Secret Horse Read Free Page A

Devine?” Lisa said. “She was a champion at those shows.”
    Kate Devine, the daughter of an old friend of Carole’s father, was now an old friend of The Saddle Club’s. Kate had ridden the circuit for years, with great success, until she decided that the competitiveness among the riders was spoiling her love of horses. With The Saddle Club’s help, Kate had rediscovered her love of riding, but now she was happy living on her family’s ranch out West, where the only riding she did was for pleasure.
    “Kate’s the exception, not the rule,” Carole answered. “Because she
is
nice. And modest. And she puts her horse first—not the blue ribbon. And because whatever trophies she took home, you know she worked really hard for. A lot of the girls who compete at shows like the Macrae are pretty spoiled, and they’re snobby.”
    “So what you’re saying is that they’re all like … Veronica?” Stevie suggested.
    Carole didn’t deny it. “These girls have their own trainers, grooms … They pay people to braid their horses’ manes and tails, they spend more money than—”
    “They
pay
people to braid for them?” cried Lisa. “Gosh, maybe Stevie should go into business.”
    “I think Lisa may be on to something,” Stevie said. “I’d make a killing.” While Lisa was expert at any kind of handiwork, such as embroidery and needlepoint, Stevie was The Saddle Club expert at mane and tail braiding. At horse show time, her services were much in demand. “In fact,” Stevie continued, “I could drop out of school and take it on the road. I could live out of a suitcase, sleep under the stars …”
    Carole and Lisa grinned. With Stevie, any conversation could be turned into a plan to drop out of school.
    “… hang out at truck stops, eat in diners— Say,” Stevie interrupted herself. “You never told us what the food was like at the Macrae, Carole.”
    “I was coming to that,” Carole said, her dark eyes twinkling. “The food is top quality, too. It’s not just hot dogs and hamburgers.”
    “But they do
have
hot dogs and hamburgers, don’t they?” Stevie asked worriedly.
    “Oh, yes. But they also have gourmet sandwiches and salads and”—Carole paused dramatically—“a separate stand for ice cream.”
    “Ice cream at the Macrae? We’re going!” Stevie declared.
    Leaving her friends to discuss the chances of convincing Max, Lisa went to the tack room to get Samson’s bridle and saddle—or, rather, Samson’s bridle and her saddle. Most saddles fit most horses; the important thing was that they fit the rider. On Samson, Lisa would use the saddle she normally used when she rode Prancer, another Pine Hollow horse. At most she would have to switch the girth, the beltlike piece of equipment that went around the horse’s belly to hold the saddle in place. Bridles, on the other hand, had to fit the horse’s head. They could be adjusted, but it was easier for each horse to have its own bridle. That way the fit was always right.
    Lisa picked up her saddle and a clean saddle pad. Hesitating a moment, she took a bridle down from the rack and headed back to the cross-ties.
    Carole and Stevie had taken a bucket break and were fussing over Samson. “Gosh, you’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” cooed Carole.
    Stevie rubbed the black horse’s neck. “Here, we’ll help you tack up,” she said.
    For just a second Lisa felt herself stiffen. She felt possessive about Samson this morning. She would have preferred to tack him up herself. But almost as quickly, sherealized how silly she was being. She relaxed and handed Stevie the saddle. “Thanks,” she said. “I hope Prancer’s girth fits.”
    “It will,” Carole predicted confidently. “They’re about the same height, and they have similar conformation. Samson’s shoulder slopes a bit more, which will make his gaits smoother, and Prancer is fuller through the barrel, but that’s just because …”
    As Carole prattled on, Lisa looped the