Pony Jumpers 2- Double Clear

by Kate Lattey

  “No!” I said emphatically. “He’s fine. I just need to get him to relax a bit, and then…” I closed my leg again and Puppet lifted a foreleg, then lowered it again in the same place, still snorting suspiciously at the terrifying paper cup.

  Derrick turned his head and saw the offensive object lying in the grass. “Is that what’s bothering him?” he asked, then walked over and picked it up.

  Puppet snorted loudly, eyes boggling, then watched suspiciously as Derrick held it out to Molly, who sniffed it without interest. He turned towards Puppet, holding the flattened cup out in front of him, and Puppet watched nervously as Derrick strode up and shoved it in his face. For a moment, I felt Pup’s muscles tense, tightening like a bow string under pressure, ready at any second to release into a headlong flight. Then he abruptly decided not to be scared anymore and relaxed, sniffing calmly at the paper cup and then turning his head away with a bored expression. I could’ve killed him.

  “He’s fine now,” Derrick said, as though I couldn’t tell. “Come on, Susie. Steph said she’d meet us at the O’Reilly’s truck.”

  I felt the hackles on the back of my neck rise as he talked about me as though I wasn’t right there in front of them. Susannah looked embarrassed as she rode Molly past, and it was then that I noticed the green ribbon around Molly’s muscular neck. Fourth place in the Grand Prix. And it had been a big class today - I’d looked at the entries online last night. Nineteen competitors, and some of them were form combinations. As much as I hated to admit it, Molly was clearly going well for her. Which meant that any lingering hopes that I’d harboured of Susannah changing her mind and not wanting Molly were well and truly dashed, and my pony was as good as gone.

  I didn’t get much of a chance to say goodbye. After returning Molly to her yard, Susannah had gone off to unsaddle her other two ponies, both of which had also jumped double clears in the Grand Prix to finish second and fifth, but she was back less than an hour later. I was saddling Forbes for the metre-ten when she turned up with her parents and Steph Marshall in tow, and I knew what was coming.

  “She’s sound as a bell,” Steph was saying as they strode down the aisle. Susannah had a leather headcollar over her shoulder and was idly thwacking the end of the cotton lead rope against her leg as she walked. “Hardly been lame a day in her life, this pony.”

  That’s not true, I wanted to say, but Derrick spoke up before I could.

  “I thought Susie said she’d gone lame last season.”

  Steph hesitated for a moment, then either remembered or was forced to admit it. “She had a mild ligament tear last season, that’s true. But she was rehabbed very slowly and carefully, and has perfectly clean scans. And other than that – sound as a bell.”

  Still not true. There was also the time she’d developed a stone bruise and acted as though her leg was falling off, limping around dramatically for days despite the bute that Mum had been dosing her up on. And the time that she’d had a wither abscess that had forced me to ride her bareback for weeks on end. And the day that Don had done a worse job of shoeing than usual and pricked her with a nail. It’d been weeks before she’d recovered fully from that one, though I suspected that it was mostly emotional trauma. Molly’s threshold for pain had always been low.

  Steph stopped in front of Molly’s yard and patted her neck firmly, making Molly twitch. Steph doesn’t even know her, I thought sadly as I listened to her prattle on. She has no idea what makes Molly tick. I could’ve contradicted her comments countless times if anyone had thought to ask me – but nobody did. As Molly sidled away from Steph and went to stand on the other side of her yard, I realised something that I hadn’t quite put together before. Steph doesn’t even like her.

  I’d always known that she hadn’t got along with the pony, and had long suspected that Molly didn’t like Steph much, but for some reason it hadn’t occurred to me that Steph didn’t like Molly either. I wondered why. She was such a good rider, and she could get on and ride anything. I’d seen her do it, jump clear rounds on horses whose owners couldn’t get them through the start flags, but for some reason, she’d never clicked with Molly.

  But I had. And unfortunately, based on how well she’d been going for her, Susannah had too.

