Secret Horse (12 page)

T
WENTY MINUTES LATER
The Saddle Club shuffled into Max’s office and took seats on folding chairs. Max came out from behind his massive desk and perched on the corner. “You guys have a spokesman to plead your case?” he asked.

There was an uncertain pause. Then Carole and Stevie cast sideways glances at Lisa. She could talk to adults better than anyone.

Lisa, feeling their eyes on her, stood up tentatively. She started to speak, slowly at first because she was very nervous. But she built momentum as she went. It wasn’t a hard argument to make, after all, for she believed every word she was saying. “I think Samson pled his own case out in the ring this morning, Max,” she began. “As you saw, he’s a phenomenally talented jumper. And we’ve been working hard to train him. Carole has set up all kinds of courses here at Pine Hollow, and two days ago we went to Mr. Grover’s to practice over his jumps. Mr. Grover, by the way, supports our efforts. He said you could call him to discuss Project Se—er, to discuss the project. We know the Macrae is a major show, and we know it’s ambitious to want Samson to make his debut there. But”—Lisa faltered before continuing passionately—“but a top racehorse doesn’t start on a backyard track! Samson deserves a shot at the best—
now
—early on in what promises to be a brilliant career. And Carole, Stevie, and I believe that when the Pine Hollow van pulls out of the driveway for Pennsylvania, Samson by Cobalt out of Delilah deserves to be on it!”

Awed by Lisa’s skill in argument, her two friends broke into applause. Lisa sat down, her face flushed. Even Max couldn’t hide how impressed he was. “That was quite a speech,” he said. As The Saddle Club watched, he paced back and forth across the office floor. His heels clicked rhythmically against the wood. “And
you’re right about one thing: Samson did plead his own case in the ring, half an hour ago.” The Saddle Club sat forward on their chairs. Max paused to stare reflectively out the window. “He reminded me of Cobalt,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse. When he spoke again, he sounded as if he was talking to himself.

“There would be logistics to be worked out, of course. The diAngelos have already rented out two stalls of the van, and they’d like all four.”

“All four! But that’s ridiculous!” Stevie cried. “You can’t take a van hundreds of miles to the Macrae with one horse in it! It’s—It’s wasted space!”

The faintest of smiles played on Max’s lips. “I happen to agree. If we’re going to make the trip, I’d like to bring a whole team from Pine Hollow.” He turned to Carole. “I had thought you might want to ride Starlight. But if you’re set on bringing Samson, I’ll agree to that as well. With your experience, you two might have a real shot at it.”

As Max began to outline the work that needed to be done in the next few weeks—if, indeed, they were going—The Saddle Club sat frozen. Carole stared at their instructor and shook her head from side to side, willing Max to understand. After what seemed like an eternity, Max paused, frowned, and demanded, “Why the long faces? Didn’t you hear me? I’ve just agreed to let you go
ahead with your idea. I’ve agreed to Samson’s going to the Macrae.”

“The thing is, Max,” Carole said quietly, “I do want to ride Starlight. It’s been my dream for years to take him to the Macrae.”

“But then—”

Lisa tensed in her chair. It was now or never, and she had to speak for herself. She couldn’t wait for the others to plead
her
case. She thought of soaring over the brush fence on Samson’s back. Summoning all her courage, she said boldly, “And I want to ride Samson.”

Max’s eyebrows went up and then down. He looked surprised. “I see,” he said seriously. He stood up from the desk. “I would have to think about that,” he said in a tone that betrayed nothing. He took another turn around the small room. “Of course, I would also have to see you ride, Lisa.”

Lisa gulped. That was only fair. “When?” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Anything wrong with tomorrow?” Max inquired.

Lisa shook her head. “No. Tomorrow’s fine,” she got out.

“All right, then,” said Max, all business. “Tomorrow it is.”

From his tone The Saddle Club knew that they were dismissed. In one motion they stood up. As they did,
Stevie’s pitchfork clattered to the floor. “Whoops,” she said sheepishly.

Max picked it up and handed it to her. “The stalls on the far aisle are ready and waiting,” he informed them.

