Starting Gate (12 page)

“Come on, Mabel!” he cried, tugging the horse back toward the barn. “You need to get away from these movie stars who just
think
they can ride horses!”

George sneered at Skye, then led Mabel back to her stall. Everyone else on the set milled around as Skye and the other two men conferred, waiting to see what would happen. Carole and Lisa were observing Skye intently when Stevie poked them in the ribs.

“Look!” Stevie whispered.

“Be quiet, Stevie!” Carole replied. “This is important. This might ruin Skye’s career!”

“I know, but look anyway.” Stevie pointed to the other side of the track, where a vaguely familiar red horse van had just lumbered up.

“So?” Carole said. “It’s a horse van. There are about fifty more parked behind the stable.”

“No, really look,” Stevie insisted. “Look again at the name on the side.”

Carole and Lisa squinted their eyes. “Good grief!” Lisa cried. “That’s the In-Transit van!”

“Those are our horses!” Carole’s dark eyes danced with joy.

They jumped up from the bench and ran across the track to the trailer. They reached the van just as the driver climbed out of the cab. He looked at all the cameras and lights, then scratched his head. “Is this Ashford Farms?” he asked as the girls ran up beside him.

Before anyone could say a word, another voice rang out from behind them.

“Thank heavens!” a woman’s voice cried. “I knew we were going to need some extra horses. How wonderful you delivered them so promptly.”

The girls turned. Marcella stood there, beaming at the van driver.

“You need to drive these horses up to that barn, now.” She pointed to one of the track barns. “Just put them in whatever stalls you find available.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the driver said as he climbed back in the cab.

“But wait—” Stevie began.

“Come on, Stevie,” said Carole. “Let’s just follow him and see if these really are our horses.”

While the driver restarted the big truck, the girls cut across two training paddocks, running as fast as they could. They reached the stable just as the driver pulled up.

“Didn’t I just see you three over there?” he asked as he climbed out of the cab.

“Yes,” said Stevie. “They sent us over here to help you unload the horses.”

“Whatever,” said the driver. He unlocked the huge doors at the back of the trailer and pulled out the ramp. The girls hurried inside. There, looking out from their traveling stalls, stood Belle and Starlight and Prancer and Danny.

“I don’t believe it!” Tears rimmed Stevie’s eyes as she gave Belle a big hug. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“Don’t they look great?” Carole rubbed Starlight behind the ears and gave Danny a pat on the nose.

“They sure do,” agreed Lisa, brushing a piece of hay off Prancer’s white face. “I feel like they’ve been gone for years!”

The driver stuck his head in the door and asked, “Do you girls know where these horses are supposed to go?”

Stevie, Lisa, and Carole looked at each other and started to laugh. “Actually, we do,” said Carole. “We may be the only people in America who know exactly where these horses are supposed to go.”

“Well, who’s supposed to sign for them?” The driver held up a clipboard. “I can’t unload them until I get a signature.”

“I’ll sign for them.” Carole stepped to the back of the truck and scribbled her name across the form.
Carole Hanson
, she wrote proudly.
Pine Hollow Stables, Willow Creek, Virginia
.

A few minutes later, they had all the horses unloaded and settled into stalls. They seemed to be in good shape, although Danny looked tired and Starlight looked eager to stretch his legs in a big paddock. Belle was her usual playful self and tried to take a delicate nibble of Stevie’s hair.

“Ow!” giggled Stevie as Belle’s soft mouth grazed the back of her neck. “I think listening to Mozart all the way across the country really did make Belle smarter. She now thinks she can eat my hair when I’m not looking!”

“It didn’t seem to affect Prancer much one way or the other,” said Lisa, smiling as Prancer stood calmly in the stall next to Mabel’s. The movie horse was still kicking and trying to rear. “I guess racehorses get accustomed to being hauled around the country and it just doesn’t bother them anymore.”

“That’s right,” said Carole. “I keep forgetting that Prancer was a racehorse when she was younger. She’s so calm and untemperamental—unlike most racehorses.”

