# The Pony Project



## knightrider

I wrote this children's book to be the next in the Sandy Lane Stables series. I kept all the characters and horses from Sandy Lane. When I sent it to the publisher to see if they would publish it, they said they had discontinued the Sandy Lane Stables series because it wasn't selling well. I think it is the best kids horse series out there.

I kept all the Sandy Lane characters and horses and continued their personalities. I have been told, to be a "stand alone" book, I would have to eliminate about half the characters and limit the horse names to one name and no nicknames.

Well, I just didn't want to do that, so The Pony Project sits on my closet shelf gathering dust. Maybe some day I will kill Charlie, Alex, and Allison, but right now, I'll just see if you all can manage to sort it all out. It would help you a lot to read the Sandy Lane books in order before reading the Pony Project, but I don't expect you to.

Also, the publishers chose different writers to write the different books, so the series starts out in England, and then mysteriously becomes Virginia about halfway through the series. I had to keep all the place names the same, and the cliffs over the ocean. Anyone who is familiar with Virginia knows very well that it is flat flat flat for many miles before you get near the ocean in Virginia. There are NO cliffs over the water in Virginia. But they have to be there because that is part of the series. So just pretend there are cliffs, OK?

Hope you enjoy The Pony Project.

Pony Project

“All right everybody, we meet in five minutes in the tackroom,” Nick Brooks’ eyes sparkled with excitement. “I have some big news and a serious proposition for all of you.”
Nick was the owner of Sandy Lane Stables. Together with his wife Sarah, they gave lessons, took out trail rides and trained horses.
The young riders at Sandy Lane Stables looked at each other. What could Nick have up his sleeve? He was nearly bursting with animation.
One by one, they shuffled into the tackroom—first Tom Buchanan, the oldest and most serious of the riders. He was the proud owner of Chancy, an outstanding jumper good enough to win at A rated horseshows. Beside him strode Charlie Marshall—the prankster of the group. Charlie had been away at racing school, but this fall, he had a lull between his work and his apprentice jockey career. Everyone was glad to have him back with his quips and his jokes. Behind the older boys came Rosie Edwards and Jess Adams, best friends, but totally different. Rosie, with her soft blond curls and baby face, was neat, precise and careful. She longed for a horse of her own. Jess, dark haired, impulsive, and small, was impatient, and sometimes forgetful. Last year she had won her pony Skylark in a contest, and now she kept him at Sandy Lane. Hurrying behind the girls were Kate and Alex Hardy. Alex had almost given up on riding until he bought a tired ill pony at auction intending to resell her at a profit when he got her in shape. Instead she re-kindled his love of horses and they were now inseparable. Kate was the youngest of the group. Sometimes she felt left out of things, though the others tried to include her.
The young people found seats on hay bales and benches and waited expectantly for Nick’s announcement. 
“Well, guys, you know we are not very resolute about selling the horses we’ve bought to train and resell.”
The others laughed, remembering the offers Nick had turned down for Storm Cloud, the gray Arab mare he bought to train and resell, and Alex’s Puzzle. Alex had planned to go to Africa with his soccer team on the money he thought he would make with Puzzle when he sold her. Instead he kept her and gave up the trip.
“This time,” Nick went on, “we’ve got to be more determined not to let our hearts get in the way. I’ve bought four ponies and I have a proposition for all of you. I want you to help me train them and we’ll sell them in the spring. No one is to get attached to them—we need the money too badly to fix the electrical system in the barn and put in six new stalls. For every pony we sell, I plan to give each of you 1 % of the net profit. I know you’ll give your best shot in training them.”
“How did you get them?”
“When are they coming?”
“How do you plan to train them?”
“What are they like?”
“How big? How old? How green?” They flooded Nick with questions.
He put his hands up. “I’ll tell you about the ponies in a minute. Let me tell you why I decided to try this wild scheme: my old dear friend, Mrs. Hartlington, is on the board of directors for a brand new hunt club, the Colt Creek Hunt. Since it is just starting up, she wanted to encourage more young people to take up fox hunting. It is a dying art. Unless we can get more young people hunting, soon there will be no more hunt clubs. She offered me four places every Saturday for some young people to ride from Sandy Lane Stables. This is quite an opportunity, and I knew you’d love it.
“At the same time my old steeplechase buddy came home with a truckload of ponies, some from out west and some local, slated for auction. He offered me my choice of ponies at $300 each. At 1% profit—when we subtract out the feed, farrier, vet bills, and tack, each one of you will make around $20 per pony or about $80 each. Does that sound like fun?”
“Wow! Does it ever!” they exclaimed. “Wow! Foxhunting every Saturday, ponies to train! And even some pocket money for it! Nick, you’re a genius!”
“Just a matter of a couple of things coming together all at once,” Nick replied. “The catch is—we CANNOT keep them. I need the money badly. And of course, we have no guarantee they’ll sell for $3,000—that’s quite a mark-up from $300. But, I’ve chosen some good ones—they’re pretty green and with your help training them, a season of fox hunting and a couple of winning shows to their credit, I think they’ll bring $3,000 each.”
“Tell us about them!” Jess blurted out eagerly.
“They’ll be here tomorrow around 10:00. You can meet them then. I know you have a million questions, but tomorrow you’ll see them and I’ll answer all your questions then.”

While the Sandy Lane friends were anxiously waiting for tomorrow to see their new charges, another young person, Phoebe Harris was polishing her riding boots excitedly waiting for the next day, Saturday, as well. It was the opening day for cubbing season at the brand new Colt Creek Hunt and her very first foxhunt ever. Phoebe knew that cubbing hunts were like practice hunts—new riders, young hounds and baby foxes all got a taste of hunting—a little shorter, less demanding, fewer rules.
Phoebe tossed her light brown hair over her shoulder as she rubbed at her boots. She considered herself quite ordinary—plain brown eyes, plain brown hair, average face. Only her horse Top Tipperary was outstanding, and when she was riding him, she felt a cut above the ordinary. She had her brand new Harry Hall breeches, her canary vest, and her new black wool hunt jacket draped across her bed. She had practiced tying her stock tie until it was neat and straight. She planned to be up at 4:30 so she could braid her exquisite showhorse Top Tipperary for his very first hunt. She knew people didn’t braid for cubbing, but she was just too excited to be part of a real hunt—she wanted it to be special. As she smeared polish on her tall boots, she grinned to herself in anticipation. It would be like a cultivated refined movie, riding out in the morning mist, the hounds circling the riders who controlled them by cracking their whips, baying “a-roo, a-roo”, the huntsman’s horn going “ta-raa, ta-raa”, calling the hounds to him. The black coats, the crisp air, the elegant horses of all colors. Just like a fabulous movie.

On Saturday morning while Phoebe was tacking up her slim legged showhorse for her first foxhunt, the six young people of Sandy Lane congregated in front of the barn eagerly awaiting the arrival of the four new ponies. At last the van pulled in, and the group moved closer. 
Nick would tell them nothing. “Wait and see for yourself,” he said.
First to come down the ramp was a chocolate and white tobiano pinto, 13.3 hands.
“This is Sassy,” Nick said, taking the leadrope and passing him to Jess, “a registered Chincoteague pony. Bought on a whim at Pony Penning Day in Chincoteague by a family who thought they’d keep him in their garage. Didn’t have a clue as to how to train a young colt. Didn’t realize how much work a pony was. Didn’t realize a pony needs grass and air and light. So, lucky me. I got him for a fraction of what they paid for him.”
Next down the ramp came a shining chestnut mare, tossing her mane and rolling her eyes. “I named her Copper Penny. This one is for the girls to enjoy. She’s a sweetheart.” Rosie took her leadshank.
“And here is Cinnamon,” Nick crowed. “This one is my pride and joy. This fella is going to go places. His only drawback is that he is 14.3, not quite a pony, but a small horse.” He passed the horse to Tom. “Wait till you see this horse move. Pure raw talent. I can’t wait to see what you do with him, Tom. I bought him with you in mind.”
Last down the ramp came a coal black gelding, snorting as he looked around. “This guy has looks and more looks, but he needs work. I bought him because his conformation is just about perfect. I figure we can make something of him. I named him New Moon.” Charley took his halter and the students trooped out to the run-in shed Nick had fixed up for the four new arrivals.
Soon they were tied along the fence with the six riders spread out brushing, picking hooves, and untangling manes and tails.
“They’ve all been ridden before,” Nick told them, “but Sassy and New Moon have had almost no training. Today we’ll let them settle in and tomorrow we’ll take them out in the arena.”
“Will you have try-outs like you do for the show teams to decide who gets to train them?” Alex asked anxiously. He knew he wouldn’t get chosen to train if he had to compete against Tom and Charlie.
“No, I’ve thought long and hard about who and how you would train them. I don’t want just one rider working with each horse. I bought them to sell. We can’t get attached to them, nor they to us. I want all of you to ride all of them. We’ll even use them in the riding school.
“So this is what I came up with. Each week I’ll draw names from a hat. Whoever gets drawn first gets first pick and so on. They will ride that pony . . . or almost horse . . . in the case of Cinnamon . . . for the whole week, and foxhunt him on Saturday. Then on Sunday, the two riders who did not get picked the week before get first choice—then I draw 2 more names. So everyone will get equal chances to train and hunt.”
The riders discussed the merits, personality, and conformation of each pony as they groomed them until even their thick winter coats glowed, maybe not satin, but velvet.
Rosie had already fallen in love with Copper Penny. She loved the mare’s large kind eyes, the gentle way she nuzzled Rosie’s neck, her deference to the geldings. She wasn’t fearful, no not a bit, just somehow . . . courteous. Rosie was completely charmed.
Alex and Charlie were captivated by the brown and white Chincoteague pony. “Just think, he was born wild in a salt marsh,” Alex enthused. “He’s so cool too, Lil’ Spunky.”
“His name’s Sassy,” Kate, his sister, corrected him.
“I was thinking it was Spunky. He’s a feisty one,” Alex laughed as the pony playfully nudged him. “I like Spunky better than Sassy. No reason why we can’t change it to Spunky. Nick won’t care.”
“But I like Sassy better,” said Kate.
“Spunky, Sassy, who cares?” said Tom. “Chincoteague ponies make fine jumpers, and this fellow, so full of energy and spirit, is gonna make some junior rider a wonderful show pony.”
“Or a trail pony,” amended Charlie. “You can tell he’s not afraid of anything.”
“Show pony, trail pony, Spunky Sassy,” mused Alex. “Hey! I know! Let’s name him Spunky Sass or Sassy Spunk.”
“Good idea,” cried Jess. “In fact let’s give them all two names and make them fancy show ponies, like Eggbert’s Recognized Volcano.”
“Copper Penny and New Moon already have two grand names,” said Rosie.
“Cinnamon is the one Nick thinks will do the best. He needs a really cool name.”
“Piel canela,” sang Alex, laughing. “Beautiful cinnamon skin . . . You know that old song?”
Kate laughed and sang along with him. “Piel canela” . . . She stopped. “It means cinnamon skin.”
“What a stupid name,” hooted Tom. “Every time I say it, I have to smile. So let’s name this one Cinnamon Skin.” The others could see that Tom was taken with Cinnamon (Skin), the potential star.
New Moon was an enigma no one could quite figure out. He was unquestionably the most beautiful of the four—coal black coat, ideal conformation, but somehow he did not pull it together.
Nick came up behind them as they were trying to analyze New Moon. “He has no confidence. He doesn’t believe in himself. That will be your job, you six—to build his confidence. Teach him to carry himself proudly. No one’s ever told him he was beautiful.”
“What’s his story, Nick? How did you get him?” Rosie asked, intrigued.
“I don’t know anything about him. He’s from that shipment out west. His teeth show him to be about seven. He barely knows the basics of riding. I would guess he’s never been loved or fussed over. I picked him because he’s one of the most perfectly conformed ponies I’ve ever seen. So there’s got to be some talent there. We’ll just have to find it.”
“The Ugly Duckling,” laughed Jess. “We can call him Ud.”
“That name’s about as attractive as Mooney,” giggled Rosie.
“Newie?” said Alex. “Newie Moonie?”
“Ud!” they all shouted.

Phoebe’s first foxhunt wasn’t turning out the way she had dreamed. When the vanload of riders from Rychester Stable where Phoebe boarded her horse, arrived at Colt Creek Park, Mr. Jasper Carlisle, the owner, and his self important daughter, Camilla, took over. Camilla looked like an 1860’s valentine card—blue eyes, fluffy blond hair, and cherry lips. She dressed like a princess and acted like one too. Jasper Carlisle mounted his well-made chestnut thoroughbred, and ordered the hounds released from their hound trailer. Camilla rode her palomino Apollo through the group, saying things like, “Let’s make this a successful hunt,” and “Pay attention to the master.” 
Mrs. Hartlington, ignoring Camilla, gathered all the novice foxhunters around her to review the rules. Phoebe, having devoured the famous book Riding to Hounds in America, already knew everything by heart.
“Most of you are new to foxhunting,” Mrs. Hartlington started off. “The main thing to remember is that the purpose of our morning is to chase the fox. It’s not to school your pony, make plans with your friends, or show off. You must be absolutely quiet in the hunt field—no talking. The huntsman, the man in charge of the hounds, must be able to hear his hounds. He knows, (or should know),” she said softly, “what each hound’s bay means. When the hounds begin to bay, that’s called speaking, or making music. It is very important that you not interrupt a hound on the scent. The hounds speak in many tones and voices and each one means something to the huntsman, or it should,” she added, glancing at Jasper Carlisle. “If a hound comes toward you on the trail, you back your horse off the trail so that he is facing the hounds, huntsman, or whippers in. If your horse doesn’t back, teach him by next Saturday.” She smiled. “Hunt staff always have right of way. Stay out of their way at all times and give them room to work. They are why you can come and enjoy this. Never forget that.
“How many of you think we will kill a fox today?” she asked.
The riders looked at one another sheepishly.
“Here in America we don’t kill the foxes. We follow them. Because we don’t stop up their holes, they can ‘go to ground’ any time they please. And they do sometimes. But other times, often times, they feel like a run. It’s a great thrill to watch the fox outsmart the hounds, and he usually does. If we killed our foxes, what would we hunt next Saturday?
“One last thing and then we’ll be off. The master is in charge of the horses and riders. You must obey him at all times and never ever pass him or the staff. It’s better not to try to pass on a run in any case. Got it? Oh, yes, if you see the fox, don’t shout, ‘Tally Ho!’ Take off your cap and point. Only say ‘Tally Ho’ if the field is way far away from the huntsman and hounds and there is no chance of confusing them.
“Now, let’s go hunting.”
Phoebe realized that the huntsman was Camilla’s father, Jasper Carlisle. He was not able to gather the hounds the way she’d seen it done in the movies. The riders called “whippers in” circled the hounds, trying to keep them together, but the hounds soon were running off in all directions. It was clear this new hound pack were not used to working together and even more clear that Jasper Carlisle did not know how to manage hounds. They did not listen to any of his commands and when he tried to blow his horn, he only could fumble out a few little bleeps.
Camilla was disgusted. “My father is such a jerk, insisting on being huntsman when he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Mrs. Hartlington told him he’d need to work with the hounds. But no, he couldn’t be bothered. Do ya know what he said to her? ‘How hard can it be?’ Well, Dad, it’s a lot harder than it looks.”
Jasper straggled off with a small remnant of hounds. The hunt field rambled behind them. The inexperienced pack never got up a scent and the riders wandered around the woods for an hour or two, wondering why anyone would think foxhunting was exciting.


----------



## horseluvr2524

Excellent writing! I do hope you will find a way to publish this someday. You should find out if the stable name in the book is copyright. They can't copyright names (people names like Alex or Nick, or names like New Moon). No reason why you can't make it independent without removing all the pony names and changing people names.

They might have copyrighted fictional landmark names, or fictional stable names, for example. But that would be simple to change. You SHOULD publish this


----------



## knightrider

The Sandy Lane friends waited expectantly as Nick grinned at them, stirring the names in the hunt cap with his hand. First name drawn: Alex.

“I’ll take Spunky Sass!” he crowed, bouncing eagerly on his feet.

Next was Jess. “Oh!” she wailed, “I don’t know, I don’t know!”

“Take Copper Penny,” urged Rosie. “She’ll be a dream to ride.”

“No, I want you to have her first. I’m not good enough to bring out the best in New Moon, and Cinnamon . . .”

“Skin!” the others yelled.

“Skin deserves a more experienced rider. Oh . . .” she dithered. “Pull another name, Nick. I’ll take what’s left.”

The name he pulled was Rosie. “Copper Penny,” she squealed, and Jess grinned at her.

Last name was Tom. “Cinnamon Skin,” he said quickly.

“So you get New Moon, Jess,” Nick said. “Don’t worry. He needs love and care and time more than anything else. More than expert riding. You’ll do fine.”

They all did fine the next day. Tom was delighted with Cinnamon’s floaty even strides and effortless rhythmic jumping. Copper Penny was as responsive and eager as Rosie had hoped. Alex hit it off right away with Sassy Spunk, or Spunky Sass—they mixed the names interchangeably. True, he had no training, but Nick showed Alex how to quietly ask for a halt and turn, ease him into a slow trot and get him to engage his hindquarters to bring his hind legs under him. 