F
OR ONCE NOT
complaining, Stevie grabbed a wheelbarrow and led the way to the far aisle. She knew Lisa was anxious, and she knew Carole was anxious about Lisa. To diffuse the tension, Stevie acted like a drill sergeant. She handed out tools and told the other two to get to work. Then she turned on the barn radio to an oldies station. “Nothing cures the blues like hard work and fifties music,” she declared. “Come on, Lisa, hop to it. That stall has your name on it.”

Bent over her pitchfork, Lisa was glad to be distracted by physical labor. She felt as if it were the day before a big exam. She couldn’t allow herself to think about Max’s decision. If he said no to her riding Samson, the disappointment would be so great … She shook her head vigorously to clear her mind. She concentrated on the words to the fifties song. She concentrated on doing the best job mucking a stall ever. The decision was out of her hands.

T
HAT NIGHT
, L
ISA
sat listlessly at the dinner table. As usual, her mother prattled on about her day while her
father listened. Lisa picked at her spaghetti and tuned in and out of the conversation. “Oh! I saw Mrs. diAngelo at the post office,” her mother said. “I think she knows me by now, but I reintroduced myself to make sure. I reminded her that our daughters ride together at Pine Hollow and that we were on that horse show committee together. You’re right, Lisa, Veronica is going to the Macrae Valley Open. Evidently she’s expecting to do very well. They’ve hired several professional trainers—top trainers—to get her ready. And I guess—”

“They always do that, Mom,” Lisa interrupted grumpily. “It doesn’t necessarily mean she’s going to win.”

“Really?” said Mrs. Atwood. “Mrs. diAngelo sounded pretty confident.”

“Tons of people could beat Veronica,” Lisa insisted. “Carole could beat her!”

“Is Carole riding in the show?” asked Mrs. Atwood.

Lisa nodded. “Almost definitely.”

Lisa’s mother was silent for a moment. “But if Carole’s riding, then why can’t you—”

“I can’t talk about it, Mom!” Lisa cried. She stood up from the table, her face red.

“Lisa,” said her father gently, “sit down and finish your dinner. Your mother’s only looking out for you.”

“That’s right, honey. Sit back down,” added her mother, patting Lisa’s chair.

Lisa swallowed hard. She sat back down. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just nervous, I guess. I have a—a test at the barn tomorrow.”

Mrs. Atwood nodded understandingly. “As long as you’ve studied, you’ll be fine,” she said. “Now, who wants dessert?”

IN HER ROOM
, Lisa sat on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. “ ‘As long as you’ve studied, you’ll be fine,’ ” she repeated to herself. Her mother was right. And she had studied—or in this case, practiced. She had practiced hard, and she was ready. But then another thought occurred to her. Maybe she should
study
study—study for real! She had crammed for tests at school before. Why couldn’t she cram for a riding test? It couldn’t hurt, could it?

She sprang off the bed and went to her bookshelf. She took down every book she had on riding, except the dressage books. She opened the first one and turned to the section on jumping. Marking the text with her finger, she feverishly began to read. “
Jumping a horse is not a science. It is an art. The most important lesson for the rider to learn
 …”

S
OMETHING ABOUT THE
light was wrong. Lisa went on sleeping, but she knew the light was wrong. She turned over … yawned … She sat bolt upright, utterly panicked. She didn’t even have to look at her clock to know the awful truth. She had overslept by an hour!

“How could I?” she wailed. In one motion she was out of bed and across the room. Fighting back tears of frustration, she dug out a pair of breeches and pulled a T-shirt over her head. “Mom! I’m late! I’ve got to go!”

In the car riding to Pine Hollow, Lisa was beset with fears. She had spent half the night studying books on jumping. In consequence she’d gotten little sleep. She was exhausted, physically and mentally. And instead of helping her, the riding books had only made her more nervous. They talked about things she didn’t even know
she was supposed to be doing—like “creating the perfect arc” over a fence. Plus, the whole experience had reminded her of a jumping problem she’d had a long time before, with Prancer. Lisa had gotten over that problem (it had been mostly nerves, anyway), and if she had learned anything, it was that confidence was everything.

