Pony Jumpers 9- Nine Lives

by Kate Lattey

  “They don’t have it either.”

  Derrick looked at me through narrowed eyes. It was obvious that he didn’t believe me, and was trying to figure out why I was lying.

  “Who did you get the money from?” Susannah asked softly.

  “My brothers.”

  Derrick raised his eyebrows. “That’s generous of them, to lend you so much money.”

  “I know. They’re the best,” I told him. “I don’t know where I’d be without them.”

  I stopped talking then, because I’d noticed Susannah’s head drop, and her father’s eyes narrow, and remembered that Derrick had disowned his own son a few years ago. I wondered if Susannah missed her brother. From the look on her face, she did.

  “How does the saddle look now?” Derrick asked.

  “Like new,” I said, hoping that he’d believe me. It was true, but he was a sceptical sort of person, and it was pretty obvious that he didn’t trust me. “Honest. I can go get it now, and show you.”

  “For god’s sake, Dad. Just let her use the saddle. Don’t be such a penny pincher that you can’t lend someone a saddle without trying to extort thousands of dollars out of them,” Susannah said.

  “That’s enough, Susannah,” he said sharply. “Nobody’s extorting anyone.” He looked at me, his eyes narrowed. “Obviously, I’m disappointed by what has happened, but as my daughter has so kindly pointed out, some of the blame can be laid at my door for failing to have a clear contract written up before I allowed you to take the saddle as a loan.” He tapped his fingers on the table, looking from Susannah to me. “If I write one up tonight, and organise the insurance first thing Monday morning, does that sound okay to you?”

  I stared at him. “You mean, I could keep using the saddle?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t have to buy it?” My brain was so shocked that it was working slowly.

  “You do not.”

  I felt the breath whoosh out of my body in relief. “Thank you. That’s…that’s great. Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank him too much until you’ve checked the fine print,” Susannah said, but she was smiling. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t try and swindle you.” She reached into the overhead cupboard and took down a couple of mugs. “Do you want to stay for a drink?”

  “Thanks, but I should go. I said I’d check on the ponies,” I reminded her.

  “Tell my boys I’ll be there soon,” she said with a smile. “Good night, AJ.”

  “Night.” I looked at her father again, and a faint smile crossed his lips as he nodded at me. “Good night. And thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I stepped out of the truck into the chilly night, but I barely felt the cold. After shutting the truck door behind me, I set off towards the stables at a run, anxious to tell Squib the good news.

  16

  BLOWN AWAY

  A strong wind had picked up overnight, and the start flags were flapping like crazy as I cantered Squib in a circle, waiting for my bell. He was excited, pulling hard against my hands, the wind making him slightly mad. The bell rang, I turned Squib towards the first fence, and he lunged at it like a pony possessed. Three strides off, a big gust of wind hit the jump stands, making the poles wobble in the cups, and Squib backed himself up a little, suspicious of the shaky fence.

  I nudged him with my heels, and clicked my tongue. “Come on, let’s go!”

  Squib jumped high and wide, clearing the jump easily, then carried on around the course. His exuberance was tempered by a lingering suspicion of the wobbly jumps, but he grew bolder as we continued, giving everything plenty of air and never so much as tapping a pole, even when I missed a couple of distances and he had to go deep. Soon we were cantering through the finish with a clear round behind us, and I patted his solid neck appreciatively as the bell went again for the instant jump off.

  I attempted to slow Squib to a trot, and give him a chance to catch his breath, but he fought my hand so I turned towards the first jump and let him at it. Once again, he cleared it easily, and I smiled at how brilliantly he was jumping. Maybe the forced time off had done us both good.

