Grown Up Saddle Club

When Max dies, the Saddle Club pulls together to save Pine Hollow. Fanfiction based on the characters and story developed by Bonnie Bryant.

“We’ve got another one,” Red said to Carole, holding a thick white envelope. Reed Pope McGregor Smith LLP was written in cursive in the return address.

Carole’s stomach dropped. Another letter from Veronica’s lawyers. Why wouldn’t they leave Pine Hollow alone?

“Do you want to open it?” Red asked. Concern danced across his eyes as he took in Carole’s anxious face. “Never mind, let’s leave it for Stevie.” He dropped the envelope onto her wooden desk with a satisfying thud.

Carole turned the envelope upside down and moved her favourite picture in front of it, so she couldn’t see it. In the picture, she, Lisa and Stevie were standing at the entrance to the Pine Hollow trails, riding Starlight, Prancer and Topside. Each horse had  pricked ears, and each teenage girl had a huge, beaming smile on her face. The perfect photograph capturing a perfect moment in time.

Back when life was simple.

Carole sighed. She would give anything to go back to those easy days.

“How does she think we have fifty thousand dollars sitting around? It’s ludicrous. And saying we are responsible for the whole cost? It makes no sense.”

Veronica owned the private stable adjacent to Pine Hollow. For years they hadn’t had any contact – growing up, she had hated the Saddle Club, and they weren’t particularly fond of her in return. But over the last few years, the fence that separated the two properties was sagging, broken in parts. It needed fixing.

Carole didn’t deny the fence needed work. The problem was Veronica’s assertion that Pine Hollow should pay for the entire replacement cost, and not only that, that it should be done in “safe” white vinyl planks. Veronica’s lawyers had sent an estimate – fifty thousand dollars! Carole had choked on her coffee when she read it.

“Stevie will deal with it,” Red reassured Carole.

Thank goodness Stevie was a lawyer. Property law wasn’t her area of specialty, but she helped out Pine Hollow in exchange for training rides on Cloud Punch, her magnificent upper-level dressage mount.

“Speaking of Stevie, do you know when she’s coming back?” Carole asked. Their adult lives consisting of work, children, and other problems kept the Saddle Club a lot more distant from each other than when they were teenagers. It sometimes felt like Red talked to her friends more than she did.

“She texted this morning saying she has a huge case and won’t be in all week. She asked us to ride Cloud.”

Carole wrinkled her nose. She tried to remember the last time she had seen her friend ride. Had the weeks turned into months? Carole worried about Stevie, who worked such long hours in DC. But – not her business.

Carole stood up and took in the whiteboard that covered one wall of her office. A line of faded ribbons, organized by colour, ran along the top. Each horse’s name was listed on the wall, along with their feed and exercise schedule.

Next to Cloud’s name Carole wrote a training schedule for the week. Red would ride today, and she gave Lisa the ride tomorrow. She wished she could ride the magnificent warmblood herself, but knew she would be tired from four back-to-back nightshifts that week at the Willow Creek General Hospital.

“I’ll ride Cloud right now,” Red said. He gave her a salute, which made her giggle, and strode out of the office. Carole heard his boots clomping as he walked down the stable aisle, his cheerful whistle fading as he went.

Carole sat back down at her desk. If she had to do office work, this was the way she liked it – as close to horses as possible. While not everyone loved the smell of hay, leather and manure that permeated the office, to Carole, it was as sweet as perfume.

Max had made it all look so easy. Carole had no idea running Pine Hollow would be this hard – and this expensive. The bills never stopped. Tractor repair. Vet expenses. Grain. The arena needed new footing.

Carole glumly studied the latest bank statement. More money was going out than was coming in. Her work at the hospital took her away from Pine Hollow more than she liked. But her RN salary, which paid time and a half for night shifts, was currently keeping the stable afloat.

***

The last year had been a blur. The shock of Max’s sudden death. The developers, closing in. They had been circling Pine Hollow like vultures as Max had grown sicker. Barely waiting for Max’s body to turn cold after his death, they had approached Maxi with an offer that stunned her.

“Look at it,” Maxi had slurred, throwing the documents into Carole’s hands. Maxi was half drunk from the whiskey she had begun stowing in her boot flask. Her fomerly cute predilection for drink had grown more troubling in recent months.

Carole read the plans with a riding sense of panic.

They were going to destroy the aging indoor arena, knock down the stables, and build a master planned community of single family “modern farmhouses.” The worst part is they would call the community “Pine Hollow,” but retain none of the equestrian elements.

“I don’t know what to do,” Maxi had sobbed. “I can’t run this place on my own, and they’re offering so much money. If only Dad was still here.”

