Pony Jumpers 9- Nine Lives

by Kate Lattey

  I was so flummoxed that I couldn’t even think of a good response. I reached out and took the saddle in my arms, holding it close for a moment before inspecting Henrik’s workmanship. It was good. You’d never have known that the saddle was damaged, and the new leather was soft and supple. I felt my spirits lift. Maybe Susannah’s dad would take it back after all. I still wouldn’t have a saddle, but at least I wouldn’t have a massive debt to pay.

  I looked up at Harry. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  A thought occurred to me. “What if I hadn’t forgiven you?” I asked. “What would you have done with it then?”

  He shrugged. “Dropped it off at Katy’s for you,” he replied. “It was just the only way I could think of to show you how sorry I am.”

  “The word sorry on its own didn’t occur to you?”

  “I didn’t think it’d be enough.”

  I looked down at the saddle in my arms, then back up at his green-flecked eyes. “Well, you thought wrong, mister.” I stepped in closer and reached up with one hand to pull his head down towards mine. “Thank you.”

  He kissed me gently. “You said that already.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not going to use up my allocation.”

  14

  BITE THE DUST

  The next few days were mad with preparation for the National Series Finals in Masterton. In amongst schooling the ponies and scrubbing their white parts (or in Squib’s case, his entire body) packing the truck and cleaning tack, Katy fell into a mad panic because she decided that she had nothing to wear to the prizegiving. Glistening Waters hosted the final round of all the big series, including the Pony Grand Prix, and there would be a dinner on the Saturday night when the prizes were handed out. Which meant that as well as all of our show gear, we had to find nice clothes to wear. This was particularly stressful for Katy, whose good results with Molly had her sitting in fifth place nationally, so unless she crashed and burned at Finals, she was likely to pick up a prize. Which meant standing up in front of people and having her photo taken, and for some reason known only to her, nothing in her closet was good enough. Which is why we were spending our last afternoon before the show in a dress shop in Hastings.

  “It’s not like you’ve never had your photo in a magazine before,” I pointed out to her as I waited for her to wriggle into yet another dress. “People already know what you look like.”

  “It’s not the same when I’m riding though,” Katy replied through the changing room curtain. “Action shots over a jump are fine, because even if you’re making a stupid face, as long as your pony looks good and you went clear nobody cares. But when you get dressed up and wear makeup and all that, you’re making an effort to look good. So if you look like crap, it’s like ten times more embarrassing because you tried.”

  “If you say so.”

  The truth of the matter was, no matter how much anyone dressed up, we had still all seen each other lugging buckets of water and armfuls of hay to their horses at five in the morning, or sloshing through puddles in filthy gumboots with three heavily-rugged horses in tow, or crouching at the hosing bay with shampoo up to their elbows, scrubbing a stubborn white sock. There were no illusions amongst the serious competitors about how hard everyone worked to succeed in our sport.

  Katy came back out, wearing a short red dress with a slit up the side. “What about this one?”

  “It’s a no from me.”

  She turned and looked over her shoulder at herself. “Too much?”

  “If you’re talking about quantity of fabric, not enough,” I countered. “Unless you’re going for the ‘sluttiest girl on the circuit’ award. In that case, you’ve got it nailed down.”

  Katy grabbed a coathanger and threw it at me. It hit me on the shoulder before bouncing off and sliding across the polished wood floor and into a sales assistant’s foot. She was middle aged, with blonde highlights and too much makeup, and she pursed her lips disapprovingly as she leaned down to pick the coathanger up.

  “If you girls can’t behave yourselves, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” she said sharply, then looked at Katy and reverted into sales mode. “That dress is lovely on you, dear,” she lied.

  I rolled my eyes skyward, and Katy disappeared back into the changing room, yanking the curtain across to hide herself.

  “Can we go yet?” I asked, lying back on the flat divan that had been so thoughtfully provided for bored best friends and impatient boyfriends to wait on. “I’m staaarving.”

