needed. What seemed the most possible, though, was that riding in France was very different from riding in America. Obviously, Estelle simply didn’t know many of the things Lisa had been taught. Riders must be taught differently and horses must be trained differently in France, Lisa reasoned.
It was as if Estelle used a different language with her horse than Lisa did. Max often told his students that they spoke to their horses with their hands and their legs because a horse’s sense of communication was more physical than anything. So, how could that be different in France? Lisa asked herself.
Once again, Lisa thought about the white stallion, Napoleon, a gift on Estelle’s seventh birthday. Then Lisa recalled that Estelle had also told her that was aday she had spent in a hospital with a back injury. She must have heard it wrong—or else Estelle said it wrong.
When she’d stowed Pepper’s tack, she brought him water and fresh hay and then did the same for Nero. By then he was completely calmed down, his same old placid self. He welcomed Lisa’s pats and dug into the fresh hay enthusiastically.
Lisa shook her head in confusion. Something seemed out of kilter in her world, but she didn’t know what it was.
Having no answer, and lost in thought, she slid his door shut and locked it.
“C AROLE, PAY ATTENTION !” Max snapped at Carole in jump class later that Friday. “If
you’re
not paying attention, how can you expect your horse to do it?”
Carole tried again to focus. Diablo’s ears perked up immediately in response to her soft tug on his reins. She circled the ring until he was in a nice, smooth, rocking canter, then she aimed him straight for the jump. It was a two-foot training jump, hardly a wall, but she knew that jumping high wasn’t as important as jumping well. She approached the jump on Diablo, leaning forward ever so slightly, but holding the reins taut until they were close. Smoothly, she rose in the saddle and, keeping her back nearly parallel to the horse’s neck, she leaned forward, letting the motion ofDiablo’s head move her hands along his neck. Diablo lifted into the air and landed gently on the other side.
“See how well it works when you pay attention?” Max asked. Carole nodded her answer, but she hadn’t really heard the question. Already her mind was someplace else. She was listening for the familiar sound of Judy’s truck. The vet was due for Delilah’s checkup and Carole hoped she’d arrive during the lunch break. Carole had noticed some changes in Delilah, and hoped that meant the foal’s birth would be soon.
Something else distracted Carole as well. Lisa stood at the edge of the ring watching the end of the jump class. Carole hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet about missing yesterday’s Club meeting. She knew how she’d feel if that had happened to her. She really wanted a chance to explain, but it seemed like every single second of the day was filled, at least up through their drill practice. And if Delilah was as close to her delivery as Carole suspected, she’d be even busier soon.
Just then, the French girl, Estelle, came into the ring and stood next to Lisa. Carole cringed. Estelle gave her goose bumps. Carole had watched her ride enough to know that she was a big phony on horseback—and probably everywhere else, too. When she’d overheard Estelle telling Meg Durham about this horse she’d supposedly been riding since she was seven, Carole had barely been able to contain her snort of laughter. There was no way Estelle had been riding for solong and learned so little! So what was she doing hanging around Lisa? Carole wondered.
A S SOON AS jump class was over, Stevie dashed into the tack room hoping to find Lisa there. There was no sign of her. Stevie took her sandwich and a soda from the refrigerator and went in search of her friend. Finally, in the stable area, she found a small crowd gathered near Delilah’s stall. Lisa stood there along with
It was as if Estelle used a different language with her horse than Lisa did. Max often told his students that they spoke to their horses with their hands and their legs because a horse’s sense of communication was more physical than anything. So, how could that be different in France? Lisa asked herself.
Once again, Lisa thought about the white stallion, Napoleon, a gift on Estelle’s seventh birthday. Then Lisa recalled that Estelle had also told her that was aday she had spent in a hospital with a back injury. She must have heard it wrong—or else Estelle said it wrong.
When she’d stowed Pepper’s tack, she brought him water and fresh hay and then did the same for Nero. By then he was completely calmed down, his same old placid self. He welcomed Lisa’s pats and dug into the fresh hay enthusiastically.
Lisa shook her head in confusion. Something seemed out of kilter in her world, but she didn’t know what it was.
Having no answer, and lost in thought, she slid his door shut and locked it.
“C AROLE, PAY ATTENTION !” Max snapped at Carole in jump class later that Friday. “If
you’re
not paying attention, how can you expect your horse to do it?”
Carole tried again to focus. Diablo’s ears perked up immediately in response to her soft tug on his reins. She circled the ring until he was in a nice, smooth, rocking canter, then she aimed him straight for the jump. It was a two-foot training jump, hardly a wall, but she knew that jumping high wasn’t as important as jumping well. She approached the jump on Diablo, leaning forward ever so slightly, but holding the reins taut until they were close. Smoothly, she rose in the saddle and, keeping her back nearly parallel to the horse’s neck, she leaned forward, letting the motion ofDiablo’s head move her hands along his neck. Diablo lifted into the air and landed gently on the other side.
“See how well it works when you pay attention?” Max asked. Carole nodded her answer, but she hadn’t really heard the question. Already her mind was someplace else. She was listening for the familiar sound of Judy’s truck. The vet was due for Delilah’s checkup and Carole hoped she’d arrive during the lunch break. Carole had noticed some changes in Delilah, and hoped that meant the foal’s birth would be soon.
Something else distracted Carole as well. Lisa stood at the edge of the ring watching the end of the jump class. Carole hadn’t had a chance to talk to her yet about missing yesterday’s Club meeting. She knew how she’d feel if that had happened to her. She really wanted a chance to explain, but it seemed like every single second of the day was filled, at least up through their drill practice. And if Delilah was as close to her delivery as Carole suspected, she’d be even busier soon.
Just then, the French girl, Estelle, came into the ring and stood next to Lisa. Carole cringed. Estelle gave her goose bumps. Carole had watched her ride enough to know that she was a big phony on horseback—and probably everywhere else, too. When she’d overheard Estelle telling Meg Durham about this horse she’d supposedly been riding since she was seven, Carole had barely been able to contain her snort of laughter. There was no way Estelle had been riding for solong and learned so little! So what was she doing hanging around Lisa? Carole wondered.
A S SOON AS jump class was over, Stevie dashed into the tack room hoping to find Lisa there. There was no sign of her. Stevie took her sandwich and a soda from the refrigerator and went in search of her friend. Finally, in the stable area, she found a small crowd gathered near Delilah’s stall. Lisa stood there along with
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