  I sat down in the saddle and turned him sharply to the right, towards the planks. The wind gusted through again, even stronger this time, and just as Squib was preparing to take off, the wind hit the jump and the whole thing clattered to the ground in front of us. Stunned, I froze in the saddle, but Squib had committed himself to the task, and jumped anyway, tucking his legs up tight to his chest. I grabbed a fistful of his mane and slipped the reins, then gathered them up on landing. I could hear people murmuring on the sidelines, and someone clapped as we carried on around the course. Squib flew through the double before turning back to fence three, and I realised as we approached that it now had volunteers standing at each end, holding the stands to make sure the fence stayed up. Squib spooked at the person on the left, then at the one on the right, and I kicked him on, trying to keep him straight to the big, wide oxer. He soared over easily, then carried on to the next, and the next, and then we were coming to the last fence and we were still clear…

  Squib was pulling hard, his blood pumping and his spirits up, and my sprained knuckle was throbbing painfully again. I sat deep in the saddle and checked him as firmly as I could, holding him tight between hand and leg. Squib came in a fraction deep but jumped high and cleared the tall vertical with ease, kicking up his heels with a flourish as he landed. I dug my knees into the saddle and grinned as he shot through the finish flags with his ears pinned back, then launched into a series of triumphant victory bucks when I tried to pull him up.

  “Yes okay, we get it, you’re wonderful,” I told Squib, circling him through the middle of the arena and finally convincing him to come back to a big expressive trot. I gave his sweaty neck a firm pat as I trotted him back towards the gate.

  “Bit of a handful, isn’t he?” the gate steward said with a smile, and I just laughed.

  “He loves to show off,” I told her, then drew him to a halt as the next rider cantered into the ring.

  “All clear in the jump-off for Squirrel Nutkin and AJ Maclean to put them into the lead,” the announcer said, and I grinned and flung my arms around Squib in delight. “Super duper superstar, that’s what you are,” I praised him as he strode proudly out of the ring with me lying across his neck, hugging him tight.

  There were only six or seven riders left to compete, so I walked Squib around on a long rein, internally cheering as the person in the ring had a refusal at the wall. I noticed Susannah cantering around the warm-up on Forbes, and smiled at her as she came past me.

  She drew the dark bay gelding back to his flashy trot, then circled around to come up alongside Squib.

  “How’d you go?”

  I gave her a thumbs-up. “Double clear and into the lead,” I said happily, and she offered me a gloved hand for a high five. I slapped her palm, then patted Squib again, just in case he didn’t already know how much I appreciated him.

  “Is the course riding okay?” Susannah asked. “That line from four to five walked really tight.”

  “It’s not the smoothest,” I agreed. “We came in deep, but Squib got me out of trouble. As always.”

  “He’s a champ,” she agreed, then raised her hand to the gate steward calling her into the ring. “I gotta go. Wish me luck!”

  “Good luck,” I said, trying to sound as though I meant it. I wanted her to do well – but I wanted to win. Susannah had spent her whole life being successful in the show jumping arena. A win today would be satisfying for her, but mind-blowing for me.

  I rode Squib in a circle near the ring, watching Forbes jump around the course. She rode the tight line from four to five like a pro, shortening her pony’s stride as soon as he landed to make the distance in six even strides, instead of five strides and an awkward chip like I’d had. Forbes came home clear in the first round, and Susannah put the hammer down in the jump-off, slicing off the turns and jumping
two fences off angles that hadn’t even occurred to me to attempt. As Susannah finished the course, I nudged Squib towards the speakers, which were crackling in the high wind.

  “A very slick jump-off…” crackle crackle “…riding Primo Del Maestro…” crackle crackle “…goes into the lead.”

  I tried to wipe the disappointment off my face as Susannah rode towards me, rubbing Forbes’s short mane and smiling happily.

  “Well done!”

  “Same to you,” she grinned. “First and second so far – let’s hope we can hold onto those spots!”

  We cooled our ponies off together as the last few riders went. The wind whipped through Squib’s short mane and whisked his tail around, making him irritable and jumpy, but he was far from the only one reacting to the weather. Forbes kept trying to tear the reins out of Susannah’s grasp and charge back to the stables, and a small chestnut mare with a red ribbon in its tail was wreaking havoc in the warm-up arena. Even Squib forgot his own concerns to watch with interest as the pretty mare bounded past, flattening her ears and squealing a threat at anyone who came too close. Her rider sat still and balanced in the saddle, apologising to everyone in her path as she did her best to ignore the horse’s antics.

