Pony Jumpers 1- First Fence

by Kate Lattey

  Her hand shot out and made a grab at Squib’s ribbon. For a fraction of a second as her fingers closed around it I hesitated, wanting to pull it away and tell her she couldn’t have it. I was tired of her having everything she wanted. But she was already pulling it through my fingers, and I let it go, knowing that if I didn’t there’d be hell to pay.

  Alexia ran the ribbon through her fingers, her mouth moving as she silently read the words printed in silver across the bright red fabric. WOODVILLE PONY CLUB – 1ST. Her fingertips traced the horseshoes at either end of the words reverently, putting every ounce of focus she had into the sensation of touch. I knew that my ribbon was lost into her hands, at least for a while. I wanted to take it to my room and pin it over my bed, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be giving it up without a fight.

  “All right Lex, give it back now,” Anders said, going into bat for me.

  Alexia’s fingers closed around the fabric, scrunching it slightly, and I put my hand on Anders’ arm.

  “Don’t worry. Let her have it.”

  “I think I want to keep it,” Alexia said firmly.

  “You can’t keep it, AJ won it,” Anders countered. “It’s hers, but you can look at it.”

  Alexia’s face crumpled, and I jumped in quickly. “I didn’t win it, actually. She can have it. I don’t care.”

  I picked my bag up and walked out of the room, leaving Alexia cradling the ribbon, but Anders followed me.

  “You don’t have to let her get away with that.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does.”

  I said nothing, just walked into my room and dumped my bag on the bed. Astrid was in her usual spot, curled up in the corner with her back against the wall and a book in her hands. She glanced up as we came into the room, then frowned and turned the volume up on her iPod as Anders kept arguing with me.

  “You can’t just let her take whatever she wants off you. She has to learn that she can’t get away with that kind of stuff.”

  “Leave me alone, Anders.”

  He wasn’t giving up. He leaned his shoulder against the wall and folded his arms stubbornly. “What did you mean, you didn’t win it?”

  “I didn’t. I fell off, remember?” I motioned to my arm. “Katy rode him. She won the ribbon. So it doesn’t matter. Lexi can have it if she wants. I don’t care.”

  Anders didn’t move, so I lay down on my bed and stared at the wall, ignoring him. Eventually he left, and I let my eyes linger on the ribbons above my head, the ones that I had actually earned. They’d all meant so much to me at the time, but now they seemed pathetic. Third in the Bending. Fourth in Barrel Race. Second in Best Rider, which had been a pity prize really since I’d fallen off twice that day, but the judge had said she was rewarding my positive attitude because I just kept getting back on. As if I’d had any choice. Third in the 70cm show jumping, the last time we’d done a jumping round at a show and the only time we’d ever gone double clear.

  He jumped so well today, I reminded myself. He tried so hard. It wasn’t his fault that it all went so pear-shaped.

  My arm throbbed, and I was debating whether to get up and find some painkillers or lie there and wallow in self-pity for a bit longer when someone knocked on the door, and pushed it open. I rolled over, expecting it to be Mum or Dad, but it was Anders again.

  “What?”

  He was holding a tray, and he walked into the room and held it out towards me. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and looked at it. A bacon sandwich with the crusts cut off, a glass of water and a packet of ibuprofen.

  “Sorry you fell off.” He set the tray down on my bed, and I picked up the water before it spilled all over my duvet.

  “Thanks.” I downed a couple of tablets and put the water on my bedside table. “I have fallen off before.”

  “Haven’t had a sling before though. What’d you do, sprain it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Happens.”

  “Sometimes.”

  Anders and I have always been able to communicate in one-word sentences, and we used to make a game out of it, seeing who would crack first. He always won.

  I bit into the bacon sandwich and grinned at him as I tasted the mayonnaise. Anders hated it, but I'd eat mayonnaise with everything, and especially with bacon.

  “Yum.”

  He shook his head. “Disgusting.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.”

