Horse Care (5 page)

“Indubitably,” Stevie confirmed. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but somehow it seemed like the right response for Simon. Simon didn’t talk like anybody else their own age. He was also one of the few people who called Stevie by her whole name. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing you are,” Simon said enthusiastically. He ran one hand through his wavy blond hair. “I can’t wait until she has her foal. I’ve never seen a new-born horse before!” He lowered his voice and glanced around as if he wanted to be sure nobody could overhear. “And just between you and me, some of that stuff Judy was talking about the other day made me a bit nervous. I thought it might help if I kept an eye on Calypso until her baby’s born.”

Stevie bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. Nobody in the state of Virginia knew less about
horses than Simon, despite his earnest efforts to learn. He was hopeless. Still, Stevie reminded herself, his heart was in the right place. That was what counted. Besides, if things didn’t work out with Tate, maybe Stevie could still convince Carole to go out with Simon. With Carole as a girlfriend, maybe Simon would actually turn into a decent rider. Anything was possible!

“We’re keeping an eye on her, too,” Stevie said, being careful not to catch Carole’s eye. “You can help us if you want.”

“Thanks, Stephanie,” Simon said. “Gosh, that would be great. With all of us watching her, Calypso is certain to—”

“Hey there!” a cheerful voice interrupted. Tate had just rounded the corner. He was carrying an armful of riding clothes, topped off with the boots he’d been wearing the other day. Stevie noticed that he looked more handsome than ever in a pair of khaki pants and a rugby shirt.

“Hi, Tate,” Stevie greeted him enthusiastically. She turned to give Carole a meaningful look. The girls had seen a lot of Tate since Saturday, but not enough for Stevie’s taste. She had been disappointed when she discovered that Tate was in Lisa’s class at school rather than Carole’s. And she was even more disappointed when Tate hadn’t shown up for the girls’ riding lesson the day before. In fact, even though Tate had come to Pine Hollow almost every day, the girls still hadn’t seen
him ride. That part didn’t really bother Stevie, though. Actually, she thought it was a good sign. It proved that Tate wasn’t like Veronica—interested in riding but not in all the other things that went into horse care. He liked to be around the stable whether he was riding or not.

“Hi, Stevie,” Tate said. “Hi, Carole. How’s Calypso?”

“She’s fine,” Stevie said. “What have you got there?”

Tate glanced down at the things he was carrying. “I’m on my way to drop off some extra riding clothes and stuff. Max assigned me a cubbyhole.” Each of the riders at Pine Hollow had his or her own cubby in the student locker room where he or she could keep spare clothes and shoes or stow schoolbooks while riding.

“Is that a hunting horn?” Carole asked in surprise, peering at a shiny copper item that was sticking out beneath a pair of breeches.

“It sure is.” Tate pulled the item out to show her. It was a small copper horn with a nickel mouthpiece. “I got it for Christmas last year. Pretty cool, huh?”

Carole frowned slightly. The hunting horn
was
pretty cool. It was also a piece of foxhunting equipment that was completely unnecessary for anyone short of a professional huntsman.

Tate caught her expression and grinned. “I know, I know,” he said. “You’re wondering why on earth I have one of these. It’s my parents. They’re sure I’m going to ride off into the woods and get lost and that this horn
will be the only thing that will save me.” He raised the horn to his lips and pretended to blow. “I’ll sound the horn, and the cavalry will come galloping to the rescue.”

Carole couldn’t help laughing, though she was embarrassed that Tate had caught her frowning. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “We do have some deep woods around here, I guess, especially in the state parks. But we’re really not
that
far out in the country. Most places, if you just keep riding long enough, you’re bound to come out on an interstate highway or a shopping mall parking lot or someplace.”

“I tried to tell my folks that, but they wouldn’t listen,” Tate said with a mock sigh. “They insisted I bring this horn and carry it every time I ride.” He grinned and winked. “I think it will look great decorating my cubby, don’t you?”

The girls laughed as Tate started to tuck the hunting horn back into the pile of clothes. But Simon was reaching out toward it.

“May I see that?” he asked eagerly. “Gosh, I never even saw a hunting horn before. I thought they looked more like trumpets.”

Tate looked at Simon, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Um, sure, I guess you can see it,” he said, handing over the horn.

