Jade and the Hunters

by Amy Brown

  ‘I can groom and tack up if you show me where all the gear is,’ Zoe said. Jade was grateful, but worried that Zoe had noticed her nervousness. She hated herself for it, but Jade didn’t even enjoy being in the yard with Tani since the concussion. Faithful old Pip, who followed her mistress slowly down the paddock to check the back troughs, didn’t bother Jade at all. Nor did the Whites’ aged bays, Brandy and Hamlet. Jade would happily stand under Hamlet’s heavy soft neck and let him rest his throat on her head, so he looked like some huge, elaborate hat. Nothing like this seemed possible with Tani — the slightest twitch of his nose made Jade flinch.

  ‘He’s got his back up,’ Zoe said, riding one-handed as she adjusted the tight helmet. ‘But nothing major so far.’

  Zoe had been walking Taniwha on a loose rein around Mr White’s rotting show-jumps. Whenever he shied or started to jog, she’d steer him in a figure of eight, or change direction by looping around a jump. The whole time, she chatted casually to Jade. When Tani threw a little buck, Zoe just laughed.

  But his bucks and shies were few, and the jogging stopped after the first circuits of the paddock. Tani seemed nearly as relaxed as his rider.

  Jade sat on the fence, scratching Pip’s head until her fingernails were grey. She was both relieved and disappointed that Zoe was riding so well.

  As Tani broke into a good trot, Mr and Mrs White pulled up in the driveway.

  ‘Who’s this strange animal in the paddock?’ Mr White asked. ‘I’m sure we don’t graze a bay pony that trots. I’ve only ever seen the monster jogging or bolting.’

  ‘It’s Zoe,’ Jade said. ‘She “monitored” my concussion last night.’

  ‘I’m sorry you had to have a baby-sitter, love,’ Mrs White said. ‘Though I bet it was fun having someone your own age to chat about riding with, eh?’

  Jade mumbled yes.

  ‘It looks like Zoe’s a handy friend to have around,’ Mr White said, watching Taniwha cantering on the right leg. ‘With her help, you might get somewhere with him.’

  Were they still punishing her for riding unattended the other day, or did Mr and Mrs White not realize that, for some reason, Zoe annoyed Jade? Why were they sticking up for her?

  As the Whites turned to go into the house, Zoe rode up to the fence. ‘That was fun,’ she said, kicking her feet out of the stirrups and sliding off Tani’s back. ‘I reckon he’s a good boy, just green. I can see why you bought him.’

  Jade was briefly heartened.

  ‘All you need is more guts. Forget the fall; tell yourself you’ll never fall off ever again. Ma does that, and I’ve never seen her fall off.’

  Jade’s feeling offended at being told she needed more ‘guts’ was distracted by the fact that Zoe had called her mother ‘Ma’. She kept listening as the tall blonde girl untacked Tani.

  ‘Don’t take it the wrong way, Jade,’ Zoe said, ‘but pony club can make you soft. They’re all obsessed with gear-checks and everyone has to wear a back protector and an ugly white helmet to do a piddly little cross-country course. It’s stupid. If you fall off, you fall off — and you’re likely to get hurt. You just have to make sure you don’t fall off.’

  Bringing over a bucket of water to mop Tani’s salty saddle mark, Jade struggled with Zoe’s logic. It sort of made sense, didn’t it? Mr White would have disagreed, but his advice about Tani hadn’t worked so far — or was it that Jade hadn’t taken his advice?

  ‘If you got him clipped, you wouldn’t have to bother with buckets of water,’ Zoe said.

  Once again, Jade was unsure of whether her companion was making fun of her or being helpful. Had Jade made a friend or a foe of Zoe Death? She couldn’t tell yet.

  Bitless and Treeless

  What is this?’ Mr Wilde asked, in a tone that made Jade wish she was still concussed enough to stay at home. Her flamboyant teacher was holding a slim paperback between finger and thumb, as if it were a used tissue that didn’t belong to him. Jade’s classmate Drina, who’d been reading the paperback, looked sullen and awkward.

  ‘It’s a novel,’ Drina said.

