'What about Calypso? Or Comet?' he said on the way past. 'Or Deuce! Deuce is a good name.'
After he'd cantered around the arena a few times, Zeb started to move around. He leaned forward and back, dropped the reins and then picked them up again. He leaned over one side and then the other.
Blue skidded to a stop. Shelby could see him thinking, 'Whoa there, big fella! You're going to fall off!'
'Keep going, little Deucey,' Zeb said, urging the pony on. He seemed to be enjoying himself, the tantrum of just a few minutes earlier completely forgotten. It made Shelby nervous. She found it more difficult to switch moods.
'Nah, Deuce is no good. How about Dynamo?' he asked.
Shelby curled her lip. Blue was lots of things, but dynamic wasn't one of them.
Once Blue was in a canter Zeb started to move around again, swinging his legs up around Blue's shoulders, and leaning back on his rump.
'At the moment he's sensitive to your movements. If he's going to be a trick horse he has to get used to you being all over him – shifting your weight. He'll have to compensate for that. You want to teach him to keep at an even pace no matter what you're doing.'
Shelby folded her arms. She liked the fact that Blue slowed down when she lost her balance and stopped when she fell. It made him much safer. Zeb wanted to teach him to keep on going even if she was hanging off the side. What if she was actually dragging?
Soon Molly was back with the bald-faced quarter horse Shelby had seen before. He was wearing the same type of bit with the long shanks that Keisha had been using on the Lipizzaner.
'Fizz, Firebug, Fury . . . I've got it!' Zeb said, rocking from side to side. He dropped the reins and lifted his hands up as though he was holding a sign. 'The Great Fandango!'
Molly sighed and shook her head. She turned her attention to Shelby. 'Good, you're wearing joggers.'
Shelby looked down. She'd forgotten to change into her riding boots.
'No, that's good,' Molly assured her. 'You need to grip with your feet in trick riding. Normal boots are too slippery. On you hop.'
Soon Shelby was cantering around behind Blue. The quarter horse was very broad – much broader than Blue, and the saddle was so flat it was like riding around on a barrel. His canter was also much smoother than Blue's. Shelby could imagine manoeuvring in this saddle even if he was going fast.
Zeb pulled Blue to a stop at the end of the arena. 'Good boy, Fandy.' He patted Blue on the neck.
Fandy? Shelby thought.
'This is the station,' he explained. 'You canter around the arena, do your trick in front of the audience.' He waved his hand, indicating one side of the arena where the audience would be. 'You stop back at the station. Then the next girl goes around, does her trick and stops here. Then the next. After that it's your turn again. Get it?'
Shelby nodded.
They practised cantering around the arena and stopping at the station.
'Now we do our first trick. We'll start standing still. The key to trick riding is balance. You have the horn of the saddle, and you have your horse's mane. You will use them both for balance. OK?'
Zeb kicked his left foot out of the stirrup. Holding onto the horn, he stood up in his right stirrup and swung his left leg over the back of the saddle, so that he was standing up in the stirrup on the right-hand side of the horse.
'This is called a "stand-aside",' he said. 'Now your turn. Number one: hand on the horn. Two, kick your foot out of the stirrup. Three, over the back and tuck it in place. Underneath. Lovely! Hips forward. That's right! Now wave to the audience with your other hand. Don't let go altogether. Beautiful!'
It felt weird to be standing on the side, as though she was about to jump off. She worried that the saddle was going to slip around Tex's belly, but it didn't.
'Again!' Zeb instructed.
Shelby went through the steps in her head.
'Very good! This time when you hop back in the saddle swing your leg straight. It looks better that way. Clever! Smile. You are a natural, I think.'
Shelby grinned. It did feel natural to her – much more natural than the things she had been doing with Miss Anita. More than that, she was having fun. She was glad she'd come here instead of going back to the stables.
Shelby practised again and again, and then she did the stand-aside with Tex walking around the arena. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Keisha return. Shelby waved to her, but the girl didn't wave back. Instead she jogged into the house. Shelby was having such a good time that she was willing to consider that Keisha hadn't seen her.
Molly and Zeb didn't notice Keisha. They thought Shelby was waving to an imaginary crowd.
'That's showmanship!' Zeb said, clapping. 'See that, Molly?'
Molly smiled and nodded. 'Yep, she's doing really well.'
Shelby lifted her chin, proud of the compliment.
'Next we do trot, which is harder, then canter is easier again, because of the rhythm,' Zeb explained.