  “Sorry! Sorry, she’s a bit excited. Covergirl, would you calm down? We’re not at the Olympics, you know. You don’t have to show off this much.”

  She picked up a canter, rode down to the vertical and sat tight as the horse catapulted herself over the jump, kicking her heels up through the air and bucking on landing.

  “You know, if Katy really wants to find a new home for Tori, she could ask Marley to take her,” Susannah said thoughtfully as she watched the chestnut horse, and it clicked into place.

  “Is that who that is?” I knew Marley Carmichael by reputation, but had never met her personally. She had an incredible pinto pony that was just about unbeatable every time she brought him out, which fortunately for my friends on the PGP circuit, hadn’t been that often lately.

  “That’s her,” Susannah said, and we watched as the chestnut jumped the vertical again with equal panache. “Her family takes unrideable horses all the time, and they almost never fail to get them going.”

  The chestnut mare was getting progressively more excited, chucking at the bit as she cantered past us. She let out an expressive buck as she went around the corner, and when Marley circled her instead of approaching the jump again, the mare’s stride shortened until she was practically cantering on the spot. Marley sat still, her hands still and seat secure in the saddle, talking calmly to her horse.

  “Is this really how we behave in public?” she asked the chestnut. “The jump’s over there, Covergirl. You’re not going to get any closer to it by bouncing on the spot.” The horse switched tactics and went into a low rear, balancing dramatically on her hind legs and rolling her eyes. “No, that’s not helpful either,” Marley told her, shaking her head with a smile.

  I could’ve watched her for longer, but our class finished up, and Susannah and I were called back into the ring for the presentation. I patted Squib’s neck as we set off on our lap of honour behind Forbes, who wouldn’t stop spooking at the flapping hoardings around the ring, and consequently cantered so slowly that Squib kept almost crashing into him.

  Once outside the ring, Susannah and I went our separate ways, and Squib’s eager hooves danced impatiently over the crushed grass as I steered him back towards Katy’s truck. Awnings and curtains flapped noisily, and buckets and hay blew across in front of us as the wind swirled relentlessly around the show grounds, showing no signs of letting up. Squib sidestepped and snorted his way between the rows of horse trucks. A huge black one with pop-out sides was parked next to a battered old model with a dusty green cab and a cracked wing mirror. A pinto pony was tied up to the side of it, casually munching on a hay net, and he turned his head towards Squib as we passed. I recognised his distinctive markings at once, and smiled at Marley’s superstar pony, glad to see him out. I tried to imagine Tori there, tied up to the Carmichaels’ truck, eating their hay, being ridden by Marley, but I still couldn’t imagine her anywhere other than with us.

  Back at the truck, I found Katy tacking up Puppet while her mother rushed around, putting the finishing touches on his presentation. The young pony’s jet black coat was glossy and smooth as silk, but the windy weather had him on his toes, and his eyes were out on stalks.

  Katy looked up as we approached and grinned at the sight of Squib’s blue ribbon. “Hey, look at you! Was that in the metre-ten?”

  “Sure was,” I said, smiling back at her. “We almost won it, but Susannah carved up the jump-off and beat us by about three seconds. Forbes was jumping out of his skin.”

  “Awesome.” Katy’s smile almost reached her eyes. “That’s really great.”

  I grabbed Squib’s halter and tied him up as Katy pulled down Puppet’s stirrups.

  “It’s shaping up to be a good day,” Deb said as she attacked Puppet’s nostrils with a wet wipe, much to his disgust. “If only this wind would die down, it’d be just about perfect.”

  I looked at her curiously, wondering what had put her in such a good mood. Katy caught my eye and flinched away, looking embarrassed.

  “What’ve I missed?” I demanded.

  “Marlene came to see us while you were riding,” Deb explained as Katy finger-combed her dark hair back into a low ponytail. “She wants to buy Tori back.”