  ‘The Hunters, by Velvet de Latour?’ Mr Wilde replied, scrutinizing the front cover. From her seat near the back of the class, between Laura and Becca, Jade couldn’t see the cover image, but she could picture the pair of crossed legs wearing white jodhpurs and patent-leather boots. On the knees rested two hands with implausibly long, red fingernails. No one who rides could keep their nails like that, Jade had thought when she had seen the promo poster in the Flaxton Book Shoppe. And why would you not include a horse on the cover of a book that was clearly about riding? If there had been a horse, Jade might have read the blurb on the back cover.

  ‘They’re the fastest girls in the field …’ Mr Wilde read the tag line. ‘No, Drina, this isn’t a novel — this is kindling. I can tell without even turning to the first page that there is no literary merit here whatsoever.’

  ‘It’s a nice love story,’ Drina argued.

  ‘You are too young and too intelligent for this pulp,’ Mr Wilde said, taking the book to his desk. ‘It’s probably so bland it’s harmless, but I’m confiscating it anyway. How can you read this after Jane Eyre? Now, that’s a real love story.’

  Mr Wilde’s class, especially the male pupils, disagreed noisily. The abridged version of Jane Eyre had been unpopular — even with the parents, who found it irrelevant to their children’s twenty-first-century education. Jade’s dad had sighed when he’d see the dog-eared school copy.

  ‘Why doesn’t he let you read something up-to-date or local?’ he had asked. ‘I can write you a note if you like, saying you’re reading only New Zealand authors this year …’

  But, to her father’s amazement, Jade finished the book in three days.

  The TV movie had intrigued Jade — not so much for the pale young governess, Jane, as for the terrifying lady, Bertha, locked in Mr Rochester’s attic. One day, Jade daydreamed, she would own a 16-hand dappled-grey mare, whom everyone else was too scared to ride, and she’d call her Bertha.

  Jade was thinking sadly how she’d probably be too scared to ride Bertha, too, when Mr Wilde asked her to name the longest river in New Zealand.

  ‘Bertha,’ Jade muttered, briefly confused.

  ‘Pardon me?’ Mr Wilde asked. He’d been easier on her since the concussion, but surely Jade was better by now?

  ‘Whanganui?’ Jade said, slightly louder.

  ‘Wrong! Anyone else?’

  There was laughter and shouts of ‘Waikato!’ around the class. Jade felt hot and wished she was at home with a book, or at Mr White’s with Pip and Tani. She tried to look attentive while Mr Wilde did a terrible drawing on the whiteboard of Mount Ruapehu, then a squiggly blue line winding to the Tasman Sea.

  ‘Four hundred and twenty-five kilometres!’ he declared. Jade closed her eyes and wondered how she’d fare at pony club the next morning.

  Coming to school this week had been her dad’s condition for letting her attend the rally. But, now, Jade wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go.

  The last time Taniwha had been ridden was by Zoe. Since then, Jade had only managed to catch and groom her wayward pony. If Mr White was around, she’d pretend she’d finished her ride. In truth, she hadn’t mounted Taniwha since the fall.

  Jade had hoped Zoe would offer to exercise Taniwha again. She’d nearly plucked up the courage to ask Zoe this favour, when Mrs Death’s four-wheel-drive had pulled up outside Jade’s house. Zoe, already holding her bag, had rushed out the front door with a quick goodbye, apparently eager to leave. It was with an odd combination of relief and disappointment that Jade had watched her ‘companion’ run down the drive.

  ‘Do you think you’ve made a new friend?’ Jade’s dad had asked. ‘Should I have invited Zoe’s mum in for coffee?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Jade said. ‘I doubt we’ll see them again. Zoe will be back at school in a few weeks, and they don’t go to pony club.’

  ‘I’m sorry for leaving you with a
stranger. I should have driven back from Palmerston at the end of the day.’

  ‘Nah, it was fine; really. Zoe was good with Tani. Confident.’ And that’s how I’ll have to be, if Zoe won’t be around to help me, Jade thought. Loose rein, heels down, just pretend I’m on Pip.

  Riding nonchalantly was easier said than done. With a leg-up from Becca’s mum, Jade found herself back in the saddle. The familiar prickly feeling of Tani’s tense back was immediately obvious. It made Jade’s legs feel far too weak. She clenched her fists.

  ‘Are you all right, sweet?’ Becca’s mum asked. ‘You look a bit peaky.’

