Pony Jumpers 7- Seventh Place

by Kate Lattey

  It was fascinating, listening to the breath going in and out of Buck’s lungs as I watched his sides move. I listened carefully, moving the stethoscope once or twice across his ribcage, then lower.

  “Not too far back there,” Lesley corrected me. “You’ll end up listening to gut function. Lungs don’t go beyond the last rib.”

  “Right.” I pulled the earbuds from my ears and handed the stethoscope back to her. “Thanks.”

  “Hear anything interesting?”

  I thought for a moment. “It sounded like he’s wheezing a bit.” She nodded, but my insight wasn’t exactly revolutionary. In the middle of the day, when Buck’s symptoms were the worst, he wheezed audibly. “But I didn’t hear any crackling or anything like that,” I added. I’d been doing some internet research, and had been warned to watch out for those kind of sounds.

  “Right you are.” Lesley went around to the other side of Buck and listened to his lungs again for a while before removing the stethoscope and slinging it around her neck. “His lungs are still battling, but he’s showing some improvement. Heart rate and respiration are down, and his gums are a good colour.”

  “Capillary refill is normal, and so is his temperature,” I told her, and she grinned at me.

  “You barely even need me,” she said cheerfully. “You’re doing a great job. And is he coughing less?”

  “A bit less, but he’s still quite bad.” As if he knew what we were saying, Buck dropped his head and coughed heavily a couple of times.

  “Hmm. What’re you feeding him?”

  “Soaked hay, and damp grain with beet pulp twice a day. I’d give him more but I don’t want him getting too fat,” I told her, looking at Buck’s rounded sides. He’d already eaten the grass down on the lawn, and Mum was getting increasingly irritated about it.

  “You ever hear of a hay steamer?” I shook my head, and Lesley continued as she rummaged around in her kit. “You might want to look into that. There’s a company here that sells them, and they work well. I’d recommend looking into it. It’ll kill any mould spores and is more palatable than soaked hay.”

  “Okay.” I rubbed Buck’s nose as she straightened up and looked around.

  “Where is your hay?”

  “In the barn.”

  “Show me.”

  I unclipped Buck’s rope and left him on the lawn, Lesley following right behind as we made our way to the barn. The double doors at the front were rolled back, and I walked down the aisle past our loose boxes and tack room, then stopped at the far end, where the hay was stacked tightly, floor to ceiling.

  Lesley went straight to the open bale sitting at the front of the stack, and tore it apart in the middle, inspecting the hay closely.

  “Smells all right,” she conceded, looking around. “Is this first or second cut?”

  “First,” I told her. “We used to get second cut from down the road, but Dad got talking to a farmer at the feed store who swore his first cut was the best. Cost more than the other stuff we used to get, but it’s top quality hay.”

  “So this hay’s from a new supplier? When did you get it in?”

  “Uh…a few days before we left for Nationals.” Why hadn’t I thought of mentioning that before? “D’you think the hay’s the problem?”

  “It might be. Might not.”

  Lesley tore a biscuit out of the bale and carried it back down the aisle into the daylight. I followed her curiously and watched as she tore it apart and shook it. A fine dust lifted from the biscuit as pieces of hay cascaded to the ground at her feet.

  “It’s dusty,” I said quietly, watching the dust particles float around us.

  Lesley nodded. “It’s not the worst,” she told me. “It’s not bad hay, but it’s got a lot of leaf shatter.” She caught my confused expression and clarified. “See here, where the leafy parts of the grass are breaking up into small particles? That can happen when the hay is raked and baled when it’s too dry. It’s tough, in a dry summer like this, to avoid dusty hay, but it can be done.”

  “How?”

  “Look at the paddocks you’re buying hay from before you agree to purchase it. Be especially wary of hay paddocks that border dirt roads that get a lot of traffic. They kick the dust up something shocking, and if there’s any kind of breeze, it ends up on the paddocks and gets baled, especially if the hay has already been cut.”