“Have you heard from your mom?” Carole asked gently. She knew it was a sensitive topic. When Maxi was a teenager, Dorothy had fallen for a handsome clinician from Spain, who had come to Pine Hollow to give a clinic on working equitation. When he left, Dorothy had followed him back to Europe, and never returned.

Maxi’s face turned to stone. “I have no mother.”

She took a swig from her flask and stormed out of the office, leaving Carole alone.

Carole stood up, walked behind the desk, and boldly sat in Max’s chair.

It felt natural. If she was perfectly honest, Carole had dreamed of running Pine Hollow since she was a little girl riding ponies. Was now the time?

She had called an emergency meeting of the Saddle Club. Things were tense between Lisa and Stevie because of Phil, but once the women heard the future of Pine Hollow was at stake, all thoughts of men were off the table.

“I have a scheme,” Stevie’s brown eyes sparkled with characteristic intelligence, and the three women hatched a plan to save Pine Hollow.

Naturally, Carole would lease Pine Hollow, taking over the management and operation. Her friends vowed to help in any way they could – of course, helping each other out was a fundamental tenet of The Saddle Club. Three decades later, they had never let each other down.

Maxi had agreed. As long as she wasn’t on the hook for the stress and finances of running the stable, she was glad to keep Pine Hollow. Her dad would roll over in his grave if Pine Hollow was sold to developers.

Red had returned for Max’s funeral. Now a Navy Seal, he had grown from boy to man. But the easy familiarity between him and the Saddle Club lingered, despite the decade that had passed.

Carole had become uncharacteristically emotional during the funeral. Red had taken her in his arms as she wept, worrying about the fate of Pine Hollow.

“I’ll help you,” he had murmured into her ear. “I’ll help you run the stable.”

Carole could have kissed him. And true to his word, Red left the Navy Seals and returned to Pine Hollow. He lived in the same caretaker’s cottage he grew up in. The Saddle Club made him an honorary member.

Sometimes Carole worried Red was getting a bad deal. She couldn’t pay him much, and he didn’t seem to have much of a life outside the stables. Was she holding him back?

But Red was happy. As an orphan, the Regnery’s had been his only family. Max was the closest thing he had known to a father, and he felt brotherly affection for Maxi.

His stint in the Seals had sharpened his natural discipline and work ethic. Red appreciated the hierarchy of miliary life, how he always knew what to expect. The consistency of it was the opposite of life with horses, with its dramatic highs and lows. But he had never stopped missing the horses and the green fields of Pine Hollow. Pine Hollow was home, more than anywhere else.

***

Leaving Carole in the office, Red whistled as he walked to tack up Cloud. Life was good. He got paid to ride horses, and nice ones like Cloud. The magnificent stallion nickered deeply in his throat when he saw Red approaching.

Maxi had let slip what Stevie had paid for the horse. The pricetag was about as much as Red would make in an entire decade.

Good for Steve, he thought to himself. After she was diagnosed with ADHD in college and started taking meds, her career had skyrocketed.

Turns out she was gifted, maybe even a genius. The energy she once put towards practical jokes she turned into making money – big money. Red heard she was one of the most feared lawyers in DC. Red was proud of her, but he wouldn’t change positions with her for anything in the world. All that money – and no time to ride!

***

Stevie finished her brief, pressed save, and closed the window. She turned her attention to a more interesting browser: The DC Dressage Show website. She browsed classes, and imagined her and Cloud riding in the freestyle – not that they were anywhere near that yet! Stevie visualized their performance, set to her favorite Snoop Dogg song. Humming the tune, she got up and danced across the length of her office, performing tempi changes in rhythm with the beat. A colleague looked at her with bewilderment through the glass walls.

Grow an imagination, Caleb, Stevie thought to herself. She waved at Caleb, and pantomimed riding a hobby horse. Caleb still looked confused. What a tool, Stevie thought.

A partner walking by saw Stevie and followed suit, cowboying an imaginary bronc horse. Stevie burst out laughing. He was a boomer, but he was all right.

Everyone in the firm knew Stevie was a horse nut. She walked back to her desk, and sat down, gazing at the screen of her computer. Beyond her lay the grey expanse of DC. Though she was on the highest floor she still couldn’t see all the way to the rolling green fields of Virgina, where her horse lived.

She was the youngest name partner at Wellington Boyd Martin Fitzgerald Lake. A bespoke, life-sized painting of Cloud Punch, her prized horse, was the first thing anyone could see when they entered her massive corner office.