  “You’re always hungry.”

  “I have a healthy appetite, so shoot me.” I crossed my feet at the ankles, ignoring the saleswoman hovering around us, clearly torn between wanting to kick me out of the place and hoping Katy would buy one of her overpriced dresses.

  “This is literally the last dress I’m trying on,” my friend declared through the curtain. “If it doesn’t work, I’m giving up and going to the awards dinner in my onesie.”

  “You don’t even have a onesie,” I pointed out. “But I would happily buy you one if you promised to wear it.”

  “How would you know if I have a onesie or not?”

  “I’ve been through your closet,” I told her. “I know all your secrets.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I looked up at the ceiling tiles and said the words I’d been holding back. “I know about you and Phil.”

  The rustling of fabric from behind the curtain stopped. “I don’t know what you think you know, but…”

  “I know you’re more than just friends, unless I’m doing friendship wrong,” I said. “So is he your boyfriend now?”

  “He’s…” Katy sighed. “It’s complicated, okay?”

  “Doesn’t seem complicated. You’re either dating him or you’re not.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  I sat up. “So explain it to me. I thought you were my best friend, Katy. We’re supposed to talk about these things.”

  “Not in public, okay?”

  I looked around. “There’s literally no-one else here. Just me. So spill. When did this start, and why didn’t you tell me?”

  Her next comment surprised me. “You didn’t tell me when you started dating Harry.”

  I blinked, confused. “What? Yes I did.”

  “No you didn’t,” she said. “You told my mother before you told me.”

  I swung my feet onto the floor. “That’s not true.”

  “The first time I ever heard you refer to Harry as your boyfriend was when you were talking to my mum,” Katy insisted.

  I rolled my eyes. “But you knew we were together.”

  “And now you know about me and Phil.” As she spoke, Katy pulled the curtain back and stepped out. The dress was dark green, with thin shoulder straps and a ragged hemline, and it fit her like a glove. “What d’you think?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror self-consciously.

  Although Katy was as skinny as all the models in magazines, the clothes she tried on never looked nearly as good on her as they did on them. Which was kind of reassuring for me, since nobody in their right mind would describe me as skinny, but probably a bit depressing for her.

  “Honest opinion?”

  She frowned. “Of course.”

  “I’m still leaning towards the onesie,” I told her. “But if you insist on wearing a dress, this one does look fantastic.”

  “It’s not too short?”

  “Definitely not,” I said impatiently. “Even Anders would approve.” It was a throwaway comment, recalling my brother’s criticism of my own clothing choices, but Katy looked startled at the mention of his name.

  “What’s he got do to with it?”

  “He’s an expert in women’s fashion.” She raised her eyebrows, and I shrugged. “He thinks he is, anyway. It looks great, Katy. Just buy it.”

  A few minutes later, she’d done just that, and we were leaving the shop at last. I was trying to work out whether I’d still have time to ride Tori whe
n we got back to her place, when Katy spoke again.

  “I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t approve.”

  I didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “Yeah, I figured.”

  “He’s really not that bad.”

  I shrugged as we crossed the road. “Neither is Harry.”

  “He did redeem himself pretty well,” she admitted. “Maybe we need to give each other’s boyfriends a second chance.”

  I slung an arm across her bony shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Now ask her to trot on.”

  I closed my legs around Tori’s sides and gently squeezed. The mare stepped into a big-striding trot, and I guided her around the outside track of the arena. Katy and her mother stood in the middle with their arms folded, watching me.

  “I still can’t believe you’ve been riding her without telling me,” Deb complained as Tori spooked at the flaxes and tried to break into canter. “That’s very irresponsible of you both. Especially if you’ve been riding her on your own!” she added to me.

  I was hardly listening, being preoccupied with keeping Tori on an even keel. This was the first time I’d taken her into the arena, and it hadn’t been my plan – I was just going to take her for a short hack while Katy finished pulling Lucas’s mane – but Deb had come home early and caught me as I was getting on. We’d finally convinced her to let me ride Tori, but she insisted on it being under her close supervision.

