Saddlebags Page 8

  They rode slowly, taking care on the rocky, twisting path. As they ascended, the sky turned paler and paler blue.

  Finally Christine and Stevie reached the summit. They rode along the hill’s crest a bit to make room for the others. Stevie watched as her parents rounded the last turn and reached the top.

  Over the edge of the eastern horizon was a wash of pink and purple clouds.

  “Perfect timing!” Stevie exclaimed.

  A thin orange crescent peeked over the horizon, and as they watched, it became bigger and bigger, until it was a half circle.

  “If you look this way, you can see the ranch,” said Lisa.

  Her mother rode up beside her and looked out over the valley. “Oh, yes,” she said, “there it is!”

  Under the bright sky, now striped with pink and orange, they saw the ranch, the barn, and the outbuildings.

  “They’re so tiny from here—” said Mrs. Atwood, “look at that dog.”

  Lisa and her mother watched as a speck of a dog ran out from the Bar None barn toward the corral. Then a miniature rider came out into the corral, mounted on a tiny horse.

  “That must be John,” said Mrs. Atwood. They watched the rider start to work the horse around the corral.

  “I think it is,” said Lisa.

  “He’s quite a good rider,” said Mrs. Atwood, “isn’t he?”

  “He sure is,” said Lisa, smiling as she watched the distant horseman. She looked at her mother and gave a little laugh. “He sure is.”

  STEVIE SAT ON Stewball, between her mother and father. They didn’t say much, just watched as the sky lightened and the deep rich orange and purple and pink faded into the daylight. This time Stevie’s father didn’t even sing. He scanned the whole view, then turned to Stevie and said, “Thanks for throwing me a line yesterday.”

  Stevie didn’t know what to say. She bit her lip and looked from her mother to her father. “Thank you, Dad, and Mom,” she said softly. “For bringing me out here, and for coming along.”

  “Any time,” said her father.

  “SO THIS IS what you and Frank Devine have been raving about, hmm?” Colonel Hanson teased his daughter.

  “Yes,” answered Carole. “Don’t you think it was worth getting up early for?”

  “Sure it was,” he answered. “Better than the movie Shane.”

  Carole raised her eyebrows. “I never thought I’d hear you say you like something better than a Western,” she teased him gently.

  He smiled at her. “Being here, and sharing this with my daughter is worth much more than all the Westerns in the world,” he answered.

  Unexpectedly tears sprung into Carole’s eyes. She reached over and squeezed his hand. Then the two of them were quiet, letting the beauty and expanse of the panorama say all that needed to be said.

  A FEW MINUTES later Mr. Lake finally broke the riders’ silence. “Anyone else hungry enough to eat a … horse?”

  “I don’t know about your choice of entrée,” said Stevie, “but I’m starved too! Let’s head down.”

  Carole and Kate led the group back.

  When they reached the valley, Stevie stopped and pointed. “Why don’t you Saddlebags ride ahead and wait for us by that big tree over there, just before the corral. That way, we can have a bareback race and you can be the judges!”

  “Okay,” agreed Mr. Lake. The girls watched as the Saddlebags trotted through the last stretch of valley.

  When the parents had reached the tree, the girls lined up.

  “On your marks!” said Stevie. “Get set, go!”

  They were off. The girls kicked their horses into a lope, then, one by one, they leaned forward and grabbed their horses’ manes. The horses knew what was up, and sprinted into a gallop. Carole was in the lead, and Stevie and Stewball were in the rear. Stewball put his head down and picked up speed. He seemed to know where they were headed, and as usual, he had some tricks in store. While all the others galloped ahead, Stewball turned right up a little rise.

  Stevie leaned forward and squeezed with her legs to stay on. Sure enough, he cut a few yards off the distance, and as they headed for the tree, Stewball and Stevie were now in front.

  “Come on, Stevie!” Stevie heard her parents cheer.

  Mr. and Mrs. Atwood were screaming, “Go, Lisa, go! You can do it!”

  Carole’s father sat on his horse and clapped and shouted, “Look at her go! Come on, baby, come ooooon!”

  “Yeeee—hah!” cried Mr. Lake as Stevie pulled up first. She gave Stewball a big hug and joined in the cheering as her friends rode in.

  They walked their horses from there to the corral so they could cool down.

  John was waiting there for them, leaning on the corral fence.

  “I think Mrs. Devine’s cooking up the breakfast to top all breakfasts,” he said, “so as soon as you can, you better head on in.”

  He helped the grown-ups with their saddles, and they all watered and fed their horses. Then the whole group headed for the main house, where the smell of bacon, eggs, coffee, and sticky buns hit them as they opened the door.

  “I’m glad it’s a huge breakfast,” said Lisa. “That way we can put off packing a little longer.”

  Everyone agreed. In a few hours they’d be driving to the little airport where Frank Devine would fly The Saddle Club and the Saddlebags back to Willow Creek.

  “SHHH,” WHISPERED LISA. “Let me check if the coast is clear.” She tiptoed out into the hallway. Inside her room, Carole and Stevie stifled giggles.

