specific event—say, show jumping—you should only spend twenty percent of your riding time actually jumping fences,” Stevie continued. “The other eighty percent should be spent doing more general riding, or having fun with your horse, so that your horse stays relaxed and happy.” She grinned. “I guess if I applythis rule to teaching Belle a flying change, it means I’ll be spending a lot less time on those exercises—and a lot more time on the trail!”
“Yeah!” cheered Lisa. “It didn’t feel right when we went without you.”
“It didn’t feel right to me, either,” Stevie admitted.
“We’ll help you with Belle,” Carole promised. “I don’t think it’s important that she learn to do a flying change before next week, but I’d really like to help you teach it to her.”
Stevie swung her arms and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder happily. “I wish I’d listened to the two of you earlier,” she said. “I would have enjoyed this week more. Doesn’t the air smell crisp? I love pine trees.”
“You might have been more willing to listen if Lisa and I had been more willing to talk,” Carole admitted. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you that one day. The Saddle Club has to stick together.”
“I think we do pretty well,” Stevie said. She felt so happy she was ready to sing. But, knowing how her singing voice sounded, she thought she would spare her friends. Not to mention the animals! After all, this was supposed to be a wildlife
refuge.
She wondered if she could get kicked off Assateague for scaring them. The thought made her giggle.
They rounded the bend to the clearing where they had seen the wild ponies before. “I wonder if we’llsee—” Lisa began. “Oh,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “There they are!”
“Careful, Stevie,” Carole warned, but Stevie didn’t need warning. A small band stood on the far edge of the clearing, in a patch of sandy marshland. Stevie knew she had never seen these particular wild ponies before, but she also knew, as soon as she saw them, exactly what she was going to do.
I’ve learned a lot on Chincoteague, she thought. These wild ponies have taught me as much as any well-trained horse ever did. Quietly, slowly, she walked across the clearing toward the band. Carole started to follow, but Lisa held her back.
Stevie picked out a young brown-and-white pinto mare grazing at the edge of the band. The mare had a scruffy mane and rough, unkempt coat, but her expression was alert and kind. She watched Stevie cautiously, but she didn’t seem afraid.
“Steady, girl,” Stevie said soothingly. She stood still for a moment, giving the mare and the rest of the band a chance to get used to her. Then she walked a few more steps forward and held out her hand. The mare raised her head and sniffed it. “Good girl,” Stevie said. Gently she began to rub the mare’s neck. The mare leaned into Stevie’s hand and half closed her eyes. Stevie rubbed a little harder, her fingers raising dust from the mare’s coat. The mare dropped herhead and bit off another mouthful of grass, then raised her head and looked Stevie in the eye. Stevie patted the mare’s forehead.
The mare blinked, then took a small step backward. Stevie held her hand out to her. The mare began to edge away, back toward the other members of her band. Stevie dropped her hand and let her go. “Good girl,” she said again. The mare stopped and looked at her curiously. “See?” Stevie said to her. “I’m not really so scary—and you’re not that wild after all.”
S TEVIE LEANED OUT the window of the horse van and waved. “Happy Birthday, Phil!” she cried. Red eased the van to a halt in the Marstens’ driveway next to their barn, and Stevie hopped out. She hurried to let Belle out of the rear. “Thanks so much, Red,” she said. “I really appreciate this.”
Red grinned. “I’ll be back to pick you up at four o’clock,” he said. “And you can muck out
“Yeah!” cheered Lisa. “It didn’t feel right when we went without you.”
“It didn’t feel right to me, either,” Stevie admitted.
“We’ll help you with Belle,” Carole promised. “I don’t think it’s important that she learn to do a flying change before next week, but I’d really like to help you teach it to her.”
Stevie swung her arms and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder happily. “I wish I’d listened to the two of you earlier,” she said. “I would have enjoyed this week more. Doesn’t the air smell crisp? I love pine trees.”
“You might have been more willing to listen if Lisa and I had been more willing to talk,” Carole admitted. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you that one day. The Saddle Club has to stick together.”
“I think we do pretty well,” Stevie said. She felt so happy she was ready to sing. But, knowing how her singing voice sounded, she thought she would spare her friends. Not to mention the animals! After all, this was supposed to be a wildlife
refuge.
She wondered if she could get kicked off Assateague for scaring them. The thought made her giggle.
They rounded the bend to the clearing where they had seen the wild ponies before. “I wonder if we’llsee—” Lisa began. “Oh,” she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “There they are!”
“Careful, Stevie,” Carole warned, but Stevie didn’t need warning. A small band stood on the far edge of the clearing, in a patch of sandy marshland. Stevie knew she had never seen these particular wild ponies before, but she also knew, as soon as she saw them, exactly what she was going to do.
I’ve learned a lot on Chincoteague, she thought. These wild ponies have taught me as much as any well-trained horse ever did. Quietly, slowly, she walked across the clearing toward the band. Carole started to follow, but Lisa held her back.
Stevie picked out a young brown-and-white pinto mare grazing at the edge of the band. The mare had a scruffy mane and rough, unkempt coat, but her expression was alert and kind. She watched Stevie cautiously, but she didn’t seem afraid.
“Steady, girl,” Stevie said soothingly. She stood still for a moment, giving the mare and the rest of the band a chance to get used to her. Then she walked a few more steps forward and held out her hand. The mare raised her head and sniffed it. “Good girl,” Stevie said. Gently she began to rub the mare’s neck. The mare leaned into Stevie’s hand and half closed her eyes. Stevie rubbed a little harder, her fingers raising dust from the mare’s coat. The mare dropped herhead and bit off another mouthful of grass, then raised her head and looked Stevie in the eye. Stevie patted the mare’s forehead.
The mare blinked, then took a small step backward. Stevie held her hand out to her. The mare began to edge away, back toward the other members of her band. Stevie dropped her hand and let her go. “Good girl,” she said again. The mare stopped and looked at her curiously. “See?” Stevie said to her. “I’m not really so scary—and you’re not that wild after all.”
S TEVIE LEANED OUT the window of the horse van and waved. “Happy Birthday, Phil!” she cried. Red eased the van to a halt in the Marstens’ driveway next to their barn, and Stevie hopped out. She hurried to let Belle out of the rear. “Thanks so much, Red,” she said. “I really appreciate this.”
Red grinned. “I’ll be back to pick you up at four o’clock,” he said. “And you can muck out
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