Cloud had placed ninth in the FEI Dressage World Championships a few years ago, and Stevie had snatched him away from the Dutch for just a minor king’s ransom.

Isn’t that what all this was about? She mused, twirling her sandy hair around a finger. The one that didn’t have a ring on it anymore.

So Lisa had stolen her man. They were still friends. If that didn’t topple the Saddle Club, nothing could.

***

“I’m going now, honey,” Phil said, pulling his wife into a warm embrace and kissing her.

“Don’t forget about the juice,” Lisa told him, pulling away. “I need those shipments out today, otherwise Polly won’t—”

“Say no more,” Phil said. “It’s already done.”

He rubbed his wife’s shoulders, easing away the knots away with strong thumbs.

“Why don’t you go ride?” He suggested. Lisa had been irritable and short lately. Riding always seemed to help improve her mood. And a happy wife meant a happy life, he knew.

“I just need to get that juice sold,” Lisa said. “Which means – you know this PHIL – I need to do nine Instagram reels this week. Do you even know how long---?” she stopped midsentence, huffing in displeasure. She threw up her hands.

Phil backed away to the door. When Lisa was in one her snits, it was best to leave her be.

He hopped into his blue truck. Willow Creek Electrical. He had about nine jobs to do that day. Maybe he would make it home in time to surprise Lise with a nice dinner. She deserved it, so stressed about selling all that juice she got duped into buying from Polly Giacomin.

Five thousand dollars worth of juice.

Phil shook his head. It was a lot of money to be out, especially with Sadie’s braces coming up. But horses weren’t the expense to cut. Lisa went kuckoo when she didn’t ride.

Phil needed help getting her out of this funk. There was nothing left to do. Sure, things with Steve were a little strained, but they were still friends.

He texted Stevie and Carole in a group chat.

Saddle Club, I need your help, he wrote.

Carol responded immediately.

What’s up?

Lisa needs to ride.

Weird, I actually just texted her. Carole replied. Were your ears burning? She can ride Cloud tomorrow.

Cloud? Phil texted.

Stevie jumped into the messages.

My horse, Cloud! Hey Phil.

Hi Steve. Oh yeah. The big white horse.

The one I bought after you left me😊. Stevie couldn’t help herself.

Phil thought maybe it had been a mistake to text the Saddle Club. Right, sorry again about that. Phil wrote. Got to go to work! Thanks Saddle Club!

Later Phil, texted Stevie.

Carole didn’t respond – which was typical for her. She didn’t spend a lot of time on her phone.

Phil put his phone in his pocket, and stretched his arms above his head. That had been slightly awkward. But he grinned, satisfied he had solved a problem. Lisa was going to ride, tomorrow. That would lift her spirits.

****

Lisa took her boots out of the stirrups and let her legs dangle loose along Cloud’s side, while she rolled her tight ankles in circles. Her legs felt like wet noodles, empty and rubbery. She hadn’t ridden in a few weeks, and her muscles were feeling the effects of the ride.

She ran a gloved hand down Cloud’s silken neck in appreciation. He reached his elegant head down to the ground and snorted into the sand. The rhythmic four-beat thud of his hoofsteps were the only sound in the vast arena. Lisa’s hips swayed easily with the horse’s movement.

She realized she was smiling. God she had needed this. One solid hour where she hadn’t thought about a single other thing than the horse under her. She had completely lost track of time, space, and herself. She was in the zone, in flow, as she and Cloud had progressed through a series of dressage maneuvers, each one more difficult than the next.

I guess you’d expect a FEI horse to have a decent extended trot, Lisa had mused. She had never ridden a horse who felt like an accordion before – who could extend and compress his body with such ease.

The Queen of England couldn’t have been better mounted. Lisa’s heart burst. None of her problems seemed to matter that much now. The juice? Who cared – it would sell. Her Instagram – why sweat it?

She resolved to be extra nice to Phil tonight.

Carole walked in, white teeth flashing in a wide smile. Her unruly black hair was pulled into a huge ponytail under her riding helmet. Lisa always thought Carole’s hair looked so cool with riding apparel.

“That looked pretty great,” Carole said, looking up at Lisa. Besides dark circles under her eyes and a few creases, she looked almost the same as she always had. Lisa envied her friend’s complexion which aged so well. Most trainers look ten years older than they were due to hours spent every day in the sun, but Carole looked younger than her forty years.

Lisa beamed back at her friend. “He is a dream,” she stated simply.

“I know,” Carole said. “We are so lucky to have him.”

For a moment Carole noticed the contradiction between the fancy horse and the somewhat shabby surroundings. Everything was safe and in good working order, but even Carol herself would hesitate to call it nice. The railings needed painting. The sand footing was becoming shallow and sparse – she needed to get more sand trucked in soon.