Jess did the same thing with New Moon, as Tom cantered near them on even buoyant strides.

The others stopped to watch and admire.

“Wow, Nick, how did you know to pick him?” Charlie asked.

“I liked his looks. I was hoping he was 14.2 hands tall instead of 14.3, so he’d be a large pony instead of a small horse. I took a quick ride on him. Actually I rode all of them. But that short ride convinced me to take him even if he was an inch too tall.”

“Why is he too tall, Nick?” queried Kate. “Isn’t it good to have him bigger?”

“Only junior riders, those are kids 16 years and under, can show ponies. In pony classes the jumps are lower and the judging is not so stringent. Ponies have choppier strides—so that floaty fellow would really stand out for some 14 year old junior. A 14.2 hand pony is the highest in demand of any size animal—large enough to jump well, but still able to go in pony classes.”

“Oh, I see,” said Kate. “Will I really get to ride him?”

“You sure will,” said Nick. “Tom won’t be the only one training him. He also has Chancy to ride. I expect all of you to ride all of them. It will be good for both you and the ponies.”

“Nick, can I put Sassy Spunk over a low jump or two? I think he can do it,” asked Alex.

“Oh no, no jumping yet, not for any of these guys, only for Cinanamon. We’ll teach them the basics first, build a solid foundation—their new owners can teach them the fun stuff.”

“It’s all fun stuff for me,” Rosie said happily from Copper Penny’s back.

And it was. Every day after school before dark, the young people took the ponies out. Not only did they practice halts, half halts, backing, turns, and yielding to the bit, but they went on trail rides, put on rain slickers, rode past barking dogs, and stepped through cavelletti.

In some lessons, they never even rode. They led their ponies and taught them to stand square at a halt, nudging their legs forward until they were correct. They taught them to move away from gentle pressure, and lower their heads without resisting. They taught them voice commands from the lungeline. And it was all fun.


----------



## knightrider

By Friday, Nick pronounced them ready for their first foxhunt—not galloping and jumping with the hunt field, but hilltopping—watching the hunt from a distance and walking and trotting from hill top to hill top. The lucky four couldn’t wait.

Phoebe was not excited about her second foxhunt. She realized the Colt Creek Hunt Club was a far cry from the elegant hunts she had seen on TV. Jasper was hopeless as a huntsman and the hounds too inexperienced without a competent leader. But she hadn’t reckoned on Camilla’s persuasion.

Camilla was the unofficial leader of the riders at her father’s stable. She rode a beautiful palomino showhorse named Apollo. Camilla was used to having her own way, and the other girls and boys knew better than to cross her. Although she could be imperious at times, Camilla was usually a lot of fun. She was truly an excellent rider, and if she had a sharp tongue, she also was honest. She was brave and bold, full of jokes and tricks, and usually was pretty friendly to everyone. She had a bit of a dark side, but the boys and girls of Rychester were aware of it and forgave her for it. If she liked to be the leader, they, for the most part, enjoyed her leadership.

In this case, Camilla’s leadership included insisting her father improve his ability as a huntsman. The second Saturday of cubbing season for Colt Creek Hunt Club included a paid real huntsman who rode alongside Jasper.

This time when the children were mounted and gathered around Mrs. Hartlington, the huntsmen and whippers in had the hounds nicely collected.

Camilla turned around in her saddle. “What is that” she sneered as the four Sandy Lane riders approached on their project ponies. “Whose idea was it to let THEM come?”
Mrs. Hartlington gave Camilla a steely look. “It was MY idea,” she replied coldly.

Camilla snapped her mouth shut, but her eyes glared.

Mrs. Hartlington welcomed the Sandy Lane riders to the group, introduced them, and kindly mentioned that the four ponies were for sale, if anyone in the hunt field was looking for a quality children’s pony. “I’ve known Nick Brooks for a long time,” she added, “and I know he sells only quality stock. He’ll stand by his animals. If for any reason, you’re not happy, he’ll take them back . . . but no one ever does,” she added.

“That’s because no one would want a raggy shaggy animal like that,” Camilla sneered softly. Her chums around her grinned.

As the horses fell in behind the hounds, Camilla sidled up to Rosie. “I guess Nick got those ponies from the kill buyers, didn’t he? They look like somebody’s rejects.”

Rosie looked at her in shock and dismay, at a loss for words.

Tom grinned at Camilla. “Actually I think only Spunky here was slated for the killers. I think New Moon and Copper Penny were range ponies trucked in from Wyoming. And my fellow, well, he’s just a mystery.” He gave Camilla a disarming smile.

She tried to give him a withering glance and failed. Tom’s infectious good humor was just too hard to resist.

Phoebe watched the interchange. She remembered Jess, who had kept her beautiful Skylark at Rychester Stable when she had won him in a contest. Phoebe had liked Jess. They all had. Even Camilla had been nice to her, and they had had some fun wild rides, until their instructor Martin Jennings had pushed her too hard, too fast, too far, and they all had learned of Jasper Carlisle’s illegal business practices. Jess had demanded permission to move her pony, and under the circumstances, Jasper had been unable to deny permission. Jess had left Rychester. They all missed her, even Camilla. Phoebe looked forward to renewing their friendship.

“Hey, Jess,” Phoebe said softly. “I love your pony. What’s his name?”

“Hi, Phoebe. How are you? His name is New Moon.”

“Wow, he’s pretty.”

“Yes, but very untrained. I hope I’m a good enough rider to teach him what he needs to learn.”

Camilla interrupted them rudely. “You don’t train a horse in the hunt field,” she snapped. You buy a finished hunter. It’s neither safe nor courteous to the other members of the hunt.”

Jess flushed scarlet and exchanged glances with Phoebe. They both knew about Camilla’s barbed remarks.

Phoebe said, even more softly, “I think he’s gorgeous.”

Jess smiled her thanks.

Soon after that interchange, the hilltoppers split off from the main hunt. They did not need to be so careful or quiet, as they were usually far from the action of the hunt.

For a moment, Phoebe longed to join the Sandy Lane crew. They looked like they were having so much fun, laughing and joking with each other. But, she reminded herself, Camilla was usually fun too, if you overlooked her unnecessary jibes, and almost everyone did. Besides, this foxhunt promised to be a real foxhunt. And it was.

Not long after the hilltoppers split up, the hounds got up a fox, charging off in full cry, “Ah oooo. Ah oooo,” they bellowed and suddenly the riders leaped forward into a fast gallop. Over a wooden coop covering a barbed wire fence, then a low stone wall into a creek—out of the creek through the mud and over a post and rail fence. Whew! No wonder hunters had to be handy, she thought. This is tricky riding! Branches slapped Phoebe in the face. Catbriers clawed at her new hunt coat. But it was exciting. No wonder people loved to foxhunt. 

They came to a check. The horses were to stand quietly while the hounds cast about to find the scent. Then they were off again, galloping gamely through a plowed field. No wonder hunters have to be sturdy. Phoebe wondered if her slim Top Tipperary would injure a leg, riding so fast on the uneven ground. Then suddenly another halt, horses blowing, their sides heaving. Mrs. Hartlington knew just where to look.

“Tally ho!” she whispered excitedly, whipping off her hunt cap and pointing with it.

One glance at the fox told Phoebe it was all a merry game for him. She could almost see him chortling as he pranced across a rushing stream. Back and forth he crossed four times with jaunty flicks of his bushy red tail.

“Oh,” the people in the hunt field sighed. For most of them, it was their first view of a fox in the wild. He was beautiful, shining glossy red, with a black edged tail. The tip of his tail looked for all the world as if it had been dipped in white paint. Adorable black tipped ears and a long black muzzle completed his face. He was utterly self possessed, utterly at ease with the hunt. With a final farewell flick of his white tipped tail, he glanced over his shoulder, and Phoebe could have sworn he gave them a wink. Then he disappeared into the woods.

Fifteen minutes later, the hounds came galumphing down the trail, speaking in hot pursuit. Stymied at the stream, they crossed and recrossed, bellowing and leaping in excitement, getting in each others’ way, panting, hot on the scent, but unable to follow Reynard’s confusing trail. They were so frustrated, they were laughable.

Finally, the master took pity on them; sure the fox had had plenty of time to get well away, he showed the huntsmen where the fox had gone. In a trice, they were off again, galloping madly across the country, leaping ditches, fences and walls. It was glorious, exhilarating, terrifying.

Another check. Another view of the fox. He was tired now, and not so jaunty. Mrs. Hartlington said he had a den nearby and would go to ground soon. He did.

The master called the staff together.

“Should we ride south and see if we can get up another fox?”

“I’m game,” said a teenage boy acting as a whip.

“It’s getting on towards noon now. Scenting conditions are deteriorating,” warned an older whip.

“Yeah, it’s these guys’ first time ever working as a true pack,” the hired huntsman said. “Let’s call it a day while things have gone so well.”

Jasper, his face gray with exhaustion, looked relieved. He had an ugly briar scratch down alongside his eye. There was a lot more to this foxhunting than he had thought. It wasn’t as easy as it looked.

The riders from the hunt field gathered in happy exhilaration.

“Wasn’t it grand?”

“Did you see my horse stumble and peck after that 3 ½ foot coop? I thought I was a gonner for sure.”

“Wasn’t the fox adorable?”

“I never knew foxes were so pretty.”

“It was cool to see him fooling the hounds like that.”

Everyone was invited to the hunt “breakfast” at Mrs. Hartlington’s house. Phoebe watched with a twinge of envy as the Sandy Lane riders entertained each other so easily. Camilla was fun, but somehow it was never easy.

Jess caught Phoebe’s glance and grinned. “Hey, I’ll bet it was exciting to ride in the hunt field. You had quite a run, didn’t you?”

Phoebe eased over to her. “I’ll say. I have to admit, I was scared a couple of times. I wasn’t sure Top Tipperary’s legs would be OK in that plowed field.”

“Oh, we didn’t see that,” Jess said with interest. “Tell me about it.”

“We were in a full gallop when we jumped into a plowed field and raced across it. I could just imagine Tip putting a foot wrong and wrenching his leg badly. It made me realize how important it is to have a sturdy horse for a field hunter. Tip is probably not the best horse for this foxhunting.”

“Well, he did it this time. He might surprise you,” Jess said encouragingly.

“Now I realize what good choices Nick made when he chose those four ponies for foxhunting. I think both you and them will stay safe and sound.”

“I think you’re right. In a week or two, we’ll find out.”

“How did they do hilltopping?”

“They were all fine. I think next week or the week after Nick will let us ride with the field.”

“There are often ways around the jumps.”

“Yes, Nick said that. I think he’s going to find someone to ride with us and show us how to get around the jumps.”

“Everyone is so nice in this new club, aren’t they?” mused Phoebe.

Jess began to agree with her when she saw Camilla and her group saunter up to the Sandy Lane riders.

“Hey, guys, how’s it going?”

Jess wondered if she wanted to make up.

“Say, Jess,” she drawled, “Where’d you get that hunt coat? Looks like it came from Good Will.”

Jess flushed. She wasn’t expecting the unkind jab.

Tom gave Camilla an engaging grin. “No, actually I believe that one came from Salvation Army. It is mine that came from Good Will. And Rosie’s came from Mrs. Hartlington’s daughter. Alex’s belonged to Sarah, our stable owner’s wife, way back when. I guess they are unisex, aren’t they? Doesn’t matter. We’ll swap ‘em all around anyhow.”

Camilla simply looked at him. Now it was she who was at a loss for words.

“Say, Camilla,” Tom continued. “I really like your horse. He’s a thoroughbred, isn’t he? Jess told me he has breeding back to Man O’ War.”

“Well . . . well, yes, he does.” Camilla wasn’t used to having other people take the initiative in social situations. She expected to manage the conversations.

“I’ll bet he’s fast,” Tom enthused. “He’s got the build for it. Is he fun to ride?”

“He’s a little rough,” Camilla confided. “He’s exciting and he loves to jump. Sometimes he doesn’t want to rate before a fence.”

“Like my Chancy. Now, Chancy’s smooth, but he doesn’t always want to listen. You know I’ve read that horses that are higher in the hind end than the front are fast, but rough. And horses that are higher in the front are smooth riding, but slow. Have you found that to be true?”

Soon the young people were all happily talking together, deciding whose horse was rump high and whose horse was smooth . . . or fast . . . or both.

On the way home in the van, Rosie said to Jess, “Now I am beginning to see why you stayed at Rychester Stable that spring. I couldn’t understand what you saw in that crowd. But they were fun. They listened to us and were nice.”

“They can be nice. Sometimes I think Camilla wants to be nice. Maybe she just doesn’t know how.”


----------



## QtrBel

Forget about the Sandy Lane series. Change the names and locations, the specific details that would tie it to that series and go out on your own. See how it does and start your own series. There are so many options out there for publishing. I think it'd do well. We have so many horse crazy readers here that I think it'd be snapped up. I'd buy and donate copies to our library.


----------



## knightrider

Thank you @QtrBel. You have inspired me to give it a try. It's hard to eliminate characters after 7 books in a series because you come to love them. How can I not include Charlie or Rosie? It would be like taking Ron Weasley out of Harry Potter. I still am unhappy that Dumbledore was killed. 

But I think I'm far enough away in time to get over losing a couple of characters and horses. I have no problem changing the names and places. I just hate losing the personalities. They are all well defined and add to the story. Phoebe is my own creation.


----------



## knightrider

On Sunday, Nick called them together to choose new riders for the week. Kate and Charlie hadn’t gotten to go, so he let them choose first. Kate chose Copper Penny and Charlie chose Cinnamon Skin. Then Nick pulled out Rosie’s name from the hunt cap. She chose New Moon, now nicknamed Ud, and Alex got another chance with Sassy Spunk. All the riders were pleased with their assignments. The ponies got Sunday off while Alex, Jess, and Tom rode their own ponies. The others helped Nick cleaning tack, sweeping, and getting ponies ready for the Sunday trail rides going out.

On Monday, the four riders did ground work with their inexperienced charges. On Tuesday they took them on a trail ride with a group going out. The day was unseasonably warm, and the pony project riders were in high spirits. They rode along the coastal track past Bucknell woods. Charlie started a silly song and they all chimed in with fake voices.

“You sing the cat’s part,” Charlie directed Kate.

“You sing the cow’s part,” he told Rosie.

“I’ll sing like a robot.”

“I’ll be a chicken,” Alex howled.

The paying trailriders gave them funny looks, and Nick frowned at them, so they gave that up and began a goofy word game called Hinky Pink. At the cliffs over the sea, they calmed down, gazing at the gray rippled surface so far below them. It was a day for accomplishing something, jumping the moon, riding a fine pony along a beautiful trail.

When they got to Larkfield Copse, Alex convinced Nick that Sassy Spunk should be allowed to jump the low logs on the trail. Charlie took “Skin” over some higher fences and logs. Kate thought Copper Penny was ready for the low logs too, but she didn’t want to ask and be told how foolish she was. Nick didn’t mention the possibility, though Kate longed to try. Rosie thought New Moon wasn’t ready. Nick encouraged her to ride him quietly and firmly and often tell him how nice he was. Rosie was good at that. 

On Wednesday, the ponies got another day off to graze and relax, and on Thursday they had a real mounted lesson.

“Charlie, go easy on pushing Skin onto the bit,” Nick reminded him. “Alex, keep your legs out of Spunk. That’s better. You don’t need to wind him up. Rosie, don’t let Ud go to sleep on you—keep him moving. Don’t let him dog. Kate, ride with your seat—that will engage Copper’s hindquarters. There you go. Feel the difference?”

What wonderful ponies they were! Nick grinned with pride when the lesson was over. “You all are doing great work with these guys. I have high expectations.”

Friday was more ground work. The ponies were learning voice commands. When Alex had demonstrated he could stop Spunky easily, Nick told them they could ride with the regular hunt field the next day.

Charlie would be allowed to ride Cinnamon Skin over the jumps. The rest would go around them with the non jumping group.

“I hadn’t intended to let anyone jump,” Nick said, “But you and the ponies had other ideas, so I am trying it your way.”

By the third hunt, the members of the Colt Creek Hunt Club were getting into a routine. Jasper, with his paid helper, was able to manage the hounds more smoothly. The sky was sapphire, the trees a glorious gold, orange, red and yellow. The air was crisp and cool. They could see their horses’ breaths, and smell a tang of salt in the air with a hint of woodsmoke. Under the trees of Colt Creek Park, it was shady and a bit cold, but in the sun the riders enjoyed the warmth on their black hunt coats. There was nothing any of them would rather do than be in Colt Creek Park, gathered for a lively foxhunt.

Mrs. Hartlington called them around her. “This is our last cub hunt,” she told them. “Next week will be a formal hunt which means formal hunt attire. No windbreakers, no paddock boots, no hackamores. I know you young people are already in your formal hunt clothes and you look very nice.” She gave a pointed look to Camilla. “After today, we’ll be riding a little harder, a little faster, a little longer.”

