Secret of the Stallion (10 page)

Carole didn’t answer. She had a faraway look in her eyes.

“Carole? Are you okay?” Stevie asked.

A smile came across Carole’s face. “I’m just fine,” she assured her friends. “Except that I think I’ve been spending too much time around a certain Stevie Lake.”

“You’ve got an idea?” Lisa asked.

Carole nodded.

“A
scheme
?” Stevie asked.

“Yes,” Carole said. “Now what do you think about this? …”

There was a knock at the door.

“Girls! I told you to go to sleep!”

“Yes, Max,” they said in a single voice. But they didn’t mean it at all.

“W
ATCH OUT
!”

“Don’t jostle me!”

“Shhh! Here she comes!”

The Saddle Club became silent and stopped moving—which was a good thing, because the three of them were high up in the branches of an old oak tree. Specifically, they were in the branches of the old oak tree that stood near the creekbed that fed the castle’s moat.

In just three hours, they would be in the first portion of the mounted games competition, but now they were having fun, serious fun.

The girls had gotten up very early that morning. They’d eaten breakfast quickly and hurried over to the castle, bringing their riding clothes to change into later.

“There are three qualifications,” Carole announced when they arrived at the castle. “And Veronica knows them as well as we do. The stable was almost certainly on flat ground. It had to be close to the castle, and it had to be close to a source of water.”

“The creek!” said Lisa.

“Yes, the creek,” Stevie agreed. “The one that runs by the oak tree.”

“Perfect,” said Carole.

It was a very logical place for the duke to have put the stable, but perhaps even more important, it was a logical place for Veronica to
think
the duke had his stable. Best of all, there was the oak tree that now held three Saddle Club members, each clutching her mouth to keep from making a sound.

The leaves on Stevie’s branch began quivering. Lisa was afraid the branch might be about to break. When she looked, however, she knew it was something else. The branch was quivering because Stevie was laughing hard and silently, and Lisa was afraid she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. Lisa frowned at her. Stevie stopped laughing.

I
T HAD TO
be here
, Veronica said to herself.
It just had to be. This is a large flat area, big enough for a stable and even some paddocks and a schooling ring—if dukes did that sort of thing back then. I don’t know about that, but anyway, the water is here, it’s close to the castle. This is it.

She stepped back and closed her eyes. In her mind’s eye, the stable rose in front of her. She could see it, just exactly as it must have looked three and a half centuries earlier. It was a large stable, large enough to accommodate all the horses the duke owned, and grand enough to accommodate the one he cared the most about. She took a few steps forward, entering her mind’s creation. She could almost feel the cool darkness of the imagined stable, then realized it was actually the shade of the big old oak tree above.

The stallion would have had the stall of honor—the one closest to the door and just to the left.

She looked to her left. She could almost see the stall there. It was a commodious box stall. The imagined stall opened out onto a paddock where an uncontrollable horse could have a free run—inside a high fence, of course. Veronica thought she could smell the hay and the pungent scent of horses. Then she realized she
could
smell those things. But it wasn’t the duke’s horse she smelled. It was the smell from the tent stables just a stone’s throw away. But those were now. She was more concerned with
then
.

The stall had to be here. Maybe here
, she thought, pointing to areas of the ground.
And the oak has stood guard over the remains of the stable for centuries, protecting the treasure as the stallion once did
.

She was convinced she had the place. It was time to look. Not that she expected to find jewels on her first trip, but she did expect to get some idea of where she should
come to dig in the future. Veronica knelt and ran her hands over the ground. She was feeling for unevenness. The earth would have settled around the treasure, and the settling could be apparent even more than three hundred years later. She was pretty sure of that. At least, she was hopeful of it.

Above her, the leaves of the oak rustled. Veronica didn’t hear the noise. All her senses were focused on the earth beneath her hands.

“It must be here,” she whispered to herself. The leaves above rustled again, as if in answer. “I can just feel it. I know it.”

There was a long silence while she studied the ground with her hands and her eyes.

She picked up small clods of earth and turned them in her hand. Stones, pebbles, an acorn or two fell with the dirt. She picked up another handful. She didn’t really expect to find anything. It was just that she had this
feeling
about precious jewelry, like a sixth sense. It was here. She shook with excitement.

She sifted another handful of dirt.

Plunk
.

She looked to see what had dropped from her hand. It wasn’t a stone or an acorn. It was a dark sphere. She picked it up. She brushed the dirt away. It was round, but it wasn’t dark. It was white. It was—

“A
pearl
!” she said out loud.

She felt the earth around where she’d found her prize.
Nothing. Some of the horse show’s spectators were walking toward her. They mustn’t know. If one person knew, then everyone would know. Quickly Veronica stood up. She slipped her find into her pocket. Her eyes darted around. Nobody had seen. Nobody knew. It was her secret—her treasure! She hurried back to her hotel room.

High above, the tree’s branches began shaking, its leaves shivering almost hysterically.

“Hook!” whispered Stevie.

“Line!” said Lisa.

“And sinker!” declared Carole.

Three hands met in a triumphant “high fifteen.”

“You’re a genius!” Lisa told Carole.

“I’m merely a student of the master,” Carole said, nodding to Stevie.

