Autumn Trail (2 page)

Stevie nodded. “Who else? Garnet, of course.”

Garnet was a spirited chestnut mare that belonged to Veronica diAngelo, a spoiled rich girl who rode at Pine Hollow and also went to the private school Stevie attended. The diAngelos were the wealthiest family in Willow Creek, and Veronica seemed to think that meant she could make everyone else do her chores and take care of her horse—especially Red, whom Veronica often seemed to regard as her own personal groom.

“I’d noticed that Veronica hadn’t been around much lately,” Stevie continued. “Red told me she hasn’t been in to ride in almost a week. Poor Garnet was going crazy with boredom, even though Max has been letting her out in the paddock every day. So Red decided to take
her out for a quick ride before she started trying to kick down her stall.”

“That’s terrible,” Carole said, shaking her head in disgust. She had no patience for riders who didn’t take proper care of their horses, and Veronica was definitely one of those. In fact, Veronica’s carelessness had caused the death of the horse she’d owned before Garnet, a beautiful coal-black Thoroughbred stallion named Cobalt. Carole had loved and taken care of Cobalt more than Veronica had herself, and his death had almost made her want to give up riding forever. She had long since changed her mind about that, but the experience had made her even more critical of Veronica’s lazy habits. “That girl should not be allowed anywhere near a stable. I don’t know how she can be so selfish sometimes. She never thinks of anyone but herself, let alone her horse.”

“Well, she’ll have to show up soon,” Lisa said. “I heard Max saying that she had to be there on Monday when the farrier comes to put new shoes on Garnet.”

“I guess he’s still hoping she’ll learn something one of these days,” Stevie said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Carole said. “She won’t learn because she doesn’t want to learn.”

“Speaking of learning,” Stevie said, “Monday is the day my school is putting on its famous stupid Thanksgiving play. Ugh. I thought they’d learned their lesson last year when the whole audience fell asleep.”

Carole and Lisa laughed. They both went to the public school in Willow Creek. “Come on, Stevie,” Carole said. “What’s wrong with putting on a Thanksgiving play? I think it’s a nice way to celebrate the holiday.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d ever seen it,” Stevie said. “Believe me, it’s totally corny. It doesn’t have anything to do with the true meaning of Thanksgiving.”

“What do you mean?” Lisa asked. “What’s the play about?”

“Well, you know, the usual stuff,” Stevie said, waving one hand and almost spilling her cocoa. “The Pilgrims sail across the ocean from England and land on Plymouth Rock, and the Native Americans meet them, and they all help each other out and grow some crops and then thank each other and sit down to eat. It’s the same thing every year.”

Carole shrugged. “That’s the story of the first Thanksgiving.”

“Right,” Lisa said. “It sounds nice. Seeing the play probably reminds people to be thankful for what they have.”

“Exactly,” Stevie said with a nod. “People get caught up in the thankful part of it, and they forget all about helping people. That’s part of Thanksgiving, too. Those Pilgrims were thankful because the Native Americans they met helped them to survive, even though they really didn’t have to do it. They just did it because they were nice enough to want to help someone else out.
That’s
the part a lot of people don’t really seem to care about celebrating, and it’s the part that’s always seemed the most important to me.”

Carole and Lisa exchanged a perplexed glance. It wasn’t like Stevie to get so worked up about something like this. She wasn’t exactly the philosophical type.

“I just don’t see anything wrong with putting on a Thanksgiving play,” Carole insisted. “I think it’s good to be thankful for what we have.”

“I’m not saying putting on a play is a bad thing. Neither is being thankful,” Stevie said. “But it just seems to me that there should be more to it than that. After all, there are plenty of people out there who have a lot less to be thankful for than we do.”

Lisa nodded thoughtfully. “For instance, the descendants of the Native Americans, who’ve lost most of their land.” Lisa was an excellent student, and she could always be counted on to point out the facts that the others sometimes forgot. Her class had been studying the history of Native Americans, and she had learned that one result of the Wampanoag tribe’s helpfulness to the first European visitors to North America had been that more of those visitors soon followed. Eventually many Native Americans were killed by European diseases or by the Europeans themselves, and those who survived lost most of the land that they’d lived on for generations.

“That’s true,” Carole said. “I wonder what Christine would think about your play, Stevie?” Christine Lone-tree
was a Native American girl who was a member of the western branch of The Saddle Club. The girls had met her when they had visited their friend Kate Devine at her family’s dude ranch, The Bar None, in Colorado. Christine lived near The Bar None.

“I bet she’d agree with me,” Stevie said. “You know Christine. She’s the type who would say that action speaks louder than plays.”

“She’d probably hate all the corny Indian costumes, anyway,” Lisa said thoughtfully. “You know how she feels about all that touristy stuff.” When the girls had first met Christine, they had gotten off on the wrong foot with her by assuming that, because she was a Native American, she was always taking part in an ancient tribal ritual or something equally mysterious. Christine had soon set them straight on that point, but she still teased them about their misconceptions about Native Americans.

“Well, what kind of action did you have in mind, Stevie?” asked Carole. “I mean, our school is having a canned-food drive.…”

“Oh, come on,” Stevie interrupted disdainfully. “You know what that means—all the kids will wait until the last minute, then go and grab all the cans out of the pantry that no one in their family wants to eat anyway. What’s the good of foisting a bunch of cans of lima beans on some poor, unsuspecting person?”

Lisa and Carole exchanged another glance. They
could both tell that Stevie had something else in mind. When that was the case, it was practically impossible to guess just what that something was. The only thing to do was ask, so Lisa did. “What do you think we should do instead of lima beans and plays?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Stevie said, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “I’ve been thinking about that, and I decided we should each try to do something that really reflects the meaning of Thanksgiving. Something generous and totally selfless.”

