Pony Jumpers 1- First Fence

by Kate Lattey

  “How old is your sister?”

  “She’s sixteen now.”

  “So you’re the youngest?”

  “No, Astrid’s the youngest.”

  “Do you have brothers as well?”

  “Yeah, Aidan’s the oldest, then Anders is a year younger than him. And yes, I know it’s weird how all our names start with A. Our parents never made it past the first letter of the alphabet.”

  “What’s AJ short for?”

  I pulled a face. “I’m not telling you. So don’t ask.”

  “That bad, huh?” Katy grinned at me, and I shook my head warningly. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll find out some other way. So wait, Anders Maclean is your brother?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. You’re lucky. He’s so hot.”

  I groaned. “Yuck.”

  “He is!” Katy insisted.

  “He’s my brother,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Come on,” she urged me. “You must be able to at least see it, from an objective standpoint. Like if someone showed you a picture of him and said do you think this guy is hot, you couldn’t actually say yuck.”

  “Trust me. If you’d grown up with Anders, you’d know how disgusting he actually is,” I told her firmly. Of course I knew my brother was good-looking. Everyone knew it, including Anders himself, but that didn’t make him any less of a pain in the neck to live with.

  “You do look a bit like him,” Katy said thoughtfully, reining Puppet back so that we were riding alongside each other. “Now that you mention it.”

  I pulled a face. “Gross, stop it. Come on, I’ll race you back up the hill.”

  “Hah! You’ll lose,” she warned me, but I had already set my heels to Robin’s sides and pointed him up the slope.

  Surprised, the bay pony leapt forward and started making his way up at a reasonable speed. I heard Katy shriek behind me, and was pushing Robin on faster when Puppet went streaking past me – without his rider.

  “What do you mean, you fell off?”

  Katy’s mother looked unimpressed when we rode back into the yard half an hour later, both of us doubling on Robin as he trudged along. Puppet had jumped the fence at the top of the hill and taken off back to the yard.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t trip in his reins or flip over! He’s not your pony Katy, you can’t risk anything happening to him!”

  “Settle down, he’s fine. Right?” Katy asked as she slid off Robin and stomped across the yard towards her pony, who was now shut in a box with his tack off, munching cheerfully on a pile of hay.

  “It was entirely my fault,” I said quickly. “I cantered off without warning her and he bucked her off.” At least, that’s what Katy had said happened. I hadn’t seen any of it until Puppet had passed me.

  “Broke his reins, but nothing else, fortunately.” Deb still looked mad, and I felt really bad about it. “You shouldn’t gallop off in front of young ponies,” she told me, and my face got hotter as I dismounted.

  “She hardly galloped off,” Katy interjected. “Robin wouldn’t know how to gallop, even if she’d tried to. It just took Pup by surprise, that’s all. Besides, he’s going to have to learn how to cope with someone falling off him if Lacey’s planning on riding him in the future.”

  There was a bitter edge to Katy’s voice as she exited Puppet’s box and latched the door behind her, and I wondered who Lacey was.

  “Yes, well. I’m sure he doesn’t need that lesson quite so early on,” Deb countered. “He’s only been broken in for a couple of weeks, remember.”

  I felt even worse then. I hadn’t realised how young and green the pony was – he’d behaved so well otherwise. Well, he’d been a bit spooky and daft, but that was normal behaviour to me.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “Oh stop apologising, nobody died,” Katy said firmly, coming into Robin’s box and taking his bridle off for me. “Don’t worry about Mum, she just gets her knickers in a knot when the ponies come home without me because usually it means she has to get on the quad and go find me, and last time she did that she drove it off a bank and broke her arm. At least this time you were with me and she could just wait for us to turn back up.”

  I followed Katy into the tack room and put Robin’s gear away. My stomach rumbled audibly as I hung up his bridle, and Katy laughed.

  “Hungry? Me too. Let’s go get some lunch before we deal to that nutter of yours.”

