Hoof Beat (9 page)

Carole cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

Stevie continued her thought. “Well, if I let Samson choose what he wants to do instead of making him do what I know he has to do …”

Carole nodded, hoping her point had finally gotten through to Stevie.

“… Samson will end up dying his mane olive and hot pink, and wearing a camouflage saddle.”

“Right, and all the other horses will be jealous,” Carole added before bursting into laughter.

Trudy took her change and picked up her bag. “Come on,” she said. “I remember where I saw the shell-casing earrings. While we walk over there, you tell me what’s so funny.”

“Only if you’ll tell us how to make spikes in a horse’s mane,” Stevie said, following her happily.

Carole walked between the two of them, slinging her arms across her friends’ shoulders. “What about horseshoe earrings for Samson?” she asked.

T
HIS TIME
, L
ISA
was sure everybody would be happy. There was a special spring in her step as she walked toward the stable the next Friday. She hadn’t said a word in her column about anything’s being taken from anybody. She hadn’t said anything that could possibly point a finger at anybody in the stable. She’d included the usual things Mr. Teller made her include about who had learned proper reining techniques in the beginner class and who had jumped for the first time. And then she’d gotten to the good stuff.

She’d devoted all the rest of her column to Trudy. Trudy, she thought, was a very interesting person, and she wanted everybody else to know it, too. She’d written about how she dressed in such a unique manner, of course, but there was more than that to Trudy, and she’d covered that in her column. She’d written about
how great it was to have Trudy visit Willow Creek and how much fun the riders were having with her there. She’d written about how Trudy was adjusting to the country and how different it was, just the way Trudy had told her when they’d been in the locker area. In spite of the fact that Trudy had sort of butted her nose in, Lisa liked Trudy, and this column was her way of introducing Trudy to everybody who might not have a chance to meet her during her short stay in Willow Creek.

This time, Lisa was sure, everybody was going to be happy with what she’d written. She was already planning her next column, too. She had the idea of writing an article comparing adult classes with her group’s classes, and she needed to ask Mrs. Reg about it. So, instead of going right into the locker area, she veered off at Mrs. Reg’s office first.

Mrs. Reg’s office had two doors—one from the stable’s hallway and one that opened into the tack room. The far end of the tack room was the locker area. Usually, Mrs. Reg could be found in her office or the tack room, but there was no sign of her right then. Lisa only had about fifteen minutes until class started so she couldn’t go on a big hunt for Mrs. Reg. Hurriedly, she scribbled a note, asking Mrs. Reg when she could observe one of Max’s adult classes, then headed for the locker area.

Something stopped her, however, before she left Mrs. Reg’s office. That something was the sound of her own name on Veronica diAngelo’s lips.

“Lisa’s done it again, you guys—only this time, I think she’s right on target!”

“Oh, shut up, Veronica!” came the familiar sound of Stevie’s voice.

“Listen to this,” Veronica said. From where Lisa stood in the shadows inside Mrs. Reg’s office, Lisa could see Veronica. She’d just climbed up onto one of the freshly painted narrow benches in front of the cubbies. She held a piece of paper in her hand. Lisa recognized it as a newspaper clipping, and from the ad on the back, she realized it was a copy of her article. Veronica diAngelo was going to read Hoof Beat out loud.

Something was wrong. Of all the people who would want to meet Trudy, the last in the world was Veronica. Veronica was a snob and she didn’t want to meet anybody who wasn’t in her own class—social class, that was. Trudy was neat, but Veronica would never consider her good enough. Could it be that Lisa had descibed her so well that Veronica was interested? It didn’t seem likely.

“ ‘There’s a new face at the stable these days—a
very
different face!’ ” Veronica read Lisa’s words. The girls in Veronica’s group laughed. The way Veronica said it made it sound like an insult. That wasn’t what Lisa had written; at least it wasn’t what she’d meant to write. “ ‘By chance and good fortune, Trudy Sanders has come to visit. She is staying with the Lake family.’ ” Veronica looked up from the paper to her listeners.
“Whose good fortune?” she asked. The girls laughed again.