  “So?” asked Stevie.

  Lisa looked over her shoulder. “All clear. But, guys, let’s try to keep really quiet. That way we can stay up as late as we want.”

  Dressed in their nightgowns, the three girls tiptoed one by one out of Lisa’s room and down the stairs.

  When they reached the kitchen, Stevie and Carole carefully pulled out chairs and sat at the kitchen table.

  They started giggling conspiratorially again.

  “Will you stop!” Lisa whispered as she filled a pot with milk and put it on the stove. She reached for the hot chocolate mix. “If you can’t keep it down, we’ll get caught, and there goes the hot chocolate!”

  Stevie became very serious. Not getting caught was a point of honor with her.

  When the cocoa was ready, each girl took a mugful, popped three marshmallows into it, and crept back up-stairs. They were barely back in Lisa’s room before they burst out laughing again.

  “Shhhhhhh!”

  Knock knock knock.

  All mugs were quickly stashed in Lisa’s closet.

  “Yes?” Lisa said, trying to sound innocent.

  “Can you young ladies please keep it down in there so we can pretend we don’t know you’re still awake?” said a deep voice.

  “We’ll do our best, Daddy. Sorry.”

  Mr. Atwood’s footsteps padded back down the hall.

  Stevie pulled the mugs back out of the closet. “Let’s drink this stuff before it gets cold!” she whispered. She took a sip. “Mmm. Lisa, you make the best hot chocolate.”

  “This side of the Mississippi River,” added Carole.

  “Sounds like you miss the Bar None,” Lisa said to Carole.

  “Me too.” Stevie blew softly into her cup.

  “So how would you rate that vacation,” Lisa asked her friends, “best one you ever took? Bar None?”

  Stevie laughed. “No vacation at the Bar None can ever be a bomb. It definitely had its rough spots though.”

  “Yeah,” said Carole, “like seeing Dad’s hat floating downstream—”

  “Without your dad underneath it,” Stevie cut in.

  “And my mom. Yank and kick and kick some more. I mean, how embarrassing is that?” added Lisa. “But …”

  “But …,” Carole echoed, “when you add it all up, they were good sports.”

  “You think so?” said Lisa.

  “Yup, I really do. Even your mom got the hang of it after a while—she left that place
a much better rider than when she came.”

  “Nothing like crossing a river in a flash flood to make you a better rider,” Lisa answered.

  “I was so glad to have Mom and Dad there,” said Stevie, “after all the stories I’d told them!”

  “The main thing is,” added Carole, “they learned a whole lot more about horses and riding, and how much we love them, than they ever would here in Willow Creek.”

  They all nodded, quietly sipping their cocoa.

  “The last thing Kate said to me,” Carole went on, “was that we can all come back in the summer if we like.”

  “Oh,” said Stevie, “that would be so great. But just us, right?”

  “I think she meant our parents too.”

  Stevie groaned softly. “Once is enough.”

  “It may not have that same unpredictable magic the second time around,” Carole agreed.

  “Mom said she had fun,” Lisa said. “You should have heard her today. She kept talking about what a nice boy that John What’s-his-name is.”

  “All right!” said Carole.

  “He took us all swimming on horseback,” said Stevie, “and finally made the right impression.”

  “However, she did remark that she’d gotten a brochure for a nice Club Med vacation.”

  Stevie giggled. “I know. Let’s send the parents to Club Med, and we can go back to the Bar None!”

  “Yes!” Carole shouted.

  “Shhh!” said Lisa.

  “Whoa, one minor problem,” said Stevie. “I don’t think we should leave all your parents alone with my parents for a week.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’d sit around and entertain themselves talking about all the awful things I’ve done!”

  “Stevie,” Lisa pretended to chide her friend. “If you didn’t do awful things, you wouldn’t be Stevie!”

  “And we wouldn’t be The Saddle Club,” Stevie concluded logically.

  At that the girls clinked their nearly empty mugs together.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BONNIE BRYANT is the author of many books for young readers, including novelizations of movie hits such as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles® and Honey, I Blew Up the Kid, written under her married name, B. B. Hiller.

  Ms. Bryant began writing The Saddle Club in 1986. Although she had done some riding before that, she intensified her studies then and found herself learning right along with her characters Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. She claims that they are all much better riders than she is.

  Ms. Bryant was born and raised in New York City. She still lives there, in Greenwich Village, with her two sons.

  Don’t miss Bonnie Bryant’s next exciting

  Saddle Club adventure …

  PHOTO FINISH

  The Saddle Club #43

  It’s the invitation of a lifetime. When Judy Barker, the Pine Hollow veterinarian, offers Lisa a chance to visit the stables at the racetrack, Lisa jumps at the opportunity. She’s been working on her skills as a photographer, and she’d love to take pictures of some of the Thoroughbreds—especially a beautiful stallion that’s training for the upcoming Preakness race.

  Then Lisa, Carole, and Stevie uncover what could be a plot to make the stallion so sick he can’t run. Will Lisa’s photographs help the girls bring a high-stakes schemer to justice?