  “Okay. So we should get rid of this stuff?” I hated to think what Dad was going to say when I told him we had to replenish our entire hay stock.

  “I wouldn’t keep feeding it to Buck, even soaked or steamed, if you can avoid it. Are your other ponies okay with it?”

  I started to nod, then paused. “Skip was coughing yesterday when I rode him. Only once or twice though, and he seemed fine otherwise. But I’d given him some hay to munch on while I tacked him up,” I remembered. “I didn’t soak it first, because I didn’t think I needed to.”

  “I’d say that answers your question then,” she told me. “Like I said, it’s not bad hay, and for the majority of horses it won’t cause them a problem, especially if it’s fed out on a paddock where it can be spread around and the dust can escape. But I’d avoid feeding it to stabled horses unless it was well-soaked first.” She tossed the torn biscuit onto the grass behind us. “And I always recommend storing hay in a separate building from your stables. Even the best hay is going to release dust particles. If you need to stable Buck, use straw or thick shavings – never sawdust. But I’d avoid stabling him altogether, if you can.”

  “Even in winter?” I asked dubiously. “He’s not really the rough and tumble type.”

  Buck liked his creature comforts – he was always the first to the gate to be caught when it was raining, and he thought being left outside in the bad weather was a form of cruel and unusual punishment. The lightest shower made him shiver if he didn’t have a cover on, and he detested getting rain in his eyes.

  She smiled at me. “He’s tougher than he looks, I promise. If you’re really worried, build him a three-sided shelter in one of the paddocks that he can get into to avoid the rain.”

  “He won’t like being left outside by himself,” I said with a sigh, and Buck took his cue from me and decided to whinny to Skip, who replied throatily. Forbes joined in half-heartedly, but it was Buck and Skip who were the most attached to each other.

  Lesley walked around the back of the barn and looked at the ponies in the paddock. Forbes was grazing again, preoccupied as usual by food, but Skip had his head high and was staring in Buck’s direction. The dark bay pony was just visible through the trees, and I watched him force out another rattling neigh.

  “Might be time to move him closer to his buddies,” Lesley said as she started walking back to her ute. “He should still be isolated, just in case, but it won’t do him much good to be stressing about it.” She stopped and looked behind us, scanning the row of paddocks. “Maybe you could fence him off a section over there, under the trees so he has plenty of shade. In the meantime, here. Start putting this in his feed twice a day. I’ll write out the dosage.”

  Lesley sat down on the grass and pulled out a pen and notepad as I examined the container of medicine in my hand. “It’s a bronchodilator,” she told me. “Give him a go on that. If he doesn’t improve enough, we can try him on an inhaler.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “No worries.” She got to her feet and dusted the dry grass off her butt. “I’d better get moving. Lots more patients to see today.” She picked up her kit and looked at me. “Oh, and if you ever decide that you want to pursue that vet career, let me know. I’d be happy to help you out if I can.”

  I blinked at her. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, why not? You’re a bright girl who cares about animals.” She took a couple of steps, then turned back. “As long as you get into it for the right reasons. It’s not a career for someone who’s afraid of hard work.”

  I blushed at the reminder of my earlier excuse. “I’m not really
,” I told her, and she grinned.

  “That’s what I figured. If it’s what you really want, go for it. Don’t let anyone talk you out of your dreams.”

  I watched Lesley walk away towards her ute in the blistering heat. Her jeans and boots were dusty, her shirt was creased and worn, and her heavy ponytail had left a damp patch between her shoulderblades. Her knuckles were bruised and her palms calloused and her skin was weather-worn, but she knew exactly who she was. She hadn’t been afraid to stand up to my father, and she’d just told me exactly what I needed to hear.

  If I could end up being anything like her, I decided as I went to tidy up the discarded biscuit of hay, I might be able to consider myself a success.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ~ PARTY TIME ~

  “You made it! Wait, what are you wearing?”

