and I can’t wait to see the Bar None Ranch again, either. It was so beautiful the last time we were there. I’m dying to take a trail ride through the desert, maybe over to Christine Lonetree’s house to say hi. I can’t wait to sit in a Western saddle again and practice my reining and say “lope” instead of “canter.” And after a hard day in the saddle, I can’t wait to stuff myself with Mrs. Devine’s delicious home cooking!

  But the first thing I’m going to do when we arrive (well, after I say hello to the Devines and to Berry and Chocolate and Stewball and the other horses) is make Kate tell us exactly what she meant when she said there was “something else” she was going to talk to us about when we got there. Kate is so straightforward most of the time—if she’s being mysterious, there must be a really exciting reason. And I bet it has something to do with horses!

  Secrets or no secrets, though, I guess we have a lot to look forward to. I mean, we already have so many fantastic ideas for the Halloween Fair that it’s sure to be a huge success. Everyone is going to love the costume contest and the pumpkin-carving table and the horror house and all the other fun things we have planned. And I absolutely love Stevie’s idea that the three of us dress up as three blind mice for the costume parade!

  Speaking of costumes, Stevie, I forgot all about your Halloween e-mail until I just went into the computer to write this. But I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway—now we know exactly what our Halloween plans are, and I can’t wait!

  FROM: LAtwood

  TO: Steviethegreat

  TO: HorseGal

  SUBJECT: Bar None trip (what else?) (2)

  MESSAGE:

  I’m with you, Carole—I can’t wait for our trip to start, either! Nine o’clock sounds fine. Stevie, call me tomorrow if you want a ride over to Carole’s house.

  By the way, just in case spending time with Kate, going on trail rides in the desert, and helping a worthy cause aren’t good enough reasons to look forward to this trip, I have one more to add to the list. It saved us from having to talk Stevie out of dressing us up as a brush jump for Halloween!

  Dear Diary,

  As you can see from the above e-mails I just pasted in, things are getting exciting around here again. I could hardly believe it when Carole called with the news that Phyllis Devine actually wanted The Saddle Club’s help with her fund-raising party. It’s going to be great to see Kate again, and Christine, too—they’re two of my favorite out-of-town members of The Saddle Club. And helping with the Halloween Fair should be lots of fun. Planning stuff like that is one of Stevie’s natural talents, and when she drags Carole and me into her plans, we almost always end up having a blast, too.

  I can hardly believe all our parents and both our schools agreed to let us go. I’m a little worried about missing three whole days of classes, but I’m sure if I work hard before I go and after I come back I’ll be okay. Stevie isn’t worried about that sort of thing at all, naturally. She’s thrilled to be missing school, even though she has to write an extra-credit report for her headmistress on the value of community service while she’s away. That’s the only way Miss Fenton would agree to let her out of school.

  Carole keeps wondering about Kate’s little surprise or secret or whatever. I guess Kate mentioned it on the phone but wouldn’t tell her anything more—but naturally, Carole is completely convinced that it must be about a horse. She could be right, too. Kate is just as horse-crazy as the rest of us. As for me, I don’t mind waiting to find out what her secret is all about, horse or no horse. There’s plenty to look forward to as it is!

  I’d better go get some sleep. We leave the day after tomorrow, and if this visit to the Bar None is anything like the others, I’ll need to be well rested. I won’t be writing again until we get back—I’m sure I won’t have time—but don’t despair, Diary. I’ll fill you in on the trip as soon as I return!

  Dear Diary,

  Well, I’m back! If I’d had any idea how much was going to happen on this trip, there’s no way I would have left this diary at home. I have some homework to do—luckily my teachers didn’t assign anything extra like Stevie’s headmistress did, and I did get a lot done before I left, but I still have some math problems to finish and a poetry assignment to do for my creative writing class. The poem is supposed to be about something “active” in my own life. That means no sonnets about love or urns or anything like that.

  I have no idea what to write about, but I figured I could do something about my trip out We
st. And the best way to get inspired is to start putting down my thoughts here. Right? So here goes …

  Okay. Normally I know I would start at the beginning and write about the trip in order. But there’s one thing—well, one person—I can’t seem to get out of my head. I mean, it’s not really just a person. It’s a person, and what he had to say about a horse, and then what happened … Basically, I’m talking about John Brightstar. He’s the son of the Bar None’s new head wrangler. At first I wasn’t sure what to think about him. I mean, after the things he said to Kate about that stallion … Well, I guess I really am getting ahead of myself here. But I’m just trying to say that John is confusing. Unusual. And I’m still not sure what to think of him, even after everything that happened, although I definitely wasn’t lying when I told my friends I thought he was nice …

  Oh dear. I’m not making much sense, am I? Maybe I should get to that homework after all. In fact, thinking about John reminded me of the white stallion he told us about, which gives me an idea for my poetry assignment. I’ll have to write about the trip later when my head is clearer.

  Moon Stallion

  a haiku by Lisa Atwood

  Gleaming ’neath the moon

  White horse rearing to the sky

  Free, forever free.

  Dear Diary,

  Okay, I’ve been home from the trip out West for a few days now, and I think I’m finally ready to write about it. I have some time before dinner, so I thought I’d at least get started now.

  This time I’m going to do the sensible thing and begin at the beginning. That would be our flight cross-country with Colonel Devine. We spent most of the flight talking about the party, going over the plans we’d already made and coming up with more. Stevie was really excited about her horror house idea—she had all sorts of tricks up her sleeves for gross things to scare the kids with, like cold pasta that would feel like brains in the dark, peeled grapes that would feel like eyeballs, stuff like that.