by Kate Lattey
“Good boy!” I told him as he jumped, and I saw an ear flicker back towards me in mid-air. We landed, and he cantered on. His stride was disunited, and I gave him a sharp kick with my inside leg as we rode the bending line, asking for a flying change. He attempted it, stumbled, then righted himself again.
What is up with you? I wondered. He was still cross-cantering, but the vertical fence was only three strides away now, so there was no time to worry about that. It was a long three strides, and I pushed him on for it but Lucas resisted, backing off. That was weird for him, and I clicked my tongue again. C’mon Lukey!
He made it to the fence in a short four, and had to jump right off his hocks from the base. I clung tight as he scraped over the top of the high vertical, and my heart sank as I heard his hooves rattle against wood, then the thud of the rail coming down behind us. Damn!
But my disappointment at the four faults quickly went out the window as Lucas continued cantering, because there was no mistaking it now. He was lame. I quickly drew him back to a trot, and he was limping heavily, his head bobbing uncomfortably with each stride. I jumped to the ground before he’d even made it back to a walk, and Lucas came to a shaky halt beside me, immediately taking the weight off his right foreleg. Oh no. No no no. Please be okay! I could see Mum from the corner of my eye dashing towards me as I pulled the tendon boot off and ran my hand down Lucas’ leg, and my blood turned cold as I felt the thick swelling running right along his tendon.
“The good news is, it’s only the ligament that he’s damaged.”
I looked at the vet in hopeful disbelief. “It’s not the tendon?”
He shook his head, and I breathed out a relieved sigh.
“That is good news,” Mum agreed. “Although it’s still a long road to recovery.”
James nodded, closing the ultrasound machine and standing up. “You know the story,” he said,” and we did. Molly had done the same thing last season, although she’d somehow managed to injure herself running around in the paddock. James went over the details for us again, just in case we’d somehow forgotten the long and arduous rehab required.
“Six weeks of confinement, minimum. We’ll rescan him then, and if it looks okay you can start walking him out for ten minutes a day. Straight lines only, and only walking.” He looked at me sternly, as though I was going to get overexcited and try to work my pony before he was fit. What kind of rider did he think I was? “Four weeks of walking, then if there’s no apparent lameness or swelling, he can start slow work in trot. No more than twenty metres at a time, building up over the following four weeks.”
His voice droned on, but I was ignoring him now as I frantically calculated what that meant. It was already October. Six weeks of confinement would take us to the start of December. Lucas wouldn’t be allowed to trot until January, and there was no chance of cantering or jumping until at least February. Goodbye season, I thought sadly, rubbing Lucas’ broad white forehead. How had this happened to us again? My season on Molly had been wiped out last year, and now it was apparently Lucas’ turn.
The chestnut gelding pushed his face against my chest, wanting to be comforted, and I obliged. It wasn’t his fault. If only I’d pulled him up sooner. If only I’d realised what had gone wrong, and hadn’t kept going. Mum had told me the whole way home that it wasn’t my fault, and how was I to know what was wrong, and even from where she’d been standing he’d looked unbalanced but not lame. I hadn’t believed her. I knew it was my fault, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to forgive myself.
I looked over at Molly, standing in the next-door stable lipping dreamily at her bucket of feed. It’s all on you now, I thought, and she lifted her head and looked at me. It has to be you.
My bedroom door creaked open, and Mum stuck her head through. “Phone for you.”
I groaned as I propped myself up onto my elbows. “I’m trying to sleep.”
“It’s Steph,” she said, and I was instantly awake. “She wants to talk to you.”
Mum tossed the cordless phone in my direction, and I grabbed it off the bedspread and lifted it to my ears as she hovered in the doorway, eavesdropping as usual.
“Hello?”
“Hi Katy. I heard about Lucas. He doing okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. He’s had some bute so he’s feeling better, and the vet thinks he’ll make a full recovery,” I told her, trying to sound positive. Why is she asking me about Lucas? She doesn’t even own him. Lucas belonged to her best friend, but I’d already spoken with Abby at length about the injury, and she’d been assured that we were doing everything humanly possible to give Lucas the best chance of recovery.
“That’s good. We need to talk about Molly.”
I felt a shiver of trepidation run through me at Steph’s words. I wondered if she was mad at me for leaving the show without riding Molly’s jump off. I’d been too upset about Lucas’ injury to go back out, and I wouldn’t have given Molly a good ride even if I had attempted it. The sensitive mare would’ve picked up immediately on my tension, and mostly likely wouldn’t even have made it over the first jump.
“She’s going to be my number one priority from now on,” I told Steph quickly. “We’re selling some of the other ones, and I’ll be focusing on her…”
She cut me off. “Don’t bother. We’re putting her on the market.”
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything except sit there as Steph kept talking about selling the pony that had changed my life, and knowing that there wasn’t a thing in the world I could do to stop her. I caught snippets of the conversation through the whirl of my thoughts. Need the money. Sam’s hospital bills. Ongoing costs. Interested buyer…
My brain snapped back into gear at those words, and I managed to choke out a question. “You’ve got someone interested?”