  Callie looked me up and down disparagingly, and I felt my self-confidence ebb again. I’d spent ages getting dressed, trying to find something appropriate for a party like this, and in the end had settled on skinny jeans, strappy sandals and a cream sleeveless top made of quality silk. I’d brushed my hair out and added a small amount of jewellery, then spent about half an hour applying enough makeup to look like I’d made an effort, but not so much that Dad wouldn’t let me out of the house. He’d just dropped me off, and I’d only just managed to get out of the car without him accompanying me to the door to meet Callie’s parents. Which was looking like a good thing, since they were nowhere in sight.

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say.

  Callie leaned against the door frame, her dark blue dress clinging to every curve on her body, and shook her head at me.

  “You know that this is a Valentine’s Day party, not a Sunday school party, right?” she told me, her disappointment in me clear.

  Two of Callie’s friends appeared in the hallway behind her, both dressed in short, tight dresses, one with hair half-straightened, the other with hair half-curled. They looked at me and Sabrina raised a heavily-plucked eyebrow.

  “I hope you brought a change of clothes with you.”

  I flushed as they all looked around for evidence, and shook my head. “It’s not my fault, okay?” I told them, placing the blame where I could. “My dad wouldn’t let me out of the house wearing anything other than this.”

  “Well then,” Callie said, her expression brightening as she opened the front door wider and motioned me in. “It’s a good thing you’re here early, because I’ve got a wardrobe full of dresses that are going to look amazing on you!”

  Half an hour later, I stood in front of the full-length mirror and stared at my unfamiliar reflection. The short red dress barely reached the middle of my thigh, and was cut low in front, showing off an unprecedented amount of cleavage. Callie had dragged me straight to her bedroom and proceeded to fling an array of dresses at me to try on, and this one had been declared the unanimous winner. Everyone loved it – except me.

  It looked good, I couldn’t deny that. But it made a statement that I wasn’t sure I wanted to make. There was nothing subtle about this dress.

  “You’re going to have guys all over you tonight,” Sabrina declared, beaming at me as though that’s all I could possibly hope for. I felt my skin crawl, but forced myself to smile as she ushered me over to the bed and sat me down, then proceeded to apply more makeup to my eyes, my cheeks, my lips.

  “There,” she said a few minutes later. “Man, I don’t know if you should’ve invited this one along, Callie.”

  Callie turned around, mascara brush in one hand, her eyes already blackened with eyeliner. “Why not?” She looked at me, and grinned. “Damn, girl. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead tonight. Aren’t you glad we made you change?”

  I looked at my clothes, tossed unceremoniously into the corner of the room. I wished I was still wearing them, that I hadn’t let Callie and her friends push me so far outside of my comfort zone.

  Stop it, I told myself. You wanted more friends, here they are. Just go with it. Step outside your comfort zone for once.

  “Drink time!”

  I looked up to see Jaime standing in front of me, holding out a glass of pale pink liquid.

  “No thanks.”

  Jaime rolled her eyes in Callie’s direction, and Callie laughed. “It’s fine,” she told me. “There’s no alcohol in it.”

  I wasn’t sure whether I believed her, but I didn’t want to accuse her of lying in front of her friends. I took the glass from Jaime and looked over at Callie.

  “Are your parents home?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  I shrugged, and took a sip of the drink. To my relief, I couldn’t taste any alcohol. “Just wondering. I haven’t seen them.”

  “They know better than to get in our way,” Callie said dismissively, then raised her glass to us. “Here’s to a night we’ll never forget!”

  The music was thumping, a steady beat that throbbed through my head and made me feel dizzy. If there truly hadn’t been any alcohol in that first drink, I was certain that there had been in the next two. But drinking punch had given me something to do, at least. I’d drained my third glass a few minutes ago, and sat on the edge of the couch, twirling the thin stem of the punch glass between my fingers while Sabrina let some guy feel her up on the couch next to me.

  “Hi.”

  He was standing next to the couch and grinning down at me. I smiled back, wishing I hadn’t let Callie talk me into wearing such a low-cut dress. This guy, whoever he was, had a prime view right down the front of it, and I tugged at the thin shoulder straps reflexively.