Phoebe and Rosie exchanged looks that said, “Whoa!”

Mrs. Hartlington continued. “You all have ridden very well the last two weeks and followed good hunt manners. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of Nick’s four new charges who are riding in the field for the first time. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

They all grinned.

The whole world said, “autumn” as they crackled the leaves under their horses’ feet. Could there be anything more glorious than riding with a fun group on a good horse anticipating a grand adventure?

The four Sandy Lane riders stayed well in the back as they knew green untrained horses were supposed to do.

Phoebe and Camilla’s crew were closer to the master near the front.

As the horses’ hooves shushed through the carpet of fallen leaves, the master held up his hand. “Hark,” he said softly.

“Arrrr. Arrrr. Arooo,” they could hear the hounds’ music.

Charlie, Rosie, Alex, and Kate gathered their reins. This was it! In moments the group was off, galloping along the twisty tight trail. The ground was a maze of roots, the footing insecure. Could the novice ponies handle it?

Spunky bounded forward, almost slamming into Kate on Copper. New Moon began to canter in place, snorting and foaming, but Rosie steadied him with her quiet hands. Charlie surged along beside them until they came to the first jump, a low fence and ditch combination.

The non-jumpers pulled away with four other riders—two children on ponies and two elderly ladies.

“There’s a gate over here,” one white haired lady indicated, “if one of you children would dismount and open it.”

As Alex enthusiastically slid off, Rosie noted with surprise that the other two children on ponies were bareback. They wore men’s suit jackets instead of hunt coats and their hunt caps were faded to gray with the velvet worn away in patches. What plucky kids they were! She thought. And sent warm good wishes to Mrs. Hartlington who had no doubt invited them.

Alex re-latched the gate and hopped along with one foot in the stirrup, desperately trying to climb back on a frantic Sassy Spunk, who had no intention of standing still after that grand fast gallop. At last one of the white haired ladies on her bombproof hunter grabbed Spunk’s bridle and Alex scrambled on.

The three non-jumpers from Sandy Lane were relieved to find that the ladies knew exactly which direction to go to meet up with the field again. After another good gallop alongside a cornfield, they were back together with the group.

At the next check, the master said that the hounds were far enough away that the field could talk. Riders broke out flasks from their saddle cases and pockets—Schnapps for the grown-ups, lemonade for the kids, and sandwiches. Camilla and her crew were bunched together talking softly, but the Sandy Lane riders didn’t think anything of it.

“Say, Charlie, how was the jumping?” Alex asked, envy in his voice.

“It was great. The jumps aren’t very big. There are coops in lower places on some of those high fences. Cinnie is going like a trooper. Looks like you have your hands full.”

Spunky was snorting and plunging. “Oh, Sassy’s all right,” Alex replied, pretending his antics didn’t worry him.

“How about our Ugly Duckling and Copper Penny? Doin’ OK?”

“Yes, OK. Wow, this is real riding, isn’t it?” Kate said. “No counting strides here. You just hold on tight and go.”

“You got that right,” Charlie laughed.

After a good long wait, when Spunky and Ud were starting to bounce and rear, suddenly they were off again. This time Rosie realized the Rychester riders happened to be mixed in with the Sandy Lane ponies. She wondered why they weren’t near the front where they liked to be.

They came to an open hayfield and the riders spread out, all at a fast hard gallop. Rosie realized she was surrounded by Rychester horses, boxing her in. They had gotten some ways behind the rest of the field and now they were rushing her and New Moon faster and faster. They were heading straight for a huge coop and she could not pull away. The boy on her left grinned nastily at her and nodded towards the big jump. Before she could decide how to pull New Moon off the jump, the coop was upon her—they were up and over, New Moon jumping as if he had been doing it for years. Then they were in the woods, on another twisty root filled trail, but this one full of log jumps. Ud jumped each one as they came flying at him. Rosie began to grin herself. Well, those Rychester kids were trying to upset and show up our Ugly Duckling, she thought, but he showed them! Wait till I tell Nick how Uddy jumps! She wondered if they had done the same trick to little Kate, and hoped fervently they couldn’t be so wicked.

Well, they hadn’t scared her, and Ud was loving it, so there! When the run finally ended at the edge of a soybean field, horses blowing, riders wiping their faces, Rosie rode away from them without a backward glance.

“What happened to you?” queried Alex and Kate as she rode up to them.

“Oh, those Rychester kids,” Rosie fumed. “They boxed me in thinking they could make Ud mess up, or me fall off or something. They wouldn’t move or let me pull out.”

“I saw you take off with them. I thought you were doing a dare!” Alex cried.

“What, me? Jess maybe, but you know I wouldn’t do that. Nick said no jumping. I wouldn’t disobey him. Didn’t Uddy do good? I’m so proud of him, I could burst.”

They all looked at New Moon. His head was up, his ears pricked. He was different. He knew what he had done was new and hard and he’d done it well. He looked positively regal.

“Look at him!” Charlie crowed. “He’s a different horse.”

“They thought they could mess us up. Instead they did us a huge favor!” Rosie cried. She looked over at the Rychester group. They seemed rather quiet, especially Phoebe, who would not meet her eyes. “I thought maybe we could be friends, but I guess not,” Rosie said loudly enough for them to hear.


----------



## knightrider

Later, after the hunt, at the “breakfast”, Rosie avoided the Rychester riders. They had had such fun the week before. Why would they do such a thing? Forcing an untrained horse at a 3 ½ foot jump! She could have been badly hurt if New Moon had slammed into it. She smiled to herself. Somehow Nick had recognized quality in their Ugly Duckling, quality the horse didn’t even recognize in himself. What would Nick say when he heard? She saw Phoebe glancing at her from the corners of her eyes. Could Phoebe be part of it? Rosie couldn’t believe it. Phoebe liked Uddy. She wouldn’t have risked hurting him. Rosie remembered how Phoebe had worried about Top Tipperary’s legs in the plowed field.

Without thinking through what she was doing, Rosie marched over to Phoebe. Jess would have, and since Jess wasn’t there, she’d have to try. “Phoebe, why did the Rychester riders box me in and force me to jump?” Rosie’s voice was tight.

Oh, Phoebe thought, thank goodness Rosie didn’t see me there. “They did?” Phoebe acted surprised. “I didn’t know,” she lied.

“Where were you?” Rosie asked.

Another lie. “I was further back. I thought I could go slower in the back. Turns out the riders in the back go faster.”

“Yeah,” Rosie said, “Like crack the whip.” But Rosie was not to be deterred. “Did you know Camilla was going to cook up that scheme?”

“No,” Phoebe lied again. But she couldn’t look Rosie in the eye. Why hadn’t she spoken up when Camilla suggested the stunt? Camilla called it a game. Phoebe supposed she rationalized that Rosie was a good rider and New Moon a fine horse. It would just be funny. She hated herself for going along with it. What if Uddy had been badly hurt? Or Rosie? It was a cruel foolish stupid thing to do, and she had gone along with it. If only she could stand up to Camilla.

Suddenly Phoebe made a decision. She would ask her parents that very day to move Tippy to Sandy Lane Stables. She wouldn’t be missed at Rychester. Nobody was close friends with her or looked for her there. Well, Camilla was nice most of the time, but only as long as Phoebe went along with her plans. The boys who rode there pretty much ignored her. Tom, Charlie, and Alex were so friendly. And Jess and Rosie and Kate were great. Would her parents let her move Tippy? Suddenly she felt she just had to get away from Rychester.

“Say, Rosie,” she said, “When do you train the four ponies?”

“After school around 4:00 every day,” Rosie answered. “Want to come over? It would be fun to have you there.”

Phoebe almost cringed with guilt. She had wronged Rosie dreadfully, but she wouldn’t again. She’d be worthy of her friendship. She really would.

That evening when all the hunt things were put away and Phoebe’s hunt coat hung on the hall closet door awaiting the dry cleaner’s, Phoebe approached her mom and dad. They were relaxing by the fire in the fireplace of the family room. There couldn’t have been a better time. Phoebe flopped down in the beanbag chair at their feet.

“Fox hunting sure was fun today,” she started off.

“Glad to hear it,” her mom said. “I know you were disappointed at first.”

“Oh, the Colt Creek Hunt staff got some practice and we are really hunting now. It’s very exciting. And Tippy’s the best. I am so glad you got him for me.”

“We’re glad you like him.” Her dad smiled at her.

This is going well, Phoebe thought. Now the tricky part. “I met some nice kids from Sandy Lane Stables,” she began. “I like the way they ride. I think I could learn from them.”

“Oh? How?” her father asked.

“Well, like horseshowing, I mean. They don’t take things so seriously, like they don’t have to win.”

“That’s nice.”

“I’d like to move Tippy to Sandy Lane. May I?” She held her breath.

“But, why, Phoebe?” her mother asked. “You’ve always enjoyed your friends at Rychester.”

“I just thought I’d learn more,” Phoebe said weakly. She knew better than to say it was more fun at Sandy Lane. Then her parents would say there was more to life than having fun.

“Phoebe, you know the Carlisles contribute more money to my hospital neonatal care wing than anyone else,” her mother expostulated. “I can’t imagine what would happen if you left Rychester. We could lose all our funding. All those little babies might die. Phoebe, we really can’t afford to alienate the Carlisles.”

“I don’t think they’d mind, Mom. They have plenty of boarders,” Phoebe coaxed, thinking how unimportant she felt in Camilla’s crowd. She couldn’t imagine being missed. On the other hand, she could well imagine how fun it would be at Sandy Lane, with everyone hoping the best for everyone else. Even if she never got to ride the project ponies, just watching the training was interesting, seeing the ponies get better every week.

“Sandy Lane’s a better fit for me,” she said lamely, knowing it sounded stupid.

“You may be right,” her mother agreed. “People change as they grow up. But unfortunately, there are very high stakes involved here. I’m sorry, Phoebes, but I just can’t take the chance of losing our funding. Tell you what—it’s not a far ride from Rychester. Why don’t you ride Tippy over there a couple of times a week and still enjoy your new friends?”

Oh wow, Phoebe thought sourly, Camilla will really go for that! She hates anything to do with Sandy Lane. On the other hand, she probably won’t even notice if I’m not part of her adoring crowd. “Yeah, Mom,” Phoebe said out loud, “yeah, why not?”

On Monday, Phoebe turned Top Tipperary’s head into Sandy Lane exactly at 4:00. Jess was riding Spunky Sass into the arena. Tom was already there on Cinnamon Skin. Kate was mounting Copper Penny, and Charlie had New Moon on the lungeline.

Nick was in the arena. “All right, since some of you have already started jumping, we’ll go on ahead and start that today after some flat work. Looks like the ponies are ready for it even if I was not.” He turned to face Phoebe. “Hello. Can I help you?” he said pleasantly.

“Hi.” Phoebe cleared her throat nervously. "I’m Phoebe Harris. Rosie invited me to come ride with her. We met at the foxhunt.”

Nick eyed Top Tipperary. “I don’t think you’re in the same league as these guys,” he laughed. “But you are more than welcome to hang out with us. Any friend of Rosie’s is a friend of ours.”

Phoebe flushed, remembering the dirty trick she had not stopped at the foxhunt. She hadn’t been a very good friend. But she would be.

They all circled the arena track to the left and Nick worked them hard on their getting their ponies to use themselves with balance, making even transitions and turns. Then Nick set up some poles on the ground and a low cross pole jump at the end. Everyone took turns heading into the cavelletti and small jump.

“I didn’t mean to horn in on your lesson,” Phoebe said uncomfortably. “I had just hoped to ride with Jess and Rosie.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Nick said. “You can inspire this motley crew with your experienced show horse.”

By now everyone knew that Sassy Spunk got too wound up and stopped listening when he got excited, that New Moon was a bit clumsy and off balance, that Copper Penny needed lots of work in collecting herself and moving nicely, and that Cinnamon Skin needed to be settled and learn to anticipate the riders’ cues.

By the end of the lesson, the horses and riders had improved so well, Nick suggested a short trail ride through Bucknell Woods where there were a series of low log jumps. Everyone headed out, teasing and laughing. Phoebe noticed no one was trying to show anyone up. They all knew Tom on Cinnamon Skin was the best rider and best horse, but they did not treat him with any special deference, nor did he lord it over anyone else. They all cheered each other over the low jumps, clapping when Copper Penny refused twice, and then bounced over her first log. By the sixth log, she was gathering herself and jumping—awkwardly, too big, in too close, but willingly sailing over the obstacles with the others. At the end of the jump trail, Phoebe reluctantly said goodbye. She hadn’t had so much fun since she’d gotten Tippy. They hadn’t galloped or jumped four foot fences like Camilla liked to do. Yet somehow Phoebe felt more excited and exhilarated than she ever had in her life.

I belong there, she thought. I never really belonged at Rychester. At Sandy Lane, I fit in already. Well, Mom’s idea should be OK. This is fun.

As she rode Tippy through the shadowy twilight, Phoebe enjoyed the woods turning dark and darker. An owl hooted and whooshed past her. It was spooky and fun in an exciting kind of way, just her and Tippy watching the night come down. She’d never really felt close to Tippy before. He was her horse, she loved him, but until this ride, she had never thought of him as her friend. That was it! At Sandy Lane, the young people thought of all the horses as their friends. They were partners, working together, horse and rider teams, listening and learning from each other. Phoebe realized she’d always wanted that, though she’d never known it even existed. I’ll just have to go riding with them lots, she told herself. I don’t suppose Camilla will even miss me or care.


----------



## knightrider

On Wednesday, Phoebe went back to Sandy Lane for a trail ride. It was spitting rain and gloomy and they all decided to do a bareback ride. Phoebe happily left her saddle in their tackroom and rode bareback with them.

“Hey, let’s try a bareback trot,” Charlie cried as they headed down the trail past Bucknell woods. 

Tom nudged Cinnamon into a trot without another word. As Tom bounced along in rhythm to Cinnamon’s trot, Charlie reached over and yanked on Tom’s jeans. In a second Tom was down on the soggy path, holding on to Skinny’s reins, with Charlie above him laughing. “Got ya!”

Tom’s eyes looked huge with surprise, plopped in the mud.

Jess started giggling and suddenly leaped on Pepper behind Rosie, turning Sassy loose. “What?” Rosie cried. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.!” Rosie tried to shove Jess off behind her, elbowing her backwards.

“Watch out!” cried Alex. “Sassy’s taking off!”

“Oh no! Nick will kill us!” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get him.” Alex chunked his heels into Puzzle and galloped through the trees to cut Sassy off at the turn. 

“Wow! Look at Alex!” cried Phoebe. “He’s going to catch him!” Alex leaned far over on Puzzle, his legs clamped around her bare back, his arm outstretched at a gallop.

“What a catch! One handed at a gallop!” they cheered. “Alex, you’re amazing. Where do you sign up for stunt riding?”

“Stunt riding?” hollered Kate. “Alex, the movie star! We got to do something with your hair!” she said in a lispy voice. She got to laughing so hard on her bouncing Copper Penny, she slid off into a mud puddle.

“Here,” said Rosie, who had ousted Jess off Pepper. “Give me your hand. I’ll pull you back up onto Copper. Their wet hands slipped, and instead Kate pulled Rosie into the mud. Everyone fell in a tangled heap, laughing.

“Oh, no, oh geez,” Jess howled. “Oh gosh, don’t look.”

“What? What?”

“I was laughing so hard, I wet myself. Don’t look.”

“How could we see anything? You’re already soaked!”

Jess looked down. She was coated with wet slop. “I guess I don’t need to hold it anymore, do I?”

And everyone hooted with laughter.

Tom quickly reached up to Charlie. “You started it all, now you’re getting yours.” He lunged at Charlie and swiped him off New Moon. Charlie landed with a squelchy ‘thunk’ that set everyone off again in peals of laughter.

When the dusk settled on Larkfield Copse, Phoebe reluctantly turned for home. “I’ve never had so much fun, or laughed so hard,” she thanked them.

“If Nick were here, we’d be in trouble,” Jess said. “But I don’t think it hurt the ponies’ training any, to be messed with.”

“No, they’re laughing too,” Phoebe agreed.

“Your saddle’s still in our tackroom,” reminded Rosie.

“I’ll get it on Friday, if I can come again,” Phoebe said.

“You can always come again. Besides, it’s raining for real now. You’d better head back.”

“See you Friday!” Phoebe called, heading into the darkening forest.

“See you Phoebe. It was great!”

“Take care.”

“See you soon.”

Phoebe sang to Tippy as they rode through the woods. Her heart was so light. She felt magical and special, bareback in the rain in the dark. It seemed as if anything could happen—she could find herself back in time with Robin Hood and Maid Marion, or stumble upon Camelot. She could ride into a puddle and discover the lost city of Atlantis where she had become a mermaid and Tippy a seahorse. She could meet a leprechaun who would show her his pot of gold.

She rode into the lighted stableyard of Rychester still in her dream world.
“Where have you been?” Camilla said in her strident voice. “Your mother’s been waiting for you. Where’s your saddle?”

“I . . . I decided to go for a ride bareback,” Phoebe stuttered.

