Pony Jumpers 7- Seventh Place

by Kate Lattey

  Pony Jumpers

  #7

  SEVENTH PLACE

  Kate Lattey

  1st Edition

  Copyright 2016 © by Kate Lattey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains a depiction of a mild sexual assault.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE - Down South

  CHAPTER TWO - Star Struck

  CHAPTER THREE - Practice Fence

  CHAPTER FOUR - Not That Girl

  CHAPTER FIVE - National Disaster

  CHAPTER SIX - Fight or Flight

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Move Your Feet

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Making Promises

  CHAPTER NINE - Worth Fighting For

  CHAPTER TEN - Rumour Has It

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Party Time

  CHAPTER TWELVE - Keep Moving Forward

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak Preview of Pony Jumpers #8 - EIGHT AWAY

  About The Author

  Find & Follow

  * * *

  “Love means attention,

  which means looking after the things we love.

  We call this stable management.”

  - George Morris

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  ~ DOWN SOUTH ~

  The island appeared out of the mist ahead of us, shimmering into existence as the large ferry motored across the Cook Strait. I leaned against the railing, the wind whipping my long blonde hair around my face, and stared out at the approaching South Island. I usually enjoyed this trip, but this year, for the first time, I’d begged Dad to skip the National Championships altogether and just let us stay at home.

  He’d said no, of course. None of my arguments – that my top ponies Buck and Skip were already qualified for Pony of the Year so we didn’t need the extra points; that I’d won Nationals last year and so had nothing left to prove; that my young pony Forbes didn’t like long journeys or extended periods away from home and was unlikely to go well – had held weight. Dad had had answers for everything – yes the ponies were qualified, but they weren’t at the top of the national table, so could always use more points; that I’d won it on Buck last year but not on Skip, and nobody had ever won it back to back, so another win would be impressive either way; and that Forbes had to get used to the travel sometime and he might as well start now.

  And so here I was, with my father and, in a situation that was becoming increasingly commonplace, without my mother. She’d stopped coming to shows a few weeks ago, preferring to stay home and work while Dad and I travelled. A skilled interior decorator, Mum had only worked occasionally while I was growing up, taking on jobs that she liked and turning down anything she didn’t feel particularly inspired by. But lately she’d decided to resurrect her business, and had started picking up contracts left, right and centre, and working every hour of the day. She’d moved into the home office, and when she wasn’t shut up in there, she was out looking at fabric samples and paint swatches, trawling around furniture stores and hunting down light fittings that would add just the right touch to someone’s room. She’d lost almost all interest in the ponies and my riding career, listening idly whenever Dad and I discussed them, but no longer contributing anything to the conversation. It was unsettling, because she used to be so invested in my riding that I could hardly turn around without her buying me new clothes or checking the national leaderboards to see exactly what position I was sitting in.

  But while it was unsettling for me, it was mindboggling for my father. If she could’ve picked one thing that would irritate him beyond all others, that was it. So he’d upped his game in response, taking more of an interest than ever before, coming down to the arena every evening when I was schooling and giving me pointers, offering to move jumps and poles around for me, and generally making a nuisance of himself. But I knew why he was doing it, so I didn’t complain. I nodded, and smiled, and did as I was told.

  As always.

  My parents never had a particularly affectionate relationship – that’s just who they are. Hugs were hard to come by in our house, and feelings rarely discussed. But I never doubted that they loved each other - until a few weeks ago, when my brother Pete had briefly returned from his exile in South Africa and tried to convince Mum to go back with him, and she’d almost done it. Had almost left the country, and had almost left my father. Had almost dragged me along with her. I hadn’t wanted to go, but I’d resigned myself to it until she’d changed her mind at the last minute. I’d been relieved, and had naively assumed that everything would go back to normal.

  Nothing was ever normal in my house. I should’ve known that by now.

  “There you are.”

  I turned my head and saw my father striding towards me, tall and upright, always looking like he’s in a hurry to get somewhere more important. He stopped next to me and leaned one hand on the boat railing. His wedding ring glinted in the sunlight, and I wondered if they would get a divorce. It certainly wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility, although it gave me a cold feeling to even consider it. I wasn’t sure I could handle that much change.

  “I told you I was coming up here,” I reminded him, but he wasn’t really listening.

  “I’ve just been talking to the Campbells,” he told me. “They’ve got a horse for sale that might suit you.”

  This again. “I don’t want another horse.”

  “Now hear me out,” he insisted, ignoring my objection as always. “It’s a very well-bred jumper they imported from Australia last year for Grace, but it’s a bit much for her to handle, apparently.” No kidding. I didn’t know the horse, but Grace Campbell was only about twelve years old and barely managing to get her super-reliable pony Summertime going consistently around the Pony Grand Prix circuit as it was. “Nothing that would trouble you, they assure me, just a bit spirited for her. Very talented though. It’s won metre-forties over in Oz, and they say it’s a super Young Rider prospect.” He paused for a moment, then carried on. “Well, what do you think?”