  He kept grinning, but held his hand out towards me. “Wanna refill?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

  “Yeah you are.” I cringed, but he didn’t seem to realise what a corny line that was. “I’m Declan, by the way.”

  He sat down on the wide arm of the couch and leaned against the wall behind us, continuing to smile down at me.

  “I’m Susannah.”

  “How do you know Callie?” He took a swig from the can in his hand, and I could smell the bourbon on his breath.

  “We go to school together.” My eyes ranged around the room, looking for Callie, but I couldn’t see her. There were so many people here, crammed together into the large rumpus room at the bottom of Callie’s house. She’d ushered everyone in here as they arrived and shut the door firmly behind us, explaining that the room was soundproof, and that her parents didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Sabrina was engaged in a full-on make-out session now, and she fell back against my shoulder as the guy she was with continued his exploration of her throat with his tongue. I elbowed her in the back, and she broke off the kiss.

  “Sorry.” She giggled. “Jack, would you let me sit up?”

  “Why don’t you two get a room?” Declan suggested, shifting from the arm of the couch to stand over Sabrina and her new friend instead. “Go on, get out of here, stop crushing my new friend Susan.”

  “Susannah,” I corrected him, but I don’t think he heard me over the loud music. Jack stood up and grabbed Sabrina’s hand, pulling her to her feet behind him.

  “Come on then, let’s give Dec some space,” Jack said, grinning down at me with a gleam in his eye before slapping Declan on the shoulder. “Good luck, mate.”

  “Cheers.” Declan toasted his friend, then dropped down onto the couch next to me. “Now, where were we?”

  He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He could’ve used a haircut, he had a smattering of acne across one cheek and an earring in one ear that looked slightly ridiculous, but overall he was fairly appealing. Give him a chance, I told myself. So I smiled, and shrugged, peering at him through the several coats of mascara that Sabrina had applied to my eyelashes.

  “I think we were just about to start talking about the weather,” I said.

  “What?” The music was loud, drowning out my feeble attempt at conversation. I shrugged again, and lifted my glass to sip at my drink, then realised that the glass was still empty.
I looked at Declan to see if he’d take the hint and go get me another one, but he was too preoccupied with staring at my chest. I waved the empty glass in front of his eye line, and he snapped his attention back to my face with a sheepish grin.

  “Sorry. Got distracted.” He shuffled closer to me on the couch, and turned to face me. “That dress is just…wow.”

  “Thanks.” I tugged self-consciously at the hemline that was riding up my thigh, which only served to draw his attention to it. “It’s not mine, it’s Callie’s.”

  “Well it looks great on you. Better than it does on her, I bet.”

  Declan stretched one arm out over the back of the couch and grinned. I leaned back slightly, trying to put some space between us, but the arm of the couch held me in place. I glanced around the room, my eyes catching on Callie as she sauntered past with one boy on either side of her, both of them practically tripping over themselves to get her attention. She noticed me and grinned, glancing at Declan then shooting me a thumbs-up as she continued on her way, disappearing towards the back corner of the room.

  Declan shifted closer again, his body leaning up against me. The pressure of his weight against my side made my skin prickle. The smell of the bourbon combined with his liberally-applied body spray made my nostrils burn. Then his hand was on the back of my head, and he was leaning in towards me and his lips were millimetres from mine.

  I leaned back, trying to smile to lighten the mood.

  “Easy tiger. We only just met.”

  He was still grinning, leaning in closer as I pulled away. “What can I say? You’re driving me wild.”

  Then he went in for the kiss, and I was up against the arm of the couch with nowhere left to go. He had one hand on my thigh, sliding up underneath my dress, and I grabbed his wrist and pushed it away.

  “Stop it!”

  The music thumped on around us in a relentless rhythm, mimicking my racing heartbeat.

  “What?” He feigned confusion, but he let me move his hand away. I knew I had to get out of this situation, but my limbs felt heavy and I couldn’t get my body to cooperate. Shit. How much had I had to drink?