“Yes,” Steph told me dispassionately. “Susannah Andrews wants to buy her. They’re going to take her on trial next week.”
CHAPTER THREE
“How long now until Molly goes?”
I shut the door of Lucas’ box and double-checked the latch, then turned to AJ with a sigh. “Three more days. They’re picking her up at the show this weekend.”
My friend gave me a sympathetic look as she buckled Squib’s neckrug. “It’s so unfair.”
I kicked at a stone in the driveway, watching it bounce across the dirt towards the house. “You’re telling me.”
“Are you sure you can’t convince Steph to sell Molly to you?” AJ asked hopefully, untying Squib’s lead rope and preparing to take him out to the paddock. “I mean, she knows that you’ll give her an amazing home. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“Probably not,” I muttered. “It’s all about the money right now. I know that they need it, but surely she could sell some of her horses instead. They’re worth way more than Moll.”
“Maybe she is,” AJ offered. “And you just don’t know about it yet.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” The thought had crossed my mind, but I didn’t want to entertain it. It was easier to stay mad at Steph if I could believe that she was being selfish, holding onto her own horses while selling the ones she didn’t care about anymore. Wouldn’t you? asked the voice in my head, but I squashed it down and ignored it.
AJ gave me a pat on the shoulder as she led her pony past, and I stood with my back to the stables and watched them go. Squib strode forward purposefully, and AJ walked at his shoulder, then slung an arm over his withers and gave him a pat, as though reassuring herself that he was all hers, and always would be.
Lucky her.
My head turned as I heard a car approaching up the driveway, and I turned to see a dark green sedan pull in, loud music thumping out through the open windows. Instinctively I stood up straighter and brushed as much of the hay and dirt off my jodhpurs as I could. The car parked up next to the stables, and Anders opened the driver’s door and swung his long legs onto the ground.
AJ would never admit it, but her brother wa
s gorgeous. At seventeen, he was tall with golden hair that somehow got darker in the sun, and intense grey-blue eyes. When he smiled, he got a dimple in his left cheek, and I got ten thousand butterflies in my stomach. I first noticed him at school last year, when he was presented with some award at assembly. I’d been sitting in the auditorium, half asleep with boredom and thinking about my ponies, when he’d walked across the stage in front of me and I swear I’d almost died. I’d committed his name to memory as the award was handed to him, and had even gone out of my way a couple of times to cross his path in the hallways at school. He’d never noticed me, of course. Just another nameless, faceless student, two years younger than him and completely off his radar. But a few weeks ago I’d met AJ and we’d quickly become friends. Of course, I had no idea when I first met her that Anders was her brother, but I can’t deny that it’s an added benefit of her friendship.
“Hey Katy.” Ander unfolded himself from the car and stretched, his t-shirt riding up to reveal a small patch of flat, bare stomach.
“Hi.” I tried to sound casual, friendly but not excited. I’d still only spoken to him a couple of times, and hearing him say my name was enough to have my stomach doing somersaults.
“AJ around?”
“Um, she’s just turning Squib out.” I shifted my weight onto my other foot, trying to think of something interesting or cool to say. Lucas stuck his head over the door of his box and snorted, spraying me with bits of feed, snot and saliva.
Embarrassed, I wiped at my cheek. “Ugh, Lucas. Do you have to?”
Anders laughed, and came closer to us. I could feel my heartrate increasing rapidly as he walked up to my pony and held a hand out to him.
“Is he friendly?”
“Sure.” Lucas lipped hopefully around on Anders’ palm, then licked him just to be sure. “He’s hoping you have carrots.”
Anders looked directly at me, and I wondered how my knees were actually still holding me up. “Sorry to disappoint him.”
I shrugged. “He’ll live.” Lucas took his cue to look disgusted with us both, and wandered back to his hay as Anders leaned on the front of the box and looked in at Lucas’ rucked-up bedding.
“How come he’s not out in the paddock?”
“He’s injured.”
“Bugger. Will he be okay?” The concerned look on Anders’ face was enough to have my insides humming again, just as I’d started to calm them down. I folded my arms across my chest, then wondered if that made me look defensive and uncrossed them again.
“Eventually,” I told Anders. “But he’s got to stay in there for the next three months, give or take.”
“No way! What’d he do?”
“Tore a ligament.” I didn’t want him to ask how it happened, so I changed the subject. “Here’s AJ.”
Anders turned to see his sister approaching, and straightened up, making me regret drawing his attention away from me. “About time,” he called to her.
AJ checked her watch and shook her head emphatically. “Not even. You’re early.”
“I’m never early,” Anders replied easily, then shot a grin at me that just about swept my legs out from under me, before looking back over at his sister. “You should know that by now.”
“Whatever.” AJ was wholly unaffected by her brother’s charm. “I’ll just put Squib’s gear away, then you can drag me home.”
“Kicking and screaming, no doubt,” Anders said, and leaned against the wall again, turning back towards me. “She loves it here.”
“Thanks,” I said, then immediately wanted to kick myself. Thanks?
