First, you put on a halter—”
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Well, you just do,” Stevie said, without thinking. She put on the halter first because she always put on a halter first.
“There must be a reason,” Colonel Hanson said mildly.
“I suppose,” Stevie agreed, and stopped to think about it. “I got it,” she said. “You put on a halter and a lead rope so you always have something to control the horse with. A horse like Topside probably doesn’t need it, particularly when you’re untacking him in his stall, but the time you forget to do it will be the time he’s in an open area and he can be out of reach in a second. That’s why you should always do it.”
“Good,” the colonel said, and smiled at Stevie.
Next, she showed him how to remove the saddle. He tried to do it from the horse’s right side. Stevie showed him that it should be done from the left.
“Why?” he asked.
Good question,
she thought to herself. Saddles were removed from the left because they were always removed from the left. “Actually, I think it’s because the horse is used to being approached from the left. It’s also the side where most girth adjustments are made, so the leathers are suppler on that side and easier to buckle and unbuckle.”
“Makes sense,” Colonel Hanson told her.
“Makes sense to me, too,” Stevie said. “I never thought about it before, though. I just always did it.”
She showed the colonel where to stow the saddle in the tack room and explained the system in there. Then they returned to Topside’s stall and began the grooming. It turned out that he didn’t know anythingabout that, either. Although Stevie had shown many new riders how to groom and care for a horse, she’d never had one who asked “why” as often as Carole’s father did.
When the last bit of grooming was finished, and Topside had fresh hay and fresh water, Stevie turned to her “instructor” and asked, “Now may I take twenty-five giant steps for all the right answers I’ve given?”
“Why?” he asked, and they both laughed.
C AROLE CARRIED G ARNET ’ S saddle and bridle into the tack room, where they would probably stay until Veronica got somebody else to put them on her horse. Carole frowned, thinking again about how upside down the world seemed to be. What she saw when she walked into the tack room made her feel the world was even more upside down. There was her father, the Pony Club sponsor, being instructed on tack cleaning by her friend Lisa.
“No, you just moisten the sponge, you don’t wet it,” Lisa was saying. “Okay, now rub in small circles. That works the best.”
“Why?” the colonel asked.
Carole felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Her father didn’t know
anything!
She hastily put the tack away and returned to the stable area because shecould leave the room that way without being seen by her father or by Lisa. She almost wished that she’d never be seen by anybody ever again. How could she look her friends in the eye after they learned what a dolt her father was when it came to horses?
There were still several Pony Clubbers in the stalls, grooming their horses. Carole needed a place to hide and think a bit. The stalls wouldn’t do. She was too likely to be interrupted, or to overhear her father asking more dumb questions. She noticed that the door to the grain room was closed. That meant nobody was in it. It would give her the privacy she needed.
The grain room was actually quite large, but felt small because of the large sacks and bins of grains it held. Carole was always interested in the variety of grains horses were fed. Sometimes, she’d come in here to work with Max on the recipes, which often varied for each horse depending on his individual needs. Today, she ignored the sacks, except to sit on one in a far corner.
The door flew open. One of the younger riders—Carole couldn’t remember her name—entered, followed by Carole’s father.
“See,” the
“Why do you do that?” he asked.
“Well, you just do,” Stevie said, without thinking. She put on the halter first because she always put on a halter first.
“There must be a reason,” Colonel Hanson said mildly.
“I suppose,” Stevie agreed, and stopped to think about it. “I got it,” she said. “You put on a halter and a lead rope so you always have something to control the horse with. A horse like Topside probably doesn’t need it, particularly when you’re untacking him in his stall, but the time you forget to do it will be the time he’s in an open area and he can be out of reach in a second. That’s why you should always do it.”
“Good,” the colonel said, and smiled at Stevie.
Next, she showed him how to remove the saddle. He tried to do it from the horse’s right side. Stevie showed him that it should be done from the left.
“Why?” he asked.
Good question,
she thought to herself. Saddles were removed from the left because they were always removed from the left. “Actually, I think it’s because the horse is used to being approached from the left. It’s also the side where most girth adjustments are made, so the leathers are suppler on that side and easier to buckle and unbuckle.”
“Makes sense,” Colonel Hanson told her.
“Makes sense to me, too,” Stevie said. “I never thought about it before, though. I just always did it.”
She showed the colonel where to stow the saddle in the tack room and explained the system in there. Then they returned to Topside’s stall and began the grooming. It turned out that he didn’t know anythingabout that, either. Although Stevie had shown many new riders how to groom and care for a horse, she’d never had one who asked “why” as often as Carole’s father did.
When the last bit of grooming was finished, and Topside had fresh hay and fresh water, Stevie turned to her “instructor” and asked, “Now may I take twenty-five giant steps for all the right answers I’ve given?”
“Why?” he asked, and they both laughed.
C AROLE CARRIED G ARNET ’ S saddle and bridle into the tack room, where they would probably stay until Veronica got somebody else to put them on her horse. Carole frowned, thinking again about how upside down the world seemed to be. What she saw when she walked into the tack room made her feel the world was even more upside down. There was her father, the Pony Club sponsor, being instructed on tack cleaning by her friend Lisa.
“No, you just moisten the sponge, you don’t wet it,” Lisa was saying. “Okay, now rub in small circles. That works the best.”
“Why?” the colonel asked.
Carole felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Her father didn’t know
anything!
She hastily put the tack away and returned to the stable area because shecould leave the room that way without being seen by her father or by Lisa. She almost wished that she’d never be seen by anybody ever again. How could she look her friends in the eye after they learned what a dolt her father was when it came to horses?
There were still several Pony Clubbers in the stalls, grooming their horses. Carole needed a place to hide and think a bit. The stalls wouldn’t do. She was too likely to be interrupted, or to overhear her father asking more dumb questions. She noticed that the door to the grain room was closed. That meant nobody was in it. It would give her the privacy she needed.
The grain room was actually quite large, but felt small because of the large sacks and bins of grains it held. Carole was always interested in the variety of grains horses were fed. Sometimes, she’d come in here to work with Max on the recipes, which often varied for each horse depending on his individual needs. Today, she ignored the sacks, except to sit on one in a far corner.
The door flew open. One of the younger riders—Carole couldn’t remember her name—entered, followed by Carole’s father.
“See,” the
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