Riding Class (2 page)

“It’s a United Way–sponsored agency,” Colonel Hanson explained. “People pay what they can.”

“Veronica’s a nincompoop,” Stevie said. “Remember what a snot she was about the benefit we did for the County Animal Rescue League? She never puts herself out for anyone.”

“She doesn’t understand anything about helping anyone,” Lisa said. She was grateful for the support her friends gave her and glad when she could help them back. It was a feeling Veronica didn’t understand, and Lisa almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

“It doesn’t matter,” Colonel Hanson said. “You’ll have a better day without her. Here we are!” He pulled into a freshly paved parking lot. Right in front of them was a large, tan indoor arena. Behind that nestled a smaller tan building that looked like a stable, and on both sides were
big paddocks containing a variety of fuzzy, sturdy, placid-looking horses. A paper banner on the side of the arena read,
WELCOME, VOLUNTEERS
!

“Isn’t this fun?” Lisa asked as they got out of the car. Stevie and Carole nodded. The parking lot was packed, and there were people everywhere.

“I just wish Cross County had come,” Stevie said with a dramatic sigh. Carole and Lisa laughed. Stevie’s boyfriend, Phil, rode with Cross County Pony Club.

“Look at it this way, you’ll get more work done without him,” Carole teased. She led the way into a door on the side of the arena.

The door led to a lounge with wide windows looking into the arena. A big couch, a table, and several comfortable chairs were scattered around. On the couch a tiger cat lay contentedly, nursing three tiny kittens. The room was full of people of all ages.

“Welcome,” said a deep, friendly voice. A red-haired woman near the table stood up and waved her arms to attract attention. “I’m Debbie Payne, director of Free Rein Therapeutic Riding Center. I’m delighted that so many of you have given up your Saturday to come here. We always get a lot of work done on Volunteer Day. Your help is invaluable.

“We don’t have any lessons going on today,” she continued. “But all of you are welcome to come back another
day. We now have twelve horses, some two hundred regular volunteers, and just over one hundred riders.

“I’ll be around all day, and if any of you have questions about Free Rein, please ask. Meanwhile, there are doughnuts, coffee, and juice on the side of the room. We’ll set out a lunch at noon. Now, let’s get to work! Who here has carpentry experience?”

“O
UCH
!” L
ISA CRIED
an hour later. She dropped her hammer and sucked her thumb, then examined it closely. The Saddle Club was standing in Free Rein’s west paddock. “I can’t believe you told her we had carpentry experience,” she said to Stevie.

“I didn’t actually say ‘carpentry experience,’ ” Stevie replied. “I said, ‘I think we can hammer nails.‘ ”

“Maybe
you
can hammer,” Lisa said. “I can’t.”

“Did you hurt yourself?” Stevie bent over her friend’s hand. “Are you okay?” The three girls had been replacing broken and horse-chewed rails in the paddock fence.

“Suck it,” Carole advised.

“I did.”

“You hold the boards,” Stevie suggested. “Let me do the nailing.”

“Okay.” They worked without talking for a while.

“One thing,” Lisa finally said, “it’s nice to be outside on a sunny day like this. It even smells like spring.”

“And we’re near some horses, even though they’re ignoring us,” said Carole. Three horses were grazing in the paddock where The Saddle Club was working.

“I thought this sounded like a better job than fixing the kick boards in the arena,” said Stevie.

“Or painting ground poles,” Lisa agreed.

“Or cleaning out the tack room,” said Carole. “We do enough of that at Pine Hollow. I wish they had wanted us to groom or do something that actually involved the horses, but, like Max said, we’re doing this so someone else can ride.”

“Not really ride,” objected Stevie. She concentrated fiercely, took aim, and squarely hit the nail she was holding. Lisa flinched. “Ha! Got it!” Stevie cried. “I don’t think a strong, tight paddock fence helps anyone ride,” she added. “I think it helps keep the horses safe so people can ride them.”

Carole laughed. “Picky, picky,” she said.

“Having fun, girls?” They turned. Ms. Payne had walked across the paddock to meet them. “You’re doing a great job,” she said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Band-Aid, which she handed to Lisa with a wink.

