Secret of the Stallion (6 page)

“Come on, let’s get over to the castle,” said Stevie. “It’s just a short walk from here. We can be there in two minutes.”

“You mean two minutes
after
we unpack, don’t you?” Lisa asked.

Stevie gave her a look.

“Of course that’s what she means,” Carole said, answering
for their friend. “Because as we unpack, we can take out our riding clothes, so that we can go to the stables and see if our horses have arrived and if they’d like a little exercise.”

“Just what I had in mind,” Stevie agreed.

It didn’t take long. The girls hung up a few things, divided the drawer space, and had everything stowed in a matter of minutes. Five more minutes to put on their riding clothes and they were ready.

They checked in with Max, who said he’d meet them at the stables later, and they invited Veronica to come with them.

She glared and told them she was going to take a nap instead. The Saddle Club didn’t mind at all. They headed off on their own.

The town of Cummington was quite small, and it only took the girls a few minutes to get to the castle. Up close, it was even more dramatic and wonderful than it had seemed as they’d driven past it. The walls surrounding the castle seemed to rise straight into the air. It was hard to imagine even trying to attack it.

The entrance to the castle was across a drawbridge that spanned the moat. Suspended above the main entrance was a portcullis, a spiked gate that could be lowered to keep out unwelcome visitors. Fortunately, The Saddle Club was welcome, and so, it seemed, were hundreds of other visitors.

Crowds of people milled about the castle and its
grounds. Since the actual show wasn’t to begin until the next day, the girls figured that most of the visitors were there just to see the castle or to buy tickets for the show.

“I can’t wait to see the place,” said Stevie, leading her friends toward the drawbridge.

“Later,” said Carole. “Our first concern is our horses. We’ve got to get to the stable to see if they’ve arrived from Dickens and to find out what we can be doing for them.”

“And if we can ride them now, you mean,” said Lisa.

“Definitely,” said Carole.

“Good idea,” Stevie agreed. She gave the stone turrets a final wave. “See you later,” she promised. Then she followed her friends around the huge, imposing wall that protected Cummington.

The castle itself was on a hill, but the hill was smooth and grassy, dotted with only a few trees.

“I guess it’s open so that the soldiers could see if anyone was attacking long before they got here,” Stevie said.

“Maybe,” said Lisa. “But that’s assuming that this is the way it looked three hundred and fifty years ago. Remember, a lot of trees can grow and be cut down in that length of time. The castle certainly hasn’t changed much—”

“Other than electricity, heating, and plumbing, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but I mean, the way it
looks
. The land around here, though. It could have been very different.”

“For instance, there’s no stable,” said Carole, looking
around. “I’m sure there was one originally. A big castle like this would have had hundreds of horses to keep for all the soldiers—to say nothing of the duke himself. It probably wouldn’t have fit inside the castle.”

“Ah, but there’s a stable now,” said Stevie, pointing. And there, in front of them, was a huge expanse of tent, covering temporary stables where all the horses competing in the show would be housed.

“There must be room there for more than a hundred horses!” Lisa said, awed by the enormous expanse of striped canvas.

“It’s not so surprising when you think about it,” said Carole. “There are lots of competitors, and then there are the special-events horses, like ours. Remember, there are at least sixteen horses just for our demonstrations!”

“Oh, right,” said Lisa. She was used to being the logical member of the group and she should have figured that out, but when it came to horses, sometimes Carole was more logical. “Let’s go look,” Lisa said.

The stable covered a large area, almost the size of a football field. There was a main entrance near the castle. The far entrance was more for horses, since it led to the arenas where competition would take place. There were three arenas. One was for the principal event, and it had stands and bleachers for an audience. The other two were for practice and warm-up.

The girls entered the temporary stable at the main entrance.
They found a stable manager controlling entrances and exits.

“We’re from America,” Lisa began to explain.

“I can see that,” grumbled the old man. “But it don’t mean you’re welcome to visit the horses.”

“I mean, we’re here as competitors. We’re the American Pony Club team.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” he grumbled.

“I tried to,” she said.

“The ’orses from Dickens arrived this morning.” Then he riffled through a stack of papers clipped onto a board. “Aisle two, stalls fifteen to eighteen. That way,” he pointed. He handed them each a sheet of paper with instructions for competitors and demonstrators and sent them on their way.

