Silver Stirrups Read online

  “Oh, I’ll get right off,” Carole said shortly.

  Andrea blushed. “I—I didn’t mean that you had to get off,” she stammered.

  “That’s okay,” said Carole. Feeling slightly foolish, she took her feet out of the stirrups and hopped off. This is how Red must feel, she thought, when Mrs. Murphy shows up to ride the horse he’s been schooling all week.

  As Carole hit the ground, Doc pranced away from her. At the same time, Carole and Andrea reached for the bridle to steady him. “Here, you take him,” said Carole, relinquishing the reins.

  “Thanks,” said Andrea.

  “You’re welcome,” Carole said. She stood there awkwardly for a moment.

  “And thanks for riding him. I really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, that’s okay,” said Carole. “I try to do whatever I can to help Max out,” she added pointedly. If Andrea was as spoiled as Veronica, Carole figured, she’d probably never helped out at the barn where she boarded her horse. She probably thought horses came groomed and tacked up. But it couldn’t hurt to start her thinking about the idea that people actually had to work to keep Doc’s chestnut coat so shiny.

  Andrea didn’t seem to have heard what Carole said. She was too busy fussing over Doc—checking his girth, scratching underneath his jaw, rubbing his forehead. Finally she adjusted her stirrups and got on.

  “He’s pretty excited today,” Carole warned her. “He’s been—”

  Andrea laughed. “Let me guess: bucking, shying, and backing up, right?”

  Carole nodded hesitantly.

  “Sorry. I should have warned Mr. Regnery that he always acts up after a long ride in the van.”

  “Right, I know—” Carole began, but Andrea continued, oblivious.

  “He’s very sensitive to new riders, too. When he plays around you have to sit tight and make sure that your hands are up, not resting on the pommel or his neck. The line from your elbow to your hands should be parallel to the ground, like this”—Andrea demonstrated—“and not sloping down. You don’t want a break where your hands join the reins. It’s actually harder on a horse’s mouth to keep letting the reins slide. That’s how you get a horse with a dead mouth that pulls.”

  Carole took a step back. She swallowed hard. “I …” She stopped. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She was in utter shock over what had just happened. She had been given a lecture about riding. And by a girl who had arrived at Pine Hollow five minutes ago. Who the heck did Andrea Barry think she was?

  “Listen, I …,” Carole began again. She still didn’t know how to put it into words. How could she tell Andrea that she was the best junior rider at Pine Hollow? That Andrea ought to be listening to her—and would be, very, very soon?

  Carole was saved by Stevie, Lisa, and Red’s trotting up to join the two of them. “Hey, you must be Andrea!” Stevie called. When everybody had been introduced, horses included, Stevie and Lisa said they’d better walk Belle and Prancer to cool them off.

  “And I should trot and canter—to cool him off,” Andrea joked.

  Everyone laughed, except for Carole. She barely managed a smile. She watched the three of them head back to the rail, talking animatedly. She couldn’t wait to get Stevie and Lisa alone and tell them the truth about Andrea—that she was a stuck-up know-it-all.

  “Do you want to ride, Carole?” Red asked.

  Carole gave him a look of gratitude. He obviously felt bad about riding Starlight now that she was horseless. “No, that’s okay, Red. I’m happy just to watch,” she lied.

  “You sure?”

  Carole nodded.

  “All right. Thanks again.”

  Stevie and Lisa, Carole noticed, had been all too ready to leave her grounded while they got to know the new girl. Feeling sorry for herself, Carole went to lean on the rail. She was actually looking forward to watching Andrea struggle with Doc …

  Fifteen minutes later, the only thing Carole was looking forward to was going home. With Andrea aboard, Doc was a different horse—a different, perfectly obedient horse. He walked, trotted, walked, cantered, walked, turned on the forehand, lengthened stride at the trot, and did two flying lead changes. “What a show-off,” Carole muttered to herself.

  All of a sudden she had had enough for the day—of Pine Hollow, of riding, of Stevie and Lisa, and especially of Andrea Barry and Country Doctor. Carole even felt betrayed by Starlight. Couldn’t he have acted up just a tiny bit with Red? She knew she was being unreasonable, but it was the first truly bad day she’d had at the stables in a long, long time. She couldn’t figure out what, exactly, had gone wrong, but she had an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. Without saying good-bye to any of them, Carole left the ring and headed home.