Luckily for me, Anders didn’t seem to notice that it was a weird thing to say. Either that or he was too polite to blatantly laugh at me. He just looked around, his smoky blue eyes taking in everything, and I wondered what he was seeing. I tried to see our farm as a stranger might. The big five-bay shed that we were standing in, which had been machinery storage when we moved here but was now three looseboxes, a tack room and a hay barn. The small house, its paint peeling around the windows and door frames, with discarded boots and old covers and firewood piled haphazardly by the door. The small arena with its shabby homemade jumps, the flax bushes and willow trees and lichen-covered post and rail fences. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t flash, but it suited us fine, and it was home.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
AJ walked back up to us, pulling her jacket on. The sun had gone down and although the days were getting warmer, it was still only October, and summer wasn’t quite upon us yet.
“I hope you’ve got some money on you,” Anders told her. “Because Mum’s working and Dad’s out, so we have to get our own dinner.”
AJ scowled at him. “Since when do I ever have any money? You’re the one with a job.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have enough to buy you dinner,” Anders replied. “Not with the amount you eat. I’ll be broke.”
“Shut up.” AJ kicked her brother in the side of the leg, and Anders reacted fast, swiping her ankle out and then putting her into a headlock. She squirmed, but he held her fast.
“What was that?” he teased.
“I said shut up,” AJ repeated defiantly.
Anders looked at me. “She’s a slow learner, this one.”
The porch lights flicked on, and I glanced at our house. “You guys can stay here for dinner, if you want.”
Anders released his hold on AJ, who straightened up immediately and aimed another kick at him.
“Careful,” he warned her. “Or you’ll be walking home.” He turned back to me. “Thanks for the offer, but Poss and I would eat you out of house and home.”
I’d forgotten about AJ’s nickname, and it took me a moment to realise what he meant, but I quickly shook my head.
“Mum’s made heaps,” I told him, and it was true. I’d seen her that afternoon cutting up vegetables for a huge pot of stew. I also knew that it was supposed to last us two or three nights, but she wouldn’t object if I brought them in to share. “Seriously. Come on, I’ll ask.”
Anders hung back, but AJ stepped up next to me and hooked her arm through mine. “Sounds a lot better than Pizza Hut.”
“I cannot understand how a sister of mine doesn’t like pizza,” Anders muttered as he followed us somewhat reluctantly over to the house.
“I like pizza,” AJ retorted. “Just not sponges or cardboard, and that’s what their pizzas taste like.”
Her brother rolled his eyes as we stepped up onto the porch, and I threw the door open. The smell of Mum’s stew came flowing towards us, and I heard Anders’ stomach rumble. I unzipped my chaps and grinned at him.
“Hungry?”
“Maybe a bit. You sure your mum won’t mind?”
“Course not. Mum!” I yelled as I kicked my boots off and walked into the house. “AJ and her brother are staying for dinner. That’s okay, right?”
Mum looked surprised as the three of us came into the kitchen. AJ sat down at the table, feeling right at home, but Anders lingered in the doorway.
“Only if you can spare it,” he insisted, giving Mum his most disarming smile. “We can always grab some takeaways on the way home if you don’t have enough.”
I took one look at Mum’s face, and I knew that she was sold. Immediately charmed, she gestured Anders towards the table with a wooden spoon, dripping gravy on the floor which Critter immediately licked up.
“Of course, come on in. I’ve made heaps. It’s nice to meet you,” she added. “Anders, I presume.”
“That’s me.” He took two steps towards her and held out his hand to her. I watched my mother accept his handshake, wondering what his fingers felt like, whether his palm was rough or smooth, wishing he was making that kind of intense eye contact with me instead.
“Well. Lovely to meet you.” Mum was slightly flustered, as though she was crushing on Anders herself, and I wanted to shake her. Gross.
“Who’s thirsty?” I asked loudly, walking towards the fridge and forcing Mum to retract
her hand from Anders’ as I pushed through between them. “We’ve got apple juice, and…” I pulled the large plastic juice container out of the fridge and looked at the brown sludgy remains at the bottom. “Or not. We have water.”
“Water’s fine, thanks.” Anders sat down at the kitchen table opposite his sister, who was leafing through a recent issue of the Bulletin and ignoring him. I filled the glasses with tap water, wondering whether to add ice or not, as she flipped the page.
“This is a good photo.”
I glanced over her shoulder as I carried the drinks back to the table and set them down. “Yeah, except for my lower leg.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your lower leg,” AJ lied, and my face flushed as Anders leaned over to get a look at the picture in the magazine. It was of me and Lucas in the Grand Prix at Te Teko, and it was a pretty cool shot. Taken side-on as we jumped a big airy oxer, Lucas had all four feet tucked up underneath him, and aside from the fact that my lower leg had slid half a mile back behind the girth, it looked impressive.
Anders glanced up at me. “That’s you?”
“Yeah.” I filled my own water glass and sat down at the table. I wanted to sit next to him, but I thought it might seem weird or obvious, so I took the seat on the other side of AJ.