Before they could get to their own horses, they found someone they wanted to see even more.

“Look! It’s Nigel!” said Stevie, quickening her pace. The others hurried, too. At aisle 1, stall 12, Nigel Hawthorne was checking the grooming job on a huge gray stallion.

“Well, if it isn’t The Saddle Club!” Nigel said, greeting them all with a warm hug.

“We just got here,” Stevie explained. “We were in London seeing absolutely everything we could cram into three days, but now it’s time to get down to business. That means horses. Can we meet yours?”

“You certainly may,” said Nigel. “Ladies, I’d like to introduce
you to Pound Sterling.” He stepped away from the stall opening so they could see the horse in question. “Sterling—that’s what I call him—is a Thoroughbred stallion, eight years old. He’s a silvery gray, which is how he got his name, and he’s the property of Lord Yaxley.”

“Yaxley?” Lisa asked. “That’s not what Max said. Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?”

Nigel laughed. “Absolutely,” he assured them. “However, Max may have been uncertain about how to pronounce it. It
is
pronounced Yaxley, but it’s spelled Y-A-W-E-L-K-E-S-L-E-I-G-H. We British have become expert at eliminating unnecessary vowels when we speak.”

“Right, like Harcourt-St. Claire’s-in-the-Wold becoming Hart-Sinclair,” said Lisa.

“Oh, that’s right,” said Nigel. “I heard a rumor that you were all riding horses from Dickens. It’s true, then?”

“Yes, it is, and I guess we’re going to have to do a super job to live up to Dickens’s reputation.”

“You’ll do your best and that’s all anybody expects,” Nigel said. The girls knew that was true. It was just that they expected their best to earn first place.

“And what about you?” Lisa asked, admiring the sleek stallion in the stall. “Is Sterling as wonderful as he looks?”

“I think so,” said Nigel. “Lord Yaxley doesn’t seem convinced, though. He’s been grumbling for months that this fellow isn’t worth what he paid for him and he’ll never get his money out in stud fees, either. He’s been hoping for a big win to increase the horse’s value so he can sell Sterling
at a huge profit. I’d like to oblige him, and I’m sure Sterling has the skills and the power. Besides, it would be good for me to ride one of Yaxley’s horses to a blue ribbon.”

Carole looked at Sterling. It was hard for her to imagine a horse like that disappointing anyone. “Don’t worry,” she assured Nigel. “You’ll do well on him.”

“With the proper cheering section,” he said.

“We’ll be there for you,” said Stevie. “And we’ll make all the noise we can muster.”

“Which is quite a lot,” Lisa said.

“I’ll be listening for it,” said Nigel. Then he glanced at his watch. “Right now, however, I’ve got to get to a team meeting. See you three tomorrow!”

He gave Sterling a final pat and left the girls to find their way to aisle 2, stalls 15 to 18. It didn’t take long. There, waiting patiently for them, were Miss Havisham, Copperfield, Pip, and Nickleby. They looked well adjusted to their new surroundings. Carole explained to her friends that that probably meant they were used to being transported and spending time in unfamiliar stables.

“In other words, I think they compete a lot,” said Carole.

“I think we’re very lucky to have these horses to ride,” said Lisa.

“It’s not luck, it’s you,” said Stevie. “Just because you rescued Tessa when she’d been thrown by her horse the last time you were in England …”

Lisa shrugged. “I was just doing what every good rider does when another gets into trouble. I was being helpful. And now she’s being helpful back.”

“I like her kind of helpful,” Stevie said, giving Copperfield a hug. He nuzzled her neck and tickled her, making her laugh.

Pip stuck his head out over the stall door and looked around, peering first one way down the aisle and then the other.

“I guess he’s curious,” said Lisa, patting him affectionately.

“I think he’s just looking for the door,” said Carole. “These horses have spent as much time in the van as we did in the bus. I bet they’d like to get out.”

“Like to go for a ride?” Stevie asked. She thought she knew what was on Carole’s mind, and she liked it.

“Yes, but how do we do it?” Carole asked.

