Flying Horse by Bonnie Bryant Read Free Book Online

skill, and then they had admired the courage with which she faced her career-ending back injury. Now they were just glad to have her as a friend.
    Nigel shook hands all around, making funny little bows and saying “So good to see you.” It was terribly British, and The Saddle Club loved it. Nigel was every bit as nice as Dorothy, but they couldn’t imagine him hugging them.
    Mrs. DeSoto appeared on the front porch. “Dorothy, don’t leave them standing on the walk!” she called. “Bring them in! I’ve got scones just out of the oven!”
    Mrs. Reg laughed and went inside while the girls, Denise, and Nigel carried the luggage up the front steps. Inside, the smell of fresh paint contrasted sharply with the wonderful fruity smell of hot scones.
    “Sit down,” Mrs. DeSoto said, herding them all into a dining room set with card tables and folding chairs. “I’m so glad to see all of you, and you’re just in time. We’re going to serve afternoon tea here at the DeSoto Inn, and Nigel’s mum sent me her recipe for scones. You all can test them out.” She disappeared through a swinging door and came back with a heavily laden tray. “Once you’ve had tea and rested, we’ll show you the rest of the inn.” She smiled. “We’ve been working hard—a few of the guest rooms are habitable, I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear. And a few of the bathrooms and the kitchen are operational, too. But I’m eager to open for business. All of the other inns on the island are at full occupancy, or nearly so, and I want to start taking reservations for Pony Penning.” She jumped up, went out to the kitchen, and came back with a small jar of jam. “I forgot—this is wild strawberry, in case anybody wants some. Now, what do you think of the scones?”
    “Wunnerful,” said Stevie, her mouth full.
    “I agree,” said Lisa. “I’ve had teas in England that weren’t half so nice as this.”
    “Well, naturally,” said Nigel, folding his legs and taking a close look at one of the currants on his scone. “Just because someplace invented something doesn’t mean they’ve perfected it. I’ve also had some pretty grotty teas in England. I’ve made some pretty grotty tea, too, come to think of it—remember backstage at Olympia, luv?” He tapped his wife’s cheek.
    “Olympia is an indoor show in Great Britain,” Dorothy explained to The Saddle Club. “It’s right before Christmas, and it’s a very big deal, kind of like our American Horse Show. Anyway, last year, Nigel was so nervous before the big Grand Prix that he insisted on making us all tea on a camp stove before the class got started. He said it would calm him down.”
    “Dreadful,” said Nigel, with a shake of his head. “I boiled it, I’m afraid. Even my horse wouldn’t drink it, and he loves tea.”
    “Did it calm you down?” asked Carole.
    Nigel shook his head, a smile in his eyes. “Not at all. Nothing ever does, you know. But it didn’t matter—I won the class anyway.” He grinned.
    “That’s amazing,” Stevie said frankly.
    “What?” asked Nigel. “Amazing that I wrecked the tea? Or amazing that it didn’t calm me down?” He raised his eyebrows at them in puzzled amusement.
    “I agree,” Carole said, and Lisa nodded.
    “What?” Nigel repeated. “Do speak up. It’s not like you Yanks to be uncommunicative—especially you three.”
    Stevie explained. “It’s amazing that you were nervous before your class. I mean, you’re
Nigel Hawthorne.
We didn’t think great riders like you ever got nervous.”
    Nigel’s grin widened. “Stevie, luv, have you seen Grand Prix jumps? They’re six feet tall! Believe me, people who say they’re not nervous before a class like that are flat-out lying—or shouldn’t be there. You’ve got to care enough to be nervous, if you want to do well.”
    The Saddle Club nodded. Both Lisa and Carole felt somehow reassured—if even Nigel got nervous sometimes, then it was okay that they always felt a few