Thanks.â Brooke peered into the trailer through the slats. Now that Foxy was aboard, she didnât seemnervous at all. She was already nosing at the hay Brooke had stuffed into the hayrack earlier.
Brooke sighed. It was a good thing she and Foxy were going to camp, because they both obviously needed some work.
CHAPTER
4
âOH, THIS AREA IS SO lovely.â Brookeâs mother peered out the front windshield. âIsnât it nice, Brooke? Youâre just a few miles from Pocomoke Sound here. Look, thereâs the sign. Turn here, Roger.â
Brooke glanced back to check on Foxy, though she couldnât see much from the truckâjust the tips of the mareâs ears between the slats of the trailer. Then she leaned forward to check out the sign. It was fancier-looking than sheâd expected, with the words POCOMOKE STABLES spelled out in fancy gold letters. Below that, smaller letters read BOARDING TRAINING SALES . The driveway was lined with twin rows of tall shade trees, beyond which Brooke caught aglimpse of sleek horses grazing in large, grassy pastures.
âNice place,â her stepfather said approvingly as they rounded a curve in the driveway and the rest of the farm came into view.
Brooke nodded. Off to the left was a huge riding ring with neatly raked footing and a course of colorful jumps. A woman was riding a tall, glossy chestnut horse in circles at the far end. Just past the ring was the barn, which was long and low and at least twice the size of the one where Brooke had taken riding lessons. One end opened onto a large paved courtyard, and on the far side of that stood the main house, a two-story brick Colonial with tidy black shutters and a deep front porch. There were several smaller outbuildings scattered around, but Brooke didnât take in the details.
âYes, very nice,â her mother was saying. âI didnât realize it was such a fancy place.â
âOnly the best for our girl, eh?â Brookeâs stepfather tossed Brooke a wink in the rearview, then returned his focus to driving. âSuppose I should pull up over there, near the barn?â
âUm, I guess so.â Brooke was watching as the woman in the ring turned her horse and sent him over one of the jumps, which the horse cleared easily. Nearby, Brooke noticed a second woman watching from the rail. She was on foot but dressed in riding clothes that matched those of her friendâbeige breeches, tall boots, and a polo shirt.
Brooke swallowed hard, feeling intimidated. What kind of place was this? It certainly didnât look anything like the summer camps sheâd seen in the movies. It wasnât anything much like the camps her Pony Post friends had described either. So far, she didnât even see any other kids!
As her father pulled into the courtyard, a woman hurried out of the barn, waving and smiling. She looked to be in her early fifties, with chin-length brown hair, and she was dressed in jeans and paddock boots. âHi, Iâm Robin Montgomery,â she called. âYou must be the Rhodeses.â
Brookeâs stepfather leaned out the truckâs open window. âThatâs us,â he replied cheerfully. âWhere do you want the pony?â
The next few minutes were so busy that Brooke barely had time to breathe, let alone worry about what she wasin for. Robin directed them to park at the end of the barn near a pair of sliding doors, then helped unload Foxy, who was wide-eyed and alert as she took in her new surroundings. After a moment the pony whinnied loudly, then spun around at the end of the lead rope.
âSorry,â Brooke said breathlessly, doing her best to hang on to the prancing pony. âSheâs not usually like this. She doesnât go new places very often.â
âItâs all right. Here, let me help.â Robin took the lead from Brookeâs hand, talking soothingly to Foxy. The mare remained alert, but stopped jumping