Pony Jumpers 7- Seventh Place

by Kate Lattey

  Our class was running in reverse order of points, which meant that after yesterday’s win, Forbes and I would be last to go. It was the final class of the day, and the warm-up steadily emptied out as I worked my pony in. Forbes took a good half-hour to get really switched on. I had to be careful today though, as despite the later hour, it wasn’t getting any cooler. The sun baked down onto the scorched earth, and Forbes was sweating heavily as I brought him back to a walk and gave him a pat.

  Dad was over at the practice fence, putting the vertical down to a crossrail and motioning to me to come and jump it. In a burst of defiance, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, wanting to check first whether Katy had replied to my text.

  Aw poor old Bucky. Give him a hug for me, and tell Skip to kick ass tomorrow!!!

  I slipped it back into my jacket and picked up my reins as I rode past the practice jump, ignoring Dad’s glare. There were three other riders still in the warm-up, and I scanned them quickly, trying to figure out the order. I knew the boy on the chestnut-and-white pinto would be going in right before me, and since the roan had just been called into the ring, I figured the liver chestnut would be up next. We were only two away now, and I pushed Forbes up into a trot as a young girl with blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail came over to the crossrail and started adjusting it back into a vertical. Dad quit glaring at me and directed his annoyance towards her instead.

  “Hey, leave that alone! We’re using it.”

  The girl looked at my father with a frown, and I recognised her in a vague sort of way. She had just started show jumping this season, but after a couple of shaky rounds early on, she’d made massive strides lately and was climbing quickly up the Pony Grand Prix leader board after a succession of recent wins. Of course, she had a pair of very experienced ponies that could probably jump clear rounds with their eyes closed, which definitely helped. But then, who was I to judge?

  “Emmalee wants to jump it,” the girl, whose name I still couldn’t remember, told my father. She seemed slightly cowed by Dad’s aggressive tone, but she was standing her ground. “She’s next to go in, and she wants to do a vertical first.”

  Dad folded his arms across his chest, glowering down at her. “My daughter hasn’t even jumped yet,” he countered. “Your friend’s had ample time to jump the vertical, now it’s Susie’s turn.”

  I saw the girl’s eyes flicker towards me, then back to my father. “But…”

  “But nothing. It’s not your turn,” he insisted.

  She opened her mouth to say something, looking shaken, then clearly thought better of it, and walked back towards a group of people standing by the gate. I wanted to say something, to apologise for my father and counteract his bullying, but I also knew a lost cause when I saw one. I didn’t have the time or the energy to fight that girl’s battles for her – I had a pony to warm up. I nudged Forbes into a canter, trying to project outward calm. I knew my pony well enough to know that if I got wound up, he’d sense it and start getting wild and unmanageable, and I didn’t need that today.

  I cantered him over the crossrail once, landed left, and cantered back around to jump it again. But now Dad was standing in front of the jump, his arms still folded, while another man yelled at him, his arms waving angrily.

  I brought Forbes back to a trot and circled him, trying to concentrate on steadying my breathing, and not letting any of the tension in the air transmit itself to Forbes. But it was too late. He tossed his head, tugging at the bit, then spooked sideways as the pinto pony came cantering past us.

  “It’s okay, buddy.” I reached forward and gave Forbes a pat, then glanced back over at my Dad, who was still engaged in a stand-off with the other man. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was evident from their body language that neither one of them wanted to back down.

  I wanted to ride over there and tell my father to just put the jump back to how it had been and give Emmalee a chance to jump it. The rider about to go into the ring had priority over the practice fence, and I wished Dad would just back down and accept that. The blonde girl was standing over by the gate, looking a bit emotional, and I remembered her name at last. Lily Christianson. One of the women there had her arm around her shoulders, and they glared at me as they saw me looking at them. I looked away, pushing Forbes back into a canter and focusing on my pony. There was nothing else I could do. If I went over there and told Dad to give in, he’d never let me hear the end of it. He was already grumpy with me, and I didn’t need to give him any more fuel for his fire. He hated it when I disagreed with him in public, even when he was clearly wrong. I just had to get Forbes into the ring and jump a clear round, followed by a quick jump off, and Dad would forget to be angry with me.