Hurrying into the barn, she remembered something else. She had skipped breakfast. She felt weak, worried, and tired. She didn’t even know if she had the energy to put Samson’s saddle on. She almost wanted to give up then and there—convince Carole to ride in her place or Stevie to change her mind. Then she saw her two friends. They were leading Samson out to the driveway. He was fully tacked up. “Oh, good—you’re here,” Carole said. “We were going to warm him up for you.”

“You were?” said Lisa, astonished.

“Yeah, we figured you were taking an extra hour or so to psych up at home,” Stevie responded.

“Hardly! I was actually taking an extra hour to sleep through the alarm!” Lisa said bitterly. “Is—Is everything okay? Is Max waiting?”

Carole noticed the panicked look on Lisa’s face. “Everything’s fine, Lisa. Max got delayed by another call—this time from
Mr.
diAngelo. He’ll be out in ten minutes. But listen, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I’m just great. I can’t wait—” Lisa broke off midsentence. She looked at Stevie and Carole, her lower
lip quivering. “I’m actually really nervous,” she said. “I—I don’t know if I can do it.”

Carole opened her mouth to commiserate when Stevie interrupted. “Nonsense!” she said. “You’ve already done it—for us, dozens of times. This is just a formality for Max. It’ll be a breeze! Now put ’er there. I’m giving you a leg up.”

Before Lisa could protest, Stevie had boosted her onto Samson’s back. Laughing, Carole handed up a hard hat, which Lisa buckled on. They all walked down to the ring together. Warming up, Lisa decided to take Stevie’s attitude. “Maybe it will be a breeze,” she said aloud. It was as good an attitude as any.

A
LL THE NIGHT
before, Lisa had been worried about what Max would have her do: what kind of course he would set up, how high he would make the jumps. So she was completely taken aback when Max appeared, leaned against the rail, and said simply, “All right, show me what you can do, Lisa.” After a quick consultation with Stevie and Carole, Lisa determined to do just that.

Carole set up a cross rail, which Lisa and Samson trotted back and forth over. Stevie added a vertical beyond it. Lisa smiled with joy when she felt Samson’s huge jump. He
gave
her confidence even when she didn’t have much to begin with. Cantering over the course Carole had ridden the day before, Lisa relaxed fully. She
concentrated not on showing herself off, but on showing Samson off to the best of her ability. The difficult combination loomed ahead. Lisa checked Samson several strides before it. She saw his ears go up. Then he shied beneath her. “What are you looking at?” Lisa said aloud. She barely had time to steady him before she saw what had spooked him: a soda can glinting in the sun at the base of the first fence. Someone must have dropped it there and not picked it up! But who would be so rude? So careless? There was no time to answer that question. They were coming into the fence—and they were coming in all wrong! Lisa made a split-second decision. She sat down hard. She pulled back on the reins. And knowing she might be ruining her chances at the Macrae, she wheeled Samson around—away from the fence.

Trying desperately not to get upset, she made a circle and reapproached. This time Samson hit it just right. The second fence followed easily. But Lisa could feel herself losing hope. She had to finish the course! She had to go on! There were two fences left. The first was the white chicken coop. Samson cleared it easily. Then only the tires remained.

At the rail, Stevie and Carole crossed their fingers. Carole saw the mistake first. “Oh no,” she murmured. “Her approach is all wrong!”

“Shhh!” Stevie hushed her. “Max’ll hear!”

Twenty feet away Max was also watching intently. His lips were pursed skeptically. Lisa was way off course.

Carole covered her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch. How could Lisa mess up something so easy as the last fence?

Stevie felt her blood run cold. “She’s going to take the brush,” she said.

Carole’s eyes snapped open. “What?”

The two of them gripped the rail in front of them. It was unbelievable. Lisa was headed straight for the brush.

“Come on, Samson!” Lisa cried. And the big horse responded.
Finally
, he seemed to say,
a fence that’s big enough for me!
Lisa grabbed his mane wildly. She clung on for dear life. And then … it was over. They were on the other side. There was nothing to do but slow up. And for a split second, Lisa didn’t care one bit whether she got to ride in the Macrae Valley Open. Fences like that made it all worth it, no matter what happened. Her eyes shining, she turned for home. Stevie and Carole were climbing down from the rail and running toward her.