  I ate the sandwich as Anders sat on my bed and pulled faces at Astrid, who ignored him for as long as possible, but eventually cracked and started making hideous faces back at him. We were all laughing by the time I was done, and I licked my greasy fingers in satisfaction.

  “Napkin?”

  “Nope.”

  I reached towards him and wiped my hands on his t-shirt. He shook his head at me, but didn’t stop me. “Classy.”

  “Always.”

  He stood up and picked up the tray. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  Anders winked at me, then headed for the door. “Night.”

  I wasn’t allowed to repeat the same word back to him - that was part of the rules. I quickly racked my brains for something to say. “Peace.”

  He snorted at my pathetic offering, then backed up against the wall to let Alexia march into the room.

  “Here you go.”

  She held the ribbon out towards me, crumpled in her hand, as Dad appeared in the doorway behind her. I opened my mouth to tell her that I didn’t want it, but Anders caught my eye and shook his head. So I reached my hand out to my big sister and took the ribbon back. Her fingers let go reluctantly, and I smiled at her, but she wouldn’t look me in the eye.

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  Alexia turned and left the room without a backwards glance, and I smoothed the ribbon out across my lap. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but at least I had it back.

  Dad smiled at me from the doorway. “Well done, Possum. Your arm okay?”

  I looked up at him and made myself smile. “Fine.”

  He gave me a quick nod, said he’d be back to check on me in a second, and left the room. Anders winked at me as he balanced the tray on his fingertips, taking one finger away at a time until the whole thing was balancing on his index finger.

  “Show-off,” I told him, and he shot me a wide grin.

  He pointed at me. “Loser.”

  “No way, that’s one word when it's hyphenated,” I argued, then stopped at the triumphant look on his face.

  Astrid laughed. “You always fall for that.”

  Anders settled the tray back onto his palm and pointed at me. “Sucker.”

  He stepped through the door, shutting it behind him as Astrid returned to her book. I looked at the red ribbon for a moment longer before turning around and carefully pinning it to the wall above my bed with the rest of Squib’s achievements.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the first week of the holidays, Katy and I were sitting in her living room and making fun of a dumb horse movie when Deb came into the room looking troubled.

  “Hon, turn that off for a sec. I need to talk to you.”

  Katy rolled her eyes but pressed pause as Deb tapped the cordless phone against her palm.

  “Your grandmother’s had a fall, and she’s in hospital.”

  Katy paled. “Oh no. Is she okay?”

  “She’ll be fine, but she’s broken her ankle and I’ll need to go and look after her for a bit.”

  I watched Katy’s face register the news. “How long for?”

  “A week. Maybe two.”

  Katy’s eyes went wide. “But what about Pukahu? It’s next weekend, and it’s the first Grand Prix of the season!”

  Deb frowned. “I know, but I can’t help that. You’ll just have to skip it this year. I’ll be home in time for Feilding at the end of the month.”

  “But…” Katy looked distraught, then her face lit up
again. “What if I get a ride with the Fitzherberts? They’ll be going for sure, and they might let me squash Lucas and Moll onto the truck. Or they could drive ours, Bradley has his HT license now. Please Mum!”

  But Deb was shaking her head. “I’m not letting that boy drive our truck. No, Katy. It’s one show, it’s not the end of the world.”

  Her voice was resolute, and even Katy knew when she was beaten. She slumped back against the couch cushions and scowled at her mother.

  “You could come to Wanganui with me,” Deb offered, then smiled at the horrified look on Katy’s face. “Or you can stay here and mind the ponies, but you’re not staying on your own.”

  Katy grabbed my arm, squeezing it tight. “AJ will stay with me! She’s very responsible.”

  “I was thinking more like asking Yvette to come and stay. Make sure you eat proper meals, and…”

  “Oh my God, Mum,” Katy interrupted. “We’re not ten years old, we know how to feed ourselves. And the ponies, which is what you’re really worried about. Don’t stress. I’ll forgive you for not taking me to Pukahu if you let AJ stay here.”

  “Well, if it’s okay with her parents,” Deb said, and Katy let out a sigh of relief. “And if she wants to, of course,” she added as an afterthought.

