Hoof Beat (7 page)

The horses ambled across one of the fields behind the stable, aimed for the woods. All three horses knew the trail well. They walked easily. The steady pace seemed to put Trudy a little bit at ease. Carole kept her eyes on Trudy, but her thoughts wandered. She
thought again about Lisa and concluded that there was nothing she could do until Lisa was ready to listen. She thought about the fifteen dollars and what she was going to do about her father’s birthday. That was a more serious problem. Stevie had assured her dozens of times that she’d get the money for her. She seemed convinced that it was, in fact, her fault, and she wanted to make it up to Carole and to her father.

Carole wasn’t sure about either of those things. She wasn’t sure it was Stevie’s fault,
and
she wasn’t sure Stevie would be able to come up with the money in time for the birthday. That was troublesome, but she couldn’t think of a solution.

A long time ago, Carole had learned that when there was no way to solve a problem, worrying about it wasn’t going to help and might just hurt. As soon as she became aware that she was worrying pointlessly, she turned her mind from Lisa and the money.

It was a lovely day, though very hot as usual for a late-summer day in Virginia. The grass in the field was high and sweet-smelling, flecked with the blossoms of wildflowers here and there. Barq reached for a bite of juicy clover. Carole shortened the reins in time to keep him from all but the smallest taste of it. It wasn’t a good idea to permit a horse to munch as you rode. Between-meal snacks weren’t any better for horses than they were for people. She patted him on the neck as consolation for the tasty treat he’d just missed. In front of them, Patch swished his tail first to the right,
then to the left, discouraging the hungry flies from biting him. Carole smiled contentedly. There wasn’t anyplace in the world she would rather have been right then than on horseback, on a scenic trail, in the sunshine.

Trudy was doing fine. In fact, she was doing better than fine. Carole noticed that her arms and legs were now relaxed. She held the reins with one hand and gestured with the other as she talked to Stevie. They were discussing hairstyles, and considering Trudy’s own hairstyle, it didn’t surprise Carole that Trudy needed to use wild gestures to describe them!

“How do they make the spikes stand up?” Stevie asked Trudy.

Trudy was comfortable talking about punk hairstyles, and she eagerly explained the differences between gels and mousse. Being comfortable in her conversation made her comfortable on the horse. Carole didn’t think that Stevie really cared about spiking her hair. But Stevie was smart. She was putting Trudy at ease to make her more comfortable on horseback.

As they chattered on about hairstyles and eye makeup, Stevie led them through the woods and into the creekbed that ran down the sloping hillside. On a hot day, it was refreshing for the horses to splash through the water. The riders could enjoy it, too.

“Let’s stop for a minute,” Carole suggested. “Flat Rock’s right ahead.”

“Oh, great idea,” Stevie agreed. “You’re going to love this, Trudy!”

There was a large rock by the side of the creek where they could sit, dangle their feet in the fresh water, and cool off before the ride back.

A few minutes later, they were all enjoying the rest.

“We’ve got a lot of things in the city,” Trudy said. “But we don’t have anything like this!”

“You like it?” Stevie asked.

Trudy slapped a mosquito and brushed an ant off her arm. “Well, let’s just say it’s different.”

Stevie and Carole laughed. So did Trudy.

“You can say that again!” Stevie said, recalling the trip The Saddle Club had made to New York recently. “When we were at the American Horse Show, we got to do a lot of neat things, but we never dangled our feet in a cool stream!”

Trudy smiled. “It’s probably smart to avoid any water in New York that doesn’t come out of a tap,” she joked.

“I mean everything about this place is different,” she continued. “In the city, we don’t have grass in front of everybody’s house. We don’t even have houses—we have apartments. Nobody’s got a pool and nobody rides horses, except on the merry-go-round. We don’t hang out at malls like we did yesterday, and we don’t go everywhere in cars like you guys do. We ride subways and buses, and we hang out at our friends’ apartments. Like I said, it’s
different
.”

“This is better, isn’t it?” Stevie asked. She was excited to have a chance to show off Willow Creek and
horseback riding to Trudy. She wanted Trudy to like them as much as she did.

“I’m having a good time, Stevie, I really am. But the city is home. I like the city. I even miss it a bit.”

“Oh,” Stevie said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Trudy had surprised her. Stevie wouldn’t have thought that anybody would prefer living in a city to living in the country and being able to ride.

“I think I know what you mean,” Carole said. “As a Marine Corps brat, I’ve lived in a lot of different places. Each was different, but each was home, too. And home is nice, whatever it is. Right?”

“Something like that,” Trudy agreed. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought anybody could ever get me up on a horse. No way, nohow. Now that I’ve done it, I wonder why I was so scared. Horses are okay.”

“Okay” wasn’t the word either Stevie or Carole would have used, but considering where Trudy had started less than an hour ago, that sounded like a major endorsement of horseback riding. Carole and Stevie were satisfied with Trudy’s progress.

“If we don’t get you back on time, Max will send out a search party,” Carole said, giving the cool water a final smack with her bare foot. Stevie glanced at her watch. It was definitely time to go. The three girls put their boots back on and had a nicely uneventful ride back to Pine Hollow.

As far as Stevie and Carole were concerned, the
only thing wrong with the whole ride was that Lisa hadn’t been along to enjoy it with them.