“You never ride bareback. And your saddle’s not in the tackroom. Where were you? Where’s your saddle?”

Suddenly Phoebe was furious with Camilla. She’d just had the goofiest, silliest, most memorable ride in her life. How dare Camilla spoil it when she could care less if Phoebe was with her or not? “Camilla, I don’t need your permission to ride my own horse if I want to. I was out riding. I have a horse. I enjoy riding him. I don’t have to wait to ride with you if I want to go riding.”

Camilla turned away quickly and Phoebe was instantly sorry she’d been so rude. “Wait, Camilla. That didn’t sound right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Your mother’s worried sick. It’s been pitch dark for 20 minutes,” Camilla replied.

“I was just having so much fun, riding by myself . . .”

“You never ride by yourself. And where’s your saddle?”

Phoebe didn’t answer. She hurried off to find her mother. She knew how Camilla felt about Sandy Lane Stables.

“So sorry, Mom. I never meant to worry you. I lost track of the time,” she said as she rode up to her mother.

“Phoebe, it’s pouring rain. I’ve been worried out of my mind. It’s pitch dark. What were you doing?”

“Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry. I rode over to Sandy Lane and we went for a bareback trail ride. And Charlie pulled Tom off and Jess fell in a puddle and wet herself and Sassy ran off and we laughed and laughed. I never had so much fun. And on the ride home, it was so mysterious and magical and I loved Tippy so, and . . . and . . . I never meant to stay out so late.”

“You’re soaked.”

“I know. I’ll put Tippy away. I won’t be long. It was just the best ride of my whole life.”

“I suppose I can’t be too mad since I encouraged you to ride over there.”

“No, but I won’t make you wait again. I hope to do lots and LOTS of rides at Sandy Lane.”

All the way home, Phoebe chattered about the fun they’d had, how surprised the ponies were when everyone was falling off, how skillful Alex was to grab Sassy’s rein at a canter.
“It was a good idea you had, Mom,” Phoebe said generously. “I think I’ll invite Camilla, Allison, and Lucy to go with me on Friday.” She thought Camilla wouldn’t be so suspicious if she was enjoying the fun herself. And a little Sandy Lane camaraderie would sure help if it rubbed off on Camilla.


----------



## knightrider

On Friday, Phoebe invited the three friends to Sandy Lane to ride. At first Camilla refused, saying the others wouldn’t enjoy the tame kind of riding they did at Sandy Lane, but when Phoebe told them of Alex’s daring catch and Tom’s A rated showhorse, Lucy and Allison acted interested. Quickly, Camilla agreed to go, almost as if she were afraid the others would go without her.

As they rode into the stableyard, there were happy greetings from all the regulars.

“Wow, Phoebe, you brought reinforcements.”

“Hi, Camilla, hi Lucy and Allison.”

Tom looked at Camilla and said softly, “Wow is right.”

Phoebe was shocked to see Camilla blush and fumble with her reins.

In a minute Phoebe had retrieved her saddle and was ready to ride.

“Come on guys. We’re doing the Bucknell Woods ride over the log jumps and then around Sandy Bay.”

The Rychester girls mingled with the Sandy Lane crew and in minutes they were talking and laughing together. Phoebe grinned. This was better than her wildest dreams. Tom was riding Chancey next to Camilla, talking earnestly to her, while she looked—could it be? Demure. Nothing was said about the dirty trick they had played on Rosie. Charlie on New Moon was bragging about how much confidence the pony had gotten from the last foxhunt. It had done for him what hours of training had not.

“We owe it all to our Rosie here, for handling him so skillfully in a tight situation,” Charlie said, staring at Camilla.

Camilla was oblivious to anyone else’s words, and Lucy and Allison ignored him.

They warmed up at a trot along the dirt trail to the woods, then headed over the logs, one after the other. Spunky Sass got excited and tried to rocket past Tom and Camilla in the lead, but Jess turned him into the trees, barely avoiding a low hanging branch. She fell back in line behind Cinnamon Skin, now being ridden by Rosie. Jess barely kept him contained as “Skinny” jumped effortlessly over each log. Copper Penny was still rushing, popping, and getting in too close, but seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

After the fun gallop, they pulled up to grin at each other. Suddenly Charlie began to jerk and tumble around wildly in the saddle, twisting and gyrating.

“What the . . .” the Rychester riders wondered.

Alex was doubled over with laughter. Charlie reached down his shirt and pulled out a rubber frog.

“When did you put that down my shirt?” he demanded.

“Paybacks! Paybacks!” Alex howled. “That’s for last Friday when you switched my stirrups. I found myself out on the trail trying to fit my feet in toddler stirrups.”

“If you were ready on time, you’d have known your stirrups were wrong. I just wanted to teach you a lesson.” Charlie tossed the frog at Alex, who ducked and it hit Jess by accident. Quick as a bat, she dropped it down Tom’s back. He wiggled and squirmed, then grinned happily as Camilla reached down his shirt and pulled it out.

“I’ll just keep this,” she leered diabolically, “and put it to use when no one is thinking about it.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Tom cried.

Again she blushed and studied her hands.

Too soon, the Rychester girls were heading back to their stable, still laughing about the fun they’d had. Suddenly Camilla shook off her reserved mood.

“Well, that was sure a potty ride,” she said quickly. “Race you to the pig farm lane.” And she was off, galloping madly.


----------



## JoBlueQuarter

This is seriously good writing, @knightrider!! You're very talented and you really ought to do your own series! I'm sure your original writing will get a very good response! You might be famous yet! ;-)


----------



## knightrider

You are too kind @JoBlueQuarter. I am so pleased that you like it! Thank you!


----------



## knightrider

On Saturday’s hunt, Phoebe’s only concern was Kate on Copper Penny. Camilla didn’t seem interested in making trouble for Tom or Charlie, and Jess was almost as gritty a rider as Camilla herself. On Spunky Sass, there was hardly a match for Jess in the hunt field for a forward moving, bold way of going. Nick had told Kate she could only jump Copper Penny over the lowest brush and logs, none of the 3 or 3 ½ foot coops or stone walls. Charlie was to use his best judgment on New Moon—jump if he thought Ud was ready, go around if there was even a moment’s problem. Phoebe rode close to Kate for the entire hunt, even giving up the jumps to ride in the non-jumping field with Kate. She wanted to make sure Camilla didn’t try any tricks.

They had all hunted several times now and felt like experienced hands at it. At one check, they watched the hound pack surge in behind them and lose the scent. The hounds milled around in a tight bunch occasionally giving voice.

Suddenly everyone in the hunt field saw the fox pop up from the middle of the hound pack, leap blithely along the backs of the hounds, and dash off to freedom into the woods. The hounds were so startled and surprised, they didn’t even give chase for a minute. Then they exploded into full cry. After him! But the wily old fox had gone to ground.

After another breathless dash, they gave it up and went to enjoy the hunt “breakfast.”

Phoebe noticed Camilla and Tom were soon in conversation together and the Rychester riders mingled happily with the Sandy Lane crew.

Big whew, Phoebe thought. Mom’s idea was a fine one. I can ride at Sandy Lane when I want and still have fun at Rychester.


----------



## knightrider

“Isn’t foxhunting grand?” Phoebe greeted Kate, Rosie, and Jess as she met them to ride on Wednesday.

“The best ever!” enthused Jess.

“I like it better than horseshowing,” Kate agreed.

“Speaking of horseshowing, are you going to show Tippy at Ash Hill in two weeks? We’re taking the four ponies for their first show. We have to give up the foxhunt, but Nick will be able to get more than a thousand dollars more for each pony if they have show experience,” said Kate.

“But he’s going to advertise them at the show,” Rosie said glumly. “If they do well, he might even sell one or two of them right there.”

Jess added, “Remember someone offered to buy Alex’s Puzzle for $3,000 at a show.”

“Yes, I remember someone offered to buy Storm Cloud once too at a show,” added Kate.

“Nick told us over and over we were going to sell them and not to get attached,” Jess patted New Moon lovingly. “It’s hard not to when we’ve worked so hard with them and they’ve done so well.”

“What classes are you going to ride them in?” Phoebe asked.

“Oh, everything I guess. I’m sure Skinny will go in all the hunter classes and probably win champion if he doesn’t blow a lead or break gait. He still can get pretty silly when he gets excited.” Rosie said.

“Nick is having Alex ride Sassy in all the games. Nick isn’t real happy about gaming him, because what Sass needs is slow quiet work, but to sell ponies, they need to be winning ponies, and Sass will clean up at the games.”

“I hope nobody buys Uddy,” Phoebe found herself saying.

“Why?” the girls asked her.

“Oh, I don’t know, he’s just so beautiful.”

“Don’t worry. Clumsy old thing. He won’t win and nobody will want him,” Jess said. “Only we know his true worth.”

Rychester owned two horse vans and Jasper sent one group to Ash Hill and another group to the foxhunt. Phoebe decided to take Top Tipperary to the show. She was anxious to see how the Sandy Lane ponies did. And, after all, Top Tipperary was a show horse, not a fox hunter.
She pored over the prize list the night before the show. Tippy had a good chance to win in Hunter Hack, Handy Hunter, Hunter Over Fences, and Hunter Under Saddle. Funny, Tip had always shown hunter and won her a wall full of ribbons and a shelf full of trophies, but until this winter, she hadn’t a clue as to what a real hunter did. Now that she did know, she realized that Tippy wasn’t that good of a real hunter. His legs were too slim, his feet too delicate. He waited for Phoebe to cue him for jumps, and he didn’t care for water or mud. He wasn’t very sure footed in rough terrain. But the Sandy Lane ponies were good hunters, especially Spunky, who might not even show in the hunter classes. Spunky was probably the best foxhunter of the four—well, maybe Copper Penny would be as good someday, though she wasn’t a natural jumper.

Phoebe didn’t have to worry about spoiling Sandy Lane’s chances for winning. They’d be riding in maiden classes, for ponies that had never won a ribbon in a horseshow, or novice classes, for ponies that had never won a blue ribbon.


----------



## knightrider

When they met at Ash Hill, Phoebe did a doubletake to see the ponies all elegantly braided and turned out. Spunky’s white patches were dazzling and New Moon was jet black.

“So, have you decided what classes you’ll enter?” Phoebe asked.

“Kate’s got Penny in Children’s Hack and Children’s Pleasure,” Jess said. “Then Rosie and I will trade off on her for Maiden Pleasure and Maiden Equitation. Nothing over fences for her. Oh, and thread reins in the afternoon.”

“Thread reins? What’s that?” Phoebe asked.

“They don’t use real thread. They usually use yarn, but you lay the reins on the horse’s neck and ride with pieces of yarn. The last person to break their yarn wins.”

“Sounds fun. Rychester never stays for the games, only the serious competition.”

“It is fun. In thread reins, it can get pretty competitive, asking the horses to jump, and go into a full gallop, and then a stop. Some horses are really good,” Jess said. “But we’ve been practicing and Copper is ready. We think she has a chance to do well. It’s a real selling point to advertise if she wins thread reins.”

“Tom is riding Skinny in everything—if he does well, that is. If he looks good in maiden, he’ll ride him in novice too,” Rosie added, “and Alex has got Sassy in trail class, maiden hunter over fences, handy hunter, and all the speed events in the afternoon. We’ll unbraid him and Alex will change into Western.”

“Gosh, I’ve never even tried Western. Is it fun?” Phoebe asked.

“Great fun,” Alex beamed. “I love this pony. We’ll be barrel racing, pole bending, keyhole, sack race, and flag race.”

“What about Uddy?” Phoebe felt a pang as she asked. What was it about that black horse that tugged at her heartstrings? Because he could be so good, but wasn’t? Like Phoebe herself maybe? All those ribbons and trophies were Tippy’s, not hers. Her parents had bought him for her, a finished showhorse with A rated championships already to his credit. Phoebe knew she was just a passenger on a flashy, well-trained horse. Camilla, on the other hand, was a true rider. She made Apollo look good, not the other way around.

Suddenly she realized Rosie and Jess had rattled off a list of classes New Moon had entered. “Sorry, what is he entered in?”

“Trail class, Maiden Park Hack, Maiden English Pleasure, and Equitation,” Jess said.

“Who’s riding him?”

Rosie and Jess looked at each other. “Nick hasn’t talked to you?”

“Nooooo, what’s up?”

They looked at each other again. “You knew Charlie went back to racing school for the winter trimester, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Well, Charlie’s gone.”

“So . . . what?”

“You didn’t hear it from us!” squealed Rosie.

“Me?”

“You want?”

“Would I ever!” She hesitated. “But, Rosie, I’m not a good rider.”

“What do you mean, not a good rider? You’re incredible.”

“No, Tippy’s incredible. I’m just along for the ride.”

“No, Phoebe, Tippy’s good, but it takes a real rider to do what you do with him. Do you think Nick hasn’t been watching you?”

Jess grabbed Rosie’s hand. “Rosie, we mustn’t say another thing. It’s all up to Nick.”

“I better go get Tippy warmed up for his classes,” Phoebe turned away.

“And find Nick, because Maiden classes are first, Phoebe.”

“And go find Nick” Phoebe repeated slowly. Nick thinks I’m good enough to ride Uddy in a show? Ride Uddy in a show! The only horse I’ve ever shown is Tippy. I’d better go find Nick. Her mind was in a whirl.

Nick came rushing up to her. “Phoebe! I’ve been looking for you. Would you like to show New Moon for us? I know he’s your favorite.”

“You do?” she said in confusion.

“Want to? Or would it distract you too much from Top Tipperary?”

“Oh, I’d love to ride Uddy in the show. I’d love to!” she cried. “But, Nick, I’m not a good rider.”

“Who told you that?”

“Well, everyone, I guess. I mean . . . Tippy wins, I don’t. And everyone at Rychester says . . . I mean I’ve never been asked to ride with their jumping team . . . and Camilla says that . . . well, you know she and Lucy and Allison ride so much better . . . “

“Is that what they tell you?”

“Well, kind of . . . I guess so.”

“Phoebe, does Top Tipperary go on the bit?”

“Yes, mostly, when I ask him.”

“How do you ask him?”

“Well, I sit a little deeper in the saddle, and press my legs on him a little, and feel him move up into my hands. And then he drops his head and relaxes and I know he’s on the bit.”

“And that is exactly what you do for New Moon. How long have you had Tippy?”

“Three years.”

“Phoebe, if you weren’t doing a fine job of riding him, he wouldn’t still be going on the bit for you as nicely as he did when you bought him.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“No, you have to do it right to keep it right. Ride Uddy as kindly and gently as you ride Tippy and you’ll do fine.”

“I’ve never ridden in a trail class.”

“Just memorize the pattern and watch the riders before you. Can you warm up on Uddy now? Your first class is in about an hour.”

“I . . . I guess so.”

“Great. And Phoebe, you don’t have to win. We aren’t expecting big wins with these ponies. Just let Uddy have the fun of participating. That’s all I ask.”

“All right.” Phoebe walked toward the Sandy Lane van in a daze. Let the horse have the fun of participating? What an odd thing to say. Jasper always used to send his riders off with, “And I want to see a trophy when you come out.” Could showing be fun for horses? Well, why not? If the rider was having fun and the horse was doing what it loved?

“You are riding New Moon, aren’t you?” Kate asked Phoebe as she undid his halter.

“I am, Kate, can you believe it? Do you think Tippy will see and be jealous? Most of Uddy’s classes are before his.”

“Just don’t let him see.”

Don’t let any of the Rychester crew see, thought Phoebe as she rode New Moon for the first time ever in an out of the way corner of the showgrounds. For some reason, she didn’t feel comfortable letting Camilla and her chums know she was riding New Moon as well as Top Tipperary in the show. Was it because Camilla would be jealous and wish she could ride him? She’d do a better job, Phoebe thought. But no, maybe not, because for some silly reason I love New Moon. I’ve never ridden him before, but I love him dearly. How totally silly. Camilla would think so.

“Uddy, you just tell me everything you think and I promise I’ll listen to everything you say,” she whispered to him. “I know you are beautifully put together and that means you are balanced. So there’s every reason for you to be a super mover.” She talked to him as they rode around and around in warm up circles. And with every circle, he pulled himself together a little more.


----------



## knightrider

Phoebe saw her parents strolling across the showgrounds and rode New Moon over to greet them.

“Tippy’s changed color!” her father exclaimed.

“No, Dad, this is New Moon. Nick, the riding master at Sandy Lane Stable, asked me to ride him in a couple of classes. It’s his first show and he’s still very green.”

“Looks black to me.”

“You know what I mean, Dad. Nick thinks I’m a good enough rider to get him to show his best.”

“Of course you’re a good enough rider. Look how well you ride Tippy.”

Phoebe hoped Tippy wasn’t fretting too much over at the Rychester van. Were the others wondering where she was? Her first class with New Moon was Maiden English Pleasure. Rosie and Copper Penny and Tom and Cinnamon Skin were in it with her. As they rode into the class, Nick reminded them again he wasn’t expecting ribbons, just let the horses get experience, and both kids and horses were to have fun. “And that’s my order.” He grinned at them. They all grinned back.