  Katy’s house was small and untidy, with piles of clothes and junk lying all over the place. It was quickly becoming evident to me that the orderliness of their yard and the immaculate turnout of their ponies didn’t reflect the way that she and Deb lived the rest of their lives. Not that I minded. It was much nicer to walk into a house that felt lived-in than one that was so clean and tidy that you didn’t want to sit down for fear of making the couch dirty.

  Katy scooped up a small long-haired terrier and cuddled it as she walked into the kitchen, while I was distracted by the photos on the walls, and the huge sashes and rosettes hanging above the fireplace.

  “Wow. Did you win all these?”

  “Mum sure didn’t,” Katy said as her mother came into the house. “Those are just the big ones. I’ve got heaps more in my room.”

  “Glad to see I raised you with so much modesty,” Deb said.

  Katy stuck her tongue out at her mother. “Don’t be jealous. Just because you live vicariously through my success.”

  “Nothing to do with the quality of ponies you ride, of course,” Deb retorted.

  “I haven’t noticed any of them winning Grand Prix without me on them,” her daughter snapped back. “In fact, I seem to remember that Molly had never even been entered in a Grand Prix until I got her. What was it that Steph said, when she leased her to us? She’s no superstar, but she’ll go well enough at the lower heights. Proved her wrong.”

  “Enough,” Deb said. “AJ is going to start thinking you’ve got a head the size of Australia in a minute.”

  Katy flopped down onto the couch and the little dog climbed up and licked her chin. “Get out of it Critter, you disgusting creature,” she told it good naturedly, doing nothing to stop the assault.

  “Are you going to the show tomorrow AJ?” Deb asked, and I shook my head.

  “Duh, Mum. She has no transport, remember?”

  “She could come with us,” Deb said as she started slicing cheese off a block. “We’ll have a space in the truck.”

  Katy shrugged. “That’s true.” She looked at me. “You wanna?”

  “Um. Where are you going?”

  “Just up the road to the sports day at Woodville. There’s nothing much there, a few little classes. Nothing worth taking the good ponies too, just a few rounds for the babies. But it’d be good mileage for Squib.”

  “I’d love to, but I don’t know if he’ll go on your truck,” I admitted.

  “We’ll try him this afternoon, see what he does,” Deb said cheerfully. “Katy, find her a programme and let her have a look at it.”

  Moments later, I found myself balancing a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches in my lap and flicking through a show program, trying to look nonchalant and not as though I was overflowing with excitement at the thought of going to a show. Katy sat on the arm of the couch and leaned over me, then jabbed a finger at the page.

  “You could do the ninety class as a warm up, then the metre round and the metre-five speed. That’s the same as what Forbes is entered in.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t know if we can jump that high,” I told her.

  “What? You jumped him a good metre-ten at Pony Club the other day. Wouldn’t it have been, Mum?”

  “Closer to a metre-fifteen, by my reckoning,” Deb said as she sat down next to me, half on a pile of laundry that covered most of the couch. “Your pony has the scope easily, and he doesn’t look to me like he’d be a stopper.”

  I shook my head. “He’s never refused.”

 
“There you go then,” Katy declared. “What’ve you got to lose?”

  Just my life. “Nothing, I guess.” I looked from one to the other, then back down at the programme. “If you think we can do it, then sure. If he goes on the truck.”

  “Oh, he’ll go on. Don’t worry about that. Getting ponies on horse trucks is Mum’s area of expertise. Trust me,” Katy said, swiping the last sandwich off my plate. ”He’ll be loaded up before you can blink.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It wasn’t quite that easy, but within the space of half an hour, Deb had Squib leading confidently up and down the ramp of their horse truck, and a few minutes after that, she shut him in and walked away.

  “It’s a miracle.” I stared up the ramp at my pony, standing calmly in the truck and munching on the small pile of hay she’d left in there as a temptation.

  “It’s horsemanship. Once I had control of his feet, he was quite happy to let me make other decisions for him. Fortunately, I don’t think he’s been so much scared as annoyed by his previous experiences, and the truck is a bit more open and inviting than a float, which probably helps too.”

