Gold Medal Horse Read Online Free PDF

gallop through woods. They had to carry people who wore sandals and knew nothing about riding. Lisa chose the saddest-looking horse in hopes that she could do something to cheer it up.
    Drew chose a gray horse. “Like Prospero,” Carole said, remembering.
    Drew stared at her. “How did you know that?” he asked. Carole explained about the photo she’d seen. Drew nodded sadly. “I miss him so much,” he said. “I just wish I knew that he was doing okay.”
    Carole nodded sympathetically. She wanted to know more about Prospero, but the ride was beginning.
    When they started off, The Saddle Club saw to their surprise that Drew did not ride well at all. Even at a sedate walk, he sat awkwardly and held the reins as if he was uncomfortable. His legs were jammed awkwardly against his horse’s side.
    Stevie tried not to stare at Drew. Because he worked as a groom and knew so much about horses, she’d always assumed that he knew a lot about riding. Watching him sway crookedly with his neck and feet too far forward, she knew she’d assumed wrong.
    “I love horses,” Drew said, catching her eye, “but I can’t ride at all.”
    “You look okay,” Stevie said lamely. She didn’t think she should say she agreed. Drew looked worse than all but the newest beginners at Pine Hollow.
    “No, I don’t. I’m really awful.” The truth didn’t seem to bother Drew. “I love horses, but I admitted to myself a long time ago that I don’t have any talent in the saddle. I tried hard, but I really can’t ride.”
    “But you know so much about horses,” Carole protested. Like Stevie, she found Drew’s ineptitude hard to believe.
    “I know about them from the ground, I love them, and I take good care of them,” Drew said. “I’ve got a good eye for horses—I can recognize good ones. Someday I’d like to combine all that and be a bloodstock agent, a person who buys and sells horses for a living. But I can’t ride.”
    Drew sat back. His legs inched even farther forward, and his neck was still crooked. Lisa was momentarily glad that the trail horses were so quiet. She’d hate to see Drew get hurt.
    “Someday I’ll be an agent,” Drew repeated dreamily, leaning back even farther. “For now, all I’d like is to see Southwood do his best this weekend. I’d like to see him be
allowed
to do his best.”
    Drew straightened up. Lisa gave a sigh of relief; she’d been sure he was going to fall right off. “I don’t mean to be critical of Nigel,” Drew continued. “He takes a conservative approach to horse training, and I think that’s good most of the time. But I think Southwood is a truly great horse—and I’m not just saying that because I love him. Horses like Southwood are so rare, and so talented. I really want Southwood to get his chance at a gold medal.” Drew shrugged. “In four years, anything could happen. Southwood could get sick, or he could get hurt. This might be his best shot, and I think he should take it.”
    The tour guide, riding in front of The Saddle Club and Drew, suggested a trot. She told them they could hang on to the horn of their saddles if they felt insecure. All the horses on the ride were outfitted in Western tack.
    “As if I would do that!” Stevie said indignantly. The Saddle Club knew from riding at their friend Kate’s ranch out West that the horn on a Western saddle was not meant to be a handle. It was used for roping cattle. Besides, no good rider kept his balance by hanging on to part of his tack.
    The guide smiled sympathetically. “I don’t mean you,” she said. “I can see you three know what you’re doing. I mean the others.” She showed the fat man and the sandaled woman how to hold on.
    They set off at a sluggish trot, the horses all imitating the leader’s horse. Right away the sandaled woman started shrieking, “I’m bouncing! I’m bouncing!” She
was
bouncing, too. Her backside walloped against the saddle with every stride. Lisa, trotting smoothly, winced