“Walk please, everyone walk,” the announcer said. And then, “That’s your class, judge.” Phoebe looked around at her competition. There were eight others in the class. If she could just do better than two horses, she might win 6th place. But she wasn’t here to win a ribbon; she was here to have fun and make sure Uddy had fun. She concentrated on getting him to walk out nicely, collected and balanced, a true pleasure to ride. Rosie on Copper Penny looked lovely. The announcer called for a trot. Tom surged forward with Cinnamon’s reaching strides. Phoebe saw the judge look at him and mark on her clipboard. She felt a thrill of pride. Skinny might do well even if she didn’t. At the canter, she saw Skinny take the wrong lead. Oh no. But Uddy was correct, and moving nicely, not too strung out. Reverse. Walk, trot, canter, line up. Copper Penny stood poised, calm, and listening. Hopefully she would win something. The speaker crackled. Penny had won 3rd, Uddy had won 6th! A ribbon in his very first class! Phoebe was delighted.

The Sandy Hill gang was jumping up and down and pounding them on their backs. Phoebe grinned as if she had won first place. She thought how different it would have been at Rychester, coming out of the ring with a 6th place out of 8 children. Jasper would have chewed her out for not winning first. They proudly displayed their 3rd and 6th ribbons on the van window, making a big fuss over the ponies. Tom didn’t seem let down for not winning. They all knew Cinnamon had problems with his leads sometimes. Better luck next time.
All the other pleasure classes were to run before Uddy’s Park Hack class. Phoebe tied him to the van and went to spend some time with Tippy.

Her parents were there chatting amicably with Camilla’s mother. Phoebe couldn’t imagine keeping her busy schedule a secret, but she didn’t feel the need to advertise it either. They watched Tom win 2nd place in the Novice Pleasure class. Then Camilla won 1st place in Open Pleasure, Allison won 3rd, and Tom won 6th in a class of 18. The ponies are on their way! Phoebe thought happily.

It was time to get back on New Moon for his Park Hack Maiden class. This time she was the only one from Sandy Lane in the class. Nick didn’t think any of the other ponies had Park Hack style. There were only 6 horses in the class, but Phoebe hoped she wouldn’t get 6th. Once again Uddy took his leads correctly and never broke gait. Phoebe asked him for more animation and more speed since it was Park Hack, and he gave it to her. She rode out of the arena with a shining yellow third place ribbon.

The Sandy Hill riders cheered her and thumped her proudly. “What a dandy fellow he is!” cried Tom. “You’ve done wonders with him.” Uddy seemed to know he’d done well, too. He liked the satin ribbon hanging from his browband. By now, Sandy Lane had a long row of ribbons on all the windows of the van. Phoebe looked at them with pride. Our little barely broken untrained ponies did that, she thought proudly.

Phoebe’s parents had watched her show New Moon in the Park Hack class and beamed with pride.

“You mean to tell me this horse was hardly broken just 6 weeks ago?” Mr. Harris asked.

“Yes,” Nick replied, “And hasn’t Phoebe shown him well?”

“Very well, indeed. Well done, Phoebes,” her dad said proudly.

Phoebe grinned. No one questioned her, “Why didn’t you get first?” Even a third was grand for the green horse. It was fun.


----------



## knightrider

Another visit with Top Tipperary as the other two Park Hack classes ran. Then it was time for the Equitation classes. Everyone wanted Kate to ride “their” pony in the 12 and under class. Nick decided on steady Copper Penny for Kate’s try. Equitation is judged on the rider, not the horse, but if the horse makes a mistake, the rider is usually penalized. Rychester didn’t have any 12 and unders showing and Sandy Lane had high hopes for Kate to win their first blue. No one complained when she rode out with a second place red rosette on Copper’s bridle.

Then Phoebe was back on New Moon for Open Equitation along with Tom as they had both won more than three blue ribbons on their own horses. Cinnamon Skin rode like a dream with no mistakes and Tom beat out Camilla winning first place, with her coming in second. Phoebe was pleased to win 4th. Tom grinned at Camilla as they rode out of the ring together. “Good ride, Cowgirl, good ride. It could have gone either way. I got lucky.”

She said graciously, “You have a better horse.”

“Well, he is a good one,” Tom said, “One in a million, actually.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she replied.

All the project ponies were in trail class. It was a huge class, 25 riders, and took forever to run. The children had to do things like cross a wooden bridge, halt at a jump standard to put on a raincoat, and back through an L. All the Sandy Hill riders did well, but Alex had especially high hopes for Spunky as he did everything perfectly. They all tried not to feel disappointed when no one won anything. A horse who got 3rd had backed into the L badly and had to start over. Sometimes it was hard to figure out why the judges picked who they picked.

So, New Moon was done. Phoebe untacked him lovingly with many pats and words of praise. He had done grand for his first show—never missed a lead and never broke gait.

Now it was time for the jumping classes and she turned her attention to Top Tipperary. The Rychester riders didn’t have much to say to her as she warmed up Tippy for his Hunter Under Saddle class. All the Rychester regulars were competing with her in the class. It would be hard to beat them. She wasn’t terribly surprised to come out with a third place.

In her Hunter Hack class, she did not place at all, though a girl whose horse took a wrong lead won a ribbon. Perhaps the judge hadn’t noticed, Phoebe thought. Still, Tippy had put in a flawless performance. So had Camilla, Lucy, and Allison, who did win.
In Hunter Over Fences, again Tippy took every jump in smooth even strides, yet she won nothing.

“Ask the judge why she didn’t pin you,” her father urged her. “It won’t hurt to ask.”

Phoebe got in line behind three other riders who were anxious to see their scores and learn what they needed to improve.
When Phoebe got to the judge, she put her hand on Phoebe’s arm. “Oh, darlin’,” she said. “You have such a nice pony. He never does a thing wrong, does he? Such a sweetheart. He’s a good old campaigner, isn’t he?”

Phoebe nodded.

“He’s a little off in his back legs. He’s just not quite sound. But such a grand fellow. I just couldn’t give you a ribbon for a lame horse.”

“Lame?” Phoebe croaked and her eyes filled with tears. “It’s my fault. I’ve been foxhunting him. I was afraid it would injure him. I never should have pushed him.”

“Foxhunting?” the judge said. “No, darlin’, foxhunting wouldn’t do that. What we’re looking at is just old age—a touch of arthritis. Were you hunting with the new Colt Creek Hunt?”

Phoebe nodded again.

“That tame little hunt wouldn’t hurt this sturdy good fellow. No, he’s just starting to show his age. Actually riding with Colt Creek Hunt is probably good for him. If you hadn’t hunted him, he’d be worse. Use it or lose it, you know. Give him a few weeks off, just some light walking. He’ll be all right, especially when the weather warms up.”

Phoebe fisted the tears from her eyes.

“Now don’t you cry, sweetheart. It’s nothing you did. He’s a good old boy and he’ll be all right.”

She rode back to her parents, still weepy. “He’s lame!” she wailed.

“Oh Phoebe.” Her mother enfolder her in a hug. “He’ll be all right, won’t he? Is it from the foxhunting?”

“The judge said not, but I can’t help but think I lamed him.”

“You mustn’t blame yourself. You did nothing wrong. You always took good care of him.”

Phoebe hadn’t always tried to ride him carefully. She remembered some foolish dares with Camilla. All her feelings came crashing in on her: her excitement at bringing out the best in New Moon, her recent discovery of being friends with her horse instead of just a trophy winner, her guilt at abandoning her new friend Tippy for the thrill of training New Moon, the inspiration of being told she was a good rider, and actually believing it herself—to the wonder if she had actually lamed her new/old friend were swirling around in her mind. Too much for one day.

Before the Rychester horses were loaded into the van, the others had won several more ribbons and championships. Camilla was Hunter Champion. Lucy had won Reserve Champion. Phoebe was pleased to hear Tom and Cinnamon Skin announced for Reserve Champion in the Pleasure Division, and she saw Alex accept a 4th place for Spunky in Maiden Hunter Over Fences.
On the drive home, the Rychester boys and girls discussed the show while Phoebe clutched her single yellow rosette, her heart heavy.

“Oh, Phoebes,” Camilla said tartly, “Cheer up. It’s not like it’s the end of the world. He’s just a little lame. Remember last year at Ash Hill? None of us won anything. We were terrible. You can’t expect to always win.”

“It’s not the not winning I mind. It’s . . . it’s Tippy being lame,” Phoebe said slowly.

“All horses go lame sometimes. He’ll get better.”

“I suppose . . . The judge said give him two weeks rest.”

“I guess you’ll go ride one of Nick’s ponies at Sandy Lane,” Camilla said, not unkindly.

“I guess,” Phoebe said quietly. “Charlie’s gone off to racing school.” But since I lamed my horse, why would they want me? She thought.


----------



## knightrider

When they got back to the barn, she made Tippy as comfortable as she could, then waited for her mother to pick her up. As soon as she got home, she called Kate to see how her brother Alex had done in the speed events.

“Sassy didn’t do well. He didn’t listen to Alex and turn when he should have,” Kate said. “Nick said not to mind. We hadn’t practiced with him. It was just an idea and it didn’t work. I know if we had practiced, Sass would have done great. But Nick wants to calm him down, not wind him up with speed events.”

“How did you do in the show?” Phoebe asked.

“Let’s see. I got a fifth with Copper Penny in Children’s Pleasure. And oh! Phoebe, I got 2nd in Thread Reins with her! And a 6th in Bareback Dollar!”

“That’s great, Kate.”

“I was so pleased. Copper Penny’s a lovely pony. We all adore her.” She sighed and Phoebe knew they were all sighing—knowing their lovely ponies would HAVE to be sold. “But how did you do with Tippy against Camilla and them?”

“Tippy’s lame.”

“Oh no, Phoebe. You can’t mean that.”

“Not very lame, but I had to pull him out of the show.”

“Oh, Phoebes, so sorry . . . but didn’t you do fine with Uddy? I think Nick will ask you to ride with us while Tippy recovers.”

“I don’t know. The judge told me to walk Tippy every day.”

“So you walk him down to Sandy Lane. I’ll ask Nick. I’m sure he’ll say yes.”

“I guess,” Phoebe said sadly.

“He’ll get better, Phoebe. Look how lame Storm Cloud was, and now she’s fine.”

Later that evening, Nick called Phoebe to thank her for riding New Moon, ask about Top Tipperary, and invite her to be one of the Sandy Hill pony project riders. She was touched. Certainly Jasper Carlisle would never have called her to ask about Tippy. Nick asked her to be there on Sunday when he pulled names out of the hat for next week. She said she would.

She led Tippy to Sandy Lane the next day, her hand resting on his neck as they walked together. Nick looked him over carefully.
“I’d say his hocks are sore,” Nick told her. “But it’s very slight. Our judge yesterday was sharp to catch it. Still, it won’t hurt him not to be ridden for 2 weeks. Though it probably wouldn’t hurt him to ride him lightly either.”

Phoebe nodded and gave Tippy a long hug before she put him in his usual paddock.

First name drawn was Kate and Nick asked her to take Cinnamon Skin which she gladly did. Then Jess’s name was drawn, and she chose Copper Penny. Next Nick pulled out Phoebe’s name and she chose New Moon. Rosie’s name came up last so she got Spunky.
Rosie looked unhappy.

“Why the long face?” Nick asked her.

“I’ve never hunted Spunky,” she said softly. “He’s wound up from the horseshow. I’m not sure I’m the best rider for him.”

Nick looked at her gravely. “First of all, Rosie, you are a top-notch rider and of course you can handle him. And second of all, I would never never insist you ride a horse you’re not comfortable with. If you really don’t want to ride him, I’m sure Phoebe will trade with you.”

“I would,” she said, “I will.”

“Well,” Rosie hesitated, “I’d like to try to ride Spunk.”

“That’s the spirit,” Nick said. “I have a beginner trail ride going out at 2:00. Let’s bring the ponies on a walking bareback trail ride with my beginners. Just a quiet little hack to settle them down after the horseshow.”

“Sounds great!” they all cried.

Tom rode his own horse Chancey bareback and Alex rode his good Puzzle. They helped the six beginners mount and headed toward the lighthouse on the coastal track.

It was a gray cold windy day with clouds scudding across the sun. The pony trainers riding bareback were glad to feel their ponies’ warmth underneath them. The beginners were thrilled to be out managing their own ponies along the cliffs, overlooking the gray wrinkled sea. It was a quiet slow ride, but somehow all the nicer because the riders were all contented with their ponies.

As they slipped off their bridles back at the barn, Rosie said, “I see what you mean about Spunky. He’s really honest. I think I’ll do fine with him.”

“Of course you will,” Nick smiled. “Tomorrow we’ll do a little galloping and jumping, and you’ll handle him just fine.”


----------



## knightrider

Nick caught up with Phoebe as she as leading Tippy out of the barn. “I’ve been watching him move, Phoebe. It could be arthritis. It’s probably been coming on for awhile. You aren’t blaming yourself, are you?”

“Well . . . sort of, a little bit. If I’d ridden him easier . . .”

“If it is arthritis, the more you use him, the better he’ll do. You’ve done nothing to hurt him. He may go completely sound in the spring when the weather clears up. Ah, well, let’s hope I’m wrong. Let’s hope it’s a simple strain and will be all better in two weeks.”

Somehow Phoebe feared it would not.

The weather stayed cloudy, cold, and raw as Phoebe practiced with New Moon. Every session she learned more ways to bring him into balance, center him, get him to use himself and engage his hindquarters. She loved every minute of it.

On Thursday it rained a cold sleety hard sluice and Phoebe spent her afternoon giving Tippy a thorough grooming. As she came into the tack room to wait for her mother, the other girls were sitting in the comfortable chairs.

“Hey, Phoebe,” Camilla called, “Are you doing the lottery thing at Sandy Lane?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Who got picked for this week?” Camilla asked.

“I got New Moon. We call him Ud for Ugly Duckling. Kate got Cinnamon, Jess chose Copper Penny, and Rosie has Spunky.”

“Oh say, that Copper Penny did all right for herself in the Ash Hill Show, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she won a bunch of ribbons,” Phoebe said.

“But not that Spunky, huh? He’s a handful. I shouldn’t think timid Rosie would be right for him,” Camilla said.

“She started out being nervous on him, but she’s been practicing with him all week. I think she’ll be fine,” Phoebe said, and feeling uncomfortable, she headed out the door to wait for her mom under the overhang.

“Spunky is not New Moon,” Camilla lowered her voice conspiratorially, but Phoebe could still hear her clearly. “I think we ought to plan a surprise for Rosie on Saturday.”

“What kind of surprise?” Allison asked.

“Let’s just see what she’s made of, our timid Rosie,” Camilla sneered. “We won’t box her in and make her jump. That little Spunky can jump the moon. When I give the signal, we’ll all gallop past her, see if she can stop that Sassy boy. It’ll be good practice for her.”

Phoebe felt sick. Even with the rain drumming on the overhang, she could hear Camilla plotting. She should stand up for her friend. She should say, “Camilla, you could hurt Rosie or injure the pony.” She could just hear Camilla mocking her. “Ouh, ittle wittle wosie could get hurt. See might get scared wunning on a fast pony.” How could they plot such a nasty trick when the two groups were starting to get along so well? I know what I’ll do, Phoebe decided to herself. Tomorrow I’ll tell Rosie. I’ll warn her. And I’ll stay right with her the way I did that time with Kate! She felt better when her mother arrived to drive her home.

Friday continued the steady dreary rain. Phoebe felt funny calling Rosie to tell her about Camilla’s plan. She decided to tell Rosie when she saw her in the morning. It might still be raining and the hunt called off.

By Saturday, the sky was overcast but dry—perfect scenting conditions, so Mrs. Hartlington would probably tell them.

Phoebe rode with Sandy Lane Stables in the van with New Moon. Kate was excited about riding Cinnamon Skin. Rosie was a little nervous but completely determined.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured everyone. “I stopped him perfectly on Wednesday. I feel fine with him. I’m glad Nick encouraged me to stay with him.”

Phoebe decided to warn her when they were alone. It would just pit the Sandy Lane riders against Rychester Stable to tell everyone about Camilla’s nastiness. Besides, Camilla might change her mind when she saw how easily Rosie handled Sassy. Then Phoebe would have created trouble when there was none.

They unloaded the ponies in the swirling mist and cantered some warm-up circles. The trails were terribly muddy.

Mrs. Hartlington gave them her pep talk. She reminded them that scenting conditions would be ideal, just as Phoebe remembered from other damp hunts. Jasper Carlisle, now working efficiently on his own, took the hounds down the lane, the hunt field following, slopping and squelching down the eroded trail. “Ta raa, Ta raa,” Jasper blew his hunting horn to gather the hounds. They heard a faint “A roo, a roo roo,” then more hound voices, then a burst of howls.

In a minute the field was off at a hand gallop, splashing mud all over each other. Spunky took off like a rocket and Phoebe soon lost sight of Rosie. The going was trappy and difficult. Phoebe held Ud back, letting some of the others pass her. She just wasn’t comfortable letting Ud gallop in that sticky mud.