“Let’s go groom the horses and then watch some of the dressage,” Stevie said. “And plan our next step,” she added with glee.

The three girls climbed down out of the oak and headed for the stables—a safe distance behind Veronica diAngelo.

“I
THINK
I like the first day of a three-day event the best,” said Stevie as the three of them walked along the aisles to where the Dickens horses were stabled.

“Of course you do,” said Lisa. “That’s because it’s the dressage and you’re the best at it of the three of us.”

“It always amazes me that someone wild and crazy like Stevie can be good at dressage, which takes so much concentration,” Carole remarked.

“You think being wild and crazy doesn’t take concentration?” Stevie asked. “Just remember how hard you had to think to come up with the treasure scheme.”

Carole thought about it and realized that Stevie might just be right. “I guess you’ve got a point,” she said. “It was hard work.”

Lisa could see that Pip was peering out over the half door of his stable. She waved a greeting to him. She was pretty sure he nodded back. She thought he was glad to see her. She knew she was glad to see him. She gave his nose a good rub.

The other horses looked curiously at the girls as they arrived. There was a stir of excitement among them as if they knew why they’d come to Cummington and were ready to compete.

The girls each took up a set of grooming tools and got to work. They wanted their horses to look perfect for the mounted games demonstration. When they were done, they went to check their tack. For Lisa this was particularly important. She couldn’t afford another mistake with Pip’s bit. Everything was fine.

“I think we should tack them up about an hour before we’re due to begin,” Carole said. “That should leave us enough time to do it absolutely perfectly and still have time to give them a good warm-up before the actual competition.”

That decided, they followed the long path through the stable to the competition ring. The stable was a flurry of activity as each competitor tried to groom his or her horse perfectly. The stable lads scurried around, bringing hoof polish to one rider, boot polish to another, brushing, combing, and shining the horses in every stall.

Horses who were finished with their dressage tests were being patted—or scolded. Those that had yet to compete
were being encouraged and hugged, as well as shined. Still others, almost ready to enter the ring, were getting their warm-up runs in a small ring attached to the far side of the stabling area. Everywhere something was happening, and it all had to do with horses.

Stevie took Lisa and Carole’s hands and gave them a little squeeze. “Isn’t it just
wonderful
?” she asked.

They agreed.

The Saddle Club just
loved
it.

They entered the spectator section of the arena and found seats on a bench in a small area designated for competitors.

Carole picked up a copy of the day’s program and scanned the list of competitors.

“Who’s on now?” she asked.

Stevie squinted to read the number on the back of the rider. “Four eighty-seven,” she said.

“Four eighty-seven … four eigh— Nigel’s coming up after two more competitors!” she said. She showed the program to Lisa and Stevie.

“That’s great!” said Lisa. “I bet Sterling will be fabulous!”

Horse number 487 finished his test, and there was a scattering of applause in the arena. Carole and Lisa clapped and then looked at Stevie for an explanation of the lackluster applause for a test that seemed to them to have been very good.

“The horse did everything she asked, but her signals
were very obvious. The use of aids is supposed to be almost invisible to the audience.”

“I’m glad we’ve got you along to explain these things,” said Lisa. “Even though I’ve studied dressage, there’s a lot more of it I don’t understand than I do. I want to learn a lot watching these riders.”

“And that means knowing what to look for. Thanks, Stevie,” Carole added. “Oh, here comes two thirty-one.”

The next horse entered the arena. Lisa tried to concentrate on what was happening. On one level, it was obvious that the horse was going to go through the exact same set of movements as the previous horse. The program, or test, was identical for all competitors. The horses followed a course of circles, figure eights, reverses, and turns at different gaits. At all times, the judges were looking for manners in the horse and instant response to nearly invisible commands from the riders. It was intricate and intense, but it had to look effortless.

By the time 231 made a final bow to the judges, Lisa realized she was holding her breath. The audience applauded, and so did Lisa.

“That one was better than the last, wasn’t he?” she asked when she breathed.

“Yup,” Stevie concurred.

The next horse did well, too. Then came Nigel on Sterling.

“This is going to be the best of all,” said Lisa.

“We’ll see,” said Stevie.

Nigel and Sterling entered the ring with a dignified elegance. Sterling was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Nigel’s eyes quickly scanned the competitors’ section of the seats, and when he saw The Saddle Club, he winked at them. They waved back discreetly. He drew to a halt in front of the judges and tipped his hat. It was time to begin.

It was immediately clear that dressage wasn’t Sterling’s event. Nigel’s control was smooth and effortless, but Sterling’s responses weren’t. He made it through the test, but not without protest. The applause was scattered and unenthusiastic, except from The Saddle Club. Their loyalty made them cheer their favorite rider almost raucously.

“What went wrong?” Lisa asked Stevie the moment Nigel and Sterling turned to leave the ring.

“It’s not his event,” said Stevie.

“Then what’s he doing here?” Lisa asked.

“A three-day event is a chance for horses to show off their strengths in different areas,” Carole reminded her. “It’s a very rare horse that excels in all three. Sterling’s a stallion. That means he’s going to be feisty and strong-headed. Those skills should stand him in good stead in the next two events—the cross-country and the stadium jumping. But it’s exactly that quality that makes the demanding precision of dressage so hard for him.”