Secret Horse Read Free

pasture rail she put her fingers to her lips and whistled the way Stevie had taught her. Most of the horses ignored her and went on grazing. But Samson recognized the call. He raised his head and pricked up his ears. When Lisa whistled again, he came to her at a trot. “Hello, boy,” Lisa murmured, patting his fine, silky neck. Gently she buckled the halter over his head and snapped a white cotton lead to it. Even at a walk Samson was spectacular. At 16.3 hands, he was a big horse, but his lines were delicate. His dark coat shone in the summer sun. It had been months since any of the girls had ridden him; now Lisa couldn’t wait to see what he was like.
    I N THE COOL of the barn, Lisa cross-tied Samson close to where her friends were scrubbing out buckets. That way they could all talk. And talking, among The Saddle Club, was a way of life. After greeting Samson, Stevie and Carole got back to the topic of the morning: the Macrae Valley Open. The very thought of it excited Carole.
    “Lisa’s got the idea. If we work hard, why wouldn’t Max let you ride?” Stevie asked, turning on the hose.
    Carole frowned. “A lot of reasons. One, Veronica might have rented out the whole van. Two, he might not think I’m ready. Three … Three …” Carole faltered, scrub brush in hand. “I can’t think of a three,” she admitted.
    “It sounds like you’re trying hard to think of reasons why you
can’t
go,” Stevie remarked.
    “Heck, I don’t know!” said Carole. “Maybe we can all go! The whole Saddle Club with Prancer, Belle, and Starlight. How does that sound?”
    Stevie laughed. “That sounds more like it.”
    “So what’s it like?” Lisa asked curiously, trading her currycomb for a body brush. “The Macrae, I mean. Is it like Briarwood?”
    Briarwood was a top-rated horse show in which the girls had competed, with mixed results. Carole contemplated Lisa’s question. “Ye-es,” she said slowly. “I guess you could say the Macrae is like Briarwood. Only it’s … bigger. And better. Briarwood gets all the best riders—from here. But the Macrae gets
all
the best riders, period. The last event is always the Grand Prix. The USET members turn out in full force.”
    “Wow,” Lisa breathed. As she and Stevie knew,
USET
stood for “United States Equestrian Team.” Riding for “the Team” was every rider’s dream. At PineHollow, people often said that Carole would make the Team someday—if she stuck with horses. And—Lisa laughed, watching Carole attack the grime on a water bucket—there was little doubt she would stick with horses!
    “What’s so funny?” Stevie said.
    Lisa giggled again. “Just Carole’s enthusiasm for scrubbing buckets.”
    “You’re telling me,” Stevie groaned. “This is the worst barn chore ever.”
    “That’s what you said last week about raking the driveway,” Carole noted wryly.
    “This time I mean it!” Stevie insisted. “It’s a ton of work and the buckets don’t even look that different afterward.”
    “But think how much the horses appreciate it,” Carole pointed out.
    Stevie frowned. “Belle and I had a talk and she told me a little grime makes the water taste better.”
    At Carole’s raised eyebrows Stevie hastily added, “But tell us more about the Macky Ray. It’ll keep me inspired to scrub.”
    Carole didn’t need to be asked twice. Lost in her fantasy of riding in the show, she described the beautiful grounds, the beautiful horses, the beautiful fences—
    “What about the riders?” Stevie joked. “I hope they’re beautiful, too.”
    Carole frowned. She thought for a minute. “I guess that depends on whether you mean beautiful outside or beautiful inside.”
    “Both, of course!” Stevie replied. “Like us!”
    Carole smiled, but her voice was serious when she explained that many of the teenagers who rode the A circuit (meaning they competed in top-level shows all year) were not the nicest people she’d ever met.
    “But what about Kate