At the check, when the riders mingled, Phoebe heard Rosie telling the others, “He’s going great for me! I love this pony! I don’t know why I was ever worried. He’s a champion foxhunter.” Her face was flushed and animated. Camilla and her friends were watching her. Phoebe decided not to warn Rosie. Those Rychester boys and girls were not going to try anything, and even if they did, Rosie could handle it. Better to leave well enough alone.


----------



## knightrider

Jasper decided to take his hounds to a different territory. The riders poked along the sloppy woods, quietly listening for any hound action.

Again, Rosie quickly outpaced the cautious Phoebe when they finally began another chase. Phoebe had paused for a moment with the hilltoppers, deciding how she would pick her way down an eroded ridge when she saw Camilla’s crew overtake Spunky Sass, swooshing past him at a full gallop. The startled pony bolted, and Phoebe saw Rosie lose her stirrups, almost unseated. The Rychester riders pounded behind him, pushing him to greater speed as Rosie tried to regain control. Phoebe was horrified. Oh, why hadn’t she warned Rosie! It was all her fault!

Spunky charged on, nearing a barbed wire fence. There was no coop nearby to jump. Camilla reined Apollo up, but Spunky’s blood was up. He was out of control. He checked himself for a moment when he realized there were barbed wire strands in front of him, then he gathered himself for a mighty jump. His front feet caught on the barbed wire and he hung there for a moment, then he was over and galloping on up a hill. Rosie was slowing him. She got him turned around. She had her stirrups back.

Phoebe saw Jess fly up to the Rychester group and she could just imagine what Jess was saying to them. Everything she should have said! She thought she would be sick. She wanted to get off New Moon, give him back, go away, and hide forever. She didn’t deserve friends like Rosie and Jess, Nick, and Tom. She didn’t deserve to ride a horse like Uddy.

Phoebe finished the hunt with the hilltoppers, slipping back to the van after the others had gone to the breakfast. She couldn’t bear to face them. They must hate her. She hated herself.

It was Jess who came away from the breakfast and found her at New Moon’s feet. “What are you doing, Phoebe?” she asked.

Phoebe felt tears fill her eyes. What could she possibly say?

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw what happened,” Phoebe choked out. “What Camilla did. It’s all my fault. Rosie could have been killed.” She cried harder.

“Rosie’s OK,” Jess said. “She didn’t get rattled. Nothing is your fault.”

“But Camilla asked me who was riding what horse and I told her.”

“Well, of course you did,” Jess said kindly. “Why wouldn’t you?” She stooped down and put her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. “Phoebe, we figured out that you must have told Camilla that Rosie was nervous on Spunky. No one is blaming you.”

“I should have stopped it.”

“Phoebe, you are strong and firm with horses, but let’s face it, you aren’t so much for talking to people. Nobody would expect you to. No one is blaming you. Oh, we’re all plenty mad at Camilla, but you’re not in charge of her. It’s not your job to stop her. She’s in big trouble with Mrs. Hartlington, though. She has to ride next to her from now on.”

Phoebe smiled through her tears. “That’s a good punishment. She won’t be able to show off.”

Jess smiled back at her. “Rosie’s not upset with you. Come on now, come on to the breakfast and we’ll all show you how much we still like you. ‘Cept Camilla, I guess. She’s not too happy with anyone right now.”

Phoebe’s mother picked her up at Sandy Lane that afternoon. Phoebe was still covered in mud, her face tear-streaked.

“Phoebe, what happened?” her mother said.

“Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. I just can’t stay at Rychester anymore. Camilla did something awful.”

The whole story came pouring out, including Phoebe’s complaisance and her guilt.

Mrs. Harris was horrified. “Why, Rosie could have been killed. That was a terribly wicked and dangerous thing for Camilla to do.”

“I hate her, Mom. I hate her.” Phoebe sobbed. “And I hate myself for not stopping her, for not warning Rosie. I hate myself for loving Uddy when Tippy has gone lame. I lamed Tippy so I could ride Uddy. I’m an awful, awful person.”

Mrs. Harris pulled the car to the side of the road and took Phoebe in her arms, mud and all, and stroked her hair. “Oh, my darling, oh, my love,” she crooned until Phoebe stopped shaking. Then she held her at arm’s length and looked into her red rimmed eyes. “Does Rosie know you thought you should have warned her?”

“Yes, she said I was being silly. That even if I had warned her, she wouldn’t have done anything different.”

“Phoebe, don’t beat yourself up over what can’t be helped. You couldn’t have known. You haven’t lost any friends. In fact, they’ve proved they’re better friends than ever.”


----------



## knightrider

Phoebe took a shuddering sigh. “Please, may I move Tippy, Mama? I’m sorry about your donation to the Neonatal Care Unit. I never want to see any of those boys and girls again.”

“Of course you don’t, and of course you can move Tippy. But I want to tell you two things to think about. I had a friend in high school, who had a racehorse off the track. He was hot and wild, but she was proud of him and they loved to run. One day he got to running towards home and she couldn’t stop him. She’d always been able to stop him before, but this time she couldn’t. So she did what all sensible riders do. She turned him. And as she turned him, she saw a barbed wire fence in their path. Before she knew it, he tried to jump it.”

“Just like Rosie,” breathed Phoebe.

“Just like Rosie,” said her mom. “But my friend wasn’t so lucky. Her Sunny caught the top wire with his front legs like Spunky. But he was a big racehorse and not as agile as a Chincoteague pony. Sunny flipped and fell on my friend and broke her neck. She was in a body cast for months. She didn’t die, but she was never the same after that. Rosie is very lucky. What Camilla did was very very wicked. She could have paralyzed or killed Rosie.
“Now I’m going to tell you another thing: do you think Camilla thought about how Rosie might be killed or paralyzed?”

“No, probably not. Camilla does all kinds of reckless things.”

“I think you’re right. She did not think. She did not mean to be so wicked and almost take someone’s life. Her father is harsh and demanding; her mother, though kind, is busy and pre-occupied. I don’t think anyone takes the time to ask Camilla what she thinks, to listen to her, and try to please her. She has spent her life trying to please everyone else.”

“Seems like all she does is try to please herself.”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it? Because she’s so scared no one will want to please her, she figures she’d better grab whatever she can get. She’s a frightened hurt little girl. If you could find it in your heart to forgive her, it would help you.”

“Forgive her? I . . . I don’t know if I can. She pretended to like Rosie. She betrayed her.”

“It won’t be easy, but it would help you,” her mother repeated. “Just try. Try to see her point of view.”

Phoebe took a shaky breath. “All right, I’ll try. But I still want to move Tippy.”

“Of course you may. We’ll get our funding somehow.”


----------



## knightrider

Phoebe didn’t walk Tippy over to Sandy Lane that week. She was so mixed up, she didn’t know what to do. Move Tippy to Oak Park Stable and forget everything? She even thought of giving up riding and giving Tippy away. Her mother urged her not to do anything until the vet came and examined him.

After the vet looked him over carefully, she gave Phoebe and her mother the bad news. “I’m afraid it’s arthritis all right. In his hocks. It’s been slowly coming on for a long time. What you’ve done with this horse was the best thing you could have done and what he still needs. Just lots of steady quiet riding. Your mother tells me you blame yourself, but you mustn’t. It was coming on for years and regular riding is far better for him than standing around in a pasture. However, now that he’s acting a little sore, we’ve got to come up with a plan.

“A plan?” Phoebe asked soberly.

“Well, a young girl like you probably doesn’t want to spend the next ten years quietly walking and trotting her horse. Do you know someone, perhaps an elderly person who would like a gentle sensible horse for slow quiet rides?”

“N . . . no,” Phoebe said.

“I’ve got an idea. You’ll need time to think it over. I know a wonderful place where they help handicapped children to ride. Your horse would be a perfect match for them. It’s called Best Hope Farm. They would love to have your horse, and he’d be happy there. But don’t let me rush you. You get a second or third opinion if you like. Take your time. Keep riding him—not hard or too fast—but even foxhunting is OK if you hilltop. He’s still got some good years left if you keep using him.”

“It’s called Best Hope Farm?” Mrs. Harris asked. “You are our third opinion. Everyone we’ve talked to says it is arthritis and Phoebe should keep riding him, but easy.”

“Yes,” the vet answered. “I honestly think that Best Hope Farm is your wisest decision. But it’s up to you. I have the number if you want it.”

“We do want it,” Mrs. Harris said.

“Oh, Mother, I don’t know,” Phoebe said. “Maybe I’ll just do quiet slow rides on him.”

Jasper walked up to them. “You won’t do it here,” he growled. “I understand the pony’s lame and not going to get any better. There’s no place here for a gimpy old pony. When I bring clients out here, I want them to see healthy perfect ponies. Ponies that win. That pony’s got to go by the end of the week. I won’t have a lame pony on the place.”

Phoebe looked at her mother. “Yes, Jasper,” they said. “We’ll move him.”


“Phoebe, I know you love him, but we have to think of what’s best for Tippy,” Phoebe’s mother said later that night.

“I’ll keep him at Sandy Lane and ride the project ponies when I wanted to gallop and jump,” Phoebe cried.

“Those ponies will all be sold in a few months,” Mr. Harris reminded her.

“Then I’ll . . . I’ll take lessons on Storm Cloud, or Feather. Tippy’s been so good to me. I won’t abandon him now. I won’t throw him away just because he can’t win at horsehows anymore.”

“You’re not abandoning him to let him help crippled children. Don’t you think he’d love that?”

“Well, yes, he would love that.”

“Let’s go tomorrow to see Best Hope Farm, just to think about it.”

“OK, Mom. Just to look.”


----------



## knightrider

Phoebe couldn’t help but be impressed with the pretty white fences, the geranium boxes along the arena, the freshly raked barn aisle, the joyful children on patient ponies being led by encouraging volunteers. One little autistic boy named Neal lit up when the volunteers set him on a shaggy bay pony. He said, “Ride! Horse!” His mother told them those were the only words he ever said. He only talked when he was on horseback.

Then they met Brittney, a courageous, darling nine-year-old with cerebral palsy. With just a little help, she left her crutches and pulled herself onto the saddle by herself. Then she picked up the reins in her twisted fingers. Such determination, such a plucky grin. Off she rode with her sidewalkers hardly able to keep up with her.

“All right, I’m convinced,” Phoebe said. “I know Tippy would be happy here. He’ll be loved and valued far more than any fancy showhorse ever was.”

“You got that right,” Mrs. Masterson, the owner said.

“And I can come and visit him lots?” Phoebe asked.

“Come and visit? Heck, come and volunteer if you like. We’d love to have you. Come early, come often. Get to know the kids. It will change you forever.” 
By the end of the visit, arrangements had been made to pick up Tippy at Rychester, and Phoebe and Brittney had exchanged phone numbers. Phoebe hadn’t felt such peace since she discovered Tippy was lame at the horseshow.

The next day she rode Tippy for the last time to Sandy Lane Stables to tell them her news. She hadn’t been back that whole week, and all the regulars greeted her warmly.

“Are you going to ride with us today?” they asked.

She told them her sad/happy news. “And I’ve invited Brittney to come see the Sandy Lane ponies. I know you’ll love her,” Phoebe told them. “And she’ll love the ponies. Now, tell me, who drew which horse to ride this week?”

“Alex and Tom got first pick of course, because they didn’t ride last week. Alex finally decided on Cinnamon and Tom picked Spunky Sass,” Jess told her. “Then it was Kate, who picked Uddy, and then it was you, but you didn’t come, so Nick decided Rosie should since since I have my own Skylark to ride. We were waiting for you. Why didn’t you come?”

“I was all mixed up. I was angry at myself, angry at Camilla. I was even angry at Tippy for going lame just when he’d turned into a friend. And angry at Uddy because I love him, and I shouldn’t. He’s not mine. He’s to be sold and I am disloyal for loving him. I should have kept Tippy safe and loved him. I lost Tippy because I was mooning over New Moon.”

She and Jess smiled at each other at the silly pun. “Now you know none of that makes sense,” Jess said.

“In my head I know that, but . . . You know Rosie could have been killed? My mom knew a lady whose horse did that, and it broke her neck.”

“Did she die?” Rosie interrupted.

“No, she pretty much healed from it,” Phoebe took Rosie’s arm. “I blame myself still. I know you said not to. I’m still mixed up. Too many things going on. Nick will let me keep coming here to ride the ponies, won’t he?”

“Of course he will. He put your name in the hat, didn’t he? You’ll get first pick next week. But this Saturday . . . oh, Phoebe, this Saturday . . . you and Jess will be the ones to get all the ponies ready for the Saturday lessons and rides. And clean the stalls . . . and water . . . and feed . . . and clean the tack.”

“Rake the barn aisle, sweep the tackroom,” Alex broke in.

“Sort out the files, keep the books,” Tom laughed.

“Answer the phones, schedule the rides for next week.”

“Piece of cake,” Phoebe grinned at Jess, feeling more like herself than she had in weeks.


----------



## knightrider

On Friday, Mrs. Masterson of Best Hope Farm brought her old but serviceable horsetrailer to Rychester to pick up Top Tipperary. None of the Rychester regulars had spoken to Phoebe since the incident. She had avoided them, and they had avoided her. No one came to tell her goodbye. Phoebe didn’t know whether to be relieved or sorry, as she loaded her tack and brushes into the trunk of her car. She and her mother followed the trailer to Best Hope Farm to see Tippy settled into his cozy stall. When Phoebe left him, he was surrounded by adoring children. She choked back a tear, reminding herself that she’d see him every Thursday, when she came to volunteer and be with Brittany.

Phoebe worked tirelessly at Sandy Lane all day Saturday. When the foxhunters returned, she got to hear all about their adventures. Camilla hadn’t shown up to hunt.

“But we’ll soon see about that,” Tom said.

“What do you mean?” asked Kate.

“I’ve had an idea,” Tom said. “I’m going to break up that ugly clique and help Camilla and have a lot of fun myself.”

“What?” the others asked.

“I’m going to ask Camilla to the movies,” Tom said.

“Why? She almost killed Rosie!” Kate cried.

“I know,” said Tom. “But she never intended Rosie to be hurt. She’s . . . “ He hesitated. “She needs a friend, a real friend, not the sheep that follow her. There’s a lot to like about Camilla,” Tom said quietly.

“There is?” sputtered Kate.

“Actually, there is,” Jess defended her. “When I had Skylark at Rychester, she was pretty nice to me.”

“I used to have fun with her too,” Phoebe said, “But I’m having a hard time forgiving her. Mom told me she’s hurt. Her father’s . . . well . . . you know, and her mother is nice, but doesn’t listen to her. They don’t let her be herself. She has to be what they want.”

“She likes being what they want,” Alex sneered.

“I don’t think so,” Tom said. “I aim to find out what Camilla wants. I don’t think there’ll be any more dirty tricks. I’m gonna bust that clique up big time. But guys, I’m gonna invite her here. So beware.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Alex said dourly.

On Sunday Phoebe and Jess got first pick since they hadn’t hunted the week before.

“I’d like you to ride New Moon, if you don’t mind,” Nick told Phoebe. “I think you click really well with him. I know I said we’d change around on the ponies, but I think you are doing such a good job with Uddy, I’d like to see you stay with him. That is, of course, if you want to.”

“Oh, I want to!” Phoebe cried. “I love him.”

“And Jess?” Nick asked.

“I’m the one who can never decide,” said Jess. Um . . . um . . . I’m going to take Spunky. I’m going to jump him over the biggest fences out there and show everyone what a grand jumper he is.”

“Good plan,” said Nick. He pulled a name from the hunt cap. “Tom.”

“Well, you know I’m partial to Skinny, but Kate had so much fun on him last week, I’ll take Penny, and try her.”

“You’ll love her,” enthused Rosie.

“And the last name is . . . Rosie.”

“And I get Skinny? Yay!”

They trooped off to do another bareback trail ride with the 2:00 beginners. They decided to make it a weekly tradition; they’d had so much fun the last week.

On Thursday, Phoebe went to Best Hope Farm to help the volunteers. She had to complete a training class and pass a test before she could help Brittney, but the class was interesting and it was fun seeing Brittney again. She and Brittney set up a visit to Sandy Lane Stables on Friday. She couldn’t wait for the other kids to meet her.


----------



## LoriF

I didn't know you were doing this!!!! I love it, Keep on.


----------



## knightrider

“You can’t imagine how much Brittney looks forward to her weekly riding lessons,” her mother told the Sandy Lane kids after the introductions. “It’s so nice for her to get this extra chance to be around horses.”

“We’re pleased she could come,” Nick said graciously. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lesson to teach. The kids will be happy to show Brittney around.”

They took her to meet Chancy, Tom’s horse, and Skylark, Jess’s pony, and Puzzle, Alex’s pony. 

“Now come meet the ponies we are training to sell,” Rosie said.

Brittney loved all the ponies, but she and Copper Penny hit it off especially well. Copper kissed Brittney all over until she giggled. They saddled her, and Brittney showed them how she could ride. All the Sandy Lane regulars fell in love with Brittney. She was so cute, so earnest, so courageous, and not a word of complaint, though every step was an effort. 