“Like what?” Carole asked.

“Well, I’m not quite sure about that yet, but it has to be something that helps someone else without benefiting you at all,” Stevie said. “You know how your parents always seem glad that the canned-food drive helps them clean out the pantry?” Lisa and Carole nodded. “Well, that’s why it’s no good,” Stevie continued. “It’s got to be something more selfless. Something that’s maybe even a sacrifice on our part.”

Carole shook her head. “I guess that’s a good idea, but I still don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do.”

“Me, neither,” agreed Lisa.

“Well, I know I’m going to find something,” Stevie said stubbornly. “And it’s going to reflect the real meaning of Thanksgiving, like the kind and generous way the Native Americans acted when they helped the first Pilgrims stay alive. I don’t know what it will be yet, but I’ll figure something out before I leave for my relatives’
house next week. You’ll see.” Like Carole and Lisa, Stevie and her three brothers had the following Thursday and Friday off from school for Thanksgiving, and their parents were taking them to visit Mrs. Lake’s sister’s family for the holiday.

“I’ll try to find something to do, too,” Lisa said. She didn’t know what had brought about this philosophical streak in Stevie, but she had to admit that Stevie had a point when she said that people didn’t do as much as they probably should to commemorate the first Thanksgiving.

“Me, too,” Carole added. “It’ll be a different kind of Saddle Club project.”

Stevie’s face lit up. “Great!” she exclaimed. “Even if everybody else thinks all they have to do to celebrate Thanksgiving is watch a play and eat some turkey, we’ll show that that’s not enough. We’ll single-handedly—no, better make that triple-handedly—keep the meaning of Thanksgiving alive!”

“It’s a deal,” Carole said, and Lisa nodded. The Saddle Club clinked their mugs together and then settled back to finish their cocoa.

T
HE FOLLOWING
M
ONDAY
afternoon Carole hurried over to Pine Hollow right after school. The farrier was coming to put new shoes on some of the horses, including Starlight, and she didn’t want to miss a thing.

Carole never passed up an opportunity to learn about anything having to do with horses. She already knew that she wanted to work with horses when she grew up, although she hadn’t yet decided whether she would train them, own them, heal them, ride them, or all of the above.

In the meantime she wanted to learn everything she could about every aspect of horse care. It was easy for her to find a lot of opportunities to do so, mostly because there was a lot to learn. There were the everyday tasks that every rider at Pine Hollow was supposed to help out
with, such as feeding and grooming and cleaning tack. There were the unexpected situations when a horse was injured or became sick. Carole had spent some time acting as an assistant to the local veterinarian, Judy Barker, and she had learned a lot that way about what a vet does. Finally, there were things like shoeing, which might seem a little boring to some people, but which Carole knew were important to keeping a horse healthy and happy. A horse’s feet were more complicated than they looked, and it was vital to keep them in good shape.

Carole’s thoughts on the subject were interrupted as she turned the corner into the stable entrance and almost ran into Veronica diAngelo.

“Oops! Sorry,” Carole exclaimed. She had forgotten that Veronica’s horse, Garnet, was also being shod that day. None of the other young riders from their class was at the stable, since it wasn’t a regular lesson day. “I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Rather than the expected rude retort, Veronica merely nodded. “That’s all right,” she said.

Carole was surprised. Veronica was not known for her patience, and normally she didn’t like it when anyone got in her way, literally or otherwise. “Are you here for Garnet’s shoeing?” Carole asked. Now she remembered Lisa’s saying that Max had insisted on Veronica’s presence, but she was still a little surprised that Veronica had bothered to show up.

“Yes,” Veronica replied. “Max is with the farrier now in Geronimo’s stall. I think they’re going to do Starlight next, then Garnet.”

“Oh.” Carole didn’t quite know what to say to this new, polite Veronica. “Do you want to come and watch him do Starlight, then?”

The other girl shrugged. “Sure, why not.”

The two of them walked off together in the direction of Starlight’s stall. “Have you ever watched a horse being shod before?” Carole asked. Thinking about the reason they were both there almost made Carole forget that she was talking to Veronica. Her natural enthusiasm won out over her dislike of the snobbish girl.

Veronica shook her head. “I’m only here today because Max made me come,” she said. But instead of sounding annoyed, her words came out as almost wistful.

Carole looked at her closely. “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” Veronica said with another shrug. “Look, here we are.”

Carole suspected that the other girl was trying to change the subject. She decided to let her, since they had reached Starlight’s stall and Max was waiting for them there with the farrier.

“Hello, Carole, Veronica,” Max greeted them. Carole thought she detected a quick look of surprise cross his face at seeing them together. But he recovered quickly and introduced Veronica to the farrier, a man named Alec McAllister. He had flaming red hair and a broad
smile. Carole had met him a few times before, since he came to give Starlight new shoes about once every four to six weeks, and Carole liked to be there to watch whenever she could.

“Good to meet you, Veronica. Howdy again, Carole,” Alec said, briskly shaking first Veronica’s hand, then Carole’s. He looked over the stall door at Starlight, who was watching them all curiously. “And hello to you, too, Starlight. Remember me?”

“Of course he does,” Carole told the farrier with a smile.

“All right, then, let’s get to work,” Alec exclaimed.

Carole brought Starlight out of his stall and cross-tied him in the wide passageway so that Alec would have plenty of room in which to work. When she had finished, Carole gave Starlight a pat on the neck and then stepped back so that Alec could get started.

As he worked, Alec chatted with Max about the other horses in the stable he would see that day. Since Alec was a traveling farrier who visited many stables and farms across a wide area, he could come to Pine Hollow only a couple of times per month. That meant he reshod some of Max’s horses at each visit.