  “Good girl,” I murmured to the mare.

  She was thrumming with tension, and felt more than ever like a bomb about to explode, but she didn’t disobey me. I trotted her on both reins, then rode into the corner, took a deep breath, and touched her into canter.

  The first few strides were a bit choppy, as she bounded forward and pulled her head down, pretending to buck. I just sat still and prayed that she wouldn’t throw me off, and halfway down the long side, she settled into her rhythm. Her head was in the air, her jaw was fixed against the bit and she kept swinging her quarters in and threatening to buck around the turns, but she was manageable, and I hadn’t fallen off yet. After a short canter in the opposite direction – which was her better rein – I brought her back to a walk, and patted her sweaty neck.

  “Well, it’s an improvement,” Deb admitted, still looking dubiously at Tori. “Have you tried jumping her?”

  I shook my head, a swirl of trepidation and excitement building inside me. “No. Not unless you count jumping over the creek,” I added, grinning at Katy. “Should I?”

  “If you like,” Deb said, unable to resist. “Pop her over the crossbar, see what she does.”

  “Please don’t die,” Katy told me as I shortened my reins and asked Tori back into a trot.

  “I’ll do my best not to,” I assured her.

  I trotted Tori in two wide circles, establishing an uneasy rhythm before turning towards the low jump. Her head lifted as she lined it up, and her trot grew stronger and even more powerful as we approached. Half a stride before I was ready for it, Tori launched herself into the air, clearing the small fence by miles. I slipped my reins to avoid catching her in the mouth, letting them slide through my fingers as I attempted to stay in sync with her. She landed and plunged her head down towards the ground, threatening to buck, but restraining herself from going through with it. I gathered up the reins and glanced at Deb, who looked impressed.

  “Come again,” she said. “Try to keep her together a bit more this time. Don’t let her get so strung out.”

  Katy was leaning against a jump stand with her arms crossed over her chest as I cantered Tori back down the long side, and for the first time I felt guilty about riding her horse, even though I knew she didn’t want to swap places with me.

  As soon as Tori saw the jump, she shot forward, locking her jaw against me and refusing to slow or shorten her stride. I had no option but to sit tight and try to stay with her. Tori took off early again, clearing the crossbar with another giant leap. I was more prepared for it that time, and went with her, grabbing at a handful of her mane as we soared through the air. I’d thought her trot and canter were impressive, but her jump was out of this world incredible, and I was grinning as we landed. Tori ripped the reins through my hands and kicked out with her hind legs, pitching my weight forward over her withers.

  “Don’t do that,” I told her as I quickly gathered the reins up and circled her. Tori threw two more little humpy bucks before coming back to walk and tossing her head. Her ears flickered back and I could feel the tension still running through her. I patted her damp neck, but got no reaction, except that I could feel how stressed she was. I was enjoying myself, but I wasn’t convinced that she felt the same way.

  “Right, then. If she’s going to be like that, let’s give her something to jump,” Deb said, lifting the crossbar into a waist-height vertical. She gave me an encouraging nod as she rolled the placing pole into the base with one foot, and Katy shifted her weight onto her other foot, looking anxious.

  “Come on then,” I told Tori, projecting confidence towards her as I picked up the reins and touched her back into trot.

  She sprang into canter instead, but she was listening this time and kept her rhythm steady as we came around the turn and lined up the jump. A rush of adrenalin swept through me as she collected her stride, then powered forward towards the high vertical, her head and ears up, her legs devouring the ground beneath us, her muscles rippling under her gleaming black coat. And then the side of my face connected with her neck, and I caught a glimpse of her shoulder and the dry arena dirt before I hit the ground with a whump that knocked the breath out of me. I heard the pole fall, and Tori’s hooves thudding across the arena, and Katy’s feet running in my direction. I opened my eyes to see her leaning over me, her eyes anxious.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, fighting to draw breath. Finally the air came in a gasp, and I took another breath, and another. Deb arrived on the other side of me, dropping to her knees and putting a concerned hand on my shoulder. I turned my head, looking for Tori.