  But that was looking less and less likely to happen, because I couldn’t stop myself from tensing up, and Forbes couldn’t handle it. He got quicker and quicker as we cantered around the warm-up, and when I tried to slow him down, he flung his head from side to side and lifted his back, threatening to buck.

  The call came from the steward, sounding terse. “Emmalee, the judges are waiting for you. You need to get over to the ring right away. Isaac, you’re on straight after her, and Susannah’s last to go.” She looked up from her clipboard and finally noticed the stand-off happening in front of the practice fence. A frown crossed her pudgy face. “What’s going on here?”

  I drew Forbes back to a walk, bracing myself for further drama as the small group at the gate quickly filled her in on the situation. The steward looked furious as she slapped her clipboard against her thigh.

  “I see, but we’re out of time. Emmalee needs to get into the ring right now or they’ll disqualify her for not turning up.”

  Emmalee’s mother started arguing that her daughter needed to jump the vertical before she could go into the ring, but the steward wasn’t having a bar of it. Defeated, Emmalee rode her pretty liver chestnut out towards the ring, and her mother followed with a scowl as I halted Forbes and checked my girth. Any excuse to keep my eyes down and avoid looking at anyone. I could hear the conversation as it carried across the dusty warm-up, both men talking over top of each other, much to the steward’s obvious irritation.

  “Would you two give it a rest?” she snapped finally, and for a wonder they stopped yelling. “It’s done. Derrick, the practice fence is yours. Hugh, can we talk?”

  She led the other man away, nodding sympathetically to his furious tirade, as Dad turned towards me with a pleased expression, thinking he’d won.

  “Okay Susie. It’s all yours.”

  I could still feel their eyes on me as I rode into the ring. I’d had to walk Forbes past Emmalee, who was sitting on her pony by the gate and dabbing at tears while her mother patted her leg and told her that it wasn’t her fault. My heart sank. I’d been hoping that she’d have pulled off a clear round despite the practice fence drama, and that it would all become a moot point. But clearly she hadn’t, and I could tell from the look on her mother’s face that she was already on the war path against me.

  “That’s all clear in the jump-off and a very smart time for Isaac Winton and Puzzle Time, putting them into second place, just behind our current leader,” the announcer said as I rode Forbes into the ring. “We now welcome the last rider to go in the second round of the Pony Metre-Ten Championship - Susannah Andrews riding Primo Del Maestro.”

  Isaac trotted his pony past me to the gate, and I sent Forbes into a canter, waiting for the buzzer to start. I’d caught the end of Isaac’s jump off while I waited, and he hadn’t been wasting any time out here. Whoever was leading the class must have really carved it up, and I wondered idly who it had been, and whether Forbes could go fast enough to bring it home. But I couldn’t get ahead of myself. We had to jump a clear first round, and only then could I think about the instant jump-off. The announcer was thinking along the same lines, telling the crowd that I needed to jump a fast double clear to keep my position at the top of the rankings.

  N
o pressure, I thought ruefully. But then, maybe it was good. If I made it onto the team going to Ireland, I was going to have to be able to ride under pressure. Imagine you’re in a team right now, I told myself. Imagine that you need this to go well for their sakes.

  The thought spurred me on, and as the buzzer sounded, I drew my shoulders back, sank my weight down into my heels and steadied my pony on our way to the first fence. Forbes was still a bit unsettled, and he sped up on the approach and flung himself into the air, clearing the first jump by miles. I sat up quickly, bringing my body upright even before his front feet had touched the ground again, ready to balance and steady him. He tugged at the reins on landing, but I had enough core strength to hold him, and got the steady six strides we needed down to the second fence. He jumped that one huge too, but at least he wasn’t touching them.

  On, and on we went around the course. Five fences to go, then four, then three. Forbes cleared the Swedish oxer with a kick of his heels, and I looked around to the left towards the big, airy white vertical coming up next. From the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Emmalee and her family still standing at the gate watching us, and felt a jolt of guilt.

