Horse Trade (2 page)

“The next class is on Tuesday,” Stevie said to Hollie. “Get your mother to call Max Regnery to make arrangements. It’s lots of fun. You’ll already know the three of us.”

“I’m not sure I even remember how to mount a horse,” Hollie admitted.

“You face the horse’s tail, take the reins, and grasp the horse’s mane with your left hand, and then you reach for the stirrup with your right. You put your foot in the stirrup
and reach with your right hand for the saddle,” said Carole.

Stevie and Lisa exchanged grins. Once again Carole had launched into a major lecture on a topic involving horses. Their friend could never resist a chance to share all the things she knew, because she loved horses so much, and she simply assumed that everyone shared her enthusiasm. Carole was the most experienced member of The Saddle Club. She had even been an assistant to Judy Barker, Pine Hollow’s veterinarian.

“I know, I know!” Hollie cried, holding up a hand to halt Carole’s explanation. Lisa had already clued her in to Carole’s tendency to act like a professor of horse-ology. “I just mean that it’s been a while.”

“Lisa only started riding recently,” Carole said. “You wouldn’t believe how quickly she’s learned. Dedication and concentration are essential. I have a couple of books I could lend you.”

“A truck will pull up to your house tomorrow,” Stevie joked.

“Okay,” Hollie said. “Now I can’t wait till Tuesday. I envy you guys so much. You always have something to talk about.”

“Horses!” Stevie said. “Is there anything else? I mean, what do other people talk about?”

“Listen,” Lisa said, “I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t we
go over to TD’s and talk about horses? I know Hollie likes it.” TD’s was the Tastee Delight Ice Cream Parlor at the local shopping center, and the place where The Saddle Club most frequently held Saddle Club meetings.

“Best of all, we’ll be able to see what kind of mind-boggling concoction Stevie orders,” Hollie said. Last time Stevie had ordered a sundae with fifteen ingredients, which must have been a record for TD’s.

“We’ll fill you in on the horses at Pine Hollow,” Carole said.

“You showed me the ropes in the theater,” Lisa said, putting her arm through Hollie’s. “Now it’s only fair I show you the ropes at Pine Hollow Stables—the lead rope, the tether.…”

Stevie groaned. “I’m going to miss this fantastic discussion.”

“You’re not coming?” Hollie said, looking disappointed.

“I’d love to,” Stevie said. “But I promised Phil I’d do something else.”

Phil Marsten was Stevie’s boyfriend. He was a rider at Cross County Stables, which was about a half hour away from Pine Hollow.

Carole’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, yeah?”

Stevie blushed. “He invited me for dinner and then to go for a trail ride with his Pony Club,” she replied. “This
may be the last nice fall weekend, so we’re taking advantage of it.”

“Poor you!” Carole said sarcastically. “Riding under a harvest moon. It sounds practically unbearable.”

“It’s rough,” Stevie said, her blue eyes gleaming. “But someone’s got to do it.”

“I
T
’
S THE BIGGEST
moon I ever saw,” Stevie said to Phil as she stared dreamily at the red harvest moon hanging over the trees in the darkening sky. The Marstens had just finished dinner, and now Stevie and Phil were walking toward the Marstens’ stable.

“The moon always appears bigger when it’s close to the earth,” said Phil. With his head tipped back to see the moon, and his green eyes shining, Phil looked even more handsome than usual, Stevie thought.

“How come?” she asked.

“Because you can see its huge size compared to things on earth, like trees, or the weather vane on top of the stable.” Phil pointed to the vane on top of the Marstens’
stable. It was in the shape of a galloping horse, and in the light of early evening the horse on the vane seemed to be galloping directly toward the big red moon.

“I don’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” said Stevie, looking up at the moon, “but is Teddy spooked by a full moon?” She was remembering that on the last Mountain Trail Overnight, or MTO, Phil’s horse, Teddy, had been spooked by almost everything. Teddy was a great horse in the ring or the barn. He was a handsome bay gelding with plenty of power and finesse. But he could be a real wild card out on the trail, and tonight, under a full moon, with the forest full of strange shapes … She didn’t like to think about it.

