Silver Stirrups (10 page)

“Country Doctor’s oats,” she murmured, averting her gaze.

“And Andrea’s entry fees,” Stevie added quietly.

C
AROLE GOT TO
the stables very late Monday afternoon. Her plan was to avoid Lisa and Stevie as much as possible. She didn’t want anything to break her concentration in this crucial last week. She especially didn’t want discussions about Andrea Barry to distract her. Briarwood was Carole’s big chance to prove that she was better. It was that simple. Lisa and Stevie couldn’t understand her singleness of purpose. To them, riding was a pastime; to Carole it was much more.

As Carole groomed Starlight, she kept up a running monologue. “You’re not afraid of any old fancy junior hunter from New England, are you, boy? So what if he
cost thousands of dollars? You could beat him in your sleep, couldn’t you?”

“Looking forward to the show?” said a cheery voice behind her.

Carole spun around. It was Mrs. Reg, Max’s mother—the second-to-last person Carole wanted to see. The older woman was known for her rambling stories. Right now Carole didn’t have the patience to listen to one of them. “Hi, Mrs. Reg. Uh, yeah, I guess so,” she said.

She hoped her tone of voice would convey her lack of interest in talking. To her relief, Mrs. Reg moved on down the aisle. “As long as you learn something and have fun …,” Carole heard her murmur. “That’s what I always say.”

“Great, now she’s started talking to herself,” Carole muttered.

When Starlight was ready, she led him from the cross-ties to the indoor ring. There was one other horse working in the ring. Carole recognized Kismet. Red was riding him. He waved when he saw her.

Maybe something had changed, thought Carole. Maybe Mrs. Murphy was going to let Red ride Kismet at Briarwood after all. Carole mounted and rode over to say hello.

“Hey, Carole!” Red called.

“Hey, Red! Doing some practicing?” she asked.

Red cocked his head. “I guess you could call it that,” he said. “At least, I’m making Kismet practice. He’s got a big day Saturday.”

Carole felt terrible. So Red was only schooling Kismet for Mrs. Murphy.

“Say, are you feeling better?” Red asked.

“Huh?” said Carole. Did Red know she’d been upset about Andrea?

“Max told me you had had a pretty bad stomachache.”

“Oh, right,” Carole said. She was ashamed of the lie. Her father always told her that the problem with lying wasn’t the initial lie, but all the other lies you had to tell because of it. “I do feel better,” she said reluctantly.

“Good, because Max was worried about you.”

“Really?” Carole said, trying not to sound too interested.

Red nodded. “Yeah. He was worried Andrea wouldn’t have anyone to train with this week.”

“Oh,” said Carole. “I see.” She felt as if she’d been slapped. Red couldn’t have made it any clearer. Andrea was Max’s top priority. Carole had been reduced to the status of a helper! She was like a stablemate—a—a
workhorse!
She was supposed to train with the champion, challenge her a little, all the while knowing that she wouldn’t be able to keep up!

Carole reined Starlight away from Kismet. “I’ve got to get going,” she told Red abruptly.

“I’ll tell Max you’re up and at ’em!” Red called after her.

“Fine!” Carole said. To herself she added bitterly, “Tell him the workhorse is all warmed up and ready to go.”

D
ESPITE
C
AROLE
’
S BAD HUMOR
, Starlight was in fine form. He was fit and responsive. Carole forced herself to shake off her doubts, fears, and anger and to concentrate on the job at hand. First, she walked on a loose rein to let Starlight stretch. While he stretched, she did several minutes of limbering exercises herself. She took her feet out of the stirrups and rotated her toes. She leaned forward and touched the headstall of the bridle, then leaned back and touched Starlight’s croup. She rolled her shoulders several times. Now they were both relaxed.

The next part of the warm-up consisted of trotting, both rising and sitting. Sitting to the trot was never easy. The two-beat gait could be jarring. Carole
worked on keeping her back straight, her seat deep, and her elbows close to her sides, not flopping all over.

At the canter, Starlight had more to work on. Cantering was the gait next to galloping. Starlight was a half-Thoroughbred, a horse bred for racing. Occasionally, Starlight tried to keep speeding up at the canter until he
was
galloping. Carole had to make sure that didn’t happen.

After twenty-five minutes, Carole was done with the flat part of her warm-up. Riding “on the flat” simply meant not jumping. No responsible rider would ever take her horse out and start jumping right away. That was how horses got injured and riders fell off.

Carole now shortened her stirrups two holes to make it easier to get up into jumping, or “two-point,” position. She picked up a trot and headed Starlight toward the cross rail in the middle of the ring. Max usually left at least one cross rail up for the riders to school over. It was a good jump to start with because the X shape had a natural low point in the middle; horses automatically knew where to take the jump. Starlight was no exception. He pricked up his ears, jumped neatly, landed cantering, and let Carole slow him back to a trot on the other side. Carole took the cross rail a few more times straight on. Then she switched her approach, coming in at more difficult angles,
similar to the ones they might meet in a horse show course.

Carole had now been working forty minutes. She might have continued, but she decided not to. She didn’t want to tire Starlight out by jumping too much the week before the show. Nor was she having any major problems that she needed to work on. And finally, she thought, loosening her reins again, if there was one thing she knew about horses, it was that it was always better to quit while you were ahead. If she kept schooling with no real purpose in mind, Starlight would think up some major problems fast enough!