  It only lasted for a second, but it was enough to distract Forbes, and he hit the brakes so hard that if I hadn’t already been working hard to balance him around the corner, I’d have gone straight over his head. As it was, I was thrown forward onto his neck, bruising my chest as my upper body connected with his hard crest.

  I regained my seat and wrapped my legs firmly around his sides, trying to put the spook behind us and focusing hard on the fence that lay only a few strides ahead. But Forbes stood still, his hooves planted to the ground, and refused to move. My heart sank as I realised what was happening. I’d seen him do this before with Katy – dig his toes in and refuse, point blank, to go forward. I dug my spurs into his sides and growled at Forbes, telling him to get a move on. I didn’t carry a crop, so I couldn’t have given him a smack even if I’d wanted to – which I didn’t. Katy had tried that once, and he’d started rearing. I didn’t want that to happen, but I was running out of options.

  I nudged him harder, and risked a small kick, despite the spurs. But nothing worked, and as I started to really panic, a voice yelled from behind me.

  “Spin him in a circle!”

  I had no idea who it was, and no time to figure it out. I just grabbed my left rein and brought it around towards my knee, taking their advice. Before he could work out what was happening, Forbes’ nose was touching my boot. He tugged at the rein, but I was one step ahead of him at last, and I tucked my hand behind my knee to prevent him from pulling the rein out of my hand. He spun his hindquarters around, trying to align his body with his neck, but it wasn’t until we were lined up towards the white vertical that I released his head. Before he had time to think about what had just happened, I clamped my legs onto his sides and rode him firmly forward. He leapt into a canter, then baulked at the sight of the jump approaching.

  “Geddup!” I growled at him, giving him another kick with my heels, and he shot forward, flinging himself over the high vertical. I felt him flatten out through the air, and heard his hooves clatter against the top rail, then the thud as it fell. Damn.

  No time to worry about that though, because we had the triple bar still to jump. I sat up and turned him towards it, and he backed off sulkily. I knew he didn’t like the way I was riding him, bullying him into jumping when he’d decided that he’d had enough, but it wasn’t up to him to decide that. I pushed him forward as strongly as I could, and despite his reluctance, Forbes cantered up to the last fence and begrudgingly jumped it, but with such a lacklustre effort that he clobbered the back rail. It fell to the ground as my pony cantered a little stiffly through the finish flags, his ears laid flat back against his glossy neck.

  I brought Forbes straight back to a walk, feeling the hitch in his stride. Damn, damn, damn. He must’ve really bashed it. I patted him effusively, letting the reins go slack as I rubbed both sides of his neck the way he liked. Dad met me at the gate, shaking his head.

  “He hit that last one pretty hard,” I commented, trying not to mention the napping incident, which would fire Dad up much more than a rail or two. Rails were disappointing but forgivable, but bad behaviour was not. Not in his book, anyway.

  “Got it with his stifle,” Dad said flatly. “Guess he’s still got some growing up to do. Walk him out.” He gave Forbes a cursory slap on the neck as I dismounted and loosened the girth. Forbes rested his off hind leg as I ran up his stirrups, and I watched anxiously as I led him forward, hoping he’d be okay for tomorrow. Despite that disaster, he should still be in the top few to go into the final round, but I wouldn’t be jumping him if he wasn’t one hundred percent sound. It wasn’t worth the risk.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ~ NOT THAT GIRL ~

  “How’s your pony?”

  I turned at the sound of Connor’s voice, and smiled tentatively as he approached me through the dusky twilight. He had a cap pulled down over his dark hair, and his dark singlet showed off his broad, muscular shoulders. Not to mention his biceps, and I quickly forced myself to look at his face. He was grinning at me, appearing amused, and I felt my skin flush.

  “Um, a bit sore. But I think he’ll be okay.” I ran my hand again over Forbes’ stifle, the liniment on my hand making my skin tingle. He lifted his leg and swished his tail threateningly at me, and I desisted.

  “That’s good. Little bastard, napping on you like that.”