“No problem,” Phil said. “Mr. Baker told me how to cure Teddy of the spooks.” Mr. Baker was the owner and riding instructor at Cross County Stables. “He said that Teddy had a phobia, which is like an allergy of the mind.”

Stevie nodded. “I know about phobias. My brother Chad claims he has homework phobia, which prevents him from getting the A’s he feels he’s entitled to.”

Phil grinned. “Sounds logical. I’m not sure I can cure homework phobia, but Mr. Baker’s prescription for Teddy worked. I took him out at sunset in small doses—at first five minutes, then ten minutes, building up to longer periods.”

“How did Teddy feel about this?” Stevie asked. “I can’t imagine he liked being part of a scientific experiment.”

Phil shrugged. “I think Teddy understood. He doesn’t want to be left behind when I go on trail rides, so he figured he’d have to learn how to cope with surprises on the trail. It was a trade-off.”

“A horse trade,” Stevie mused as Phil pushed the sliding barn door open. It screeched noisily. “When are you going to get those wheels fixed?” Stevie asked.

“The same day the Marstens get a new pickup truck,” Phil said with a grin. The Marstens liked old—if not ramshackle—things. Their pickup truck could be heard blocks away, and their barn, which was a grand old barn with crossed beams on the doors and a Civil War weather vane, had needed a paint job for as long as Stevie had known Phil.

“Ready to meet your mount?” Phil said.

“You bet,” she declared eagerly. It was always exciting to meet a new horse, but this horse was especially exciting because Phil had been dropping hints about her all week. This horse, according to Phil, was strong but responsive, brave but canny, spirited but affectionate.

Phil unlatched the stall next to Teddy’s and said to Stevie, “Wait out here. I have to get her ready for you.”

“Sure,” Stevie said, standing back. She knew that it was important to approach a horse the right way. If you
got off on the wrong foot with a horse, it could take weeks to get in her good graces—if you ever did.

She could see the horse’s dark tail switch back and forth as Phil said something to her. Not that horses can understand English, as Max was always pointing out. Stevie grinned when she realized that Phil was talking to the horse in horse latin. It was Phil’s theory that horses may not understand English, but they do understand pig latin, or horse latin.

“Eshay aymay eemsay otay ebay a ittlelay uttynay, utbay eshay siay kayoay,” Phil was saying to the horse. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Stevie understood that horse latin was formed by moving the first letter of a word to its end and adding an
ay
so she could tell what Phil was saying—she (Stevie) may be a little nutty, but she is okay.

Stevie crossed her arms. Phil was insulting her to a horse she hadn’t even met yet.

“Eshay etsgay a ittlelay catterbrainedsay ometimessay,” Phil said, “utbay niay a risiscay eshay ancay eallyray etgay tiay ogethertay.”

He could say that again, Stevie thought. She had practically saved his life on the MTO. When Teddy had thrown him and bolted, Stevie had one unconscious rider, Phil, and one scared horse, Topside, to cope with. Luckily, she’d been able to calm Topside, tie him to a tree, and
make Phil comfortable. When Max and the other riders arrived, everything was under control.

“Osay ivegay erhay a reakbay,” Phil said. “On’tday akemay nyaay napsay udgmentsjay.”

That was it! Stevie had heard all she cared to. “Coming in,” she called, to warn Phil and the horse that she’d be entering the stall. As she carefully entered, she noticed the horse’s tail was switching alertly.

Working her way along the side of the stall, Stevie checked the horse’s legs and saw that on her left side she had long white socks—knee socks. And on the other side she had short white socks, anklets. The markings were unusual and very striking. By the time Stevie got to the horse’s nose, she was so taken with the beauty of the animal, she forgot to be angry with Phil.

The horse was a light bay mare with an unusually rich brown coat. From her large, intelligent eyes, her small muzzle, and the
mitbah
curve of her head and neck, Stevie could see that she had Arabian blood. But from her rich, thick tail and mane, and her long legs, Stevie could also tell that the horse was part Saddlebred.