“Brittney loves the horses so,” her mother told Tom. “We’d love to get her a pony. But it would have to be a very special pony.”

“I think I know of a very special pony who happens to be for sale.” Tom looked over at Brittney with her arms around Copper Penny. Copper was nuzzling Brittney tenderly as she showed the others how she could pull herself into the saddle without help. Penny seemed to be almost nudging her on.

“Oh my, look at that. They certainly have hit it off,” her mother said.

“Copper Penny’s a world class pony,” Tom said. “You couldn’t find a safer kinder pony.”

“Goodness. I thought it would take months to find just the right pony.”

“Why don’t you bring her every Friday and see if they get on? The Sandy Hill crew will always lend a hand.”

“How generous of you. We will. I’ll talk to my husband and we’ll get back to you.”

On Saturday, Phoebe thrilled to the hunt riding Uddy. The weather was spitting rain and drizzly, rather raw and cold, but it didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits.
Tom’s movie date must have been a success—Camilla and Tom rode side by side behind Mrs. Hartlington the entire hunt, talking together nonstop whenever talking was allowed.

At one check, Phoebe heard Tom say, “Camilla, don’t you remember you called me ‘Granddad’ the day we met?”

Camilla looked embarrassed. “I don’t remember.”

“But I do.” He smiled, and she flushed.

His plan was working very well. The other Rychester riders mixed in with the Sandy Hill ponies, though the easy friendliness they had started to build was gone. 

Phoebe wasn’t sure she wanted to see it back. Even looking at Camilla’s pretty face made her sick and upset. Her mother said it would be good for her to forgive her. It wouldn’t be easy, but she guessed she’d try.

Riding Uddy was heaven, and the foxhunt was fun. Jess, true to her word, jumped Spunky over the highest part of every jump. She saw Camilla watching him several times and wondered if Camilla was sorry for what she had done—was she thinking of that at all? Phoebe watched Rosie galloping along happily on Cinnamon Skin. He looked such a dream to ride. But really, was he so much better than Uddy? She’d have to ask Nick when she saw him. Uddy had the potential to be as marvelous as Cinnamon. Was he there yet? He might be—he certainly was responsive and fluid. No clumsiness now.


----------



## knightrider

@LoriF, thank you so much!!! I am so pleased you are reading it. Hope you are liking it. It was fun to write.


----------



## knightrider

On Sunday, Nick asked Phoebe again if she’d like to ride New Moon. Phoebe grinned at him. She didn’t have a pony and wanted one. New Moon was for sale. Her parents were probably waiting for her to say she wanted another horse, waiting for her to stop blaming herself and feeling guilty and get on with her life. It was time.

“Is he mine, Nick? Did my parents buy him?”

The rest of the Sandy Lane regulars jumped from their seats and cheered, shaking her arms, thumping her back, fluffing her hair. “We wondered when you’d figure it out!”

“He . . . he’s mine?”

“You got it! He’s all yours.”

She ran out of the tack room to throw her arms around his lovely neck. The most beautiful horse she’d ever seen, willing and eager, unsure of himself and underappreciated, her beautiful Ugly Duckling turned into a swan.

When she returned to the tack room, Nick said, “I’m assuming you’d like to ride your own pony in the hunt?”

Phoebe paused. “Actually, Nick, I’d like to just ride him in the woods by myself. I don’t think I want to foxhunt for awhile. I just want to get to know him and be with him.”

“Of course, that’s fine, Phoebe. I’m hoping you’ll still help Rosie with the lessons and ponies when you’re not riding.”

“Of course I will,” she said happily.

“While we’re on the subject,” Nick went on, “Copper Penny was sold yesterday while we were foxhunting. Brittney’s parents bought her. And they’re keeping her here. So we won’t be losing either pony. But we will be gaining a very sweet little plucky rider that I know we’ll all enjoy. Brittney’s parents said we could continue to foxhunt Copper and take her to horseshows. They know Copper needs a little more riding than Brittney can do—so we’ll be helping each other.

“And . . . if you remember, I promised you 1 % of my net profit. I sold Copper for $3,000 and Uddy for $6,000.” He flushed and looked at Phoebe. “I’ll explain to you why I did what I did. I hope you won’t think I was taking advantage of you . . . All of you will be getting $80 checks in a day or two. Thank you all very much for a job well done. Now . . . let’s go ridin’!”

The now traditional beginner Sunday bareback ride was getting rowdier every week. This week three of the beginners wanted to ride bareback and two of them jumped the lowest log jump along with the project ponies.

Phoebe rode New Moon up next to Nick on Storm Cloud. Nick turned to her. “Phoebe, let me explain why I asked your parents to pay so much for Uddy.”

“Oh, you don’t need to explain,” she said quickly. “I know he is worth piles and piles of money, probably quite a bit more than $6,000, isn’t he?”

“Well, actually yes, quite a bit more. But I feel embarrassed to be charging you money when you are the one who made him worth so much money. I thought long and hard about it. I even talked to your parents about it, and they understood. Uddy has the potential now to be a top class showhorse. Both he and Cinnamon have surpassed my wildest dreams. If I were to actively market Ud, I’d ask $20,000 for him. If you should want to sell him, you could get your $6000 back in a heartbeat, so that is why I did what I did.”

“Nick, don’t feel funny about selling him to me for $6,000. It’s what you deserve for knowing exactly which four ponies to choose. If I had waded into that churning mix of milling ponies, I wouldn’t have known to pick Uddy and Skinny. We never could have trained them without your lessons and guidance. You set the whole thing up. So you deserve the money. But, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” She patted Uddy’s velvet ebony neck. “I know Uddy has come a long way since you got him off the range. I know he has the conformation to be a beautiful mover. Tell me, is he there yet? Is he as good as Cinnamon?”

“Phoebe, he’s almost there. He’s a really nice mover now. But I’ve got someone interested in Cinnamon and you know how much I’m asking?”

“How much?”

“Thirty thousand dollars. There’s someone from the Olympic Committee that is very interested. They haven’t seen him yet—just someone who knows someone sort of thing. If we can get Cinnamon to stop making mistakes, we’ll get that money for him. Kind of incredible, isn’t it?

“And Uddy is not that far behind him,” Nick continued, “but Uddy doesn’t make mistakes. I might be able to get $20,000 for him. But I’d rather sell him to you. He’s a top-class horse—could beat Tippy, could beat Apollo if it was Apollo’s not so good day. If you wanted to go all the way with him, you could.”

“Oh, Nick, I am just so glad to have him. I just want him for a friend. He is the world’s greatest pony. I am delighted to have found him.”

“Thanks, Phoebe. You’re a pip. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see own our little Ugly Duckling.”


----------



## knightrider

Soon all the Sandy Lane riders knew about Cinnamon Skin’s potential bid for the Olympics. Tom was going to ride him in several big shows, both to get him experience and so people could see him. 

Everyone at Sandy Lane Stables was thrilled about Cinnamon’s chances to be an Olympic champion. And thrilled that they’d had a part in his training.

As they were discussing it, Alex wondered how such a small horse could even be considered for the Olympics.

“It’s not that unusual,” Nick told him. “There have been actual ponies competing in the Olympics. A Connemara pony gelding named Dundrum competed for the British team one year. He set a record jumping 7 feet, 2 inches at the British Horse of the Year Show. A 13.2 hand pony named Little Squire won Open Jumper championship at Madison Square Garden one year. A 14.1 pony Stroller competed in 1968 in the Olympic Games in Mexico and won the silver medal, only 4 points behind the gold medal winner. An American pony named Marcus Aurelius competed with the US Equestrian Team and won the gold medal in three day eventing two years running in the Pan American Games. And the famous Olympic rider Lendon Gray won many Grand Prix awards with her two ponies in dressage. I didn’t know all of that myself, but these people interested in Cinny told me. They aren’t concerned about his small size. People who know their history think our Cinny might join those elevated ranks.”

“Wow,” the Sandy Lane riders said. “To think he was our little discovery.” 

Tom and Camilla were rapidly becoming an item. Camilla was riding Apollo over to Sandy Lane Stables almost as often as Phoebe used to ride Tippy there. Tom and Camilla mostly rode alone together, chasing each other over the cross-country course or racing along the coastal track. At times they joined the Sandy Lane regulars, but when they did, Camilla spoke very little.

Tom told them what he and Jess and Phoebe had already imagined—that Camilla actually had little interest in horse showing . . . or elegant parties . . . or expensive clothes. Her real true passion was ice skating. She longed to go to extra ice skating classes instead of extra riding practices as her father demanded. Tom encouraged her to stand up to her father and follow her dreams, but Camilla was afraid.

“Camilla afraid?” the others responded. “Impossible.”

“She covers it well, doesn’t she?” Tom said. “You’d never know it. Every girl wants to be loved by her father. If she doesn’t go along with his demands, she’s afraid she’ll lose his love.”

It was something to think about.

Foxhunting season was winding down. Soon it would be spring, and the vixens would be heavy with kits.

“Come on, Phoebes,” Jess pleaded. “Just go on one last hunt with us. We’ve had such glorious fun this winter and who knows when we’ll ever get the chance again.”

“Charlie’s taking a weekend off to come down next weekend. For old time’s sake, come with us one last time,” Alex urged.

Phoebe had missed foxhunting. It would be fun to take Uddy there as her very own horse. He was her best friend now and she often felt she could read his thoughts.

“All right,” she said, “I’ll go.”

“Yay,” Jess cheered. “Tom is taking Chancy in Camilla’s van. “We’ll take our four project ponies in the Sandy Lane van, and I’ve invited Brittney to hilltop by car. Don’t you think I could invite the Mastersons from Best Hope Farm to come hilltop and bring their horsetrailer for Skylark and Puzzle? We’ll have the whole gang all together for the first, last, and only time.”

“But we’re only allowed to bring four ponies each week,” Phoebe said.

“Tom can be Camilla’s guest. Alex can be Nick’s guest. And maybe Mrs. Hartlington could arrange for us all to get to hunt together, just this one time, in honor of selling the ponies. She’s ever so kind and accommodating.”

“Well, we can try,” Phoebe mused, “though it seems an awful lot of people agreeing to do things.”

“Yes, I am going to try,” Jess said. “There are only three more hunts left, and if things go wrong this Saturday, we’ll have two more chances to try for it. But I’m going to try for this Saturday because Charlie will be here, and Cinnamon may be going to train and show at Middleburg next week.”

“Is it definite?” Phoebe asked.

“Not the Olympic part. What is definite is Nick has found a sponsor and Tom is going to ride him in two A rated shows—Middleburg and Virginia Saddle Club. If he does well in those two, Nick will consider getting enough points to qualify him for the Washington International. Nick was thinking Maclay Medal horse until this Olympic guy started acting all interested. And if the Olympic trials don’t work out, Nick is going to finish him as a Maclay Medal horse.”

“Maclay Medal, isn’t that that fancy equitation class for kids over fences?”

“You bet. They complete their points at Madison Square Garden at the National Horseshow.”

“Will Tom ride for the medal?”

“No, Tom doesn’t want to—too much pressure. Besides, he doesn’t think he’s close to being the best rider in the country.”

“But we do, don’t we?”

“Nick hopes to catch a Maclay contender’s interest in buying Skinny. It’s early in the season, just the right time for someone to want a top-notch world class show horse.”

“Will Cinny Skinny be happy as a show horse?” Phoebe worried, thinking about how impersonally the horses were treated at Rychester.

“Nick won’t sell him unless he knows it’s a good home.”

“Wow, things are moving right along.”

“We’ve done what we set out to do,” Jess said, “Except Sassy.”

Nick joined them. “You’re talking about getting the ponies sold? Funny, I thought Sassy would go first—a flashy, talented jumper with papers. People are crazy for Chincoteague ponies and he’s a quality one.”

“We just haven’t found the right match for him.” Tom appeared and jumped into the conversation.

“Exciting news, Tom,” Phoebe said.

“Yeah, I hope I’m up for this. A lot is riding on me.”

“Tom, don’t think that way,” Nick interrupted. “Originally I hoped to get $3,000 per pony. “If that’s all we get for Cinnamon, it will be enough. And I know we can get $3,000 for him, so nothing is riding on you. Have fun. Learn stuff. Enjoy our floaty fellow.”

“Yes sir, Captn’ sir.”


----------



## AnitaAnne

Oh my! I love this book so much; sitting here with tears running down...someone, somewhere is cutting onions 

You are one very talented writer! I'd buy the book


----------



## knightrider

@AnitaAnne, thank you so much! You have made my day!!!!!


----------



## knightrider

To Phoebe’s amazement, Jess did pull the foxhunt reunion together. Everyone agreed to their part. It seemed almost too good to be true.

It was. The night before, they got a heavy wet March snow. But the Hunt Club directors decided to have a short hunt anyway. Scenting conditions would be poor, but everyone would have a good time hacking around together in the snow. It would be good practice for the hounds. And Virginia snows don’t last, especially in March.

So, everyone carried forth their plans and happily met at Colt Creek Park, ready to enjoy a snow ride, if not get up a fox.

Tom had managed to wow all the Rychester boys and girls, and they came tumbling out of their van in high spirits, almost like the Sandy Lane riders.

“You lucky dog,” Charlie joshed him when they met, “in the van with all those gorgeous chicks.”

“You got that right,” Tom agreed, grinning.

The snow seemed to put everyone in a holiday mood. Riders called merry greetings to one another. The horses’ hooves slooshed in the whiteness. 

When Mrs. Hartlington called the group together, she announced that it was a special day. “Not only is there snow,” she said gleefully, “but Sandy Lane has brought their full component of regulars. And lots of news. Two of the ponies are sold—this black one to this talented and lovely young lady, and that one,” she gestured to Copper Penny,” to a resolute little handicapped young lady named Brittney. I hope you get a chance to meet her. She’s hill topping by car today with her parents.

“Pretty day today,” she continued. “Not much chance of getting up a fox but we’ll enjoy the snow, won’t we? And you never know. We might get lucky. Be careful of the slushy ground underneath the snow. So . . . it looks like Jasper is ready. Let’s go foxhunting.”

They set off crunching through the snow, the horses’ breaths steaming, hound tails wagging, bits jingling, saddles creaking. Every tree carried a mantle of white and as the riders headed into the woods, the snow dropped down onto their necks in cold surprise. In the woods, Phoebe enjoyed the fairy wonderland. She had missed so much in the years she had spent riding around in an indoor arena! Never again. She petted Ud’s neck. We’re just going to have lots and lots of fun.


----------



## knightrider

The foxes were not impressed with the winter wonderland. They stayed in their holes. After a fun agreeable walking trail ride, people began to say they were cold. The master took the group on an easy gallop to another territory where there might be a more accommodating fox.

Phoebe found herself riding slowly at the back of the field, partly in awe of the melting fairyland, partly in concern for the slippery footing. Ever since she’d gotten New Moon, it seemed magical to be alone with him. The woods were so quiet, only the flump of snow sliding off the trees.

Suddenly she heard a low whine. She halted Uddy and listened. There it was again. A dog whine. She left the trail and set off for the sound. In a minute, she found the source of the distress. A young hound was snagged on a thorn bush, his collar hopelessly snarled in the briars.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Phoebe leaped off New Moon and pushed her way into the catbrier patch. “Say, little guy. It’s OK. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help you.” The thorns pierced her riding gloves again and again as she pulled and twisted the brambles. The hound looked at her patiently with sad brown eyes.
“There you go. Now you’re free,” she said. “Go on now, find your buddies.” The hound cringed under New Moon’s feet. “Well, if you won’t find your friends, I’ll have to take you to them.”

Phoebe was sure she could just follow her tracks back to the hunt field. But when she came to a split in the trail, there were tracks going both ways. They must have gotten up a fox and backtracked. She waited with the hound at the crossroads, shivering. All that standing around had made her cold. Hunt clothes were made for hard fast riding and weren’t especially warm. She’d listen for the hounds and go to the sound. Nothing to worry about. She waited and listened. All was completely quiet. A blob of snow slid off a branch. An acorn fell. The trees were dripping now, a steady drip drip. She shivered in her jacket.

OK, I’m lost, she thought, but how hard could it be to find the hunt field? The trails had to lead somewhere, didn’t they? She started off with the hound beside her looking up to her for guidance.

“Don’t worry,” she told him. “This trail goes somewhere. People were riding on it. It’s full of tracks. We’ll find your buddies.”

Suddenly she heard a faint shouting, “Phoe-bee! Phoe-bee!”

“Over here!” she called. She kept shouting until she saw Tom and Camilla riding towards her, followed by Kate, Alex, Jess, Rosie, and Charlie.

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” she cried. “I don’t know the way back!”

“What happened to you?”

She showed them the little hound. “He was caught in the briars and I stopped to untangle him. Then I lost the hunt.”

“Come on, let’s hurry and catch up.” They set off together at a brisk but cautious trot. The ground was completely sloggy and sloppy now, and much of the snow had melted on the trail.

They came to a fork in the trail. “I’m sure you turn that way,” Alex said, “See the hoofprints in the mud there?”