  I shrugged. “Why doesn’t Connor ride it, if it’s that good?”

  “Too small for him. She’s only fifteen-two, and slender-built.”

  I nodded. Connor was only a couple of years older than me, but he was over six feet tall. His long legs wrapped around a little 15.2hh mare would be laughable.

  “What’s her name?” I asked, wondering if I’d seen the horse on the circuit. As much as I insisted to my father that I didn’t need a fourth mount, there were a few that I wouldn’t have turned away.

  “Small Talk, but it’s not been out much. They’ve kept it at home and tried to get it going with Grace, but it’s not working out, so they’ve brought it to Nationals to do the metre-twenty Champ. Got a friend riding it, apparently. Didn’t say who.”

  I nodded again, and looked out over the sparkling blue water. “Okay.”

  “I’ll let them know we’re interested then.”

  I turned my head and frowned at him. “I didn’t say that. Dad, we’ve been over this. I’ve got three ponies already in work and school starts again in a few days. I don’t have time to work four during the term.”

  “And I told you that I’d get you some help.”

  “I don’t want help,” I reminded him. “I can do it myself. I want to do it myself.”

  Dad sucked in a breat
h, clearly trying to school himself to patience. I looked away from his angry eyes and out across the blue ocean that rippled around us. Someone on the top deck shouted as a pair of bottlenose dolphins leapt out of the water, curving gracefully through the air, then diving back into the depths.

  I envied them their freedom.

  “We’ve talked about this.”

  “No, you’ve talked about this.” I wasn’t sure where the courage to talk back to him was coming from, but I embraced it. It wasn’t something I did often, but something in the open sea air was giving me a stronger sense of self. “I’ve been there, but you’ve been the one making decisions.”

  “You’ve only got a season and a half left on ponies,” Dad said resolutely, as though by repeating himself yet again he could somehow change my mind. “And Buck’s starting to feel his age.”

  I clenched my jaw, staring out across the water and willing the dolphins to come back. I didn’t want to think about Buck. At eighteen years old and with a long career behind him, his joints were starting to wear down. We babied him along as much as possible, cosseting him with massage blankets and joint formulas, but nothing could reverse the process of time.

  “He might not be a contender next season,” Dad said, pressing down on that wound. “Could be we have to retire him after Pony of the Year. And then you’d be down to two, and it only makes sense to get a horse instead of another pony, so you can get started in the Young Riders.”

  “Might as well just retire him now,” I snapped. “Might as well retire Skip too, he’s fifteen, must be getting past it.”

  “Watch your tone,” Dad warned me. “Just take a look at the horse, all right? Watch it go, see what you think. If you’re not interested, then you’re not. But they want it sold before winter, and the price is right.”

  He walked off as I continued to watch the Marlborough Sounds slide ever closer. I wanted to see out my pony years successfully, but I wasn’t sure I even wanted to compete beyond that. Maybe I didn’t need a horse. Maybe I’d just give up. Retire the older ponies, sell Forbes. Have a life outside of horses.

  I wondered what that would even look like. I couldn’t imagine it, because I’d never had one.

  I turned my head away from the approaching shore, staring back out across the open water, but the dolphins never reappeared.

  * * *

  My three ponies cropped the grass greedily, stuffing their faces with it as though they hadn’t eaten since we left Napier. The sun was going down, and it turned cold quickly in the South Island, even in summer. I shivered as a cool breeze whisked past, making Forbes’ short mane stand on end for a moment. I zipped my puffa jacket up to my chin and flexed my cold fingers on the three lead ropes, watching the ponies munch. We’d finally arrived at McLeans Island an hour or so ago, and I had taken the ponies straight out to stretch their legs before letting them graze under the setting sun.

  The rings were all set up, and Dad had managed to park reasonably close to Ring One, where the premier competitions would be starting tomorrow. Three classes over three days counted towards the overall championship, and consistency was key. The scoring was so complex that I never bothered to work it out, but Dad always did. He’d study the scoreboard every evening, working out exactly how many faults I had in hand, if any. Last year it’d been tight, but I’d managed to scrape the win.

  I wished I didn’t feel so alone. I’d known that Katy wasn’t coming because she’d told me last week on Facebook, and AJ relied on Katy for transport, so even if she hadn’t been nursing a broken collarbone and unable to ride, I’d still have been here on my own. Just another reason that I hadn’t wanted to come, but another one that Dad didn’t consider to be a reasonable excuse to miss what was, outside of Pony of the Year, the biggest prize in New Zealand pony show jumping.

  Buck’s muzzle nudged the side of my boot as he sought out the patch of clover under my foot. He was such a good pony, and had been a far better pony for me than I’d deserved. I shifted my foot, giving him access to the coveted patch of grass. I owed it to him to make his life as easy as possible in his old age.

