the hay net.
“Where did you learn that?” Amie asked.
“From Carole,” Lisa said. “Not only does she know the big things about horse care, she knows the little ones, too.”
“I’ll never learn,” Amie said.
“You’ve learned a lot already,” Lisa said.
The two of them filled Penny’s water bucket and walked down the aisle to see how Jackie was doing.
Red-faced and frustrated, Jackie was dragging Dime’s water bucket down the aisle. She had filled it too full, and water had sloshed onto her breeches and her boots.
Lisa and Amie were stepping forward to help her when A.J. appeared.
“Heavy bucket?” he asked Jackie.
“No way,” said Jackie bravely.
“You only need half that much water,” A.J. said. He poured half out and gave the bucket back to Jackie.
“Hey,” Jackie said. “I can do it now.” Happily she carried the bucket into Dime’s stall.
A.J. was a nice guy, Lisa thought. If only he didn’t have that moonlight problem …
“Come on,” A.J. said as he and Jackie left the stall. “I’ve heard this wild rumor that Max is making flapjacks.”
Lisa and Amie grinned at each other.
“Max’s Morning Madness,” said Amie happily.
On an outdoor grill Max had set up a flat piece of iron. It was smoking.
“Your thing’s on fire,” Amie said.
“No, it’s not,” Max said. “And this thing is called agriddle.” With a flourish he poured a circle of batter on the griddle. The batter bubbled and then settled down to cook, sending off a nice steamy smell. Max poured a row of batter circles down the griddle, until there were ten. He stood back to look with satisfaction. When bubbles appeared in the center of the first flapjack, he flipped it. The underside was golden brown.
“Awesome,” Amie said. “How do you know when to turn it?”
“When the bubbles in the center don’t fill with wet batter,” he said.
Max moved down the line flipping flapjacks. When he got to the end, he took a pile of paper plates and went back to the head of the line. He waited a minute and then neatly flipped the first flapjack onto a plate, adding a sausage from the frying pan on the other end of the grill.
“How do you know when the flapjack’s done?” Amie said.
“When the edges curl,” Max said.
“I wish I could do that,” Amie said.
“It takes discipline, training, and respect for your materials,” Max said. Everyone smiled because that was the way Max talked about riding.
Max’s mother, who was affectionately known as Mrs.Reg, circulated with forks, butter, syrup, and milk, while Deborah poured orange juice.
“What a breakfast,” Stevie said, closing her eyes, savoring the slightly smoky flavor of the pancakes. “This should be called Max’s Morning Magnificence.”
“It’s delicious,” said Veronica, poking at her flapjack without really eating it.
“What’s the matter, Veronica?” said A.J. “Worried about getting as fat as your hair?”
Veronica had managed to brush most of the seeds and hay out of her hair. She had even added a flippy curl at the bottom. The problem was that her hair was so stiff from all the gel, it stood out in a huge dome around her head.
“You may have to have your hair surgically removed,” A.J. said.
“And then she’d be bald,” Amie said.
For a second the MW riders imagined Veronica totally bald. Amie and Jackie gave each other high fives.
Fifteen minutes later everyone was groaning with satisfaction.
“I can’t move,” Peter said.
“I’ll never eat again,” Jasmine said. “Until lunch, that is.”
Stevie turned to Lisa and said, “I can tell that Jasmine isa true little sister of The Saddle Club. She can’t wait for her next meal.”
“Breakfast was so good I think Max deserves special thanks,” Carole said.
“Thanks, Max,” the riders called out.
“Not that kind of thanks,” said Carole with a grin. “I think we should muck out the horses’ stalls.”
Everybody groaned. But they knew that Carole was
“Where did you learn that?” Amie asked.
“From Carole,” Lisa said. “Not only does she know the big things about horse care, she knows the little ones, too.”
“I’ll never learn,” Amie said.
“You’ve learned a lot already,” Lisa said.
The two of them filled Penny’s water bucket and walked down the aisle to see how Jackie was doing.
Red-faced and frustrated, Jackie was dragging Dime’s water bucket down the aisle. She had filled it too full, and water had sloshed onto her breeches and her boots.
Lisa and Amie were stepping forward to help her when A.J. appeared.
“Heavy bucket?” he asked Jackie.
“No way,” said Jackie bravely.
“You only need half that much water,” A.J. said. He poured half out and gave the bucket back to Jackie.
“Hey,” Jackie said. “I can do it now.” Happily she carried the bucket into Dime’s stall.
A.J. was a nice guy, Lisa thought. If only he didn’t have that moonlight problem …
“Come on,” A.J. said as he and Jackie left the stall. “I’ve heard this wild rumor that Max is making flapjacks.”
Lisa and Amie grinned at each other.
“Max’s Morning Madness,” said Amie happily.
On an outdoor grill Max had set up a flat piece of iron. It was smoking.
“Your thing’s on fire,” Amie said.
“No, it’s not,” Max said. “And this thing is called agriddle.” With a flourish he poured a circle of batter on the griddle. The batter bubbled and then settled down to cook, sending off a nice steamy smell. Max poured a row of batter circles down the griddle, until there were ten. He stood back to look with satisfaction. When bubbles appeared in the center of the first flapjack, he flipped it. The underside was golden brown.
“Awesome,” Amie said. “How do you know when to turn it?”
“When the bubbles in the center don’t fill with wet batter,” he said.
Max moved down the line flipping flapjacks. When he got to the end, he took a pile of paper plates and went back to the head of the line. He waited a minute and then neatly flipped the first flapjack onto a plate, adding a sausage from the frying pan on the other end of the grill.
“How do you know when the flapjack’s done?” Amie said.
“When the edges curl,” Max said.
“I wish I could do that,” Amie said.
“It takes discipline, training, and respect for your materials,” Max said. Everyone smiled because that was the way Max talked about riding.
Max’s mother, who was affectionately known as Mrs.Reg, circulated with forks, butter, syrup, and milk, while Deborah poured orange juice.
“What a breakfast,” Stevie said, closing her eyes, savoring the slightly smoky flavor of the pancakes. “This should be called Max’s Morning Magnificence.”
“It’s delicious,” said Veronica, poking at her flapjack without really eating it.
“What’s the matter, Veronica?” said A.J. “Worried about getting as fat as your hair?”
Veronica had managed to brush most of the seeds and hay out of her hair. She had even added a flippy curl at the bottom. The problem was that her hair was so stiff from all the gel, it stood out in a huge dome around her head.
“You may have to have your hair surgically removed,” A.J. said.
“And then she’d be bald,” Amie said.
For a second the MW riders imagined Veronica totally bald. Amie and Jackie gave each other high fives.
Fifteen minutes later everyone was groaning with satisfaction.
“I can’t move,” Peter said.
“I’ll never eat again,” Jasmine said. “Until lunch, that is.”
Stevie turned to Lisa and said, “I can tell that Jasmine isa true little sister of The Saddle Club. She can’t wait for her next meal.”
“Breakfast was so good I think Max deserves special thanks,” Carole said.
“Thanks, Max,” the riders called out.
“Not that kind of thanks,” said Carole with a grin. “I think we should muck out the horses’ stalls.”
Everybody groaned. But they knew that Carole was
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