hand.
Lisa was a little annoyed at herself and was about to take it out on Stevie, but Christine stopped her.
“Twenty-nine seconds,” Christine said.
“But I ended up in the dirt!”
“I just checked the rule book,” Christine said, pocketing the stopwatch so she could give Lisa a congratulatory hug. “It doesn’t say anything about having to stay on your horse after the race. Of course, the judges might prefer the more traditional dismount …”
“That was great!” Carole said. “You were really terrific. Can you give me some pointers on technique?”
Suddenly, Lisa felt as is she were standing on top of the world. Carole Hanson wanted help from
her
?
“Of course I can,” Lisa said graciously. “And you can help me, too.”
“Sure,” Carole agreed. “What do you want to know?”
“How do I stop?”
On that note, the girls were ready to do some serious practicing.
“H OW DO YOU think they’re doing with the busted pipes in Willow Creek?” Stevie asked her friends. The camp-out was over, the campsite was cleaned up, and the five girls were on their horses, heading back to The Bar None.
“Beats me,” Carole said. “Why? You think we’re doing so badly on our practice that you want to skip the rodeo and go home?”
“That’s one thought,” Stevie said. “What I was actually hoping, though, was that the pipes wouldn’t be fixed for weeks so we’d have to stay here.”
“No way,” Kate said. “Once we have our triumphantsuccess at the rodeo, The Bar None will be filled with paying guests. We won’t have room anymore for moochers!”
Lisa only half listened to the teasing. She and Christine were at the end of the group. Christine seemed unusually quiet.
“What’s up?” Lisa asked.
“I was just thinking about our costumes,” Christine said.
“I’ve been worrying about that, too,” Lisa agreed. “I mean, when I think of cowboys and costumes, I start thinking about fancy stitched shirts, with piping and rhinestones, and tooled leather boots and silver-studded bridles. We don’t have the time to do all that.”
“To say nothing of the money!” Christine added. “And when I think of dressing up, all I can picture is what the tourists imagine is traditional American Indian garb—you know, feathered headdresses and stuff like that. We certainly don’t have the time to do that, either.”
“To say nothing of the wampum!” Lisa remarked.
Christine laughed. “That’s right.”
“So that leaves us with two goals—fast and cheap.
That
makes me think of T-shirts.”
“You know, we could write something on them …”
“We could even get them in a bright color so they stand out …”
“… front
and
back.”
“… maybe red?”
“I think we’re onto something!”
“You bet we are.”
“My mom’s an artist. She’s got all the paints and everything we could need.”
“I’ve got the funniest feeling that this is going to be cool,” Lisa said. “Really cool.”
“So why don’t we all meet at my house tonight after dinner to make our parade outfits?”
By the time Christine left them to head for her own house, the plan was made. Christine would have the art supplies. The others would buy and bring the T-shirts.
E LI WAS WORKING hard in the corral, practicing for the rodeo, when they arrived. The Saddle Club untacked their horses and let them out into the pasture with the rest of the herd. It only took a few minutes for them to stow their sleeping bags in the bunkhouse, tell Phyllis and Frank that they were back safely, and return to the corral to watch Eli.
The corral was set up for steer wrestling. Eli and a cowboy the girls didn’t recognize were on horseback. Between them, Jeannie seemed to be in charge of the steer. The steer was confined to a little pen and was fussing to get out of it.
“Go!” Eli yelled. Jeannie released the steer and reached to give him a slap on his flank. It was unnecessary. He’d already burst out of the pen
Lisa was a little annoyed at herself and was about to take it out on Stevie, but Christine stopped her.
“Twenty-nine seconds,” Christine said.
“But I ended up in the dirt!”
“I just checked the rule book,” Christine said, pocketing the stopwatch so she could give Lisa a congratulatory hug. “It doesn’t say anything about having to stay on your horse after the race. Of course, the judges might prefer the more traditional dismount …”
“That was great!” Carole said. “You were really terrific. Can you give me some pointers on technique?”
Suddenly, Lisa felt as is she were standing on top of the world. Carole Hanson wanted help from
her
?
“Of course I can,” Lisa said graciously. “And you can help me, too.”
“Sure,” Carole agreed. “What do you want to know?”
“How do I stop?”
On that note, the girls were ready to do some serious practicing.
“H OW DO YOU think they’re doing with the busted pipes in Willow Creek?” Stevie asked her friends. The camp-out was over, the campsite was cleaned up, and the five girls were on their horses, heading back to The Bar None.
“Beats me,” Carole said. “Why? You think we’re doing so badly on our practice that you want to skip the rodeo and go home?”
“That’s one thought,” Stevie said. “What I was actually hoping, though, was that the pipes wouldn’t be fixed for weeks so we’d have to stay here.”
“No way,” Kate said. “Once we have our triumphantsuccess at the rodeo, The Bar None will be filled with paying guests. We won’t have room anymore for moochers!”
Lisa only half listened to the teasing. She and Christine were at the end of the group. Christine seemed unusually quiet.
“What’s up?” Lisa asked.
“I was just thinking about our costumes,” Christine said.
“I’ve been worrying about that, too,” Lisa agreed. “I mean, when I think of cowboys and costumes, I start thinking about fancy stitched shirts, with piping and rhinestones, and tooled leather boots and silver-studded bridles. We don’t have the time to do all that.”
“To say nothing of the money!” Christine added. “And when I think of dressing up, all I can picture is what the tourists imagine is traditional American Indian garb—you know, feathered headdresses and stuff like that. We certainly don’t have the time to do that, either.”
“To say nothing of the wampum!” Lisa remarked.
Christine laughed. “That’s right.”
“So that leaves us with two goals—fast and cheap.
That
makes me think of T-shirts.”
“You know, we could write something on them …”
“We could even get them in a bright color so they stand out …”
“… front
and
back.”
“… maybe red?”
“I think we’re onto something!”
“You bet we are.”
“My mom’s an artist. She’s got all the paints and everything we could need.”
“I’ve got the funniest feeling that this is going to be cool,” Lisa said. “Really cool.”
“So why don’t we all meet at my house tonight after dinner to make our parade outfits?”
By the time Christine left them to head for her own house, the plan was made. Christine would have the art supplies. The others would buy and bring the T-shirts.
E LI WAS WORKING hard in the corral, practicing for the rodeo, when they arrived. The Saddle Club untacked their horses and let them out into the pasture with the rest of the herd. It only took a few minutes for them to stow their sleeping bags in the bunkhouse, tell Phyllis and Frank that they were back safely, and return to the corral to watch Eli.
The corral was set up for steer wrestling. Eli and a cowboy the girls didn’t recognize were on horseback. Between them, Jeannie seemed to be in charge of the steer. The steer was confined to a little pen and was fussing to get out of it.
“Go!” Eli yelled. Jeannie released the steer and reached to give him a slap on his flank. It was unnecessary. He’d already burst out of the pen
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