Horse Trade (7 page)

“Listen,” Stevie said, looking at her with concern, “you’re getting sick. Do you think you should go home?”

“Dever,” Hollie said. “I’m dabsolutely fine.”

But Stevie stood up and started to pull Hollie to her feet. “You need to do something about that cold of yours.”

“It’s nothing,” Hollie was saying. “It’s dodally dover.”

“Are you sure?” Stevie said doubtfully. “You sound horrible.”

Hollie nodded emphatically, then gestured for Stevie to sit back down again. “I’ve got a great idea,” she began.
“You know that song ‘Always’? Well, you and Phil could …”

Stevie obediently dropped back down on the blanket and listened to Hollie. Soon she was so absorbed in Hollie’s ideas for the dressage exhibition, she forgot all about the other girl’s cold.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Phil was sitting on the bench in front of the Berryville pharmacy when Stevie got off the bus.

“I’ve solved everything,” she said while she was still halfway down the steps of the bus. “I’ve got our doncept.”

“Doncept?” Phil said as her feet hit the dusty road.

“Oops. I’ve been talking to Hollie too long. I mean concept. The concept is the whole thing,” Stevie told him. “Without a concept we’re dead.”

“For real?” Phil said as they turned up the road that led toward his place. Far off, in front of the forest, Stevie could see the red brick chimney and gray stones of his house.

“Hollie came up with this absolutely killer concept. It’s a song called ‘Almost.’ ”

“Almost what?” Phil said.

“Almost ‘Almost.’ I mean the name of the song is ‘Almost.’ Hollie and I wrote the words. It’s about two people who like each other and intend to get together, but something gets in their way.”

Phil looked at her blankly.

“What I mean is,” Stevie went on, rushing to explain the wonderful idea to Phil, “you and I will countercanter toward each other and meet … almost. As we do our figure eights, we’ll come closer and closer and join hands … almost. It’s sung to the tune of ‘Always.’ ”

“I don’t know if I like the sound of this,” Phil said grimly. “Miss after miss after miss sounds kind of depressing.”

“But at the end …” Stevie turned to him and grinned.

“Yes?” said Phil, looking really interested.

“We come together for a big finale and the song changes to ‘Always.’ This was Hollie’s idea,” Stevie added hastily.

“I like the way her mind works,” Phil said. They walked for a while in silence; then Phil said, “To tell you the truth, it makes me kind of nervous. Dressage and music,
and riding with you. I’m wondering if Teddy and I are up to it. We aren’t as experienced as you.”

“So we’ll practice,” Stevie said happily. “I think this routine needs lots and lots of practice. Besides, it’s obvious No-Name has had some dressage experience, but she may need lots of work, too.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed.

When Stevie entered No-Name’s stall, she was afraid to look. On Friday she had doused the horse with fly spray. Today, if No-Name had hives, there would be no riding. Stevie half closed her eyes and ran her hand up No-Name’s neck, relieved to find that it felt smooth.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she murmured, opening her eyes. “Hey,” she said in No-Name’s ear, “you’re not allergic to whatever is in fly spray. So the culprit must be carrots, apples, or saddle soap.”

No-Name nuzzled Stevie, looking at her with her big brown eyes.

“Ready for ‘Almost’?” Stevie said.

No-Name nickered.

“Me too,” Stevie said. “Almost.”

When No-Name was saddled, Stevie led her into the outdoor ring, where she found Phil and Teddy doing elegant serpentines. After she had mounted, Stevie sat on No-Name watching them.

Phil rode up to her and grinned. “I’m
almost
ready.”

“Good attitude,” Stevie said.

“The only thing is that if we’re going to practice, we need the music,” Phil said.

“That’s okay,” Stevie said. “I’ll sing.”

Phil raised his eyebrows, “I can hardly wait.”

“Let’s warm up the horses with a sitting trot and then go into a shoulder-in.”

“You like to start at the top,” Phil grumbled. “Teddy and I always have trouble with the shoulder-in.”

“With me singing you can’t miss,” Stevie said cheerfully.

They walked their horses briskly around the ring to warm up their muscles, and then Stevie turned No-Name, and they trotted in opposite directions with Stevie singing.

Listening to herself, Stevie decided that she’d never fully appreciated her talents. She had lots of volume and expression. Next time there was a musical at the Willow Creek Community Theater, she was definitely going to try out. She could probably get a part in the chorus. Who knew? She might even be chosen to be the star.

As she and Phil rode toward each other, Stevie said,
“Reverse directions and shoulder-in.” She noticed that Phil looked kind of odd, but she figured that must be because he was worried about the shoulder-in.

Doing the shoulder-in and the singing at the same time wasn’t exactly easy, Stevie realized. She had to get through to No-Name that she shouldn’t move just her head to the right, but her shoulder as well. If No-Name bent only her neck, she could acquire a rubber neck. Or she could throw her hind legs out so her body would be straight and there would be no shoulder curve.

Stevie pulled back gently on the right rein, but then with her right leg at the girth, she pushed No-Name forward so that her head and shoulder were moving right while her body moved forward. An average, untrained horse would fight it, but No-Name understood. Her head and right hock moved gracefully to the right while her body continued forward. She was like a ballet dancer in motion. Stevie wondered where No-Name had learned so much.

“Hey, look,” came Phil’s voice from the other side of the ring. Stevie looked over and saw that Teddy was doing great, switching smoothly from one side to the other.

Obviously, it was because of her singing, so Stevie sang louder. “ ‘You belong to me … almost.’ ”

A door slammed and a woman rushed to the side of the ring. “Hi, Mrs. Marsten,” Stevie called.