  Jade tried a smile. ‘No, I’m OK.’ Why hadn’t she pretended to be coming down with the nasty flu everyone else had caught? Perhaps then she would have been excused from riding. She could have sat safely in the truck, which wouldn’t rear or bolt away with her. As she watched Becca mount sturdy Dusty, the 14-hand dun gentleman who’d done so well at the Champs earlier that year, Jade regretted that she couldn’t lie. It showed a lack of imagination.

  But Jade had plenty of imagination — if anything, too much. She could quite easily imagine Tani taking off at any moment and running through a barbed-wire fence or dropping her in the reedy creek that ran through the north side of the pony club grounds.

  ‘C’mon, Jade. It’s nearly ten; we’ll be late.’ Becca seemed oblivious to her friend’s nerves. Tani, however, was not. Jade knew he could feel the tense weakness of his rider through the reins and saddle. The more she tried to relax and ride like Zoe had, the worse she felt.

  ‘Mrs Thompson’s going to tell you to shift your legs back, Jade,’ Becca’s mum said, on their way over to the shed. ‘You’ve got them shoved forward like a cavalry man. And your reins look like spaghetti. Are you sure you’re OK?’

  Adjusting her position too abruptly, Jade made Tani leap forward and begin jogging sideways. Frustrated, Jade rode on ahead of Becca and her mum. They might have driven her to pony club that morning (like they did most mornings), but clearly they hadn’t realized how nervous she was about riding Tani.

  ‘Settle down, boy.’ Jade tried to stroke her pony’s neck without letting go of her rein, but this seemed to irritate rather than soothe Taniwha. Flicking his nose sharply, the young bay pulled the reins through Jade’s fingers and broke into a bouncy canter. Oh no, Jade thought. She could feel the power behind her in the pony’s strong hindquarters — and a frightening lightness in front. He’s going to go up any moment now. Jade grabbed a handful of mane and leaned forward slightly, trying to keep her heels down. Necessity brought a little strength back to her own legs.

  Taking advantage of his rider’s weight out of the saddle, Tani changed tack and gave a cheeky buck.

  ‘You rat!’ Jade growled, so angry she wanted to use her whip, but too worried that it would provoke Taniwha even more. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

  ‘He’s not doing it to you,’ a voice said from the safety of the ground. Jade hadn’t noticed the woman leaning against a large log (jump eleven in the intermediate cross-country course). ‘I know it feels like he’s trying to make life miserable for you, but why would he?’ she went on. Her voice soothed Jade and, in turn, Taniwha. Her volatile pony slowed to a jog, then eventually to a halt, with very little guidance from Jade.

  ‘What should I do with him?’ Jade asked, huskily.

  The woman had walked right up to Tani, and was now running her hand in long, firm strokes down the pony’s shoulder. ‘There isn’t a quick fix,’ she said. ‘Except this — do you mind if I just …’ The woman moved smoothly from Tani’s shoulder to his mouth, and in one calm movement she unlatched the curb-chain from his Pelham bit.

  Jade frowned. The chain under Tani’s chin had seemed like the brakes on her bike: utterly essential for her safety while riding.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ the woman said. Jade didn’t think so: at that very moment, she was thinking that the woman had a surprising combination of tan and freckles on her face.

  ‘You’re worried that when he bolts,’ the woman continued, ‘you’ll have no chance of pulling him up.’

  Jade nodded. The woman was close enough.

  ‘You wouldn’t anyway,’ the woman said, reaching up and slipping the chain into the pocket of Jade’s raincoat. ‘Or at least, once you managed to stop, he wouldn’t come to a nice tidy halt, but rear.’

  Jade frowned. ‘It was the sort of bit his last owners rode him in.’

  ‘And how did he go for them?’

  Jade thought back to the first time she’d seen Taniwha: crashing then baulking at the junior practice jump at the Champs. For that, he’d received a punch in the face from Mrs Sand, his previous owner.

  ‘Not well, but …’ Jade began, wanting to defend the rubber Pelham and curb-chain that had cost her $50 of hard-saved pocket money, ‘… but everyone uses Pelhams to slow down fast ponies, and I got a rubber one that would be gentler in his mouth. It’s even peppermint-flavoured, apparently. I haven’t tasted it, but it smelt minty.’

  The freckled-tanned woman seemed unimpressed. ‘You know what they call this bit in the States?’

  Jade shook her head.