  “ISN’T SHE GREAT?” Lisa said. It was later that evening, and the girls were talking on the phone.

  “Great, how?” Carole asked. She’d been praying the subject of Andrea wouldn’t come up, but of course it had.

  “Well, she seems nice and smart and she’s obviously an excellent rider,” Lisa gushed.

  “Yeah. After you left, she gave me some tips on how to get Belle to bend around the corners,” Stevie chimed in. “They really worked well.”

  “You mean she started lecturing you?” Carole said coldly.

  “No, not exactly lecturing,” said Stevie. She thought for a minute. “Andrea’s … Andrea’s like you, Carole. She gets so enthusiastic that she gets carried away.”

  “She is like you, Carole,” Lisa agreed. “You should see the way she fusses over Doc.”

  “Oh,” said Carole, her voice flat.

  “That reminds me, Carole. Andrea’s starting school with us next week,” Lisa said. “So we’ll have to watch out for her and be extra nice to her.” Although a grade apart, Lisa and Carole both attended Willow Creek Junior High. Stevie, who was Carole’s age, went to Fenton Hall, a private school.

  “Is she in your grade or mine?” Carole asked. She hoped Andrea was in Lisa’s class, a year above hers. That way she wouldn’t have to see the new girl as often.

  “Neither. She’s a grade below you,” said Lisa. “But we can still talk to her in the hall, and …”

  Carole didn’t hear the rest. She was stunned by Lisa’s announcement: Andrea Barry was younger than she was. She’s younger and she’s just as good as you, Carole heard a voice inside her head say. But that couldn’t be true, could it? After all, she’d only seen Andrea ride for fifteen minutes. How could you tell anything in fifteen minutes?

  And yet, the truth was, Carole was enough of a horsewoman to be able to tell a lot in fifteen minutes. It wasn’t just that Andrea had been able to make Doc perform so well. He was her own horse, after all. It was more than that. The minute the girl had gotten on, Carole had known that she was good. She had a good position, she had confidence. She looked—as people had often said about Carole—as if she’d been riding her whole life. But this afternoon, at the back of her mind, Carole had told herself not to worry: No doubt, with all her successes in the show ring, the girl had a good year or two on Carole. But now that mental security blanket had been stripped away. Carole felt her head spinning. What did it all mean?

  Lisa and Stevie chattered on, unaware that on her end of the line, the third Saddle Club member was a million miles away.

  “Red looked amazing on Starlight, didn’t he?”

  “We just have to find him a horse for Briarwood.”

  “Yeah. He admitted to me that he wants to enter, but he swore me to secrecy.”

  “I wonder what Andrea’s planning to enter.”

  “Is she going to ride in the schooling show?”

  “She said it sounded like a lot of fun.”

  “I’m so glad she’s not like Veronica.”

  “Me too. What a relief.”

  “Aren’t you, Carole?”

  There was a moment of silence. Stevie cleared her throat. “Carole? Uh, Carole?”

  STEVIE WOKE UP singing on the day of the schooling show. I
t was a sunny Saturday. The school year was nearly over. All she had to do that day was ride in two classes, one on the flat and one over fences. Who could ask for anything more? She yanked a pair of reasonably clean breeches out of the closet and rooted around in her laundry pile to find a ratcatcher shirt. The pin for her choker was nowhere to be found, but that didn’t worry her. She knew she could borrow one from Lisa—Lisa always had an extra. Stuffing a pair of gloves into her pocket, Stevie went downstairs to breakfast. She put away a large stack of pancakes, fought her three brothers for the bacon, and whistled and sang all the way to Pine Hollow.

  LISA SET HER alarm for seven A.M. She didn’t have to be at the stables till nine, but she always gave herself more than enough time to get ready. Sure, this was only a schooling show, but Lisa wanted Prancer to look her best. Or close to her best—nobody bothered to braid for a schooling show. For Briarwood, Lisa would get up at five A.M. to do Prancer’s mane.