Carole had been so preoccupied by her thinking—worrying—about Andrea and Briarwood that she hadn’t enjoyed riding lately. This afternoon had reminded her what it felt like to ride for the sake of riding. As she cooled out her horse, Mrs. Reg’s words came floating into her head:
“As long as you learn something and have fun.”
Then Carole remembered what Max had said—what Max
always
said:
“Challenge yourself and your horse.”
Even her father had reminded her that she could always learn something—even from a bad ride. Although she wasn’t going to admit it to anyone else, Carole realized something. It wasn’t exactly a new thought, but it came back and hit her full force: The way she was looking at Briarwood, Carole
doubted she was going to have fun, learn anything, or challenge herself. Fixating on one competitor prevented all those things from happening.

To be perfectly honest with herself, Carole thought, she was actually dreading Briarwood. It wasn’t that she was worried about messing up—at least, not that worried. She knew what had gone wrong at the schooling show—how she’d warmed up too quickly, lost her concentration, then lost her nerve. But her newfound determination to win would definitely help her concentrate. And yet, what was the point? The whole day was going to be a grueling, ultracompetitive, exhausting fight to the finish. The horsewoman in Carole recoiled from that scenario. In her heart of hearts, she knew that the purpose of riding was what Mrs. Reg had said. If she won at Briarwood, what would it prove? Would Max go back to thinking she was his best student? Or would she have to keep beating Andrea, at every show, every Pony Club event, every everything? Would she have to try to “beat” her in lessons, too? Besides, even if she did win the trophy, it wouldn’t change the fact that Andrea was a year younger. If Andrea won it next year, did that make her just as good, in retrospect? And what if, in the worst case, Andrea did beat her? How could she look Max and Stevie and Lisa in the eye?

Carole’s head began to ache at the questions buzzing in her mind. She took her feet out of the stirrups and hopped off.

“Well, boy,” she said to Starlight, her voice grim, “we’re in it now, and there’s nothing we can do except try to win that trophy.”

As she led Starlight out of the ring, Carole saw a figure slip away into the barn. She hurried through the door to see who it was—and caught a glimpse of Andrea Barry disappearing around the corner.

“Of all the nerve!” Carole muttered, her brown eyes flashing. Here she’d been trying to be mature about Andrea, and all the while Andrea had been spying on her! Why the heck was she lurking around Pine Hollow so late? Didn’t she
ever
leave the stables? Was she trying to beat Carole by putting in more time than her? Carole’s jealousy came flooding back. The girl had everything! Couldn’t she at least let Carole ride in peace?

Half crying, half sputtering with anger, Carole marched back to the cross-ties, Starlight in tow. She was going to get to the bottom of this right now. Over the years, The Saddle Club had learned to put up with Veronica diAngelo. But Pine Hollow wasn’t big enough for
two
conniving spoiled brats!

C
AROLE GOT
S
TARLIGHT
untacked and put away in five minutes flat. She was going to have it out with Andrea Barry once and for all. Leaving her saddle and bridle on a hay bale, Carole went in search of the younger girl. She checked the locker room and the grain room. She looked inside the barn and outside. She even went up to the hayloft. But Andrea was nowhere to be found. “She’s hiding,” Carole guessed, tapping her foot angrily. Then suddenly she knew where Andrea would be. Carole spun on her heel and strode to Country Doctor’s stall. The chestnut gelding stuck his nose out to say hi. Carole gave him a distracted pat,
then peered in. At first she saw no one. But then she heard something. It sounded like crying. Carole listened harder. It not only sounded like crying, it
was
crying, unmistakably.

“Andrea?” Carole said uncertainly. The wind seemed to have been let out of her sails.

After a minute, a small voice said, “I’m okay. Really.”

“Are you sure?” Carole asked. She’d been so ready to yell at Andrea that she didn’t know what to say.

“Yes, positive. Go away. I’ve just got allergies. I’m fine, really.”

Carole remained standing outside the stall, unconvinced. A moment later, she heard Andrea start to cry again. That decided her. Gently she pulled back the bolt and entered the stall. “Easy, boy,” she said to Doc. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. Then she saw Andrea in the far corner of the stall. Her brown hair was tangled, and her face was streaked with tears.

“What—What’s wrong?” Carole asked. In spite of herself, she felt sorry for Andrea.

Andrea tried to speak but choked on her words. Finally she said, “I guess I’m just nervous about the show.”

“You? Nervous?” Carole said without thinking. This was not the conversation she had expected to have with the new star riding student of Pine Hollow.

Andrea sniffed. “I know it sounds silly, but I’ve never been to a show without my own instructor.”

“But Max
will
be there,” Carole reminded her.

“I know, but he’ll have so many other students to attend to. What if he doesn’t have time for me?” Andrea asked in a small voice. “He told me himself he’s going to be so busy on the day of the show that—”

“Oh, he’ll have time for you, all right,” Carole said flatly.

Andrea looked up, a hurt expression in her eyes.

Instantly Carole wished she could take back her remark. “I—I didn’t mean that—”

But Andrea was sobbing again. “I knew my dad shouldn’t have asked Max to give me so much extra time. But he wants the best for me, and he thought if I got a lot of private attention at first, it would help Doc and me adjust … after the move. You probably think it’s silly that I had a private lesson, don’t you?”

Had Carole heard right? Had Andrea’s father
requested
that Max spend more time with his daughter? “No, not silly,” Carole said truthfully. She tried for a lighthearted response, hoping to cheer Andrea up: “Just expensive.”