of the pink jacket to either Carole or Stevie. Still, neither of them had said that non-hunt riders were
forbidden
to wear pink jackets, right? It wasn’t as if there were a rule against her wearing a pink jacket in the Macrae.
More than ever, she wished she hadn’t bought the jacket. But it was too late now.
“Uh-oh,” Stevie said a few minutes later. “Trouble coming, straight ahead.” Riding toward them on their horses were the three girls who had been present when Samson had been unloaded from the van.
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had the eerie feeling they were looking at a mirror image of themselves—at least, what they would have looked like had they been rich and spoiled. The other three girls appeared to be exactly the same age as they were, and they were riding horses that matched the colors of The Saddle Club’smounts: one black, one bay, and one gray. “It was like meeting our evil twins,” Stevie said later.
Quickly checking over the other girls’ horses, Carole had to admit they were impressive. The redheaded girl rode the black horse. He was bigger than Samson and had a white star on his forehead and three white socks.
Because the earlier run-in with the group had been so unpleasant, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie pointedly ignored the three riders and continued to laugh and talk among themselves.
As The Saddle Club passed the other three girls, however, they overheard the redhead say something about “… those girls and their circus ponies.” Lisa immediately knew they were referring to Samson and her difficulties in unloading him, and she blushed in shame.
Stevie, who noticed Lisa’s embarrassment, charged to the rescue. She stopped Danny and called over to the three girls. “Do you have a problem?” she asked challengingly.
With a bored expression, the redheaded girl reined in her horse, which stopped and snorted impatiently, and said to her two friends, “We don’t have a problem, do we, girls?” She turned and looked condescendingly at The Saddle Club. “I’m Margie,” she said. “This is Belinda, and this is Melinda. This must be your first time at the Macrae, so I guess it’s understandable why you haven’t learned how to handle your horses at a bigshow like this. We’ll just forget the whole thing, shall we?”
“Belinda and Melinda?” Stevie repeated in disbelief. “Do all the names of your evil sidekicks rhyme, or just these two? Or did you make them change their names just to suit you?”
Margie frowned. “Hmmm, I guess there’s no way of guaranteeing that people like you will know how to behave at a show like the Macrae,” she said coldly.
“People like us? What do you mean? Good riders? Nice manners?” Carole asked pleasantly.
Just then, Margie’s horse pulled his head up and snorted. During the exchange, Margie had kept her horse on a very tight rein, so his head had been uncomfortably high. Suddenly she eased off on the reins, and the black horse pranced sideways, almost bumping into Lisa and Samson, who were closest. Samson, as any horse would, pinned his ears back and shook his head warningly. Lisa, however, managed to calm him down quickly before anything else happened.
“My, my!” Stevie drawled. “Now who’s putting on the Wild West Show? It’s like: Get control of your horse before you come to the show.”
Margie gave Stevie an icy look as she shortened her reins again. Without saying another word, she motioned to Belinda and Melinda, and the three rode away.
“Just as if she had a leash around their necks,” saidStevie, noticing how devotedly the two girls followed Margie’s lead.
“I think we should head back,” said Carole. “We’re all starving, and it’s time to let the horses rest for the night. And besides,” she added, “this area has gotten a little … crowded.”
“I can’t believe how awful those three girls are,” said Lisa. “Will everyone be like that?”
“Not everyone, no,” Carole said. “But I’d
forbidden
to wear pink jackets, right? It wasn’t as if there were a rule against her wearing a pink jacket in the Macrae.
More than ever, she wished she hadn’t bought the jacket. But it was too late now.
“Uh-oh,” Stevie said a few minutes later. “Trouble coming, straight ahead.” Riding toward them on their horses were the three girls who had been present when Samson had been unloaded from the van.
Carole, Lisa, and Stevie had the eerie feeling they were looking at a mirror image of themselves—at least, what they would have looked like had they been rich and spoiled. The other three girls appeared to be exactly the same age as they were, and they were riding horses that matched the colors of The Saddle Club’smounts: one black, one bay, and one gray. “It was like meeting our evil twins,” Stevie said later.
Quickly checking over the other girls’ horses, Carole had to admit they were impressive. The redheaded girl rode the black horse. He was bigger than Samson and had a white star on his forehead and three white socks.
Because the earlier run-in with the group had been so unpleasant, Carole, Lisa, and Stevie pointedly ignored the three riders and continued to laugh and talk among themselves.
As The Saddle Club passed the other three girls, however, they overheard the redhead say something about “… those girls and their circus ponies.” Lisa immediately knew they were referring to Samson and her difficulties in unloading him, and she blushed in shame.
Stevie, who noticed Lisa’s embarrassment, charged to the rescue. She stopped Danny and called over to the three girls. “Do you have a problem?” she asked challengingly.
With a bored expression, the redheaded girl reined in her horse, which stopped and snorted impatiently, and said to her two friends, “We don’t have a problem, do we, girls?” She turned and looked condescendingly at The Saddle Club. “I’m Margie,” she said. “This is Belinda, and this is Melinda. This must be your first time at the Macrae, so I guess it’s understandable why you haven’t learned how to handle your horses at a bigshow like this. We’ll just forget the whole thing, shall we?”
“Belinda and Melinda?” Stevie repeated in disbelief. “Do all the names of your evil sidekicks rhyme, or just these two? Or did you make them change their names just to suit you?”
Margie frowned. “Hmmm, I guess there’s no way of guaranteeing that people like you will know how to behave at a show like the Macrae,” she said coldly.
“People like us? What do you mean? Good riders? Nice manners?” Carole asked pleasantly.
Just then, Margie’s horse pulled his head up and snorted. During the exchange, Margie had kept her horse on a very tight rein, so his head had been uncomfortably high. Suddenly she eased off on the reins, and the black horse pranced sideways, almost bumping into Lisa and Samson, who were closest. Samson, as any horse would, pinned his ears back and shook his head warningly. Lisa, however, managed to calm him down quickly before anything else happened.
“My, my!” Stevie drawled. “Now who’s putting on the Wild West Show? It’s like: Get control of your horse before you come to the show.”
Margie gave Stevie an icy look as she shortened her reins again. Without saying another word, she motioned to Belinda and Melinda, and the three rode away.
“Just as if she had a leash around their necks,” saidStevie, noticing how devotedly the two girls followed Margie’s lead.
“I think we should head back,” said Carole. “We’re all starving, and it’s time to let the horses rest for the night. And besides,” she added, “this area has gotten a little … crowded.”
“I can’t believe how awful those three girls are,” said Lisa. “Will everyone be like that?”
“Not everyone, no,” Carole said. “But I’d
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