“Nice to see you riding him so well, Lise,” Carole said, giving Cloud a final pat on his neck and walking away. Red was waiting for her, in the field that bordered Veronica’s. They were patching together another broken section of fence.

 “Thanks a lot Carole! I’ll cool him out, and put him back in his paddock.”

Carole nodded and walked towards Red. Even from a distance he cast an impressive figure in the field. She was reminded of her dad, the Colonel, who had passed away a few years ago… well it had been five years now, as she thought of it. Time flew. Red was like him, a little bit. They had the same six-foot frame, the same upright posture of a soldier.

He wasn’t black though. Red was as light skinned as they came, with hair and a complexion to match his name.  

Red was wrestling with a section of fence when Carol approached. She held a plank steady while Red wielded the hammer.

“Thanks,” he grinned at Carole. The warm May wind ruffled his copper hair, making it shine like a penny. The green fields around them would rival the Emerald Isle herself. That spring had been fantastic for growing – lots of rain, lots of sun. The entire meadow smelled fresh and bright and clean.

“You have chestnut hair,” Carole said.

“You still frame everything in horse terms, don’t you?” Red teased.

Carole shrugged. “It’s how I make sense of things.”

“What breed am I then?” Red asked.

Carole studied him. He was tall like a Thoroughbred, but strong like a Quarter Horse. Maybe a warmblood…but there was nothing elegant about Red. He was rugged, craggy. The answer came to her.

“Irish Draught!” Carole said triumphantly.

Red laughed easily, they laughed together. Carole felt the spring sun warming her body from the outside, and a growing warmth inside her body as well.

A figure on horseback emerged on the horizon, coming towards them at a fast trot. Carole recognized the fine bay with a white face as Veronica’s hack horse. She had seen the nice horse before. It reminded her of Barq, the old Arab Lisa used to ride sometimes.

The horse and rider pulled up next to Carole and Red. Red carefully laid down his hammer. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, he gazed up at Veronica.

Veronica didn’t smile. Her shiny black hair was clipped into a neat ponytail, and looked almost blue in the midday sun, like a crow’s feather.

“Hello,” Veronica said evenly. “How are you?”

“We are doing all right, Veronica. Thanks for asking,” Red said easily. “A plank came down, so we are patching it back up.” He had known Veronica since she was a girl, like the rest of the Saddle Club.

Red took in the length of her leg, the straightness of her back, the softness of her hands on the reins. Girl could ride. Red felt a surge of pride, remembering Max, his rigorous standards for equitation and horsemanship. He developed good horsepeople. Red had been Max’s first pupil, and credited him for everything he knew.

“Thank you for doing that,” Veronica said cooly. Her eyes narrowed as she directed her gaze to Carole.

“I trust you’ve been in contact with my lawyers?”

“Veronica, I’ve told you before—” Carole said.

Veronica held up her hand. “I’ll stop you there,” she said. “I’d prefer not to hash out any details in front of….” Her eyes flickered over to Red, and then back to Carole. “Staff,” she finished.

Veronica clucked her tongue. Her horse lifted her pretty head, ears pricked, anticipating Veronica’s command. “Let’s go, Penelope,” Veronica said, with an imperceptible nudge of her heels.

The horse proceeded into a brisk working trot. Veronica looked over her shoulder, and waved. “Toodle ooh!” She called out.

Carole felt a hot fury rising inside her chest. She didn’t want to talk to Veronica’s lawyers – Pope, Reed, whoever the hell else, they could be the actual Pope, and it still wouldn’t solve her problem. Veronica was being completely unreasonable. And she knew it. That’s why she refused to look Carole in the eye and solve it the decent way, woman to woman.

Red noticed the red flush of anger on Carole’s cheeks.

“Here,” he said, passing Carole the hammer.

Carole grinned at him and Red readied the plank. After a few  swings, Carole felt her anger begin to dissolve.

She made a mental note to call Stevie.

“I’ll call Stevie today,” Red said, as if reading her mind. “Leave it with me. Don’t you stress about it.” Red was protective of Carole who carried the weight of their entire world on her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Carole’s warm brown eyes twinkled as she looked at him. Her right hand man. Nothing felt so bad when he was there with her.

“I got you,” Red laughed. He walked behind Carole, and took the hammer from her hands, nailing the last stubborn nail into a hard section of wood. The planks had to be about seventy years old but the wood was still good, strong - not soft or rotting at all.

⚡️ stay tuned for part deux ⚡️

🖤 Julie Claire