  “At least Dad’s not trying to sell you,” I told the dark bay gelding. “He knows we’re going to have to retire you ourselves. You’ll like that, won’t you? Getting to hang out in the paddock all day, not having to travel and compete anymore?” Buck blew out through his large nostrils as he ate, and I scratched his ears around his leather halter. “Soon, buddy. Only a few more shows. We’ll finish out the season, and see where we go from there.”

  Forbes lifted his head then, and Skip followed suit, both of them staring at something over my shoulder. I turned to see a big chestnut horse trotting in our direction with two other horses, one being ponied off each side. I recognised the chestnut at once, and felt my pulse quicken.

  Connor Campbell. He rode well, keeping his big horse Tiberius Rex under easy control. A tall steel grey with a white tail trotted on one side of him, and a pretty little bay on the other. I sized her up as they came closer. Fifteen-two would be about right. Slender, well-bred. This must be the horse that Dad had been going on about, and despite myself, I liked the look of her.

  Connor noticed me, and brought his horses closer, reining them in only a few metres away from where my ponies were grazing. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to be trampled, Skip went back to eating, but Forbes was still paying keen attention to Connor’s horses.

  “Hey there.”

  I looked up at Connor, squinting into the setting sun behind him. “Hi.”

  I couldn’t keep the wariness out of my tone, but for good reason. Connor hadn’t exactly been friendly to me in the past, alternating between ignoring me and being outright mean, but he was being congenial enough right now. I guess that’s what happened when your father approached people with an open chequebook. I knew that if I decided I wanted a horse badly enough, Dad would make it happen – whatever the price.

  Connor shifted in the saddle and looked down at me. “Heard you were interested in one of our nags.”

  I shrugged coolly. “Dad mentioned something about it.” Unable to stand the sunstrike any longer, I looked aside, and my eyes fell on the bay mare. “This one, is it?”

  “Yeah. Get over, Rex.” Connor shifted his weight, and the big chestnut stepped sideways, shading the sun from my eyes. “Better?”

  I nodded. “Thanks.” I studied the mare. She had good conformation, slender but strong, with well-developed hindquarters and a sloping shoulder and graceful neck. “Nice-looking horse.”

  “If she was a couple hands bigger, she wouldn’t be going anywhere. But she’s far too short for me, and too much for Gracie.”

  As he spoke, the bay mare turned her head and whinnied, straining against the lead rope as a dark bay pony trotted past, its legs encased in fluffy pink paddock boots.

  “Shut up, you egg,” Connor told her, tugging on the lead rope, but the mare ignored his remonstrance and shifted her hindquarters into Rex as she tried to watch the pony circling behind her. The pony was a nice mover with smooth paces, and although it was being ridden in draw reins, they were loose enough to be barely having an effect. The rider sat well, with steady hands and low heels, and as she circled back in our direction, I recognised Connor’s little sister.

  “Summer’s looking good.”

  Connor glanced over his shoulder idly at Grace. “Be looking better without all that pink crap on her,” he said, referring not only to the pony’s hot pink boots but also her matching saddleblanket – not to mention Grace’s pink puffa vest, which had some kind of sparkly diamante pattern on the back and a faux fur-lined hood.

  “At least she’s not chestnut,” I told him. “Then it’d clash as well.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, guess we should be grateful for that,” he agreed. “How’re your lot going?”

  “Um, okay.” I was still a little flummoxed by the fact that I was standing here, having a perfectly friendly conversation with someone I’d spent the last year
or so avoiding like the plague, and not without good reason. I was still wary, but it was nice to have someone to talk to. I lowered my guard slightly, and looked at the mare again. “So what’s her name?”

  “Star.”

  I frowned, looking at the mare’s narrow blaze. “Interesting choice, since she doesn’t have one.”

  “It’s because she is one,” Connor grinned. “Trust me, wait ‘til you see her jump. Got springs in her legs, this horse. Like I said, if I could put it on stilts…” He shook his head in disappointment as Star whinnied loudly at Summer, who responded in a muffled sort of way. “She’s only seven, got years left in her too.” His eye scanned over Buck and Skip, and I knew he was well aware of their more advanced years.

  “Why not just keep her then, let Grace grow into her?”

  “Because it’ll be years before she’s up for it,” he replied. “Waste of a good horse. Mum wants to, she’s convinced Grace’s overdue for a growth spurt, and the moment we sell Star Gracie’ll shoot up like a beanstalk, but I’m not holding my breath. And Dad wants her gone, says she’s a waste of space if neither of us are competing her.”

  “How does Grace feel about it?”

  He shrugged. “Couldn’t care less. She doesn’t like Star anyway, reckons she’s too hard to ride. She’s looking for another Grand Prix pony instead, so keep your eyes open for something that a midget could ride.”

  I couldn’t help grinning at that, and he winked down at me. Damn. There was no denying that Connor was attractive, with his dark eyes, slanting eyebrows, and high, carved cheekbones. Don’t even go there, I told myself. Dangerous territory. Connor was one of a meagre handful of straight young men on the show jumping circuit, and hands-down the best-looking – a fact that he exploited on a regular basis. But I had no ambition to be his latest conquest.