  They both looked at me, and I nodded. “I’d love to, and I’m sure it’ll be fine. My parents are expecting me to be here most of the holidays anyway. They’ll be thrilled, honest.”

  True to form, neither of my parents minded in the slightest. I think they were glad to have me out of the way for the week, and after a quick trip home to pack the things I’d need, they dropped me at the Pony Club paddock to tack up Squib and ride him over to Katy’s.

  “We’re going on holiday!” I told my pony cheerfully as I tightened his girth.

  I was about to mount up when I heard hoofbeats coming along the track, and Squib spun around to see who it was, almost flattening me against the fence.

  “Oy!” I prodded him in the side with my knuckles, and he moved away from me, reluctantly at first, then more smoothly when I insisted. Maybe all that rope twirling really does have its uses, I thought to myself as I stepped around my pony to see Carrie trotting towards me on placid little Oscar, bouncing loosely in the saddle with a wide grin.

  “Hi AJ!”

  “Hi Oscar. How’s Carrie today? Behaving herself?” I asked, and Carrie laughed.

  “He says yes, and he wants you to give him a carrot.”

  “I’m all out of carrots today, sorry mate,” I apologised to the fluffy pony, giving his forehead a quick scratch as Squib strained at his halter, trying to get close enough to say hi to his friend. “Maybe Carrie will give you a big bucket of feed instead.”

  “Not a big bucket, he might get colic,” Carrie told me seriously, her short legs swinging cheerfully back and forth as Oscar closed his eyes, dozing off.

  Sandra was walking down the track behind her, one hand clasping Rebel’s rein behind the bit as the pony tossed his head, wanting to catch up with Oscar. Alyssa was making pathetic whimpering noises and clutching the front of the saddle with one hand, and I quickly turned away and pulled down Squib’s offside stirrup.

  “Are you going for a ride?” Carrie asked, flopping forward onto Oscar’s short neck and burying her hands in his mane. “We’ve just been to the river. Oscar couldn’t touch the bottom, he had to swim!”

  “That sounds fun,” I said as I snapped up the chinstrap of my helmet. “I’m going to my friend’s place for the week.”

  “For a whole week?” Carrie’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “Are you going for a sleep over?”

  “I sure am. And Squib’s sleeping over too,” I added for the benefit of Sandra, who had just come level with us and started snapping at Carrie for leaving her sister behind and upsetting Rebel.

  “Mum, AJ and Squib are going for a sleep over,” Carrie said, oblivious to the scolding. “For a whole week!”

  Sandra looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Is that right? You do know you’ll still have to pay your grazing here even if the pony isn’t actually on the property, don’t you?”

  I nodded, checking Squib’s girth once more before swinging into his saddle. He surged forward, almost flattening Rebel, who jumped sideways onto Sandra’s foot. As she swore at the poor pony, I realised belatedly that Squib’s halter was still tied to the fence, but I decided that it was in my best interests not to turn back. I closed my legs around Squib’s sides and he trotted eagerly up the track and off on our adventure.

  “Finally! I thought you would never get here,” Katy cried when I rode up the driveway twenty minutes later. “Chuck Squib out in the orchard when he’s untacked, he can hang out with Robin. I’d let him go in with the young ponies but Forbes will play silly buggers and I don’t want either of them getting kicked.”

  I turned Squib out with Forbes, then helped Katy mix feeds and distribute them to the ponies. We leaned on the fence and watched Lucas eat, his pale yellow forelock luminescent as the sun set behind the hills.

  “He really is the best pony ever,” Katy sighed. “It’s going to break my heart to have to give him back when I age out of ponies. Good thing that’s not for a couple of years yet.”

  “Why don’t you ask if you can keep him?” I suggested. “His owner might let you. You look after him really well.”

  Katy shook her head. “No way. She’ll want him to go to someone else to compete, or she’ll have him at home. She loves him too. And it’s kind of better this way. If I owned him we’d have to sell him, because it’d be a total waste to have him sitting in the paddock and Mum would be screaming out for the money he’d go for, but then he might end up going to someone horrible and it would break my heart if he got ruined. At least Abby can always take him back from whoever’s riding him if he starts going like crap.”