“Don’t listen to Phil,” Stevie said softly, moving slowly around to the front so that she could go eyeball to eyeball with the horse. “He doesn’t know a
piaffe
from a
passage
.” The
piaffe
and
passage
were the most advanced of all
dressage steps. Stevie was excellent at dressage, which was a form of very precise riding.

At this moment the horse pranced in place, doing a step that was very close to the graceful, fluttering motions of a
piaffe
.

“I think she has a sense of humor,” Phil said. “And she definitely understands English.”

But Stevie was hardly listening. She was looking at the horse’s face, which had a long white stripe with a snip above it, so that it looked like an upside-down exclamation point.

“A horse with punctuation,” Stevie remarked. “This is unusual. What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have a name. We’re boarding her for Mr. Baker, who got her in a bulk lot, and her tag said fifty-seven, so we call her Heinz—after Heinz’s fifty-seven varieties of sauces,” Phil said.

Stevie put her hand under the mare’s nose to let her smell it. The horse nuzzled her hand and snorted and then looked directly at Stevie. Those eyes. They were liquid and brown, but with a hint of—

“Yikes,” Stevie exclaimed as the horse interrupted Stevie’s thoughts by neatly fishing a carrot out of the pocket of her shirt.

“Smart horse,” said Phil.

“With a personality like that, you can’t call her Heinz,” Stevie said. “You might as well call her Miracle Whip.”

“I like it,” Phil said. “It’s much better than Heinz. We’ll definitely change her name to Miracle Whip.” Stevie turned, about to make a withering remark, when she saw that he was grinning at her.

Stevie tried to think of a name with personality, but she couldn’t come up with anything on the spot. “Let’s call her No-Name until we can think of something truly great.”

“No-Name it is,” Phil agreed.

“Mind if I take her outside for a look in the evening light?” Stevie asked. She was dying to watch the Arabian’s movements.

“There’s no harm in the two of you getting acquainted,” Phil said with an extra-casual shrug. Stevie took a closer look at him, because when Phil acted unconcerned like that, there was usually something going on.

Stevie backed No-Name out of the stall and into the corridor and then out into the Marstens’ ring. In the twilight the upside-down exclamation point on No-Name’s nose gleamed with a pale-blue, almost neon shine, and her white socks flashed in the gathering dusk.

“It looks like she stepped in a bowl of milk,” Stevie said.

“I know what you mean,” Phil said. “She’s so beautiful. But there’s something mysterious about her, too.”

Stevie ran her hand up No-Name’s neck to the end of her mane and then under the mane toward her ears, looking for her special spot. All horses have this spot, the one place they most like to be tickled. No-Name’s spot was under her brown forelock, just above the top of the white exclamation point.

As Stevie tickled No-Name, the horse looked as if she were sizing Stevie up. Just like Stewball, Stevie thought warmly.

Whenever The Saddle Club went to visit their friend Kate Devine at The Bar None Dude Ranch out West, Stevie rode a skewbald horse named Stewball. Stewball was smart and independent and Stevie loved riding him. In fact, during the girls’ last visit out West, Stevie’s parents had given her permission to buy the horse. But then Stevie had realized that Stewball was a ranch horse who needed to be out West, where there was more open space and where he could do what he was good at—being a cattle horse. Cooping him up in a stable would have only made him miserable. Admitting to herself that Stewball was better off at The Bar None, and coming back East without a horse of her own, was one of the hardest things that Stevie had ever done.

Stevie handed the lead to Phil and moved down No-Name’s
body, checking her out. No-Name had great legs—delicate, but strong and long, ideal for dressage. Healthy hooves. Good rich coat. Except …

“Ugh,” Stevie said, pulling her hand away from No-Name’s flanks. “Has she been wrestling in mud?”

“Worse,” Phil said. “Much worse.”

Stevie ran her hand over No-Name’s back, sending up a cloud of dust. “I know. She’s been totally neglected.”

“That’s it, unfortunately,” Phil said.

“Let’s get a bucket and soap and give her a quick wash. There’s time—and anyway, we can’t take her to Cross County like this,” Stevie said. “While we’re washing, you can tell me what happened.”