Stewball crunched on it happily, standing still long enough for Stevie to complete the grooming hurriedly.
When they had all finished, the girls led the horses out of the barn and across the yard to the pasture gate.
“Good job this morning, Stewball,” Stevie told the horse, giving him a quick hug before releasing him into the pasture.“Now your reward is that you get to play with your friends for the rest of the day.”
As if understanding her words, Stewball raised his head and sniffed the air, apparently trying to locate the herd. Stevie’s eyes were glued to the horse. She was spellbound by how free he looked as he gazed out over his domain, his mane softly ruffled by the slight morning breeze. Finally Stewball found the smell he was looking for. He snorted, shook his head, and broke into a frolicking gallop toward the herd, which was just visible on a rise of land across the pasture. The other four horses followed Stewball’s lead as he let out a whinny.
“He’s such a happy horse, isn’t he,” Stevie remarked. Since it wasn’t really a question, the others didn’t answer, though each of them had to agree that it was true.
Carole found herself wondering once again whether Stewball could ever be truly happy spending most of his life in a barn in Virginia. She also wondered whether Stevie was wondering the same thing. The expression on Stevie’s face at the moment was inscrutable.
Then all thoughts of Stewball were erased, from Carole’s mind at least, as the girls returned to the corral. “Where do we start?” she wondered, looking at the group of horses.
“Let’s just wade right in,” Kate said. She and Carole had already brought out the grooming tools and left them just outside the corral gate. The four girls picked them up and headed into the corral.
Soon they had chosen their first customers and broughtthem over to the unofficial “beauty salon”—actually just a spot along the corral fence. Carole’s first horse was a compact bay gelding. Lisa’s was a frisky chestnut. Stevie had singled out Midnight, the mischievous black gelding. Kate had picked a tall gray roan.
“Nobody is going to be buying these horses for their grooming,” Kate told the others. “But it’s always a good idea to show a horse off to his best advantage for a sale.”
“Besides, this will be a good opportunity for us to get some idea of the horses’ personalities,” Carole pointed out. She ran a hand down the bay’s front leg, lifted his foot, and began cleaning his hoof out. “For instance, this fellow has just shown me that he’s well trained and calm. He lifted his foot without any problem.”
“That’s right,” Kate said. “Different horses have different things that upset them, different things that make them happy, and different skills and ability. Like Stevie was saying earlier, horses are as individual as people. We want to be able to give buyers a sense of what they’re getting.”
“I already know that Midnight here should go to a rider with a sense of humor,” Stevie commented, “because he’s definitely got one himself.”
“And I know that Lucky is very precise and obedient,” Kate said, patting the gray roan she was grooming. “Actually, I knew that already, because I helped a lot with his training. He’s young, but he’s great at taking direction from a rider—he’ll follow any signal he’s given, no matter how complicated, no questions asked.”
“Really?” Carole said, glancing with new appreciation at the horse. “He’s so elegant looking, too. He doesn’t really look like a typical Western horse.”
“I agree,” Kate said, beginning to go over Lucky’s coat with a stiff brush. “He’d probably do great in the show ring back East. In fact, I already have a buyer in mind for him.”
“How’d he get his name?” Lisa asked.
“Look at his face,” Kate said, turning the horse a little so the others could see. Lucky had a white stripe running down his
When they had all finished, the girls led the horses out of the barn and across the yard to the pasture gate.
“Good job this morning, Stewball,” Stevie told the horse, giving him a quick hug before releasing him into the pasture.“Now your reward is that you get to play with your friends for the rest of the day.”
As if understanding her words, Stewball raised his head and sniffed the air, apparently trying to locate the herd. Stevie’s eyes were glued to the horse. She was spellbound by how free he looked as he gazed out over his domain, his mane softly ruffled by the slight morning breeze. Finally Stewball found the smell he was looking for. He snorted, shook his head, and broke into a frolicking gallop toward the herd, which was just visible on a rise of land across the pasture. The other four horses followed Stewball’s lead as he let out a whinny.
“He’s such a happy horse, isn’t he,” Stevie remarked. Since it wasn’t really a question, the others didn’t answer, though each of them had to agree that it was true.
Carole found herself wondering once again whether Stewball could ever be truly happy spending most of his life in a barn in Virginia. She also wondered whether Stevie was wondering the same thing. The expression on Stevie’s face at the moment was inscrutable.
Then all thoughts of Stewball were erased, from Carole’s mind at least, as the girls returned to the corral. “Where do we start?” she wondered, looking at the group of horses.
“Let’s just wade right in,” Kate said. She and Carole had already brought out the grooming tools and left them just outside the corral gate. The four girls picked them up and headed into the corral.
Soon they had chosen their first customers and broughtthem over to the unofficial “beauty salon”—actually just a spot along the corral fence. Carole’s first horse was a compact bay gelding. Lisa’s was a frisky chestnut. Stevie had singled out Midnight, the mischievous black gelding. Kate had picked a tall gray roan.
“Nobody is going to be buying these horses for their grooming,” Kate told the others. “But it’s always a good idea to show a horse off to his best advantage for a sale.”
“Besides, this will be a good opportunity for us to get some idea of the horses’ personalities,” Carole pointed out. She ran a hand down the bay’s front leg, lifted his foot, and began cleaning his hoof out. “For instance, this fellow has just shown me that he’s well trained and calm. He lifted his foot without any problem.”
“That’s right,” Kate said. “Different horses have different things that upset them, different things that make them happy, and different skills and ability. Like Stevie was saying earlier, horses are as individual as people. We want to be able to give buyers a sense of what they’re getting.”
“I already know that Midnight here should go to a rider with a sense of humor,” Stevie commented, “because he’s definitely got one himself.”
“And I know that Lucky is very precise and obedient,” Kate said, patting the gray roan she was grooming. “Actually, I knew that already, because I helped a lot with his training. He’s young, but he’s great at taking direction from a rider—he’ll follow any signal he’s given, no matter how complicated, no questions asked.”
“Really?” Carole said, glancing with new appreciation at the horse. “He’s so elegant looking, too. He doesn’t really look like a typical Western horse.”
“I agree,” Kate said, beginning to go over Lucky’s coat with a stiff brush. “He’d probably do great in the show ring back East. In fact, I already have a buyer in mind for him.”
“How’d he get his name?” Lisa asked.
“Look at his face,” Kate said, turning the horse a little so the others could see. Lucky had a white stripe running down his
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