“Veronica, stop it!” Stevie said. “You’re making fun of Trudy.”

“I am not,” Veronica said. “I’m just reading a newspaper article, straight out of
The Willow Creek Gazette
. Finally Lisa is writing something I can believe in!”

“Don’t be such a jerk,” Stevie said, standing up. “Trudy’s in Topside’s stall, right across the hall, currying him until she can come watch our class.” Lisa realized then that Trudy was so close she had to be able to hear every word. It made Lisa feel awful.

“But she’s your friend, isn’t she?” Veronica taunted. “Some friend.”

Stevie was one of the most loyal people Lisa knew. Of course she would stand up for Trudy, no matter how bad Veronica made her sound.

“Yes, Lisa is my friend,” Stevie said. “And she’s a great friend, too. She’s trying hard to do something important, and even though she’s making some mistakes …”

Stevie went on, but Lisa didn’t hear her words because her meaning was sinking in. Stevie wasn’t defending
Trudy
. Veronica had been mocking her,
Lisa
.

Even after Stevie had finished and stormed out to tack up Comanche for class, Lisa was still frozen in place, hiding in the shadows of Mrs. Reg’s office. She heard the rest of Veronica’s presentation, too. Veronica
continued to read Lisa’s article, but now the words didn’t sound like hers and the message certainly wasn’t the one she wanted to convey. Instead of describing the Trudy she knew and really liked, she listened to words that seemed to insult Trudy, as if she weren’t really as good as the girls of Willow Creek. Some of it was the way Veronica read, but a lot of the problem came directly from the words Lisa had written.

“ ‘For Trudy, this visit to Willow Creek is an escape from the dingy city, where neighbors crowd upon one another …’ ”

Lisa realized with a start that that made it sound as if Trudy lived in a rat-infested slum, but that wasn’t the case at all. Lisa felt a blush of shame rise. Could she really have written those words?

“ ‘And of course, the most noteworthy aspect of Trudy Sanders is her unique wardrobe! Bright colors mix freely—even within her unusual hairdos! And when she matches her orange hair with some orange eyeshadow—look out!’ ”

Veronica and her friends laughed hysterically. Lisa didn’t know whether they were laughing harder at her or at Trudy, and she didn’t care. She’d made Trudy seem like a freak, not like the nice girl she was. How could she have done that to Trudy—and how could she have done that to herself? She felt she deserved all the mocking laughter Veronica and her pals could
hand out, but it wasn’t fair for them to laugh at Trudy for what Lisa had done.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Veronica asked her friends when she’d finished reading the column. “I’m so glad Lisa is writing this column now. At first, I wasn’t sure, but this—
this
”—she started laughing and waved the column in the air—“makes all the trouble of the last few weeks worthwhile. Maybe next week she’ll do a job on one of her other friends—if she has any left!”

Lisa could tell Veronica was just warming up to her subject and had lots more to say when she was interrupted by the public address system. Max announced that class would begin in five minutes. The girls hurried to collect their tack and go saddle their horses.

Lisa remained in Mrs. Reg’s office, hiding in the shadows, unable to move. Thoughts raced through her mind, the words that Veronica had read echoing again and again. Everything that had sounded so cute and funny when she’d written it had come out sounding cruel and heartless as Veronica read it. True, Veronica could make a Valentine sound like a death threat, but the words were Lisa’s. She’d written everything Veronica had read, and although she hadn’t meant to at all, she’d made Trudy sound awful. Poor Trudy.

“Lisa, is that you?” Mrs. Reg’s soft voice broke into her thoughts. “Are you crying, dear?”

Lisa brushed her cheek with her hand and was surprised to find it streaked with tears. She hadn’t realized.
She knew that they were tears of anger, tears of humiliation, tears of sadness, but mostly, they were tears for Trudy. She must have hurt Trudy very much and that was exactly the opposite of what she’d meant to do.

Then she could see what Trudy had been telling her. Friends don’t treat one another the way she’d been treating her friends. They don’t take things said in private and make them public the way she’d done with Trudy; they don’t use others’ personal problems for their own personal use, the way she’d done with the loss of Stevie’s wallet. That wasn’t what friendship was about; it also wasn’t what journalism was about. She wasn’t being a journalist, she was just being a gossip.