“She’s a great horse, whatever she was,” said Lisa. She reached up to hug Prancer around her neck when the stall beside her shuddered. Lisa looked next door.
Mabel had given the wall a mighty kick and was glaring at Lisa, her ears slapped back on her head. Lisa frowned at the misbehaving mare, then she stepped back.
Hmmm
, she thought, an idea suddenly occurring to her.

“Hey, Stevie, Carole—come over here,” she said. “Come have a look at this.”

Stevie and Carole came and stood beside Lisa. “Good grief!” cried Stevie. “Why didn’t any of us see that before?”

S
TEVIE
, C
AROLE, AND
Lisa were sitting back on their bench by the time the director was ready to shoot the scene again. Though Skye was pacing beside his chair, looking worriedly at the ground, they all sat calmly, big grins on their faces.

“Okay, everybody, places!” the director called through a small bullhorn.

The lighting crew and cameramen scrambled for their equipment. Everyone held their breath as George led Mabel down from the stable, clearly expecting the horse to behave just as badly as she had before. Instead of being skittish and troubled, though, Mabel now walked as meekly as a lamb, following George agreeably despite his hard tugs on her lead. Everyone on the set gasped in disbelief, and even
George looked around more than once, surprised at Mabel’s sudden change in behavior.

“Oh boy,” whispered Stevie, nudging Lisa and Carole. “This is going to be good.”

George led Mabel back to the middle of the track, then turned to Skye. “You want to see if you can saddle her now, Ransom?” he asked, his voice sneering. “Or should I call for some help?”

“That’s okay,” Skye replied, trying to sound confident. “I’m sure Mabel and I will be fine.” With a deep breath, he picked up the tiny racing saddle and walked slowly toward the horse, George glaring at him the whole time.

“Hey, girl,” Skye said softly, remembering to approach Mabel with his eyes lowered, just as Carole had. He reached out a hand to touch her, expecting her to flinch, but Mabel stood calmly, seeming to enjoy Skye’s hand on her neck. Gently, he put the saddle pad on her back, again expecting her to go crazy, but Mabel stood still. George began to cough, jerking the lead again in the process, but Mabel did not react. Skye put the saddle on her back and reached beneath her to tighten the girth. Amazingly, Mabel didn’t move a muscle. Skye looked at George and smiled.

“Okay,” sneered George. “So you saddled her up. Now let’s see you get on her.”

Skye buckled his jockey helmet, then grabbed the
reins and put one foot in the stirrup. At first he tightened his muscles, waiting for Mabel to either knock him to the ground or run away sideways, but again, she stood calm. When he hoisted himself up in the saddle and settled gently on her back, he once again prepared to be thrown to the ground. But it didn’t happen. Mabel seemed to actually enjoy being in the middle of the racetrack with a rider on her back.

Everyone on the set began to applaud. “Nicely done, Skye,” called the director. For the first time that day, the tension seemed to leave Skye’s shoulders.

“Okay,” growled George. “Now let’s see if you can get her in the starting gate.”

Skye took the reins firmly in both hands and squeezed his legs. He was obviously wondering if either of those aids would send Mabel into a buck or a rear or a flat-out run, but instead she just started walking easily in the direction Skye wanted her to go. Mabel didn’t even protest about going into the narrow starting gate. She stepped gracefully into the small, tight space without a flick of her ears and stood calmly as the grooms shut the doors behind her.

Now grinning broadly, Skye looked over at The Saddle Club with a questioning gaze. All three just shrugged and then smiled as if they were three cats who’d just consumed three very delicious canaries.

“We did it!” cried Carole in a whisper. “We actually did it!”

“I know, but be quiet now,” replied Lisa. “I want to watch them film this scene.”

The girls settled down and watched as the other horses and riders were loaded into the gate around Mabel. Again, Mabel behaved beautifully, appearing almost eager for the gate to open so that she could fly down the track. The director climbed on the camera truck that would film the racing horses from the front as they ran.