“Hoofprints go this way too,” Rosie pointed out.

“No, they’re going the other way,” Alex argued. The others crowded around to look.

“That’s the way,” some said.

“No, that’s the way,” others disagreed.

“Hey, let the hound show us.”

But the little foxhound only cowered close to New Moon’s legs.

“OK, the horses will know,” Tom said. “Let their reins loose and see which way they go.” And he slacked Chancy’s reins.

Chancy went quickly down one of the paths and the others followed. They rode without talking, listening for the field or the hounds, a horn, anything. The woods were silent except for the steady dripping and occasional whump of snow as it slid off a tree limb.

The path branched off and Chancy headed down an unused trail.

“This isn’t right,” worried Rosie. “Nobody’s been on this trail before.”

“Chancy’s going as the crow flies,” Tom said confidently. “He knows the way home.”

“He knows the way home, Tom,” said Rosie anxiously. “We don’t want to ride home. We want to go back to the trailers.”

“Oh yeah, I guess you’re right.” Tom halted Chancy. “You got a better idea?”

“Let’s go back to where we found Phoebe. We were on a main trail there. Someone will come and find us.”

“OK.”


----------



## knightrider

They turned around and headed back the way they came. Phoebe looked at Camilla. She hadn’t said a word. She was hunched in her hunt coat, clearly cold, and she looked scared.

On and on they rode, never finding the heavily traveled main trail they had left. Every trail they came across was unmarked, either with melting snow or soggy mud.

By Charlie’s watch, it was 3:00. “I’m tired and cold,” said Kate. “I think I’ll get off and walk for awhile.”

“Your feet will get wet if you walk in this slush,” Rosie reminded her.

“We’re just getting more and more lost,” said Jess mournfully.

“How could we have missed the trail?” wailed Alex. “It was so obvious. I think we should follow our tracks back and find the trail.”

“That’s what we already did, Alex, and we didn’t find the trail,” said Charlie.

“I’m really cold,” said Kate.

“Me too,” said Rosie.

“Well, I know what to do,” said Charlie. “We’ll stop right here, build a fire, and rest for awhile. Let’s untack the horses. I’ll bet they’re thirsty. After we’ve rested awhile and eaten our sandwiches, we’ll think of what to do.”

“After we’ve rested awhile and eaten our sandwiches, someone will follow our tracks and find us,” said Jess.

“Good plan,” smiled Charlie. “Now, who has matches?”

No one.

“If we had a magnifying glass, we could start a fire with that,” suggested Alex.

“I’m not in the habit of taking a magnifying glass foxhunting,” said Charlie.

“Could we rub two sticks together?” suggested Kate.

“It has to be a bow and a string for that to work,” said Tom. “We did it in Boy Scouts.”

“Ah,” said Charlie, “but don’t you remember how to strike sparks? We learned that in Scouts too. I have a knife.”

“And I have a knife,” said Tom. “We have to find a piece of granite.”

They untacked their ponies and spread out in pairs looking for granite, while Tom and Charlie shaved the driest sticks they could find for the tinder.

Several people came back with some rocks that resembled granite. Charlie tried striking each one against his steel knife until one struck sparks.

“That’s it! We did it!” cried Alex.

“It’s not that easy,” muttered Charlie.

“No, we’ll get it, don’t give up.”

They tried different methods of striking and blowing on the slivers of wood the older boys had shaved. They could see the sparks. It just had to work. They just had to get lucky. They took turns, each trying a different idea of striking and blowing.

“Maybe we’ve rested enough, we should just go,” said a discouraged Alex.

“No. We got lost trying to find the main trail,” Charlie argued. “I think we should make the fire. We’re bound to get it sooner or later. Someone will track us, and we’ll be home for supper. Come on, let’s keep trying.” Charlie’s unflagging optimism kept them going.

Camilla still hadn’t said a word. Phoebe wondered what she could be thinking. Was she disgusted and sorry she’d stayed with them? Scared of how angry her father would be? She was so quiet, maybe she was going into hypothermia.

Charlie was determined his sparks would finally catch fire. At long last one did catch and smolder briefly. They all cheered. If they got it once, they could get it again. “The wood is drying out,” Charlie reminded them. “You can hardly start a fire with wet wood.” His knife was battered from being struck so many times. The sparks caught and smoldered again. After what seemed like hours, Charlie was able to keep a flame going. Little by little he added tiny bits of shaved wood. Then he piled on a tepee of damp sticks around his steady fire. The sticks began to steam. It was hard not to climb right into the fire, the children were so cold.

“I wasn’t a Boy Scout for eight years for nothing,” Charlie crowed.

“Now you’re talking,” said Rosie.

“Break out the sandwiches,” Charlie cried. “It’s five o’clock. Say, I took this weekend off to have a good time with my friends and I am going to have one!”


----------



## Twalker

I just love your story telling. Awesome job! Keep it going.


----------



## knightrider

Yay! Thank you so much! It's almost done--just a few more installments.


----------



## knightrider

They rolled damp logs close to the fire, ate their meager sandwiches, and felt much more cheerful. It was getting dark, but surely someone would track them soon.

“If I weren’t so hungry, this would be fun,” Jess said.

“If I didn’t know my parents would be worried sick, this would be fun,” Kate said.

Phoebe chimed in, “My parents don’t know yet. I said I was spending the day at Sandy Lane. Maybe someone will find us before the parents get too worried.”

Charlie piled more wood on the fire. Phoebe felt warm and safe and almost happy. They were all together. The ponies were all fine. The evening was cold, but not that cold. It would be an adventure they’d always remember. “Remember the day we all went foxhunting in the snow and got lost?” they’d say to each other in thirty years. The young hound snuggled at her feet and she petted him fondly. In an hour or two, they’d be rescued, and it would all be a memory.

She spoke up. “You know if you hadn’t come back for me, I’d have been lost all by myself. I’d have been terrified.”

“People die out here sometimes,” Alex said soberly.

“You might have died.”

“All because I stopped to help the hound.”

“Makes you realize how important it is not to let yourself get separated from the hunt.”

“Well, thanks for coming back for me. Charlie’s right. This is kind of fun.”

They sat without talking for awhile, everyone looking at the fire.

Camilla cleared her throat. “I’ve been needing to say this for a couple of weeks, well, longer really, I guess.” She paused. “Rosie, I’m sorry I got the others to spook your pony. I didn’t think about what could happen. I used to think that timid people got what they deserved, and it would teach them not to be so timid.

“Well, I guess I got what I deserved then, because I am afraid of my father. Rosie, after I got the others to force you into the jump, you never tattled on me. I figured you would, and that would give me more reasons to give you grief. Maybe you should have, and Mrs. Hartlington would have made me ride with her then. Your little black horse showed true class by jumping that big jump instead of ducking out. And Sassy showed even more class by jumping the barbed wire fence and keeping his balance when he caught his front feet. Whenever I was mean to you, all of you just did what you had to do without ever being mean back. Dad is always pushing me to have class—for him that means expensive clothes, winning horses, and influential friends.

“Phoebe, I’m sorry. I wanted you to be caught in the middle. I wanted to see what you would do. I made sure you knew I was going to scare Rosie ‘cause I knew you liked her. I know you’re mad at me and you should be. So I’m sorry.

“And the last thing I want to say is thank you, Tom. I don’t know if you really liked me at first or were just helping the gang to give me paybacks. But whether you and I stay together or break up, you’ve been a real friend to me. Actually, you all have been. I don’t blame you for being mad at me. Anyway, I’m sorry to all of you.”

There was a chorus of “That’s OK, Camilla,” and “Aw, Camilla,” and “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey,” Charlie cried. “Let’s show Camilla what kind of party we can really have!”


----------



## knightrider

Hungry, cold, tired, and scared, they laughed and talked and cut up. The pretended they had lots of pizza, BBQ, sodas, doughnuts, chocolate cake . . . 


“No . . . no ice cream!” shouted Alex.

“Kibblishes,” said Kate. “What’s a party without kibblishes?”

“What’s kibblishes? Little fishes?” asked Charlie.

“Dirty dishes!” screamed Jess.

“Silly wishes,” chimed in Rosie.

“OK, everybody, what’s your silly wish?” Charlie asked. “Mine is to win the Kentucky Derby.”

“Oh, Charlie, that might come true.”

“Mine is to win the lottery and buy a horse farm and raise Welsh ponies,” said Jess.

“Mine is to get my mom and dad back together,” Tom said.

“No, Tom, silly wishes, no serious stuff tonight.”

Tom smiled and gave Camilla a squeeze. “Camilla has already taken care of that part, hasn’t she?”

“What’s your silly wish, Camilla?”

“Silly wish, not serious.”

“To win a gold medal in figure skating at the Olympics.”

“Say, Camilla, when I win the Derby, I’ll pay for your private lessons with the top skating coach in America, and when you win the gold in the Olympics, you’ll . . . you’ll . . .”

“Buy you your choice of yearlings at Keeneland!” she shouted. She grinned and held up a plastic frog. “Look what I got? Just when someone is starting to doze off tonight, you’re going to have a visitor.” She waggled the frog.

“Nah, we’ll be rescued first,” Alex said.

But they weren’t. Around 1:00, they decided they wouldn’t feel so hungry if they tried to get some sleep. Nick used old army blankets for saddle pads. They had four army blankets, a couple of biggish foam pads, and Camilla’s elegant dressage pad which was fairly large. They all rolled up together with the hound puppy. Alex volunteered to stay up and feed the fire until he got sleepy. Then he’d wake Jess who said she wouldn’t be sleeping anyway.


----------



## AnitaAnne

knightrider said:


> Yay! Thank you so much! It's almost done--just a few more installments.


Oh no! I don't ever want it to finish!

Fabulous story, have no idea why they didn't want to publish it, but if they didn't keep up the rights to the story line/characters maybe you could publish it yourself.


----------



## knightrider

Nobody slept much. Phoebe noticed Camilla in the night hovering by the ponies. That was odd. Camilla never even tacked up Apollo herself, but depended on the stable help for that. Odder still, Phoebe could have sworn Camilla was making a fuss over Spunky Sass. When Phoebe awoke, she figured she must have dozed off and dreamed it.

Everyone was up before dawn, stiff, cold, hungry. The party wasn’t fun anymore. They all wanted desperately to go home.

They took their ponies to the creek for water and drank themselves. It looked clean enough. The snow was just about gone.

Alex kept looking at Sassy as Charlie was rubbing him down. “Hey guys,” Alex said slowly. “I think Sassy is the smartest pony I’ve ever seen. What do you say we let him lead and see if he gets us back on a main trail?”

“All right,” Tom said slowly. “I guess it’s as good a plan as any. Chancy kind of got us into this, so I wouldn’t trust him any more.”

When they saddled their horses, Phoebe noted that Camilla did know how. Before mounting up, they turned to look at the fire. Should they put it out? It was awful being so cold and taking hours to start it. Would they have to start another fire?

Sassy was eager to go, snatching at Charlie’s hands on the reins.

“All right, Classy Sassy,” Charlie said, “We’re going to put our faith in you. Put out the fire, guys. We’re outta here. Sassy’s going to take us home!”

They headed out with Spunky prancing and fighting the bit. They rode on trails which had no hoof prints on them at all, but Sassy’s clear strong direction couldn’t be denied. He knew exactly where he wanted to be, and he wanted to be there NOW! The longer they rode, the faster Spunky jigged, eager to be wherever he thought he was going.

After a couple of hours, they came upon the crossroads where the hunt had turned and backtracked. Everyone recognized the spot and cheered. When they stopped cheering, they heard a “Halloa, over here!”

They yelled back, “We’re here!”

Sassy pulled harder at the bit.

“He don’t need no stinkin’ rescue party!” Charlie cried.

In a few minutes they met up with a search and rescue team, two riders with SAR on their saddle blankets. The woman whipped out her walkie talkie. “We got ‘em! They’re all here safe and sound. With a hound puppy too. Bring everybody in. We got ‘em!”
There was hot cocoa, sandwiches, doughnuts, even chocolate cake back at the horse vans. Jasper rushed to Camilla and enfolded her in his arms as Tom and Phoebe grinned at each other in relief. Nick looked exhausted but delighted to see everyone. They explained about Phoebe finding the young hound and how they had gotten separated.

“You were on trails with no tracks?” Nick asked. “No tracks at all?”

“They must have gotten into the old Mason plantation,” the Search and Rescue ranger said. “There’s 8,000 acres over that way, and no one goes in there. We didn’t think of looking in there. We didn’t think you’d have gotten that far.”

Sassy was the hero of the day with pats and praise from all the rescue teams.

If Sassy hadn’t known the way, would they still be wandering the old Mason plantation? Phoebe wondered. Would Uddy have taken them back? Would Apollo?

A reporter showed up and someone told her the pony’s name was Classy Sassy Spunk.

Even Brittney and her parents were there to greet them. With numerous apologies and promises of extra volunteer work at Best Hope Farm; Skylark and Puzzle were loaded into the Masterson’s trailer to be taken home.

“We sure did cause a lot of worry and expense for everyone,” Phoebe apologized to her parents. "It’s all my fault, too. I’m so sorry."

“Don’t start, Phoebe. It’s not all your fault. Wouldn’t any of us have stopped to help the hound puppy?”

“Well, yes, I guess so,” Phoebe said.

“You did take ten years off our lives,” her dad’s eyes twinkled. “But everyone is safe, and that’s all that matters. Thank God you’re safe.”

Parents all around the Colt Creek Park were hugging their children and saying the same words . . . even Jasper Carlisle.


Sunday evening found all the regulars back in the tack room at Sandy Lane Stables. Each young person had told their parents they really needed to get back and check on their ponies. Camilla had showed up to be with Tom.

“I had a good long talk with Dad this afternoon,” she said. “He took it far better than I ever dreamed he would. I told him I didn’t want to show anymore. I told him what I really wanted was to focus on my ice skating. He agreed I could take extra skating classes. And Apollo is going to be the next Vrai Vert giveaway pony. We’re going to have another contest and give Apollo away. Dad thinks the publicity will be a big draw for the company, to give away a flashy fancy show pony.”

“But Camilla, who will you ride? How can you give up riding? Camilla, no,” they all chorused.

“Oh, I’m not giving up riding,” she grinned. “Just horse showing. Daddy is buying Classy Sassy Spunk for me. He is a perfect match for me. And he was slated for the killer, wasn’t he? Guess I’ve realized that what doesn’t suit one person may suit someone else just fine. Just because he may not be a great show horse doesn’t mean he’s not a great horse. Sassy is perfect for me. Except one thing. I’m re-naming him Wildfire. After all, you guys never could get his name straight.”

The End!!!!​
Thanks everyone who read this book. If you liked it, I am putting up another one starting tomorrow. It's called Knights in Shining Armor about my adventures doing a joust show.

Thank you, also, for all your kind comments. I wrote this book when my daughter was a baby, and today is her 16th birthday. I don't do anything with these books, and it has given me great pleasure to share them with people who actually want to read them. My family doesn't. Knights in Shining Armor was written (if you can believe this) in 1986--a long time ago. Hope you enjoy it!!!


----------



## gottatrot

I really loved the book and hope you publish it. It was fun to read now, but as a girl it would have been one of my favorite stories for sure. Full of dreams of horses like the good stories I read as a kid.
My niece is horse crazy and 11, she would love to read it.


----------



## Dash_Of_Cinnamon

The story was... cute. Keeping track of the six (Or was it seven?) kid characters was difficult at best, especially considering just as many ponies and horses were involved in the plot. Not to mention all of the adults and side characters, I can easily see why the publisher told you to cut down things a bit. 

The prose was a little bland. But since this story is a fanfic of a children's series, I assume that you were aiming to preserve the overall tone of the actual books. And children's book series do tend to be a bit simplistic in both tone and prose, at least the stuff aimed at middle schoolers anyway. 

So I concur with what everyone else was saying:- This is decent enough to be published, especially if you were to get a professional editor to go over it before you send it in. Combine the kid characters, keep Phoebe on her own (Since she is an OC of yours) and make her the main viewpoint. Combine the ponies/horses to match the new limited number of kids, minimize the adult characters and cut out as many as you can without disturbing the plot. 

So in short:- Make a composite character out of Tom and Charlie, make a composite character out of Rosie and Kate, make a composite character out of Jess and Alex. Ditto the same for their project ponies and personal horses. Phoebe is now the newcomer, she's the key viewpoint to introduce the readers into the world of the stable and to the other characters. Have the Pony Project be how she gets to know everybody and make friends. 

Get rid of all of the Sandy Lane Stables references, that will help simplify things further and make this story more convincing as a standalone. Pick a setting and stick to it, no more towering cliffs in Virginia. From the way the characters spoke and the slang that they used, I got a British feel, so perhaps somewhere in Britain would be best. 

Hire an editor to fine tune the manuscript and trim the fat. 

---------

Since the Sandy Lane Stables series was apparently a corporate enterprise --Not someone's passion project-- and given how formulaic the horse genre tends to be, I think you could reasonably get away with transforming this fanfic into an original standalone novel for children. Good luck if you do decide to pursue that idea.


----------