  I had to turn away then, leaning against Forbes’ shoulder as they stood across the aisle and discussed the terms of Molly’s sale. Derrick was doing his best to talk Steph into giving them a week’s trial before they committed to the purchase, but Steph was of the opinion that they already knew they wanted her, so what was holding them back?

  “We’ll want to get her thoroughly vetted,” Derrick said firmly. “No surprises.”

  “I told you, she’s completely sound,” Steph argued. “Look, write me a cheque and I’ll give you a week to get her vetted. If she fails, which she won’t, then I’ll tear up the cheque and you can send her back. If I don’t hear from you, I bank the cheque next Monday.”

  I admired the steel in her voice, even as I hated the words she was saying. Derrick Andrews was used to intimidating people, but although Steph was only a fraction over five feet tall, she knew how to stand up for herself. I turned slowly around and watched as Derrick shook her hand, then nodded to Susannah. She stepped into Molly’s yard and removed my halter, then buckled her own one on in its place. And I just stood there, unable to do anything other than watch as she led Molly out of my life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It had been a hot day in the middle of summer when we’d first gone up to Gisborne to see Molly. I’d been a shy twelve-year-old, looking around me in awe as Mum drove up the tree-lined driveway of Westbrook stud, and parked her shabby little Mazda in front of the house. Kat had come out to greet us with her arms wide open and an even wider smile on her face.

  “Deb! You made it!”

  Mum had known Kat Marshall since before I was born, when she’d taken a job as a research clerk at a small law firm. Kat’s husband Ben owned the company, and they’d hit it off when Kat came in one day dressed in riding clothes. Mum had been away from horses for a few years at that stage, but meeting Kat and her young daughters had inspired her to get back into the equestrian world - one she hadn’t left since.

  I had climbed out of the car and stood there self-consciously as Mum and Kat embraced each other. I’d only met Kat a handful of times before at shows, and her daughters Samantha and Stephanie had appeared polished and professional - leagues above where I was at with my small ponies, pottering around the Show Hunter rings.

  Kat had greeted me with a warm smile but hadn’t tried to hug me, perhaps sensing that I wouldn’t welcome it from someone I still considered a stranger. I’ve never been very outgoing with people I don’t know well, and Kat was one of those overly friendly people that always made me feel even shyer around them. We’d followed her into the house and I’d sat at the kitchen table nibbling half-heartedly on a biscuit while they drank tea and gossiped.

  Sam had saved me from total boredom when she came into the room. She was the image of her mother with the same thick blonde hair and vivid blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, and she overflowed with confidence and enthusiasm. Unlike Steph, who always had an air of arrogance around her, Sam was friendly and down-to-earth. She was also one of the best riders I’d ever seen in the saddle, and was considered, even then, to be a rising star of the New Zealand equestrian world.

  “Hi Katy,” she’d said. “How’s Kiwi? Still trying to launch you into outer space?”

  I’d smiled back, surprised that she’d remembered. She’d seen me riding Kiwi at a show a few weeks earlier. He’d been giving me a bit of trouble, because that was Kiwi’s way, and had been trying to buck me off every time I asked for a flying change. I’d come out of the ring deeply frustrated, and Sam had taken me aside and given me a quick lesson in asking for smoother changes. It wasn’t anything different from what Mum had been trying to tell me for weeks, but somehow it had sunk in better when it came from Sam, and I’d gone back into
the ring and won my next two rounds.

  “He’s much better,” I’d told her, and she’d smiled even wider as she poured herself a glass of water from the tap.

  “That’s great. You’ve come to ride Molly today, I hear?” I’d nodded, swallowing nervously. It had still seemed incredible to me that someone was offering me a quality full-size show jumping pony to ride, and I wouldn’t quite believe it until it happened. “She’s down at the barn now if you want to come see her. Save you sitting around here getting bored.”

  So I’d followed Sam down to their large barn, past paddocks full of some of the most beautiful ponies I’d ever seen. I’d fallen in love with Molly as soon as I’d seen her, and had spent at least half an hour grooming her while Sam tacked up one of her horses and took him out to the arena to ride. I’d gone out to watch her, and that’s where Mum and Deb had found us when they’d finally finished catching up.