  In keeping with the informal tone of the show, Max had decided that the riders didn’t have to wear coats—just breeches and ratcatcher shirts. Lisa’s clothes were hanging tidily in her closet. Her mother had ironed them a week before. Lisa slipped them into a garment bag. She would wear jeans and a T-shirt until she rode to keep her show outfit perfectly clean. Finally, she checked her horse show bag one more time: hair nets, knee-high stockings (for wearing under her tight boots), choker pin, extra choker pin (in case Stevie forgot hers), gloves, extra gloves, boot polish, sugar cubes. At breakfast Lisa drank some orange juice and had two bites of cereal. She never ate much on a horse show morning, even a schooling show morning: She was too nervous. When she was ready to go, Mrs. Atwood gave her a bag lunch, got the family car out of the garage, and drove her daughter to Pine Hollow, half an hour ahead of schedule.

  “CAROLE! REVEILLE!” COLONEL Hanson called. “Eggs for breakfast!”

  Carole rolled over. Why was her father waking her up so early? Then she remembered: the schooling show. She groaned inwardly. Normally a show morning would have made her jump out of bed. But today she pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes. She had a bad feeling about the day.

  “Scrambled or poached, honey?” Carole’s father called from downstairs.

  Carole thrust the covers back and sat up. “Poached, Dad!” To herself she muttered, “I feel scrambled enough already.” She hadn’t slept well at all. She had tossed and turned and had one bad dream after another.

  At the foot of the bed, Carole’s cat, Snowball, stretched luxuriously and squinted at her. “I wish I could stay in bed with you,” Carole murmured, rubbing the cat’s head as she stood up. What was the point of going to a stupid schooling show anyway? It didn’t prove anything.

  Carole let herself think bad thoughts as she brushed her teeth and got dressed. She wore her second-best pair of breeches and an old but clean shirt. “I’ll bet Andrea Barry shows up in spanking-new, superexpensive clothes, custom boots …” Then Carole remembered Starlight. He was waiting in his stall, not knowing what the day would bring. Carole had to shake off her bad attitude, if only for him. She had to go and ride and do her best. Her best would be good enough. At least, it always had been in the past.

  PINE HOLLOW WAS abuzz with excitement. Young riders hurried to and fro, carrying tack, brushes, and hard hats. The show was divided into two broad divisions: under eighteen and eighteen and over. The juniors would ride in the morning; there would be a break for lunch, with a discussion led by the judge; and the adults would ride in the afternoon. To keep it simple, there were only two classes for each group: equitation over fences and equitation on the flat.

  “Why couldn’t Max have thrown in a jumper division?” Stevie complained. “Then Belle and I would have a chance.”

  Stevie, Lisa, and Carole were standing by the ring watching the first rider make a circle before jumping. By watching the first few rounds, they could find out if there was a problem area on the course—a fence or a combination of fences that was particularly tricky. Then they would know where to pay extra attention when their turns came. It was one of the advantages of riding in the second half of the rotation. All three of The Saddle Club girls had drawn spots late in the order.

  “You do have a chance, Stevie,” Lisa told her. “You have good equitation when you try.”

  Carole nodded in agreement. “Just make sure you keep your elbows in and don’t let Belle get strong after the first jump.”

  Stevie nodded, listening. She and Lisa were used to getting advice from Carole at shows. They paid attention because it worked. Yesterday and this morning Stevie had noticed that Andrea seemed to have good pointers, too, from her years of showing. That reminded Stevie of one she wanted to share with the other two. “Andrea said it helps to think of the next jump when you’re in the air over the one before it.”

  “That makes sense,” said Lisa. “Preparation always saves you from—”

  Carole didn’t let her finish. “Obviously,” she broke in scornfully. “What else would you be thinking of when you’re jumping?”

  Stevie grinned. “Oh, I don’t know—bacon cheeseburgers and fries? How to get back at my brothers?”

  “Or Monday’s math test?” Lisa joked.

  But Carole went on in a serious voice: “Preparation is everything in jumping. If you don’t start thinking about fence two until after you’ve landed from fence one, you’ll be halfway there before you can actually do anything. Then it’ll probably be too late to make an adjustment, to shorten or lengthen stride, so, chances are, you’ll end up meeting the jump at a bad position.”

  “Kind of like that?” Lisa asked, pointing.

  Out on the course, Betsy Cavanaugh had put her horse into a fence so awkwardly that the horse ran out at the last minute. The girls watched as she circled and reapproached the jump, a vertical comprised of alternating red and white poles. This time the horse took the fence in stride.