“Hi, Stevie,” said Mrs. Marsten, patting her chest as if she were alarmed by something. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Absolutely fine,” Stevie said.

“I heard the most terrible sound,” Mrs. Marsten explained. “Like a creature howling in pain. I was worried that something had happened.”

Stevie noticed that Phil’s face had turned red. He turned away.

“We’re fine.” Stevie shrugged. “We’re just practicing for the dressage exhibition.”

“But that sound,” Mrs. Marsten went on. “Whatever could it have been?”

A muffled noise burst out of Phil. Soon he was laughing so hard, he could barely talk.

“It’s okay, Mom,” he managed. “It was just … our sound effects.”

“They’re awfully …” Mrs. Marsten’s words trailed off. “Do you think they’re right for the exhibition?”

“We’ll work on it, Mom,” said Phil, now solemn-faced.

Stevie’s own face was beet-red. She’d never been so embarrassed in her entire life.

After Mrs. Marsten disappeared into the house, she glared at Phil.

“Very funny!”

“Hey, I didn’t tell her to say that,” Phil said, but then he choked on a laugh and started coughing.

Stevie drew herself tall in the saddle and said, “You’ll be glad to know that at the exhibition Lisa will be doing the singing. And Lisa has a
great
voice. She recently starred in Annie.”

“I know,” Phil said. “My whole family saw her and we thought she was fantastic.”

“I guess I’m no Lisa,” Stevie said grimly. “Maybe I’ll be a horse-show clown. Like one of those guys in baggy pants. I seem to have a certain natural talent.”

“A talent for riding, yes, for singing, no,” Phil said, trotting over to her with an amused look on his face.

“Phil,” came a voice from the house.

Stevie saw Mrs. Marsten’s head sticking out of an upper window. “Mr. Baker called,” she said, “and he wants you and Stevie to come early to the Pony Club meeting so he can check out your progress.”

“No problem,” Phil said, and made a thumbs-up gesture to show that everything was fine. He turned to Stevie. “We’d better groom the horses and get started.”

“Definitely,” Stevie said, thinking that now would be the time to try another possible allergy causer on No-Name. Today she had decided to try saddle soap.

After she’d picked No-Name’s hooves, a job that Stevie liked particularly because it took gentleness and concentration, and after she had brushed and curry-combed her, Stevie went into the Marstens’ tack room to
polish No-Name’s saddle. She put it on the saddle horse, which was a saw horse topped by a V-shaped piece of wood, and stripped the saddle, removing the girth, stirrup leathers, and irons. Then she turned the saddle over and removed the dirt and dried sweat from the lining.

She put the saddle back on the saddle horse, washed it with cold water, and dried it with a soft chamois cloth, being careful to remove all the black greasy marks that were called jockeys. Then with an almost dry sponge, using a circular motion, she put saddle soap on the seat and the flaps. From experience Stevie knew to leave neither streaks nor crumbs, but this time she used way too much soap, the way a beginner would, and left a rim of yellow soap around the edge of the stirrup flaps.

“Hey, you missed some,” said Phil from behind her.

“I’m checking to see if she’s allergic to saddle soap,” she said.

“Good thinking,” said Phil. “That might well be it.”

When they got to Cross County, Mr. Baker was in the ring, practicing shoulder-ins. It was funny, Stevie thought, to see a teacher practicing. But she knew that an important part of teaching was demonstrating. Stevie sighed, thinking of some of Max’s really great demonstrations, like the one he did on Prancer before the dressage rally a few weeks ago. To give good demonstrations, both horse and rider have to be in top shape. Mr. Baker and his
horse were not just practicing their moves, but keeping limber.

“Stevie!” Mr. Baker said, touching his crop to his riding hat. “I’m glad you’ll be joining the exhibition. Cross County riders can learn a lot from you.”

Stevie smiled her thanks. “I’m sure I can learn a lot from them.”

“In any case,” said Mr. Baker with a smile, “I’d like to see Phil go through his paces alone first.” He turned to Phil. “I know you’ve been working, but I have to make sure that Cross County puts on a good show in front of the members of Horse Wise. We have our honor to uphold, after all.”

Stevie knew what he meant. Mr. Baker and Max Regnery were friends, but also rivals. Mr. Baker wanted to look good on his home turf.

“I’ll get out of the way,” Stevie said, and rode No-Name outside the ring, where she dismounted and let the horse graze on a patch of greenery next to the fence.

Phil started his dressage exercise with a sitting trot and moved into a shoulder-in and then a countercanter, making the changes with ease. He held the reins lightly while Teddy moved with his head up, feet bright, and tail lively.

“I’m impressed,” Mr. Baker said when Phil was finished. “You’ve gained finesse.” He turned to Stevie. “I think you have something to do with that.”

Stevie flushed with pleasure at the compliment. “Maybe,” she said, “but Phil’s been working hard on his own, too.”

“What will your performance consist of?” Mr. Baker asked.

“It’s a dressage duet to a song called ‘Almost,’ ” Phil said.

“Which is sung to the tune of the song ‘Always,’ ” Stevie added.

“Is that what that tune was?” Phil asked with a smile.

Stevie ignored him. “We’ll almost meet over and over again, and then at the end we will meet, and the song will change to ‘Always.’ ”

“Very unusual—and very dramatic,” Mr. Baker said with a surprised look. He glanced at his watch. “We still have a few minutes left. Why don’t you show me the ending?”

“With pleasure,” Stevie said, slipping off the fence and going over to No-Name. When she untied the reins from the fence, No-Name raised her head.

“Ha,” she said. “I knew it.”

“What?” Phil said, hurrying over on Teddy.

No-Name’s head and neck were covered with hives.

“It must be the saddle soap,” Stevie said.