Mrs. Reg slipped her arm across Lisa’s shoulder to comfort her. Lisa had the feeling Mrs. Reg knew exactly what had happened. Mrs. Reg always seemed to know.

“Oh,” Lisa said, turning to the older woman, “Mrs. Reg, I’ve done the most awful thing!”

Mrs. Reg hugged her and then Lisa’s tears came pouring out. On top of everything else, she didn’t feel as if she deserved Mrs. Reg’s comfort. That made her cry even harder.

“I’ve hurt so many people’s feelings,” she said. “I hurt Stevie and Carole and Anna, Betsy, and Polly—even Veronica—and now worst of all, I hurt Trudy’s. I didn’t mean to do it, but I did it. Everything I wrote was worse than the last thing I’d done. I’m just so
awful!” She wanted to say more, but she was crying too hard.

Mrs. Reg reached for a tissue from the top of her desk and gave it to Lisa. Then a second and a third. She waited, quietly, until finally the last tear had dropped.

“Done?” Mrs. Reg asked.

Lisa nodded. “Definitely! I’m done writing, I’m done with my friends, I guess I’m even done riding.”

“Hold on now,” Mrs. Reg said. “Just because you’ve made a whole bunch of mistakes doesn’t mean it’s time to make a whole bunch more.” Mrs. Reg led Lisa to the tack room bench where they both sat down. “I remember a rider we had here once,” she began.

Mrs. Reg was famous for her memory of past horses and riders. It seemed to The Saddle Club that whenever there was a problem, Mrs. Reg had a story to tell. Lisa and her friends had learned long ago that her stories were usually worth listening to.

“This rider started riding here when she was about your age, but she’d already been riding for years. Max knew right away that she had talent, but she also had problems. Lots of them. See, not only had she been riding for years, but she’d been riding wrong for years. She wanted to be a championship rider and Max thought she could be among the best. That was the only place they agreed. See, she’d gotten the idea that her job, as a rider, was to control the horse. From the minute she’d get into the saddle until she got out, she
held that poor animal in check, tugging on the reins, squeezing him with her legs, hitting him with the whip. He’d usually do what she wanted because he knew she was the boss.”

“Isn’t the rider supposed to be the boss?” Lisa asked.

“Yes and no,” Mrs. Reg said. “The rider certainly needs to establish who’s in charge, but once that’s clear, the object should be to work together. If the rider spends all the time controlling, then there’s no time to cooperate. It works and there’s no question that you can ride that way, but it’s no way to be a champion.”

“I bet Max didn’t like her being so mean to his horses,” Lisa said. “Did he refuse to let her ride here?”

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Reg said. “He knew she was going to be a good rider and he wanted to work with her, so he started her from the beginning. First, he had her work with all the horses on a lead rope, then a lunge line. That gave them more freedom and let her learn what they could do without her legs and whip. Also, he had her give them carrots every time they did something right for her.”

“Was that sort of an apology to the horses?” Lisa asked.

“Exactly,” Mrs. Reg said. “When she’d made friends with the horses, she actually began liking them and trusting them. So he started her in a beginner’s class and taught her from scratch.”

“Oh, she must have been so bored!” Lisa said.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Reg said. “See, you’re only bored when you’re studying things you already know. She
was
a beginner. Almost nothing she’d done before was going to be of any use to her. She had to work very hard.”

Mrs. Reg stood up as if to dismiss Lisa. As usual, her story was ending before her listener was ready for the end. Lisa stood up, too.

“So what happened then?”

Mrs. Reg looked at her as if she were a little surprised that Lisa didn’t already know the answer. “Why, she became a champion, of course. Now, if you see Red, tell him I need him. He’s just got to get on with the painting. Can you believe the smell? I can’t stand it. I’m sure the horses can’t either. And I also have to call the grain and feed man …” Mrs. Reg strode into her office and picked up the phone. Lisa was left alone with her thoughts.