Secret Horse Read Free Page B

reins over Samson’s neck and removed his halter. She was only half listening. Sometimes Carole could sound like a know-it-all, even though Lisa knew she was just being enthusiastic.
    When Samson took the bit, Lisa slid the headpiece of the bridle over his ears. She buckled the noseband and the throatlatch. She was all set to go.
    “… fit of the bridle is more important anyway because—” Carole paused suddenly. She stepped forward and looked at Samson’s head. “Lisa, you’ve got the wrong bridle. That one doesn’t fit. See how the bit is hanging in his mouth? It’s much too low.”
    Frowning, Lisa looked more closely. Carole was right. Lisa felt herself redden.
    “I know which one it is. I’ll go get it,” Carole offered.
    When she was gone, Stevie whispered excitedly to Lisa, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
    “Um …,” Lisa said. Not knowing what Stevie was getting at, she busied herself with taking off the bridle.
    “I’m thinking that we’ve got to figure out a way to get Carole to the Macrae! It would be her dream come true!”
    “Yeah,” said Lisa, trying to muster enthusiasm, “I guess it would.”

M OUNTED ON S AMSON , Lisa had no trouble being enthusiastic. It was all she could do not to grin from ear to ear. Riding the gelding was a dream in itself. He had a wonderful spring in his step, even at the walk. At the trot he arched his neck and strutted along proudly. It made Lisa proud just to be sitting on his back. His canter was even better. On Prancer, a former racehorse, cantering felt fast. But on Samson it was smooth and rhythmic. Lisa could have cantered all day, it was so pleasant in the outdoor ring with the sun shining and a few old oaks to offer shade. But she didn’t want Samson to get bored just going around and around. While she decided what to do next, Lisa slowed to a walk and loosened the reins so that the gelding could stretch his neck.
    At the end of the ring were two semipermanentjumps: a set of tires and a larger brush fence. They were used for schooling. Both fences were typical of the kind of obstacles a rider might encounter in a horse show. Looking at them, Lisa’s thoughts wandered back to the Macrae. The truth was, she was just the tiniest bit jealous of Carole. Or not exactly jealous. At the end of the day, Lisa would be happy if Carole got to ride in the show. But she couldn’t help wishing
she
could ride in it, too. The way Carole talked about it made it sound like so much fun, and so exciting. “Well,” Lisa said aloud, “maybe we’ll all get to go, eh, Samson? But more likely, Veronica will go alone.”
    Putting that thought out of her head, Lisa tightened the reins and asked for a trot. For twenty minutes she worked on dressage. She trotted circles and practiced transitions from walk to trot, trot to canter, and back down. Samson wasn’t perfect—no horse was, and he was still green. He got playful and Lisa had to concentrate to control him. But his willingness was a very good sign. He seemed eager to please, despite his high spirits—which, Lisa thought, was exactly what you’d expect from a horse with both excellent breeding and excellent training.
    After a final transition from canter to sitting trot, Lisa found herself heading on a line toward the small tire jump. She hardly even thought twice. Jumping logically followed flat work. She shortened her reins, rose slightlyin her stirrups, and guided Samson toward the jump. When he got close to it, the black gelding pricked up his ears, stood way back, and took a huge leap. Unprepared, Lisa was thrown forward on his neck. “Whoa!” she cried, scrambling quickly back into the saddle. Then she giggled. Even though it had unseated her, the jump had been fun.
    When she had steadied Samson, Lisa turned him around and headed back toward the fence from the other direction. This time she guided him more firmly. With her seat, legs, and hands, Lisa encouraged the young horse to trot down to the