  “All right then, let’s get him off now so that AJ can ride him,” Katy said. “We still have to try him in the copper roller, so that hopefully she’ll have some brakes at the show tomorrow.”

  The copper roller bit looked similar to a normal snaffle, except that the mouthpiece had small copper pieces along it that rotated when I rolled them between my fingers.

  “Will it hurt him?”

  “It’s not barbed wire,” Katy told me. “Settle down. If you don’t like how he goes in it, then feel free to go back to your snaffle. Just give it a shot.”

  “Okay.” I looked at the martingale around his neck that Deb was adjusting to fit my pony’s broad chest, and told myself that it was fine. These people knew what they were doing, after all. And far more so than I did.

  Katy put the bridle on and adjusted the grackle noseband. “At least you’ve got the common sense to tie his mouth shut,” she commented, grinning when I winced.

  “We’ll help you school him more so you can ride him without this gear,” Deb assured me calmly. “Once he’s properly between your hand and leg, and balanced and supple and through, then you can start minimising gear. But there’s no point riding without any brakes and then having to haul on his mouth or risk your own life when you go galloping full tilt towards the jumps because you have no brakes or steering.”

  I nodded, her words making sense despite my reservations.

  Katy huffed impatiently. “Just get on and ride him, and if he goes no better or worse, then you can go back to riding him in the mildest bit imaginable and just praying that he behaves himself.”

  The annoying part was, they were right. As soon as I started riding Squib, I discovered that when I took a hold on the reins and told him to stop, he actually did it. If he threw his head in the air, the martingale rings that connected to the reins put pressure on the bit, making him lower his head again. It still felt a bit like cheating, but within twenty minutes of schooling under Deb’s expert guidance, Squib was trotting and cantering like a normal pony. He wasn’t as balanced or consistent as Katy’s ponies, but he was a lot better than he ever had been before. And he wasn’t rearing or running away from the bit, like he had in the gag, or slamming on the brakes every time I touched the reins like he had in the Pelham.

  “Told you,” Katy said in satisfaction after I jumped cleanly down the line of three jumps (significantly lowered from their previous height, but still bigger than I’d usually have jumped) and been able to halt afterwards with a minimum of fuss. And when Katy put the jumps up even bigger, and Squib got excited and tried to buck, I could get his head back up and stop him before he got me off.

  “It’s like magic!” I exclaimed as I patted my pony’s neck, and Katy and her mum both laughed.

  “Witchcraft,” Katy said, cracking her knuckles.

  “It might as well be,” I agreed. “Thanks so much. I’ll definitely have to get one of these bits.” I hoped they wouldn’t be too expensive, since I didn’t have a lot of money saved after buying Squib’s bridle.

  “Don’t worry about it, just use that one in the meantime,” Deb said with a flick of her hand. “We’re not using it, and I think there’s another one in the tack room somewhere.” She looked at her watch. “Crikey, we’d better get a move on if we’re going to get those ponies washed before tomorrow.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Katy said, getting to her feet from where she’d been sitting on an oil drum, her tiny dog cradled in her lap. “I’ve still got four ponies to ride.”

  “And I should head home soon,” I added. “What time should I bring Squib over in the morning, or will you pick him up at the Pony Club grounds?”

  Katy looked surprised. “Why bother? Leave him here overnight. Help me get the ponies worked, and if you’re lucky Mum will wash him while we’re out, get him sparkling clean for you.”

  “I couldn’t ask her to do that,” I protested.

  “You wouldn’t have to ask. She loves it, honestly,” Katy insisted.

  To my surprise, Deb backed her up. “Go on then. I’ve been dying to have a go at that tail of his.”

  I’d thought Squib’s tail was pretty clean already, but I nodded. “If you’re sure. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Go get your ponies in Katy, and get out of my hair for a while.”

  When I’d seen Katy riding her stunning chestnut pony at our Pony Club rally, I’d never imagined that only two days later I’d be sitting on his back myself, but half an hour later that was exactly what I was doing. I was nervous to begin with, worried about ruining him, but Katy had laughed off my concerns.