“Thanks. We’re trying,” Lisa said. Stevie and Carole snorted. They introduced themselves.

“From Pine Hollow!” Ms. Payne exclaimed. “That
chestnut horse in the center paddock, over there, he came from Pine Hollow, too. His name is Jeremiah.”

Stevie frowned. “I don’t remember him,” she said, “and I’ve been riding at Pine Hollow for a long time.”

“Jerry’s been here almost ten years,” Ms. Payne replied. “He’s one of our steadiest and best horses, as well as one of our oldest. Sometimes our horses get a little bored here—it’s slow work for them, they don’t get to canter much, and they never jump—so whenever they start to seem bored we loan them to a regular lesson program for a little while, and bring them back after they’ve had a vacation. Jeremiah never needs one.”

“Did you buy him from Max?” Carole asked.

Ms. Payne shook her head, smiling. “No, actually, Max gave him to us,” she said. “Jeremiah was getting old, and his arthritis made it uncomfortable for him to work hard. But he’s the type of horse that loves people and wants to be used. Our program’s a perfect way for him to spend his retirement, precisely because it is such slow work. He’s over thirty years old.”

“Wow!” Carole knew that horses rarely lived that long. “Are all of your horses so old?”

“Thankfully, no, but most are at least middle-aged. The youngest is eleven. Horses used for therapeutic riding have to be exceptionally calm and quiet so that they never do
anything that might hurt the riders. It takes time for a horse to mellow out. Most young ones are still too excitable.”

Stevie understood. If something startled Belle, the mare could jump sideways like a cat. “I don’t think my horse would do well here,” she told Ms. Payne. “Not now, and maybe not ever.”

“Not Starlight, either,” Carole agreed. “He’s good and well behaved, but he pays attention to everything, and sometimes he gets a little distracted.”

Lisa laughed. “And definitely not Prancer!” she said, referring to the Pine Hollow horse she usually rode. “Prancer’s a Thoroughbred,” she explained. “She used to be a racehorse, so she’s pretty high-strung.”

Ms. Payne laughed, too. “You’re probably right,” she said. “All of you, in fact. You won’t find any Thoroughbreds here. As a breed, they’re generally considered too ‘hot’ for our needs. Arabs too. We like mixed-breed horses, especially horses with some kind of draft breed in them—what you’d call cold-blooded horses.

“Even then,” she continued, “we look for an exceptional temperament.”

Ms. Payne looked around the paddocks with satisfaction. “These horses may not look like much, but they’re very special animals. To us, they’re worth their weight in gold.
Thanks for helping, girls. If you need anything, just yell, and don’t forget to go in and take a break when you need one.” The Saddle Club thanked her, and Ms. Payne walked over to the next group of volunteers.

“Ha!” Stevie said, resuming her pounding with vigor. “At last we’ve discovered something that Veronica’s horse can’t do! He wouldn’t be a good therapeutic horse!”

“Don’t bet on it,” Carole said gloomily.

“I don’t mind getting my fingers smashed,” Lisa cut in, “but I hate to spoil this beautiful day by talking about Veronica.”

“Here, here,” Stevie agreed. “Sometimes silence is golden.”

W
HEN THEY RAN
out of nails, The Saddle Club walked toward the back of the stable to get more. The stable was bigger than it looked from the front. Probably, Carole thought, casting an eye over it, there was room for sixteen horses, maybe more. Free Rein still had room to expand.

“The door’s open,” she said. “It wasn’t before.”

Stevie grinned. “Let’s look.”

“I’m not sure we’re supposed to go in there,” Lisa objected.

“Why not?” Stevie asked. “They must need help in the
barn, too. We could muck stalls or something. Listen! Someone’s already working.”

“Back it up,” The Saddle Club heard an authoritative voice say from the stable aisle. “Now whoa, stand still. That’s it. Good boy.”

“Someone’s talking to a horse,” Carole said. Her eyes gleamed.

“Where did you find all this mud?” the voice continued. “P.C., it’s going to take me forever to get you clean!” The voice sounded like a girl—a girl about the age of The Saddle Club. They walked through the stable door. At the other end of the aisle a stocky palomino stood on cross-ties. On the far side of the horse stood a slight girl with brunet hair.