Shelby was about to trot when she heard a yell.
'Hey!' On the veranda was the man with the dark hair who Shelby had seen doing the liberty work with the matched ponies.
'Hey you!'
He looked so serious that at first she thought he'd seen something – maybe a snake, or that some of her equipment was loose. She looked around, trying to figure out what the problem was.
'Yes, you!' He stalked across the paddock with his hands rolled into fists.
'What?' she asked. As he came closer she could see that he wasn't just serious, he was furious.
'You!' The man shouted louder still, pointing to Shelby. 'Get off my property!'
22 The Great Fandango
'They did it,' Shelby said, climbing into the car. 'They
stole Diablo.'
'Did they confess?' her mother asked.
'No.'
'Did you see evidence?'
Shelby fastened her seatbelt. 'Kind of. Not exactly.'
The car rattled as it sped up, joining the flow of traffic. 'Then how do you know?' her mother asked, grimacing as the gears crunched.
Shelby's father had been playing around with the clutch again after their trip up the coast. Sometimes he took apart bits of the car because they needed fixing, but Shelby thought he took it apart this time simply because he had the week off over Easter, and the Alfa was his favourite toy.
Shelby crossed her arms. 'Lindsey is right. They are bad people. They put shoes on their horses and tie their heads down. You should have seen the bits they use. They were going to nail metal to Diablo's feet and make him run around with a tie-down, and maybe they would let him stand in a dirt paddock for an hour a day in hobbles. It's like those pictures you see on the internet with the bears getting their bile removed, or the bonsai cats in bottles.'
'Honey, have you ever actually seen pictures of bonsai cats on the internet?'
'No.' Shelby frowned. 'But only because, if I think there are any coming up, I close my eyes and make Erin switch the page.'
Shelby's brothers had recently started playing soccer, and on the way home Shelby's mum stopped to pick them up from training. While they waited in the car, watching the final minutes of the training session, Shelby told her mother about learning to do the stand-aside.
'So everything was fine. Great, in fact! The Zeb man said I was a natural, which is what I thought, and then the man came out screaming at everyone. Sneaky Keisha went and dobbed on me. If she had a problem with me being there she could have said it to my face. Anyway, the man – I think he's Zeb's son – he's shouting that I'm going to fall off and sue them. Then he accused Zeb of always taking in strays. He said every time he brings in a stray they get into trouble. Zeb is bellowing back that he is an elder and deserves respect. Then the son yelled that Molly was a stray, and then she yelled back that he was a pig. And he is! He was so rude. He could have just said that he didn't want me there. He didn't need to call me names!'
Shelby's mother tucked her hand inside her sleeve and us
ed the cuff to wipe the inside of the windscreen. Blake was at one side of the field with the smaller children. They each had a ball and were attempting to bounce it on their knees with very little success. One of the girls managed to bounce it twice and then catch it. The coach cheered and clapped his hands over his head, and then ruffled the girl's hair.
Connor was at the other side of the oval in a line with the older children, who were taking turns to dribble the ball around a row of witches' hats. When the ball got away from Connor just before the last hat, Shelby's mum sighed. 'Ooh, nearly.'
'Are you even listening?' Shelby demanded.
'He called you names,' her mother replied.
'Yes, he said I was kibitzing! What is that, anyway?'
Her mother's mouth twitched in a smile. 'I think it means interfering – being a busybody.'
'I wasn't even!' Shelby protested. 'I meant to kibitz, but I never got around to it.'
Her mother put her hand over her mouth, smothering a giggle.
'I'm glad you think it's funny, Mum.' Shelby stared out the window again, annoyed that her mother seemed to be so interested in the soccer. Her mother never went to Pony Club – even on the competition days. 'How long does this go for, anyway?'
'Shouldn't be much longer.'
The coach brought the kids into a circle and talked to them. At the end the kids all cheered. Shelby could hear them from inside the car. 'Go! Go! Gully Goats!' Each child high-fived the team-mates standing on either side of them. The group broke up and Connor and Blake looked around for their mother. Blake spied them, waved, and then the two boys jogged towards the car.
'He wasn't the only one calling names. You know what else?' Shelby grumbled. 'Zeb wanted to change Blue's name to "The Great Fandango".'
'The Great Fandango?' her mother repeated.
'That's what I said. He called him Fandy for short. Fandy!' Shelby huffed.