  “That’s a nice little horse,” Mum had said, watching Sam canter the small black Thoroughbred around the arena.

  “Sam really rates that one,” Kat had replied. “Says he’ll go all the way. I’m not sure yet, but he’s certainly got a lot of scope and just won his first two-star. Not bad for a racetrack reject!”

  We’d stayed to watch Sam finish up her ride, and three years later, when she took the same horse to the UK and ran him double clear around Badminton to finish in eighth place, everyone had sat up and noticed the little black gelding that she called Kingdom Come.

  I still remember the first time I sat in Molly’s saddle. She’d been wired, stepping nervously under me and twitching her ears back and forth constantly as we rode. Sam had walked out into the middle of the arena with me and chatted calmly as we circled around her.

  “She hasn’t had much work lately, so you’re not seeing her at her best,” Sam admitted. “But it won’t take long for her to muscle up again.” She’d grinned up at me, squinting through the midday sun. “How’s she feel?”

  “Big,” I’d replied honestly, and Sam had laughed.

  “Bit bigger than your wee ponies,” she’d agreed. “She’s got a life cert at fourteen-two though, so she’s definitely a pony, just one at the bigger end of the scale. Shorten your reins a bit, and think about trotting.”

  That day, that ride, had changed my life. I’d never ridden a pony like Molly before. She was so sensitive, so attuned to my movements and thoughts that, as Sam had hinted, all I had to do was think about trotting, and we were doing it. If I thought about trotting slowly, Molly slowed, and when I pictured us walking on a loose rein, Molly agreed to it. Riding her was like a mind-meld, a perfect symbiosis of horse and human, working together in partnership. It hadn’t been entirely perfect, of course. Molly was wired and out of shape, and I was a skinny kid with only a vague idea of what I was doing, but by the end of a half hour we were cantering smooth figure eights with flying changes in the middle, and I was having the time of my life.

  And when Sam had put up some jumps, Molly had flown over all of them. She’d rushed a bit at first, feeling nervous and unsettled under me, but I had just focused on staying calm and finding a good distance, and after a while her pace had slowed to match me. Sam had told me to have fun and wandered off to the gate, where Mum and Kat were watching from, and I’d taken Molly around the whole course of jumps, putting her at anything I thought she was capable of, totally unfazed by the unfamiliar bigger heights. When she was puffing and sweating, I’d brought her back to a walk and taken her over to my spectators, feeling slightly guilty about working her so hard when Sam had warned me that she was out of shape.

  But they were all grinning at me, and I’d even caught Kat wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

  “That was wonderful, Katy,” she’d told me. “I’ve never seen Molly look so happy.”

  And so that had been that, and Molly had come home with us, much to my incredulous disbelief. I hadn’t even seen Steph that day, and I’d been worried that she would be upset about Molly leaving, but Kat had reassured me that Steph would hardly notice that she was gone.

  My first Pony Club rally on Molly came up a couple of weeks later, and I’ll never forget it. I used to go to Pony Club rallies a lot back then. Mum would coach and I would ride, taking a different pony every time, and often taking two ponies down and riding one before the rally started. But the truck wouldn’t start that day, and once we’d finally got it up and running, we’d ended up arriving fifteen minutes late.

  We’d dragged Molly off the truck and Mum had dashed off to coach, leaving me to tack up as quickly as I could on my own. Molly had sensed my anticipation and was bursting out of her skin by the time I was in the saddle, and I remember feeling a sense of foreboding as we’d made our way towards our assigned group. Molly was on her toes, looking around nervously at everyone and spooking at anything that moved, and I was starting to wonder for the first time if I’d bitten off more than I could chew. She felt bigger than ever, and I’ve always been small for my age. Even at twelve, my legs barely reached past the saddle flaps, and I had felt ridiculously over-horsed all of a sudden.