  ‘An elevator. It gives horses a showy gait, but it doesn’t help people in your position.’ The woman broke off, seeing Jade’s dismayed face. ‘Sorry. I’m lecturing and making you late for your rally. In fact, I’m running late, too. Supposed to give a talk to “all those who are interested”. My name’s Briar, by the way.’

  ‘I’m Jade,’ Jade said in a small voice.

  ‘If you want some more help with your boy,’ Briar said, stroking Tani’s shoulder again, ‘see me afterwards.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jade said, waiting for Taniwha to explode under her as soon as this calm woman took her palm away from his shoulder.

  During the conversation, Tani hadn’t quite rested a hind hoof and had begun swatting at flies with his tail, but he had stopped darting sideways and flicking his nose. Through the reins, Jade had felt his teeth grinding against the rubber bit; he had been listening to the people around him rather than trying to run away.

  ‘You’re late, Jade, but don’t fret about it. Join the circle — at a walk, please — behind Becca. We’re still warming up,’ Mrs Thompson said, not looking away from her five pupils and their ponies.

  Pulling him up from his sideways jog, Jade felt Tani’s hooves slide in the grass, greasy from the night’s heavy rain. Tani flicked his head in the air, fighting the Pelham.

  ‘No,’ Jade whispered, trying to stroke his shoulder as Briar had done. She could feel him considering a rear. Yes, it was coming and there was nothing Jade could do except stay quiet and lean a little forward. She kept up the shoulder-stroking as Taniwha’s front hooves left the ground.

  ‘Good girl, keep the weight on his neck; don’t pull him any further up,’ Mrs Thompson said, with surprising encouragement. Usually Jade found her brusque and contradictory to the other tutors. ‘If I happened to have an egg with me,’ she went on, ‘I’d tell you to crack it on the poll of his head. Works a treat.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jade said, relieved that Mrs Thompson didn’t have an egg in her pocket. With a loose rein and a relatively calm rider, Tani had settled down now and had begun to walk briskly behind Becca and Dusty.

  ‘Yes, indeed. Gives them a heck of a fright because, you see, they think the runny yolk is blood — that they’ve hit their head on the sky or something.’

  Jade tried not to frown.

  ‘I know some people think it’s cruel, but it doesn’t hurt the horse at all. It’s not as if you’re actually whacking them between the ears with a bit of four-by-two — that’s something I really don’t condone.’

  I should hope not, Jade thought, but kept her mouth shut.

  ‘Right, if you can all show me a smart trot and canter when I say the word, then we can get on with some jumping before the next shower rolls in. I’m sure you’d all rather whip around a showjumping course than spend the whole rally wanderin
g in a circle.’

  For once, Jade would have chosen flatwork over jumping. Tani was just beginning to listen and respond to her aids when Mrs Thompson herded the group over to the practice course.

  When Tani saw the jumps he began cantering at a walking pace — very slow and bouncy. It was preferable to his usual monotonous jog, but still disconcerting. Jade tried to remember that her young pony hadn’t been ridden in weeks, which was her fault. Really, in the circumstances, he was behaving fairly well.

  ‘Can I help lift the poles?’ a familiar voice shouted from behind the group of riders.

  ‘Yes, Billie,’ Mrs Thompson said stiffly. ‘But stop running or you’ll scare the ponies.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Billie shouted again, even louder despite being closer now.

  ‘And, dear, do try to keep your voice down,’ Mrs Thompson said icily, watching Tani shy at Billie’s startling approach.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s only Billie,’ Jade said, trying the shoulder-stroke out on Tani again. It seemed to have a good effect on him.

  Billie had attended the last four pony club rallies, despite not being a member. Nor did she have a pony; she wasn’t under eighteen — nowhere near — and didn’t even care that much about riding. Watching horses jumping, however, was her great pleasure.

  Michaela Lewis was Flaxton’s local Olympic equestrian and also, it was generally agreed, the best instructor at rallies. She had noticed Billie hanging around the pony club grounds and, seeing that she was interested in the jumping, had asked if Billie could help by putting the poles back onto the jump stands when a pony knocked them down. Since then, Billie had been back every Saturday morning that winter.

  The parents had mixed reactions to Billie’s presence at pony club. Some, including Becca’s mum, thought it worked well for everyone: Michaela had help with the heavy lifting, and Billie felt useful. Others, though, believed that Billie was a liability. Mrs Thompson clearly was of this second opinion.