vehicles.
Someone rode by on a bicycle. Definitely not Karya.
A dented station wagon came along the road. It slowed down at the Pine Hollow entrance, passed it, stopped, andthen backed up. There was a woman behind the wheel, and a girl sat in the seat beside her. A man sat in the back. The station wagon had Virginia license plates.
“Must be some new rider,” Lisa said, since none of them recognized the car or the girl.
“No, it’s Karya,” Stevie said unexpectedly. The way she knew was that suddenly all the men in black—no matter what colors they were actually wearing—began to swarm around the driveway, lining up to protect the passenger who would emerge from the car.
A girl about their own age, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, climbed out. She reached back in for a bag that must contain riding clothes and boots.
“I’ll see you later, Mom,” she said.
“Call me at Grandma’s when I should come pick you up,” said the mother.
“I will—or someone else will,” the girl said lightly, glancing at the phalanx of guardians around her. She closed the car door and then looked around while her mother backed the car out of the driveway. The girl’s eyes lit on The Saddle Club, perched on the fence.
“Carole Hanson?” she called
Carole nodded.
“I’m Karya!” The girl waved.
A S SOON AS the words were spoken, and before Carole even had a chance to wave back, the security men swarmed, enclosing The Saddle Club and Karya in a tight circle.
“This is weird,” said Stevie. “Do I keep saying that?”
Lisa nodded. “It makes me feel really safe,” joked Lisa, though she knew she and her friends all felt the same way. The presence of so many men trying to make them safe only served to make them feel endangered, totally aware of some new kind of vulnerability.
Within the circle, introductions were made quickly.
For all the fanfare that had attended her arrival, it seemed ironic that Karya so immediately put all three girls at total ease and made each one of them understand that they liked this girl who came with so many trappings.
“I’m so glad to be here!” Karya said, reaching out to hug her new friends. They were pleased to hug her back.
“You really want to muck out a stall?” Lisa asked her.
“Two!” Karya declared. “At home they never let me do anything!”
“We’ll let you,” Stevie promised. “In fact, we might even invite you back.”
Karya laughed. “Let’s get someplace a little quieter,” she said. She looked around at the circle of men who enclosed them. None of the security men was making a sound, so the girls knew that Karya didn’t mean quiet in the sense of noiseless. She just meant private.
“How about the dressing room?” Carole suggested.
“Much quieter,” Karya agreed. The girls showed her the way.
They knew the guards were standing outside the dressing area, but inside, it was just the four of them. Karya took her riding clothes out of the bag and slipped into them quickly. There were no royal patches, presidential seals, or flags on her shirt. They were just riding clothes, very much like the ones The Saddle Club were wearing.
“Whew,” Stevie said when Karya had changed. “I was a little worried you’d be dressed like the security guys.”
Karya laughed. “Aren’t they a hoot? All they know about riding they’ve learned from American cowboy movies. They blend right in here, don’t they?”
“Yes, like a dozen sore thumbs,” Lisa said, nodding. “Have you got them around all the time? I mean, they’ve been nice enough, but …”
Karya sat on one of the benches to explain. “Well, my father kind of insists on it,” she said. “He got elected, and most of the people who voted for him really like him. Unfortunately, some of the people who didn’t vote for him reallyhate him. They’ve threatened him and they’ve threatened me. They haven’t threatened my mother, which is why she gets away with one guard—he was in the back