“Okay, everybody, this is scene eighty-eight, take one. Remember, Skye is supposed to win, but I want horses number six and one to come in close as we enter the turn. Everybody got that?”

Skye and the stunt riders nodded.

“All right, then. Action on my mark!”

The director lifted his arm, paused for a moment, then dropped it to his waist. Cameras began rolling. The starting bell went off and the gates flew open. Eight horses thundered down the track, Mabel running easily in the lead. Carole, Stevie, and Lisa stood on the bench to watch the action around the first turn.

“How’s Mabel doing?” Stevie asked, squinting in the bright sunlight.

“She’s doing great!” cried Lisa. “I think she’s ahead by two lengths!”

The horses roared around the backstretch, then crossed the finish line in a blur. The director yelled “Cut!” Again, everyone on the set applauded.

“Wonderful, Skye,” the director said, running over to shake Skye’s hand. “That was terrific!”

“This is the craziest horse!” cried Skye, giving Mabel a pat on the shoulder. “Inside the barn she’s wild, but once you get her on the track, it’s almost like she’s come home. She runs like she really means it!”

“No kidding,” gasped one of the stunt riders. “We couldn’t catch you after the first furlong. You’re going to have to pull her back if we’re going to make this look like a race!”

The girls laughed and hugged each other on top of the bench, then they sat down quickly as George and Marcella stomped by.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” griped Marcella. “He didn’t have a clue about that horse ten minutes ago.”

“Don’t worry,” George said softly. “He’ll mess up again, and it’ll cost the producer big time. We just have to keep our eyes open and point it out when he does.”

The Saddle Club watched as George, Marcella, and Shev walked over to sit right beside the starting gate, glaring at Skye the whole time.

“Can you believe that?” whispered Stevie. “They’re still out to sabotage Skye.”

“Yes, but they won’t get the chance now,” said Carole. “This should be as much fun to watch as the filming.”

The next shot was of the horses coming around one of the curves. A camera truck drove right alongside the horses to film the action. George and Shev and Marcella stood up and watched Skye’s riding like three evil hawks, but they could make no criticism. Skye rode beautifully, and Mabel ran as if she’d been a racehorse since the day she was born.

“That’s a take!” the director called as Skye and Mabel again crossed the finish line. “Nice job, Skye! And somebody give that horse a carrot!”

Much to The Saddle Club’s delight, George and Marcella just looked at each other and frowned.

The filming took the rest of the afternoon as the director insisted on multiple takes of the horses coming out of the starting gate, running down the stretch and through the turns. But Mabel and Skye made a great team. In fact, Mabel carried Skye across the finish line a dozen times without even a flick of her tail, and Skye grew more confident of his abilities with each take. Even the more experienced stunt riders congratulated Skye on his riding skill.

“I don’t know what you did to that nag, but it sure
made a difference in her screen performance,” said one stunt rider. “She was so nervous at the start, I thought we were going to have to carry both of you across that finish line!”

“I know.” Skye laughed and gave Mabel a good scratch behind her ears. “Now she’s so calm I’m afraid I might have to wake her up before the next shot!”

The last shot was scheduled just as the sun began to set behind the California mountains. The director explained what he wanted after all the horses were loaded in the starting gate.

“Okay, everybody. One more time around the track. This time we’ll have a handheld camera right behind Skye to give the audience a real sense of what it’s like to ride in a race. It’ll be tricky, but if our luck and Mabel’s good mood hold, we’ll be done for the day. Everyone ready?”

The riders nodded, and the cameraman who was riding right beside them got ready to shoot.

“Okay, then.” The director moved to the side of the track. “Action!”

The gates opened and the horses blazed out. Though Mabel should have been exhausted from the day’s filming, she strode on like a true Thoroughbred, her long legs gobbling up the ground. Everyone watched as Skye and the cameraman rode together around the track, then when they crossed the finish line, the director yelled, “Cut! And print! Good job,
everybody. See you at seven
A.M.
tomorrow in the studio for interiors!”