“Hi!” Carole said, walking toward her, with Stevie and Lisa close behind. “Can we help?”

The girl looked up and smiled. “I’m fine,” she said.

“We were hoping to do something with the horses,” Lisa explained. “How did you get the job?” She moved toward the side of the horse and stopped. The girl wore metal braces on both her legs. She leaned heavily on one cuffed crutch and groomed the palomino awkwardly with her other hand.

“P.C.’s my horse,” the girl said. She turned to look at them, and as she did, the tip of her crutch slipped on the
concrete floor. She crashed to the ground. Her crutch hit the horse hard on the knees, and she rolled right between his forelegs.

The Saddle Club gasped. If the horse moved, the girl would be trampled!

C
AROLE KNEW JUST
what to do. Walking quickly but calmly, she moved to the horse’s head and held it still. “Lisa, Stevie,” she directed, “help her!” Stevie reached for the girl, but the girl shook her head.

“Please don’t hold my horse,” she said, politely but firmly. “He’s fine. You don’t need to help me. Just give me room.”

Carole dropped her hands from the horse’s halter, feeling embarrassed. Hadn’t she done the right thing? She knew not to spook the horse, and it certainly looked as if the girl needed help. The girl was struggling to get her
weight underneath her and the cuff of the crutch around her left arm. Meanwhile her horse stood like a stone statue. He hadn’t moved, Carole realized, not even when the girl had fallen. “Good boy,” Carole said softly to him.

Stevie had been ready to rush in and lift the girl back to her feet. It was a Saddle Club rule: Help whenever help was needed. Not just when help was wanted, but when it was needed. Maybe the girl didn’t want their help, but did she need it? Stevie felt her fingers itch with impatience. She forced herself to stand still.

When Stevie had overheard the girl talking to her horse, she had thought the girl was another rider, like The Saddle Club. But now, staring at the girl’s leg braces and crutches and the slow, tense way she moved, Stevie thought that the girl wasn’t actually anything like them at all.

Then she realized that she had thought wrong. Take away the leg braces and the girl looked just like them. She was dressed the same, in a sweater, jeans, and paddock boots. Her shiny brown hair was pulled into a ponytail. And obviously she loved horses.

The girl used one of the horse’s sturdy legs to pull herself to her feet. She leaned against him unsteadily and gave him a pat. “Way to go, buddy,” she told him. “Another gold star for you.” She turned to The Saddle Club and smiled. “I’m Emily. Emily Williams.”

“I’m Lisa Atwood,” Lisa said. She introduced the rest of The Saddle Club. “We’re with Horse Wise Pony Club, and we’re here for Volunteer Day.” Lisa felt a little awkward, but she knew her manners. Her mother had once told her that good manners could carry a person through any social situation.

Emily laughed. “Volunteer Day is the reason I can’t ride today,” she said. “But it’ll be great to have the arena back in good shape. Is Pony Club fun? I always thought it would be.”

“It’s terrific fun,” Lisa answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? That looked like a pretty hard fall.”

“I’ll have a few bruises.” Emily shrugged. “I usually do. I’m used to it. Thanks for not helping.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Stevie said, her feeling of awkwardness vanishing. “Why should you thank us for not doing anything?”

“Because you didn’t! And that’s just what I wanted you to do!” Emily said. Her eyebrows went up and she grinned at Stevie.

Stevie grinned back. “That sounds like something I would say when I want to confuse my little brother,” Stevie said.

“Does it confuse
you
?” Emily asked. Her face took on a mischievous look. “I’m not talking too fast for you, am I?
My mom always says I talk too fast. Am-I-talking-too-fast?” She sped through the last words.

“Not-at-all,” said Stevie, just as quickly.

“AmItalkingtoofastforyounow?”

“AlmostbutnotquiteIthinkIcantalkfasterthanyou.”

“That’s enough!” Lisa said, as Stevie and Emily dissolved into giggles. “Is it true what you said? Do people really insist on doing things for you?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “All the time,” she said. “It’s unbelievable. I mean, sometimes I do need help, but when I do, I ask for it. Old women on the street say, ‘Oh, you poor dear.’ ” Her voice rose high, mimicking.