  “Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “One of his less endearing quirks. He used to do it to Katy all the time, but it’s the first time he’s pulled it on me.”

  “I remember. Thought you were nuts for buying him, to be honest. But you got him going again and made him finish the course, so maybe he won’t try it again.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I threw a cover over Forbes and clipped up the backstraps. Connor let himself into my pony’s yard and started buckling the front for me.

  “I always told Katy to spin him too, but she never did,” Connor said as he pulled Forbes’ neck rug up to his ears. “Stubborn, that girl. Won’t listen to good advice.” He was still grinning at me as it clicked.

  “That was you?”

  “Who’d you think it was?”

  I shrugged. “I had no idea, only that it worked.”

  “Well, yeah. That was yours truly. And you’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I said belatedly. “It was definitely…”

  But I was interrupted by a loud cough from behind me, making me jump. Turning, I saw Buck standing in his yard with his head low, and as I watched, he coughed again, his whole body racked with the convulsion.

  “You okay, buddy?” I asked the pony, ducking through the railings to get into his yard. Buck lifted his head and pricked his ears at me, then coughed again. It wasn’t a dry cough, like he sometimes got when he’d had too much dry hay, or had something stuck in his throat. It was a wet, thick cough, and my blood chilled at the sound. Not good.

  Connor was right behind me, frowning as he echoed my thoughts. “That doesn’t sound too good.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” Buck shook his head, then blew out through his nostrils, covering both of us with a spray of horse snot.

  “Nice. Cheers mate,” Connor muttered, but I was too busy running my hand down Buck’s neck and chest, checking to see if he was sweating. He seemed fine, and far less concerned than I was. Buck cleared his nose again, then nuzzled me gently.

  “He seems okay now,” Connor said. “Must’ve just had something in his throat.”

  “Hmm. Maybe.” I wasn’t convinced, but I wanted Connor to be right. I checked Buck’s nose for any discharge, but there was nothing obvious. Then again, he’d just sprayed it all over me and Connor. Twice.

  “He’ll be right.” Connor took his cap off and ruffled his dark hair, successfully distracting me from my pony’s plight. “Hey, what’re you up to tonight?”

  I shrugged. “Not much.
” Absolutely nothing, was the actual truth, but I didn’t want to say that out loud for fear of sounding like a total loser.

  “Come over to ours, if you want,” he suggested. “I’ve got some videos of Star jumping in Aussie that you might wanna see.”

  “Okay, sure,” I said, trying to sound casual. “When?”

  He shrugged. “Whenever. I’m going to check on our lot, then I’ll head back over. Half an hour, maybe?”

  I nodded, rubbing Buck’s warm ears. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

  I took a deep breath, then pulled out my Ariat jacket and slipped it on. Dad looked up from his phone conversation with a frown.

  “Hang on a sec,” he said to the person he was talking to, then looked at me. “Where are you off to?”

  “The Campbells’ truck,” I told him. “They’ve got some videos of Star competing in Aussie that they were going to show me.”

  Dad’s expression eased. “Oh, right. I said to Jordan that you’d want to see those. She showed me last night.”

  I nodded. “Great. I’ll see you later then.” I opened the side door of our truck and started down the steps.

  “Susie.”

  I turned to face him. “What?”

  “Don’t be back too late. You’ve got a class first thing in the morning.”

  “I know. I won’t be.”

  He nodded, then turned his attention back to his phone conversation. “Right, where were we?”

  I jumped onto the grass and shut the door behind me. There were lights on in all the trucks that I passed, and voices issuing from them. Music, and laughter. And now I was going to join them. It was still a novelty to me to be able to leave our truck in the evenings at all, let alone to go and hang out with other people. Especially without Dad tagging along. For years, I’d barely been allowed out of my parents’ sight when we were away competing. Pete had been given more of a free pass, on account of being both several years older than me and a boy, but I’d been cosseted and kept close. And the first time they had let me out of their sight, I’d been stupid enough to pick a fight and ended up with a mild concussion, so that was the last time I’d been given free rein to roam the show grounds at night.