  I stood still, shocked as Katy pulled her helmet on and clipped up the chinstrap, still avoiding my eyes. Deb kept talking, her good mood at total odds with the words coming out of her mouth.

  “The timing is perfect, as it turns out. She’s just lost her young stallion, Tori’s full brother, and she’s desperate to get those bloodlines back into her breeding programme.”

  That revelation distracted me for a moment. “What happened to her stallion?”

  “Colic.” Katy spoke at last as she unbuckled Puppet’s halter and let it fall to the ground. “Mum, can I have a leg up?”

  “But you said Tori hated it there,” I protested to Katy as her mother boosted her into the saddle, and she picked up her reins. “You said she was miserable and she was probably abused.”

  Katy shook her head. “She’s no happier with us though, is she? I think she just hates life in general. And they’re not going to ride her, which should make her happy, since we both know how she feels about that. She’s going to stand in a paddock and make babies. Hopefully ones with a better attitude than hers.”

  She clicked her tongue to Puppet, but I reached over and grabbed hold of his rein, stopping my friend from riding away. “There are other options. Susannah thought you should ask Marley Carmichael if she wants to take her on. She thinks she probably would. I can ask her for you, if you want,” I added in desperation. At least if Tori went to Marley, I’d still get to see her around. She’d still get her chance to shine. I watched Katy’s expression closely as it flickered from surprise, to contemplation, but then she shook her head.

  “Thanks for trying, but it’s already arranged,” she told me, nudging Puppet forward. He tossed his head, and I let go of the reins. “It’s for the best, AJ. Just let it go.”

  But I couldn’t. I cared too much. I stayed quiet on the topic for the rest of the day, watching my friends compete, cheering Katy on as she won the metre-twenty on Lucas in a triumphant return to form, eating pizza and looking after the ponies and hanging out with three of my closest friends. The four of us weren’t together often, but when we were, it always felt as though we’d barely been apart.

  It wasn’t until later that evening, when Katy and I were finally crawling into bed, that I brought up the subject of Tori again.

  “Are you really going to send Tori back to that place?”

  She groaned. “I thought we’d dropped this.”

  “I want to talk about it.”

  “Fine. But can we not do it right now? It’s late.”

  “If not now, when?” I de
manded.

  “Never?” she suggested, and I elbowed her sharply in the back. “Ow, don’t! Look, Little River isn’t that bad. The facilities are amazing, and the broodmares are well cared for. It’s the best possible outcome.”

  “No it’s not. The best possible outcome is that you fix her and go out there and start winning Young Rider classes and prove all the doubters wrong.”

  “That’s a hard ask when I’m probably the biggest doubter of the lot,” Katy replied. “I don’t like riding her, AJ. And nothing that you say is going to change that.”

  “Then let someone else have her.”

  “Why? So they can pressure her into doing something she hates? You’ve jumped Tori, or tried to. You know as well as I do that she doesn’t want to do it.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” I countered. “It might just take the right person to convince her.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Anger bubbled up inside me. “You said Marlene is crazy, like legitimately insane, and that Tori was probably drugged when you tried her. But you want to send her back?”

  “Well, I’m not actually sure about that,” Katy said stubbornly. “She wasn’t dopey or sluggish at all. She just wasn’t stubborn and nasty, like she is now.”

  “Maybe she hurt herself before she got to you. Or maybe was on painkillers when you rode her,” I suggested, grasping frantically at straws. “Maybe that’s why she was good.”

  “She passed her vet check with flying colours,” Katy reminded me. “And the vet said she’s completely sound. She’s just a witch, AJ, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

  My fuse was shortening by the second. “You know, if you didn’t hate her so much she probably wouldn’t hate you back.”

  “Uh huh. Because that’s how horses think,” she said sarcastically.

  “Do you wanna know what I think?” I said, and let the bitter truth finally pour out of me. “I think you don’t want Marley to have her because it’ll make you look bad if she succeeds where you’ve failed.”

  Katy rolled over to face me. “Excuse me?!”