Carole realized that they hadn’t even introduced the two boys. In fact, she realized that as soon as Tate had
arrived she had forgotten that Simon was there. “Tate, have you met Simon?” she said quickly.

“He’s in Horse Wise, too,” Stevie supplied helpfully. “He’s been riding here at Pine Hollow for a while.”

Tate looked the other boy up and down. “Oh,” he said. “Hi.”

“Hi, Tate.” Simon handed back the hunting horn and gave the new boy a friendly smile. “You came to Horse Wise last weekend, didn’t you? You did great in that game. You really know a lot about horses.”

“Thanks,” Tate said with a shrug. “I figure if you’re going to learn something, you might as well really learn it. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

Simon nodded. “I suppose,” he said. “It’s just so hard to remember everything sometimes. There’s so much to know. I mean, I still have trouble remembering to keep my thumbs up and my heels down. Or is it my thumbs down and my heels up?”

Tate frowned and looked Simon up and down again. “How long did you say you’ve been riding?”

Carole was a little surprised at his tone of voice. He almost sounded disdainful. That wasn’t fair. He should realize that different people learned at different rates. Just because Simon wasn’t what you would call a natural-born rider, that didn’t mean Tate should look down on him.

“So anyway,” Stevie broke in, “I think we’d better pay some attention to Calypso now. She’s probably lonely.”

“Good idea, Stephanie,” Simon said. “Should we check her over first? You know, look for some of those signs Judy told us about? Um, what were they again? Something about a waxy bag …”

“First you need to check whether the mare’s udder is increasing in size,” Tate said, frowning at Simon. “That’s called bagging up. In her last week of gestation she may or may not get a little wax bead on the opening of her teats. That’s called waxing up, and a lot of people think it happens in every mare’s pregnancy. But it doesn’t.”

“Gosh,” Simon said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

“There’s no reason you would,” Carole said, putting a comforting hand on Simon’s arm. “I don’t think Judy mentioned it the other day in her talk.” She gave Tate another surprised glance. He was looking self-satisfied. It was almost as though he had enjoyed proving how much more he knew than Simon.
Maybe he’s not so perfect after all
, Carole thought uncertainly.

“I’d better go put this stuff away,” Tate said. He gave Carole and Stevie a wide grin that showed off his even, white teeth. “Max is supposed to give me a lesson in a few minutes, and I heard he’s a bear if you make him wait.”

He sounded friendly again, and Carole wondered if she had been imagining things a moment before. Maybe Tate hadn’t realized he was making Simon feel bad. He had probably just been trying to share his knowledge with someone who clearly needed it. Carole did that
herself all the time. In fact, sometimes her friends had to remind her that her extensive lectures weren’t always welcome to every person in every situation. What if Tate was the same way? What if he was so eager to share what he knew that he sometimes forgot to be tactful?

Hmmm
, she thought as Tate disappeared around the corner,
maybe we have more in common than I thought!

A
T THAT MOMENT
Lisa was starting to wonder if she and her mother had anything in common. Mrs. Atwood had spent the last five minutes feeling the fabrics of two different wool sweaters, comparing the thickness and the drape. To Lisa,
drape
sounded like something that would be more important in curtains than in sweaters, but her mother seemed very concerned about it, so she kept quiet.

She sighed and leaned against a shelf of button-down shirts. It felt as though they had been in this department store for hours already. She didn’t even want to think about how long they had been at the mall. Mrs. Atwood had insisted on buying Lisa three new pairs of white socks to wear under her low boots when she rode. Lisa had tried to explain that she already had plenty of white socks, and besides that, she would only be able to wear one pair on Saturday. Why did she need three? But her mother believed in being prepared—
over
prepared, as Lisa thought of it.

Finally Mrs. Atwood reached a decision about the
sweaters. “I really think this one is nicer, dear,” she said. She picked a dark blue sweater from the pile on the shelf to her left. “And this shade will be just lovely with your coloring.”

“I already told you, Mom,” Lisa said with a sigh. “I have plenty of sweaters I can bring on Saturday. But I probably won’t even need one. The weather has been so nice all week that I can probably just wear a long-sleeved T-shirt.”

