“IF ONE MORE person asks me where the extra stirrup leathers are, I’m going to scream!” Carole announced. But nobody was listening to her.

Everything around the stable and front driveway of Pine Hollow Stables was in an advanced state of confusion. It seemed to Carole that she was the only organized part of it.

The eleven people and eleven horses who were going on the Mountain Trail Overnight—or the MTO, as the girls called it—were swarming around the bus and horse vans. All the riders were trying to make sure their own things were packed. Carole clutched a clipboard tightly in her hand. She checked it one more time—a final time, she hoped—but she knew better.

“Need any help?” Stevie asked, hauling her own bedroll and knapsack over to the bus.

“Hey, thanks,” Carole said. “Everybody else wants to know how I can help them.” Carole looked at the clipboard again. “Oh, here’s what you can do. We’re going to need hoof-picks. Joe Novick said he’d get them, but right after he promised, I saw him go in the opposite direction and I haven’t seen him since. Grab a couple from the tack room, will you? And put them in with the grooming gear?”

Stevie saluted with a grin and headed for the stable’s tack room. Carole put a second check mark next to “hoof-picks.”

Veronica diAngelo was standing near the bus. Three of her friends—more like ladies-in-waiting, Carole thought—were gathered around her. Carole stifled a giggle when she noticed that each of them—Meg Durham, Lorraine Olsen, and Betsy Cavanaugh—was wearing the identical riding pants that Veronica had worn. Last week. They’d probably driven their mothers crazy trying to imitate Veronica’s fashion-show riding habit.

As far as Carole was concerned, there was nothing about Veronica that she wanted to imitate—but Veronica did have one thing Carole longed for. Veronica’s father had bought her a beautiful Thoroughbred stallion named Cobalt. Carole would have given anything to own Cobalt, and sometimes it almost seemed like she did. Veronica liked owning a prize Thoroughbred. She didn’t like taking care of him and exercising him regularly, though. She often asked Carole to help and Carole never said no. She loved that horse.

“Did we remember to bring horse blankets?” Red O’Malley, one of Pine Hollow’s stableboys, asked Carole.

She checked her list and told him they were packed.

When Carole was certain everything on her clipboard had been checked twice, she helped load the horses onto the vans. Most horses learned to accept occasional van trips. Some even liked them. But a few, like Barq, whom Lorraine would ride, were van haters. He was an Arabian—named after the Arabic word for lightning—and when he got near a van, he tried to streak the other way! To avoid trouble this time, they led him up the ramp with a bucket of oats. With his nose in the feed bag, he was in the van before he knew it, and it was too late for protests.

Today, Carole saw with a sigh of relief, Barq was no trouble at all. Diablo and Harry gave Max and Red a hard time, but eventually, the horses were loaded. When Carole assured the drivers that all the horse gear was aboard, the vans took off. The bus would follow in a few minutes.

Lisa stowed her bedroll and pack in the bus and came over to chat with Carole while the last items were loaded. She was followed closely by her mother. Mrs. Atwood had originally insisted that Lisa learn to ride. She thought all nice young ladies should know something about horses. But she never expected Lisa to become horse crazy, and she was very nervous that something terrible would happen to her daughter on the MTO.

She hovered around Lisa. While the girls talked about riding, Mrs. Atwood uttered dire warnings like “Don’t go too close to the edge of the mountain, now, dear,” and “Don’t drink any water that hasn’t been boiled, will you?” Lisa just nodded sweetly, assuring her mother she’d be careful. Carole wondered at Lisa’s patience, but she knew Mrs. Atwood was just being caring, in her own way.

“Mom, I think it’s time for parents to go,” Lisa said gently. She gave her mother a brief hug. “See you Sunday at six o’clock, okay?”

“Okay, dear,” Mrs. Atwood said, backing toward her station wagon. “Have a good time!” Lisa smiled.

Lisa wasn’t the only rider with a mother hanging around. Mrs. diAngelo drove up in her Mercedes and rolled down the window. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re still here, dear,” she said. “I brought this for you.”

Mrs. diAngelo offered Veronica a set of saddlebags. Even from across the parking area, Carole could see they weren’t just saddlebags. They were from Hermès, the exclusive French saddlery. Carole knew she’d probably ridden horses that cost less than that set of saddlebags.

Veronica accepted the offering as if her mother had handed her an old pair of pajamas. “Thanks, Mother,” she said drily.

“Open them up,” her mother said, her voice tinged with excitement. Veronica lifted up the flap and pulled out a sack of expensive Perugina candies. “I thought you’d enjoy sharing those by the campfire,” she said.

Veronica smiled briefly. “Thanks, Mother. I guess it’s time to go now. See you Sunday.”

Mrs. diAngelo raised her push-button window and drove off.

“Isn’t that something?” Stevie said, joining Carole and Lisa. “I didn’t know she cared.”

Carole had to agree. Mrs. diAngelo seemed to be trying very hard to please Veronica. It was too bad that Veronica was such a pain. “Doesn’t matter to me, though,” Carole said. “She’s still a pain.”

“Yeah, but now she’s a pain with some wonderful treats to share at the campfire.”

“You know,” Lisa said, “I think I’d rather have a mother who worries too much than one who brings me five-hundred-dollar saddlebags filled with expensive candies.”

“Me, too,” Stevie agreed.

Carole was quiet for a moment. Her own mother had died after a long illness the previous fall. She hadn’t been like either Mrs. Atwood or Mrs. diAngelo. She’d been just about perfect. Carole really missed her, but she was glad she had her memories.

“Time to board the bus!” Max announced. At once, eleven people jostled over to the minibus, which would carry them to the start of the mountain trail. Carole stood at the door of the bus. As the riders climbed aboard one by one, Carole asked them all—even Max—if they’d remembered their bedrolls and packs. As they promised they had, Carole put checks by their names on her list.

Then it was time for Carole to climb on board. “Okay, Hanson, did you remember your bedroll and backpack?” Stevie teased, trying to sound like a Marine drill instructor.

Carole blushed. She knew then that she’d been impossibly bossy, but there were so many things to do, and Max was really counting on her to help.

“Of course!” she answered. She could envision the two bundles clearly. Right by her front door. Ready to be picked up and put in the car. She gasped. She knew suddenly that they were still there, right by her front door. If she didn’t have her pack and bedroll, there was no way she could go on the trip! Max would probably agree to take a detour past her house to pick them up, but could she ever live it down?

She stood, frozen, on the steps of the bus. Then she heard the sound of a car horn. Startled, she turned around. Her father! He pulled up in front of the bus, then threw open the door and dragged out the two bundles Carole most wanted to see.

“Didn’t think you’d want to go without these, honey,” he said, handing them to Carole. She slung them into the luggage compartment and slammed its door shut.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. And then, while everybody watched and waited, she gave him the great big hug he deserved. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, I know,” he told her. “You have a good time, hear?” She smiled at him.

“Hey, Colonel Hanson!” Stevie hollered out the bus window. The colonel waved a greeting to her. They were great friends, constantly trading old jokes with each other. “What has four legs and a trunk?” Stevie asked.

“An elephant going on a trip,” he shot back.

“And what do you call Carole when she goes on a trip?” Stevie asked.

“Forgetful!” he said. When everybody was done laughing, Carole boarded the bus.

And they were off!