Gift Horse (15 page)

Punk wasn’t right. Even if it was a cute name, based on the funny marking on the mare’s face, it implied all sorts of things that just weren’t true of this horse. No-Name wasn’t worthy of her, either. She deserved a name that better reflected her own qualities. She was beautiful, strong, and brave. She had a way of fooling a rider into thinking she was meek, but that merely masked a stubborn streak that combined with her cocky confidence to remind Stevie of some of the belles of the American south, like Scarlett O’Hara. But Scarlett didn’t suit her any better than Punk did.

Stevie’s horse raced like the wind. Carole and Lisa raced to catch up, but the mare was too quick for them. She darted into the woods, where Stevie reluctantly pulled her back to a walk. But even at that slower pace, the mare pranced along briskly, looking curiously at the trees along
the sides of the path. She seemed to love the outdoors and the land—the trees and the grasses, though not the weeds!—and was totally content to be with Stevie in the woods. Moments later, they reached the shady spot by the creek.

Stevie dismounted and clipped a lead line onto her mare’s halter. “Time to take a break,” she said, giving her a hug. Just then Carole and Lisa arrived. “No fair,” Carole called. “You had a head start.”

Stevie grinned. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We should have won anyway. This horse wanted to win.”

Carole and Lisa dismounted and secured their horses as well. Then the three girls went over to the creek and settled on one of the big rocks on its banks where they could watch the cold water rushing by.

“This is nice,” Lisa said with a contented sigh. “Even if it is still too cold to put our feet in.”

Stevie nodded, then looked over at her horse. The mare leaned forward very delicately and took what appeared to be a modest sip of water from the creek. Stevie smiled. It seemed odd for a horse to make such a ladylike gesture. It made her feel warm all over again about owning the horse. “I can’t believe Chelsea changed her mind,” she said.

“I can,” Carole said. “It turns out she’s a nicer person than we thought, that’s all. She can admit her mistakes.”

“Well, I’m sure glad she did,” Stevie said happily.

“I guess that makeover we did on the horse turned out to be even more successful than we thought in the end,” Stevie mused aloud.

Carole and Lisa nodded. “Even though it didn’t keep Chelsea from recognizing her horse, it did show her how much you wanted to keep her,” Lisa said.

The mare was now resting contentedly in the shade with the other horses. “So what are you going to do about her name?” she asked Stevie. “Will you start calling her Punk now?”

“No,” Stevie said. “I thought about it, and it is funny and sort of appropriate, but it’s also kind of ugly. My mare deserves something better. She deserves better than No-Name, too. In fact, from the moment Chelsea told me I could have her, I haven’t been able to call her No-Name anymore. It’s no better than Punk. I’ve been thinking about her qualities, the ones I admire, and I’m getting an idea,” she said.

“Uh-oh, Stevie’s ideas usually get us into trouble!” Lisa teased.

“Not this one,” Stevie assured her.

“So?” Carole asked.

“Well, it seems to me that this horse may be part Arabian, but she was born here and she’s a real Southern belle. I mean, we know she’s determined and strong, but she’s a beauty and very elegant. Just look at the way she drinks water.”

As if on cue, the mare stretched her sleek neck to the creek and took another ladylike sip.

Lisa giggled. “She thinks she’s at a tea party!”

“Ah think this he-ah hawse is a fahn example of Suthe’n womanhood!” Stevie bellowed in her deepest phony Southern drawl. “She’s a true Suthe’n belle and deserves a name to reflect that quality.”

Carole and Lisa waited. They knew that Stevie was making up her mind. The answer was about to come.

“Belle,” said Stevie.

“It’s just right,” Carole agreed.

“Has a ring to it,” Lisa joked.

Stevie stood up and walked over to her mare. “How are you doing, Belle?” she asked.

The mare regarded her as if she understood this was an important moment. She stood still for a second, almost as if allowing the words to sink in. Then she pawed at the ground with her right hoof and nodded vigorously.

“She likes it!” Stevie declared.

Her horse was named.

“Hi, Belle,” Carole said, greeting the mare with her new name.

“Belle!” said Lisa, trying it out herself. “I like it, too.”

Stevie smiled proudly. She was pleased with her decision—almost as pleased as she was with owning the horse at all.

“You aren’t still mad at Chelsea, are you?” Lisa asked curiously.

“No,” Stevie said. “All’s well that ends well, and all that. Besides, I’m grateful that she was mature enough to decide to sell Belle back to me. I’m not sure I would have been,” she added honestly. Then she frowned. “The one I
am
still mad at is that rat, Veronica. If Chelsea turned out to be a nicer person than we all thought, Veronica turned out to be even more evil than we ever suspected. I checked with Chelsea and sure enough, Veronica told her about the allergy and the bone splint and collected that one-thousand-dollar reward.”

“And spent every penny of it, I’ll bet, on new riding boots and who knows what else,” Carole said. “I don’t blame you for being mad at her. I can’t believe she was ready to sell you out just so she could keep Garnet nearby.”

“It just goes to show that you were right when you said a leopard can’t change its spots,” Stevie said. “And it confirms what I thought all along—that Veronica diAngelo is a spoiled, rotten, selfish jerk.”

“Well, I can’t say I like her or anything,” Lisa said. “But it was sort of human of her to try to save Garnet like that.”

“True,” Carole said. “But even though her motives might have been sort of okay for a change, her methods were definitely downright rotten and sneaky.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Stevie agreed. “Anyway, any hopes we had of Veronica becoming a
poorer but better person are gone now.” That morning, the girls had learned from Mrs. Reg that Mr. diAngelo’s bank had just located the lost papers at the bank and his job was saved—along with the diAngelo fortune. In celebration, Mrs. diAngelo had taken Veronica along to help her pick out a new Mercedes that very day.

“It’s too bad,” Carole mused. “She was being so friendly there for a while that it was a little weird—but sort of nice at the same time.”

“Well, I think it’s a relief,” Stevie declared. “Now that the regular awful Veronica is back, we won’t have to wonder about whether she might have some likable points about her. We can just go back to despising her full time.”

Carole and Lisa laughed and agreed.

“Come on,” Stevie said, jumping to her feet. “Enough of this sitting around. Let’s do some more riding.”

She hurried over to untie Belle—her very own horse with her very own name—for the next of their many, many rides together, today and forever.

B
ONNIE
B
RYANT
is the author of more than a hundred books about horses, including The Saddle Club series, Saddle Club Super Editions, the Pony Tails series, and Pine Hollow, which follows the Saddle Club girls into their teens. She has also written novels and movie novelizations 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.