Free Horse Trade by Bonnie Bryant Page A

only way to make totally sure that these weeds had caused No-Name’s allergy was to let her eat some. But that was something Stevie would never do without consulting Judy Barker.
    “Hi, Fox,” came a voice from behind her. Stevie looked over her shoulder and saw a Cross County rider who had been on the mock fox hunt that had been held at Pine Hollow several months ago. Somehow people never got tired of teasing her about being chosen to play the fox.
    “Hi,” Stevie said, standing up.
    “How’s your scent?” the boy said.
    These fox jokes would be the death of her, Stevie thought. Never, ever would she be a fox again—though, in fact, she had been a fabulous fox.
    “Never better,” she said, letting herself into the ring.
    She got up on No-Name, wondering if this day wasgoing to be one long fox joke, when she heard,
“Steeevie.”
    She looked up and saw Carole, Lisa, and Hollie. Lisa was holding the music for the duet, and Hollie had the list of dressage maneuvers they were going to perform to the strains of “Almost.”
    “Just a quick sound check,” Hollie said, going over to the barn to check the microphone, which was in a metal wall box just inside the front door. “Testing—one, two, three, four,” she said. The sound was so loud that a couple of horses jumped.
    Hollie adjusted the sound and said into the mike, “Gooooooood afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.”
    It was funny, Stevie thought. Hollie was beginning to sound like a show-business personality.
    Carole came over to Stevie and Phil and said, “The most important thing is to let the horses star. The exercises should flow out of them, as if everything were their idea.”
    “Like No-Name stood awake nights thinking about shoulder-ins,” Stevie joked. She wanted to lighten the mood. She could see that Phil was beginning to tense under all this advice.
    “Teddy’s no genius,” Phil said. “He’s just a horse.”
    Carole opened her mouth, and Stevie figured that she was about to explain that in their own way horses aregeniuses, which would probably make Phil even more edgy.
    “Stevie,” came a voice from where the cars were parked. There was something about that voice, Stevie thought, and something about that car. Yes! It was her mother’s voice, and the Lake family car.
    Stevie watched her parents walk across the grass and thought that it was great that her parents were there, but it would not be so great if her brothers were there, especially Michael. If Michael saw the duet, he would be singing “Almost” and teasing Stevie about Phil forever.
    “Mom,” Stevie said. “This is great. Did you bring—?”
    “We left Michael at home,” her mother said with a smile. “He’s cleaning the guppy tank.”
    Stevie let out a sigh of relief.
    “The Marstens called us and told us you choreographed and wrote the music for an exhibition number yourself,” Mrs. Lake said. “It really sounds special. I’m so proud of you, Stevie.”
    “I had a lot of help,” Stevie said.
    “You’ll be great,” Mr. Lake said. “I’ve brought my camera.” He raised it to show her.
    Great, Stevie thought. If she and Phil messed up, it would be preserved forever on videotape. Her brothers would certainly like that.
    But before she had a chance to dwell on what else could go wrong, Mr. Baker’s voice boomed over the microphone, “Cross County riders and guests mount up. The Fifth Annual Cross County Dressage Exhibition is about to begin.”

“M S . W INDSOR IS not a formal judge,” said Mr. Baker to the assembled riders, and to their fans in the bleachers. “She is here as a commentator and friend. And we are truly honored to have her. Ms. Windsor, as I’m sure you all know, is a former member of the American equestrian team, and one of the country’s leading dressage judges.”
    The woman Stevie recognized from the lecture at Pine Hollow took the microphone and said, “I am here only as a commentator to give advice to those who need it.” She