  It hadn’t helped that Donna, who was coaching me that day, had stared at me as though I’d turned up to rally on a pony with three heads. I’d been bursting with excitement at the prospect of turning up on Molly, had expected the other riders to gather round and admire her. I’d predicted that they’d ask me thousands of questions, and when they wanted to know her show name, I would proudly say Westbrook Double Trouble, and they’d know that she had come from a top show jumping stud, and would be able to kick their ponies’ butts into next week. But nobody had asked, and by the end of the rally, I wasn’t about to tell them either.

  The Marshalls had warned me that Molly had always schooled well enough at home but was unpredictable at shows. Sometimes she’d jumped clear rounds with Steph, and had won classes up to 1.15m. But she was also easily wound up, had a propensity for refusals, and as I later found out, had quite the reputation in the ring for smashing jumps. She’d been going beautifully for me up until that day, and I had never even felt like she was going to refuse at a fence. But at that Pony Club rally, everything had changed. Molly had gone from smooth and rideable to wild and unmanageable. She’d reared several times, pigrooted if I asked her to move away from the other ponies, and refused point blank to go anywhere near a jump. Donna had shoved a whip into my hand and told me to make Molly behave, but I’d dropped it immediately when Molly had threatened to bolt. Eventually I had taken her away to a corner and tried to school her in circles, but even that had been almost impossible. She’d pulled hard and run through the bridle, making my arms ache. I’d come back to the group to just stand and watch, and Molly had sidled restlessly and pawed the ground.

  When Mum had eventually finished teaching her group and come over to see how I was getting on, I’d been near tears. My beautiful Molly had disappeared and been replaced by a mad pony that I couldn’t ride. But when Donna had turned to Mum and told her that she was crazy for putting me on such a useless pony that was never going to be any good, I’d taken her comments as a personal challenge. I knew that there was nothing wrong with Molly. It was all me, and it was my responsibility as her new rider to do my best by her, and to get her to behave.

  Mum had been dubious for a while there, but whenever Kat rang and asked how the pony was getting on, we’d both said that she was wonderful, amazing, perfect. We’d both fallen in love with her, and neither of us wanted to admit that things weren’t working the way we’d anticipated. And we didn’t want the Marshalls to think that giving her to me to ride had been a bad decision, so we’d put a brave face on and insisted that everything was just fine.

  Even back then, Molly had been fussy about eating, and Mum had shut her into the stable one night to finish her feed while we had dinner. We’d both forgotten about her, and it wasn’t until I’d woken up at midnight that I’d remembered that Molly was still shut inside. I’d got up and grabbed a torch, then gone out to the stables to
let her out.

  Molly had been standing at the front of her stable, staring out across the yard. She’d looked so beautiful in the moonlight, and I’d gone up to her and given her a big hug. I’d been about to put her halter on when I’d discovered that she still hadn’t finished her feed.

  “You have to eat,” I’d whispered to my pony, and scooped out a handful of the damp mixture and held it out to her. Molly had followed me across the loosebox and snuffled at my outstretched hand, then carefully eaten the feed off my palm. I’d scooped out another handful, and another, and Molly had quietly eaten all of it. When the bucket was empty, I’d taken hold of her neckrug and led her out of the box and down to the paddock, trusting her to walk sensibly beside me, and she had. I’d let her go, but she’d stayed just inside the gate and gently nuzzled me while I leaned on the fence and talked to her. I don’t know how long we were out there, but it wasn’t until I was shivering from the cold and my bare feet had turned numb that I’d eventually kissed her goodnight and gone inside.

  The next morning, Molly had whinnied to me when she saw me coming, and a week later we’d gone to our first show together. We’d entered into the ring at a floating trot, Mum’s words echoing in my ears. Just do your best. Ride her as well as you can, and treat her like a princess no matter what.

  I’d drawn Molly to a slightly reluctant halt in front of the judge’s truck, and Donna had looked down at me disparagingly.

  “This is ambitious,” she’d said, looking at Molly who was sidling restlessly. I didn’t think ninety centimetres was ambitious at all, but I supposed that for all she knew, Molly had never gone near a jump in her life. I’d fixed her with my most determined stare as the other judge in the truck had asked for my pony’s name, and had made sure that I was watching Donna’s face as I spoke.