  “I wouldn’t let you ride him if I didn’t think you could manage. Don’t worry, Lucas is idiot-proof.”

  The blue roan pony she was riding danced sideways, almost ramming her leg into a gate post, and Katy scolded her mildly.

  “Excuse me, Fossick? What kind of behaviour do you call that? Have some manners, honestly.” She grinned at me. “Just be glad I’m not making you ride this nutter.”

  “She’s really cute. I love her tail.” The mottled black and white pony had a mostly white tail with a wide black streak at the top, making her look slightly like a skunk.

  “I know. I wanted to call her Flower, like the skunk in that cartoon, but Mum vetoed it.”

  “Fair call,” I replied. “Flower’s kind of a dumb name.”

  “Whatever, it’s cute. Better than Fossick. Makes her sound like some old skeleton in the ground.”

  “That’s a fossil.”

  “I know. I’m not retarded.” She gave me a strange look as soon as she said that, and changed the subject swiftly. “How’s your brother?”

  I pulled a face at her. “Gross.”

  “Only to you. The rest of us have eyes in our heads. Is your other brother as hot as him?”

  "No.”

  “Aha!” Katy gave a triumphant cry that spooked Fossick into tripping over her own feet, and just about face-planting into the ground. Once she’d recovered her balance, Katy turned to look at me again. “So you do admit that he’s hot.”

  “Can we talk about ponies again?”

  “Fine. What d’you think of Lucas?”

  “He’s wonderful.” I wasn’t lying. Lucas was smooth and easy to ride, attentive to my aids and very obliging.

  “Pretty cool, huh? You should give him a jump. Come on, we’ll go up into the pines where I set up some cross country jumps over winter. Don’t tell Mum though, she doesn’t know about them.” She grinned at me. “Doesn’t like me jumping without supervision, but it gets boring when she’s always standing there telling me what I did wrong. This way!”

  The ponies were puffing when we were done, and Katy looked at Fossick’s sweaty neck a little guiltily as we rode back to the yard, where we could see her mum diligently washing Squib’s tail.

  “Wait for me to get my head torn off w
hen Mum sees how hot Fossick is. She’s competing tomorrow, and didn’t need to be worked that hard,” she said, mimicking her mother’s voice.

  Sure enough, moments later Katy was getting an earful. She gave back as good as she got though, telling her mother that the pony was too fit for its own good anyway, and maybe this way she’d behave at the show instead of running through all the jumps like she did last time.

  I untacked Lucas as they bickered, then went over to stare at Squib’s blindingly white tail.

  “How did you do that?”

  Deb pointed to a collection of bottles sitting on the ledge next to Squib, who was standing on the concrete pad in the hosing bay. I picked the first one up and looked at it, then at her. “Dishwashing liquid?”

  Katy snorted, but her mother ignored her. “Powerful de-greaser,” she said. “One wash with that, rinse it out, then wash with Hi Tone Silver, rinse it out, and go again if necessary. There are a few other tricks, but this seems to have done the job.”

  “Wow.” I watched as she sprayed Squib’s whiter-than-white tail liberally with conditioning spray, then bundled it into a tailbag. “I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

  “Now for his socks,” Deb said, and Katy let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Mum, you do remember that it’s just a little Pony Club sports day thing that we’re going to tomorrow, not Horse of the Year.”

  Deb ignored her, and turned to me. “AJ, would you like to know how to get your pony’s socks whiter than white?”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Yes please.”

  Katy rolled her eyes, but we both ignored her and she went to get the last two ponies in for riding while Deb showed me how to make a paste from talcum powder and spread it over Squib’s already scrubbed white socks, then wrap them in stable wraps to keep them clean overnight.

  “He can stay in tonight with Fossick,” she said. “We’re a bit short on grass at the moment but we’ll give him plenty of hay.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I don’t know if he’s ever been in overnight before though.”

  “He’ll be fine. We’ll keep a close eye on him. Or you could stay over, if you wanted to. Keep an eye yourself.”