'Fandy, eh?' Shelby's mother bit her lip. She wasn't laughing, but she was close. 'Maybe you should go back and –'
'I'm not going back there,' Shelby interrupted. 'That horrible man basically chased me off the property. He told me not to come back or he would call the police and charge me with trespassing, even though Zeb invited me. I didn't just barge in there. So then he stood over me with these big, evil eyes glaring while I took their saddle off Blue. I was all flustered so I couldn't undo the buckles properly. I liked it better when he was yelling. Then Blue and I took off back to the stables.'
The two boys spilled into the car. Blake was wrig-gling with excitement. 'First we hit the ball with our feet, and guess what we did after that, Mum?'
'What?'
'No, you have to guess!'
'Umm . . . Did cartwheels?'
'No, guess again.'
'Had a lamb roast?'
'No, silly! We hit the ball with our heads!'
'Did it hurt?' she asked.
Blake shook his head. 'Nuh-uh.' He licked his lips, which were chapped and red, so it looked as if he had pink lipstick on. 'A little bit, but it was fun anyway. What's for dinner?'
'Rissoles,' his mum answered.
'Again?' Shelby complained.
'Your brothers like them.'
'Yeah, we love 'em, so tough,' Connor said.
The two boys began an earnest discussion about the merits of gravy over tomato sauce as an accompaniment to a variety of meat dishes. Shelby tuned out.
After a few minutes her mother said to Shelby, 'That was interesting what Zeb's son said about strays, though, don't you think? He could have meant Diablo.'
Shelby was glad that her mother had been listening after all. 'Then wouldn't he have said "stray horses"? No, I bet he stole Diablo. I bet he doesn't want me there because he's doing illegal stuff and he knows I'm onto him.'
They drove on in silence.
'Well, that's that then.'
Shelby looked out the window, still fuming just thinking about it.
Behind her the boys had moved on to a critique of the various barbecue sauce brands available.
'Big Ricks is awesome,' conceded Blake, 'but I think I prefer the one in the yellow bottle with the honey.'
'Taste-wise yes, but in a sandwich it's too runny,' Connor added.
Blake stroked his chin. 'Ah, yes. Good point.'
Her mother sighed. 'I really want to know what happened to Diablo now. It will always bug me.'
23 Boundless Plains
'Sit back. Push into your seat, now ask for canter. No! You're leaning forward! You shifted your balance. See how you made her trot really fast? Do it again. Sit down. Now, just think canter. That's it!'
Shelby pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, enjoying Penelope's rocking-horse canter. It was so much nicer than Blue's, but they were both getting tired. They had been doing trot/canter transitions all morning. Still, it felt good. She was improving.
'OK, trot at B,' Miss Anita said, indicating the letter at the edge of the dressage arena. 'Sit trot. No rising. That's good! You didn't lose her head that time. Canter again at E.'
Shelby gathered her reins, sat down hard and thought, 'Canter!' Penelope sprang forward right on the mark.
'Perfecto!' Miss Anita said. 'That will do for today. Good work, Shelby.'
Shelby slowed Penelope down and walked around the arena on a loose rein.
'Thanks, Miss Anita, I enjoyed that,' Shelby said, as she jumped down. She brushed her hair away from her face, thinking of the question she had been forming in her mind since the night before. 'I was just wondering, would you ever use a hard bit?'
Miss Anita stroked Penelope's neck. 'Not on the flat. You want to drive them forward into the bit, not hold them in at the front. For cross country or jumping I would. You need to be able to shorten the horse's stride in an instant. You can haul on their mouth, and eventually get a response – maybe too late – or you can use a strong bit and stop right now. It's about safety.'
'So you think there is a place for it?' Shelby asked.
Miss Anita nodded. 'Spurs, whips, bits – they all have a place. I don't think you should use a harder bit yet. You will get to a certain level and you'll need more advanced aids. It's like any tool – in the hands of an expert you can get things done more quickly and safely, but an amateur will do damage. You're not ready yet.'
They walked out of the arena together.
'What about shoes?' Shelby asked.
Miss Anita smiled at her young protégée. 'In an ideal situation you would keep horses barefoot, in a herd and travelling over varied terrain twenty-four hours a day. It stimulates the blood flow, which makes for healthy feet. We can't achieve that here, but we get as close as we can.' She nodded in greeting to various clients as they walked down the laneway towards the stable block.
'So, when would you put shoes on a horse?'
'Personally? I wouldn't.' Miss Anita paused, thinking of a way to explain. 'If you keep your horse in a confined space for twenty-three hours a day and then ask it to perform on a hard surface for one hour, you can't expect it to stay sound.'
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