  “Exactly like that,” Carole said. “The turn to the vertical is tight. I’ll bet a lot of people make that mistake.”

  “Too bad. Otherwise it was a good round,” Lisa commented.

  Watching a few more riders made it clear that Carole was right. There was one more run-out at the vertical and a couple of close calls where the horse jumped but very awkwardly. Other than that, the course seemed to be fairly straightforward. After the fifth rider, Lisa went to warm up Prancer. Stevie left after the sixth rider. “Shouldn’t you come, too, Carole?” Stevie asked. “You ride before me.”

  “I’ll be there in two secs,” said Carole distractedly. She watched another course. Then she really had to go if she wanted to give Starlight a proper warm-up. She turned away from the ring when, out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a bright chestnut horse waiting at the gate. Andrea Barry was on deck. A little voice inside Carole’s head told her to keep walking, to march straight to Starlight’s stall and get on. But she couldn’t move. She just had to see Andrea go.

  Before the new pair entered the ring, Carole stole a glance at Andrea’s face. It was the picture of calm composure. Carole’s heart sank as Andrea picked up a confident canter and rode toward the first fence, an inviting low brush. Doc pricked his ears, snapped up his legs, and they were over. They took the next several fences in near-perfect form. Then came the vertical. Carole crossed her fingers. It was an ugly thought, but she couldn’t help herself: She was actually hoping Andrea would make a mistake.

  Doc came out of the turn too fast. Andrea barely had time to steady him. He took off from too far back and made a flat jump, barely clearing the fence. Carole turned for the barn. Now she had the information she needed: Andrea was beatable.

  Carole had to hurry. She led Starlight out from his stall, where she’d left him, fully tacked. She mounted and began a rushed warm-up, walking, trotting, cantering. Starlight felt alert—more than alert. He felt fresh. He wanted to take off after the cross rails Carole used as a warm-up fence.

  Carole barely heard the “Good luck!” Lisa called to her as she
headed over to the ring. Waiting on deck, Carole realized she’d forgotten to ask Lisa how her ride had gone. That made Carole feel bad. The Saddle Club always tried to encourage one another at shows. It was sort of an offshoot of one of the rules of the club that they had to be willing to help one another out in any situation. She would make it up to Lisa later. Right now, Carole thought, she had more important things to worry about—like winning the equitation over fences.

  The rider before Carole jumped her last fence and came cantering to the end of the ring. The gate opened, the rider came out, and Carole went in.

  She halted briefly, summoning all her powers of concentration. But she found she couldn’t concentrate. The colors and the noises blurred. The fences seemed almost unreal. Carole jumped the first few of them on autopilot. She felt frozen in the saddle, posed like a doll in two-point position. Starlight saved her at the next two jumps. Then came an oxer in the middle of the ring. Dimly Carole remembered that the vertical was the fence after the oxer. “Prepare, prepare,” she muttered to herself. There were three strides to the oxer, then two, then one. In the air over the fence, Carole had one thought. She had to beat Andrea. The fear that had been lurking at the back of her mind came rushing forward: She couldn’t let Andrea Barry displace her as the best junior rider at Pine Hollow.

  Starlight touched down after the oxer. He was headed for the barn. The barn was his home. His instinct was to keep going toward it. He felt full of energy. The short warm-up had barely taken the edge off. He lengthened stride, speeding down the straightaway.

  With a shock, Carole came to her senses. The vertical lay directly to her left. Another second and it would be too late to turn. In a flash, Carole sat up as hard as she could. She raised her hands off Starlight’s neck, where she’d allowed them to fall. And she wrenched Starlight around to the next fence. He made an awkward turn, bowing his shoulder out and falling heavily onto his forehand.

  Starlight pulled at the bit. There was a jump ahead, but it wasn’t directly in his path. It would be easy to run around it. But he felt his rider urging him toward the set of raised poles. He knew what she wanted him to do. And because this was the rider who had trained him, because he trusted her and had learned to do her bidding time and again, he obeyed this time, too. He let her head him toward the fence. In order to clear it, he had to get way underneath it and pop up over it. But he did it. Rather than run out or refuse, he made a difficult, unnatural jump. He did his best.