  I thought about that for a moment. “That puts a lot of pressure on you to keep him going well.”

  Katy groaned. “Don’t I know it.” She straightened up and we headed back to the house, leaving Lucas to finish his dinner in peace.

  “Is it the same with Molly?” I asked, and Katy shook her head, then shrugged.

  “Kind of. I got her on lease when I was twelve because she wouldn’t jump very well for Steph, and they thought she’d never make Grand Prix. So she came to me to do Pony Club stuff on, because we couldn’t afford anything decent at the time and I was getting sick of riding half-broke ponies and having Mum sell them as soon as they started going well. But Molly and I clicked from the start, and we’ve had heaps of success together, which is how I got Lucas too. So I’ve been really lucky, because we could never afford ponies as good as them. They’re both really well-bred.”

  “Squib’s not,” I said as we walked past my pony’s paddock. He was following Robin around and annoying him by nipping at the tail flap of his cover, but the patient bay pony was just plodding along a few steps ahead of him.

  “What is he, Connemara?” Katy asked as we kicked our boots off at the front door.

  “Half Connemara, half Welsh Cob.”

  Katy laughed. “Man, no wonder he’s so naughty. Way too smart for his own good. I was thinking we should build some grids this week, one-strides and bounces and stuff, teach him how to collect for them, so that you’re all set for your next show and you won’t crash and burn. Sound good?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Cool. Now, what should we make for dinner?”

  The week without Deb flew by. We got up early every morning and went to bed late each night, spending our days riding and schooling and looking after the ponies. Katy showed me how to trim fetlocks and pull manes and clip out a bridle path, and I taught her how to make macaroni cheese and the merits of a bacon sandwich with mayonnaise.

  One day the farrier came, and we spent the whole morning listening to him tell us dirty jokes and pretending that we understood all of them. One afternoon it poured with rain while we were out riding on the farm, and we
got absolutely drenched, coming in shivering and looking like drowned rats. On Wednesday we rode over to visit the people who owned Puppet, and jumped our ponies in their arena, which was heaps bigger than Katy’s and was full of brightly-painted, professional fences.

  Squib was improving every day, and Katy and I took turns jumping him. He loved going up into the pines and jumping the cross country logs, and one morning we built an obstacle course in the arena that included the mounting block, a wheelbarrow, a row of tyres standing on their sides, and an old kayak with a hole in the bottom, balanced on two sawhorses. Squib jumped everything without hesitation, as did Lucas and Molly, but Katy’s other ponies weren’t quite so brave.

  “Come on Fossick,” Katy urged the roan pony as she pointed her towards the kayak. “This is not an optional exercise. Participation is compulsory!”

  Fossick approached the jump sideways, then grabbed the bit and flung herself into the air, clearing the kayak by miles. She bucked on landing, and Katy laughed as she pulled the pony’s head up.

  “We should get this course on video for her Trade Me ad. Make her look bold as brass, jumping all these mental things. Can you go up to the house and get the video camera?”

  Ten minutes later, I filmed Fossick jumping around the entire course, although she had a couple of refusals and still jumped the kayak like a lunatic, no matter what Katy did to dissuade her.

  “We’ll just edit out all the bad parts,” Katy told me cheerfully. “Nobody ever has to know that she doesn’t like jumping boats, or that she throws her head up in canter transitions, or bucks if you kick her. Look.”

  She kicked her heels against Fossick’s round sides, and the pony pinned her ears and bucked angrily, making Katy laugh. “She’s so funny.”

  “They might notice those things when they come and ride her,” I pointed out, but Katy shrugged.

  “We’ll just hope we get lucky and someone wants her sight unseen. It does happen sometimes. If not, oh well. Maybe she’ll be having a good day.”

  “It’s not very honest though, is it?” I asked later that evening as Katy composed a sale ad for Fossick.