Lisa knew the answer. She held up the sheet of paper that the stable manager had handed her. “We apply at the lads’ booth for someone to tack up our mounts,” she read.

“What?” asked Stevie.

“It means we go ask a stable boy to do our jobs for us,” Lisa explained.

“I can live with that,” said Stevie.

Half an hour later, three stablehands, known in England as lads, even though one of them was a woman, led their horses to one of the schooling rings and held the reins as the girls mounted.

At first the girls just walked their horses around the schooling ring. It gave the horses a chance to limber up. It gave the girls a chance to talk about what they wanted to accomplish in their practice ride.

“We have to do well in our competition,” Carole said.

“I thought that was what I was supposed to say,” Stevie joked.

“I don’t mean we have to win, although I wouldn’t mind that. What I did mean is that we are sort of ambassadors for Pony Clubs and we want to be sure we represent the organization well,” Carole explained.

“That won’t be any problem at all as long as I’m riding a wonderful horse like Copperfield,” said Stevie. “He’s just about perfect—almost as good as Belle.” Stevie loved her own horse, Belle, better than any other horse anywhere, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy riding Copperfield when Belle wasn’t around.

Carole nudged Miss Havisham into a trot. The horse picked up the gait immediately, flicking her tail proudly. “This one’s a lot of fun, too,” said Carole.

Copperfield trotted on after Miss Havisham. Next Lisa nudged Pip. He remained at a walk. That was unusual. Most of the time when a horse in front of another changed gaits, the horse behind automatically took it up. Lisa nudged again, but Pip stubbornly refused to go faster. This wasn’t at all like the behavior Pip had shown just two days earlier at Tessa’s house. Lisa was surprised, but
realized that perhaps it was because he was more upset by the long trip than the others.

“Come on, Lisa,” Carole said. “Get him moving!”

Lisa nudged Pip again, this time harder, almost a kick. She also jangled the reins a bit. It wasn’t great riding form, but it might get Pip’s attention. It did. He started cantering and zipped by the others. This was downright naughty behavior on Pip’s part, and Lisa couldn’t let him get away with it. She tightened up on the reins to bring him back to a trot. He shook his head rebelliously and then stopped.

This was not a good sign.

“I’m doing something wrong,” Lisa said.

“Don’t be silly,” Carole said, drawing up next to her. She reached over and patted Pip on the neck reassuringly. “I think he’s just being fussy because he’s in a strange place. Once he gets down to some serious riding, he’ll forget all about his surroundings and only pay attention to you. Let’s start again at a walk.”

Lisa nudged him and Pip began walking. The next time Carole started trotting on Miss Havisham, Pip trotted, too, but it wasn’t an easy gait as it had been the other day. Although he obliged Lisa and followed her directions, he didn’t seem a willing participant. After half an hour of riding, she’d had enough.

“Maybe he just needs to rest a little bit more,” she said.

“Maybe,” Stevie agreed. “And maybe we should do the same. Max said that all of the Pony Club teams were going
to have a dinner together tonight. We’re going to have to shower and change first, so why don’t we pack it in for the day and get back to the hotel?” Carole and Lisa agreed.

Riding when there were stablehands—lads—to do all the work was very different from riding at Pine Hollow, where the girls were responsible for their own horses.

“I think I could get used to this,” said Stevie a few minutes later when the lad who was looking after Copperfield approached to help her out of the saddle.

Carole shook her head. “Not me,” she said. “Riding is a lot more than climbing into the saddle, riding, and then climbing back out. It’s about being totally responsible for your horse and knowing everything there is to know about his—uh, excuse me Miss Havisham,
her
—welfare. That’s one thing Max is one hundred percent right about.”

“But while we’re here, can we just pretend it’s okay to let someone else do the work?” Stevie asked.

“Okay.” Carole relented, handing her reins to the lad waiting for her.

The three girls dismounted, thanked the lads, and left the stable to return to the hotel.

They were rounding the castle wall where the road led to the main street of Cummington town when they first saw Veronica.

“I thought she was taking a nap,” said Carole.

“Why is it we always forget to never believe a word she says?” Stevie remarked.

“What is she doing?” asked Lisa. That was a better question than Stevie’s because whatever Veronica was doing, it certainly looked strange.