  “She’s over by the gate,” Katy told me. “She’s okay.”

  “Bugger the horse, are you all right?” her mother demanded.

  I managed to nod, my breathing slowly returning to normal. “I’m…fine.”

  “Bit winded, eh,” Deb said, helping me into a sitting position.

  I bent my knees and leaned over them, pulling air painfully back into my lungs. “Didn’t…see that…coming.”

  “None of us did,” Katy said. “I’ve jumped her before, bigger than that, and she’s never done that. I mean, she’s stopped once or twice, but never like that.”

  “That was dirty,” Deb said furiously. “She had no reason to stop at that jump, none whatsoever. All horses can stop when you put them wrong, out of self-preservation, but that was just mean. The stride was good, it was all there, but she just quit on you.” She looked over at Katy. “You’re not jumping that horse again. Either of you,” she added, glancing at me. “Ever.”

  Katy raised her hands in surrender. “Not fighting you on that one. I have no desire to be pummelled into the ground.”

  I definitely felt like that was what had just happened, but other than being a bit bruised, I wasn’t badly hurt. I shifted my feet around under me and started to stand up. Katy reached down and grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet.

  “I’m okay,” I assured them both. I looked over at Tori, who was standing by the gate with her head high, staring into the distance. “I guess one of us should go grab her.”

  Katy sighed. “I’ll do it.”

  She started walking towards Tori, who ignored her until Katy was within touching distance. Just as Katy was reaching to grasp her rein, Tori spun on her haunches and cantered off to the other end of the arena, her tail in the air and nostrils flared wide.

  Deb swore, and Katy threw her arms into the air. “Oh, great. Now we’ll never be able to catch her.”

  �
��Let me try.” I walked slowly towards the mare, who snorted loudly, her breath leaving a puff of steam in the rapidly cooling air. “Tor, c’mon. Stand still a second.”

  I looked at her injured leg as I approached, checking that the recently formed scar tissue hadn’t reopened, but it was holding together well.

  “Sorry, girl,” I said as I walked up to the mare. She eyed me suspiciously, but stood still as I reached out and took hold of her drooping reins. “I didn’t mean to do that.” Tori huffed out a breath as I ran my hand down her neck. “You’re okay.”

  I led her back towards Katy and her mother, and Deb shook her head. “She really does like you.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her.” I didn’t mean it as a jibe against Katy, but from the way her face flushed, I knew she’d heard it that way. But I was sore from my fall, and too shaken to bother with her feelings right now. “Can you give me a leg up?”

  “You’re not getting back on,” Deb said. “Not after a fall like that. You could have a concussion.”

  “I’m fine,” I assured her. “I landed on my back, not my head. Besides, I have to get back on. It’s in the rules.”

  But Deb was determined, and she won out in the end. I led Tori back to the stables and put her into her loosebox, giving her a pat as I removed the sweat-sticky bridle from her head.

  “Thanks for not killing me, I guess,” I told the horse, who shook her head violently and snorted.

  Katy was resting her elbows on the loosebox door, watching me like a hawk. “She gave it a good go, though,” she pointed out. “Do you see what I mean now, though? About how crazy she is?”

  “She’s not crazy.” I couldn’t help it. I still wanted to give Tori a chance. “She’s just…misunderstood.” I unbuckled the girth and pulled the saddle off Tori’s back, watching the steam rise from underneath it.

  Katy scoffed. “The only thing nobody understands about her is how much of a lunatic she is,” my friend grumbled. “Are you sure you didn’t bash your head? You’re not making any sense right now.”

  “My head is fine.” My heart is the one in trouble. “I can’t help it, Katy. I still like her.”