She felt a pang as she said it. After the rain had stopped that day, the weather had turned gorgeous—warm and bright and slightly breezy, perfect for practicing dressage at Pine Hollow.

Her mother shoved the blue sweater into Lisa’s hands. “Don’t be silly, dear,” she said. “At this time of year, you never can tell what the weather will do. You don’t want to get a chill while you and Marguerite are riding. Besides, this sweater will look much nicer than a T-shirt. You don’t want Marguerite to think you don’t know how to dress, do you? Now, let’s go see if we can find a nice pair of trousers to go with that sweater.”

“Trousers?” Lisa repeated. First her mother was ruining her weekend by making her go on this stupid visit. Then she seemed to want to humiliate her by turning her into an overdressed freak. She clenched her fists, trying to hold down her irritation. It wouldn’t do any good to blow up at her mother, especially in public. Mrs. Atwood hated scenes. Instead, Lisa tried to make her
voice sound as reasonable as possible. “Mom, nobody rides in trousers. Not even Marguerite Mills. I’ll be fine in jeans.”

“Jeans?”
Mrs. Atwood looked horrified.

“Or jodhpurs,” Lisa added quickly. She held up the blue sweater against her front and smiled appealingly. “Just think how nice this would look with that soft fawn-colored pair I have.”

Mrs. Atwood thought about that for a second. Then she nodded. “Well, I suppose that would be all right,” she said. “Do you think that’s what Marguerite will be wearing, too?”

How should I know what Marguerite will be wearing?
Lisa thought, though she just nodded and tried to smile at her mother as they headed toward the cash register. She was sick of hearing about Marguerite. Mrs. Atwood had been chattering about her all afternoon. Except when she had been talking about Fox Crest Farms. Or Marguerite’s mother. Or the charity auction. Or the big party, which sounded like it was going to go on for half the night …

“Hey, Mom?” Lisa said. “I’ve been meaning to ask. What time will your party after the auction be over?” She crossed her fingers as she waited for the answer. Maybe if it was just a cocktail party like the ones her parents were always going to, it would be over by six o’clock or so. That might give Lisa time to meet Stevie and Carole for a quick Saddle Club meeting at TD’s, an
ice cream parlor in a shopping center near Pine Hollow. At least then she would get to hear about her friends’ day—and blow off some steam about hers. She was sure she was going to need it if Marguerite was anywhere near as tiresome as Mrs. Atwood made her sound.

But Lisa’s heart sank as she heard her mother’s answer. “Oh, I’m not sure,” Mrs. Atwood said cheerfully. “I imagine it will go until all hours. But I’m sure your father and I will be able to tear ourselves away in time to pick you up at Marguerite’s house by ten o’clock or so.”

“Ten o’clock at night?” Lisa said in dismay. “What am I supposed to do until then? Marguerite and I can’t ride all day and all night.”

Mrs. Atwood frowned. They had just reached the register, and she handed the sweater to the clerk. “Keep your voice down, Lisa,” she said. “I don’t understand what you mean. Surely you can spend time with an interesting young lady like Marguerite without being on a horse every second. I’m sure you two will find lots of things to talk about. And you really should appreciate that the Millses are opening their home to you so generously. You should be looking forward to spending the evening getting to know someone new.”

Lisa sighed. In one sense, her mother was right—sort of. Normally Lisa wouldn’t mind meeting someone new, especially another rider. It just didn’t seem fair that she was being
forced
to do it. Not to mention being forced to miss an important Horse Wise meeting at the same time.
Besides, Marguerite sounded like a bore. What if she and Lisa didn’t get along? As long as they were riding, they might be able to work around it. But what about afterward? According to Lisa’s mother’s plans, Lisa and Marguerite would be stuck together for hours and hours whether they liked it or not.

Lisa decided it was time to put her foot down. She waited until the salesclerk had taken her mother’s credit card and moved aside to run it through the machine. “Listen, Mom,” she said. “I have an idea.”

“What is it, dear?” Mrs. Atwood asked. “Do you want to go look for a new pair of breeches for Saturday?”

“Jodhpurs,” Lisa corrected automatically. “And no. My old ones will be fine. Actually, I was thinking that the bus runs pretty often between here and Colesford.”

Mrs. Atwood looked suspicious. “I suppose that’s true,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. Your father will drive us there, of course.”