W
HILE HER FRIENDS
were riding in the woods with Trudy, Lisa was very busy. She had a deadline to meet. As before, most of her article concerned the routine events at Pine Hollow. She wrote about the stable’s newest horse, Topside, which Max had bought from one of his ex-students, champion Dorothy DeSoto, and about the class of youngest riders. They were working on mounting and dismounting by themselves from the mounting block. Then she got to the real news.

Lisa leaned back from her desk and reread the words she’d written. It was true. Every word of it. That was what journalists were supposed to do. They were supposed to write what was true.

She was a journalist.

S
TEVIE AND
C
AROLE
talked to one another on the phone early on Friday—as soon as each of them had read Lisa’s latest column.

“I can’t believe it,” Carole said. “It’s worse than the last one!”

“She’s going to be in
so
much trouble—and she’s making trouble for everybody else. She makes Pine Hollow sound like a den of thieves!”

“We’ve got to talk some sense into her,” said Carole.

“You can only talk to somebody who’s listening,” Stevie said. “And the last time I talked to her about her column, I can tell you, she wasn’t listening.”

“That must have been the time she said that you and I ‘didn’t understand the principles of journalism.’ ”

“Either then, or the time she was sure that anybody who criticized her was just jealous of her success.”

Carole shook her head. “It’s just not like Lisa to be so stubborn.”

“You’re right about that. There’s just no talking to her at all.”

“It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” Carole said.

Stevie agreed. It was clear that something had to be done, and it was going to be better if Lisa’s friends did it. She and Carole discussed the best approach.

According to her mother’s magazines, Stevie told Carole, this situation called for the careful use of
psychology
. Carole was ready to try it a few hours later when they all met at the stable.

L
ISA HOPED THAT
her riding classmates would receive her second effort better than they had her first. She thought that by now they would be getting used to the idea that a reporter tried to right wrongs. And certainly riding clothes and wallets being stolen qualified as wrongs.

The first thing she saw when she approached Pine Hollow Friday morning was that Carole, Stevie, and Trudy were standing outside, apparently waiting for her. She smiled tentatively, hoping she’d find them glad to see her. They waved. Lisa breathed a sigh of relief.

“How did you like my new column?” she asked. She just couldn’t wait to hear what they thought.

“Oh, it was just great!” Carole said.

“I loved the part about Topside,” Stevie said.

Lisa had known Stevie would like that. Stevie loved Topside. She smiled, pleased with herself.

“And I liked reading about the youngest class here,” Trudy said. “They already know more than I do!”

Lisa laughed. Then she realized that her friends weren’t talking about the meaty part of her article. “And the things about the robberies?” she asked.

“Well,” Carole began. “We think there’s a little problem there—or at least
could
be.”

Lisa didn’t like the sound of this. “Just what does
that
mean?”

“It kind of sounds like you think there are a lot of things being stolen at Pine Hollow,” Stevie said.

“But it’s true!” Lisa defended herself.

“How do you know?” Trudy challenged her.

“Because people told me,” Lisa said.

She was so disappointed. Here she was, talking with her very best friends—the ones she thought she could count on to be happy for her, to be proud of her—and all they wanted to do was to criticize her! They were just as jealous as all the other girls in the stable!

Stevie knew right away that they’d made a mistake. They’d agreed to tell Lisa what was good about her column before they tried to tell her what was wrong with it, but the wrong-with-it part wasn’t going to sink in. All they’d managed to do was to hurt her feelings and make her defensive. The look on their friend’s face told the whole story.

“Hey, Lisa,” Stevie said, trying to change the subject
smoothly. “Carole and I are going to work with Samson for a while before class. Want to help?”

“Right, I could use some help,” Carole added.

“No thank you,” Lisa said coolly. “I need to get ready for class, and besides, I’ve got to make some notes for my next column. I’ve got a deadline, you know.”

The chill in her voice said everything her words didn’t. Stevie knew that for then, at least, there was nothing else to say. She told Lisa they’d see her in class, and she and Carole and Trudy left to work with Samson. Stevie was eager to get out of Lisa’s way. She didn’t want to be on Lisa’s mind when Lisa was working on her column!

As soon as they’d left, Lisa went to the locker area. She did want to make some notes, but she didn’t want to do it with her friends butting in. She’d had enough advice for one day. Working in front of anybody else would just invite more.

She sat on the end of the bench in the locker area and reached down into the bottom of her backpack. She had brought something very special—a miniature tape recorder so she could just talk into it when she thought of something she wanted to include in her next column. She clicked the
RECORD
button and began talking.

“Trudy,” she said. Then she clicked off the machine. She thought Trudy was interesting and she wanted to write about her. It was easy for people to
make judgments about others based on how they looked. But it was clear there was more to Trudy than that. Just by saying her name onto the tape, Lisa was reminding herself to think about what she wanted to write.

At that moment, the subject of her thoughts returned to the locker area.

“Do you know where I can find a lead rope?” Trudy asked. “If Carole ever catches Samson,” she explained with a grin, “she wants to try to lead him around. Personally, I think Samson is having too much fun playing tag to want to be led anywhere!”

“There’s a hook on the wall over there,” Lisa said, pointing into the tack room. “You can take any one of them. They’re all the same.”

“Thanks,” Trudy said, and turned to follow Lisa’s directions. She paused, then turned back to Lisa. “You working on another column?” she asked, obviously noticing the tape recorder.

“Yes, I am,” Lisa said cautiously. “I use this to make notes to myself—reminders, really, of things I want to write about. It’s the sort of thing we reporters do.”