For Sale Or Swap

by Alyssa Brugman

  'You do that,' said the man. He led Blue on board the float, and closed the tailgate behind him.

  Shelby saw those frightened, trusting eyes again, and it made her wince.

  She looked around and saw Mrs Crook running her roly-poly run up the road behind them.

  'Oy!' Mrs Crook shouted. 'Stop!'

  The man shook his head and walked around to the front of his car. Shelby looked at the number plate, memorising it. 'Kim, try to remember the letters,' she said. 'Erin, you remember the numbers, OK?' The two girls nodded.

  The station wagon rumbled into life. The float creaked as it began to back out into the road.

  'Oy!' shouted Mrs Crook, her face starting to go red. She ran around to the driver's side door and hammered on the window. 'OY! I want to talk to you!'

  The man ignored her, looking over his shoulder to reverse the float onto the gravel driveway. Shelby could see the little girl sitting in the passenger seat. She looked frightened and Shelby felt sorry for her. It wasn't her fault that all this was happening.

  'Stop this car at once!' shouted Mrs Crook, throwing herself onto the bonnet. 'Erin, get around the back of the float! You too, Shelby. He'll have to run us over if he wants to leave.'

  She looked around and saw a crowd of spectators gathering around them. Erin ran around to the back of the float and jumped up onto the tailgate. Shelby could hear the rumble of Blue's hooves on the metal floor. He was frightened.

  This is not the way to do it. This is not good for anybody.

  Shelby could see a Steward riding up on his tall lanky grey horse. 'What's going on here?'

  'This man is trying to get away with a stolen horse!' shrieked Erin.

  The man shunted the float back another few metres and Erin screamed. Again, Shelby heard the drumming of Blue's hooves. She saw his nose pressed against the window of the black hole she knew he hated so much. His nostrils flared, taking air in. He was distressed.

  'Get down, Erin,' she said. 'Please, Mrs Crook. We have his number plate. We can find him again. Please just let him go.'

  'Get off the car, madam,' the Steward said.

  Mrs Crook slid off the bonnet. 'That man's bought a stolen horse. He belongs to this girl. She's been searching for weeks now. You can't let him get away.'

  Erin stepped off the back of the float. Shelby watched as the man spun the steering wheel around and stepped on the accelerator. The float rumbled off down the road.

  'You've got to stop him!' Erin implored the Steward.

  He shook his head. 'That's a matter for the police,' he said.

  31 Fair and Square

  Shelby sat on the lounge between her mother and Erin. Mrs Crook was in the chair and Hayley propped herself on its arm, with one leg crossed over the other. Shelby's father stood at the window, holding the drapes back so that he could see when the police arrived.

  'I couldn't believe he just drove off with Blue in the back – just like that. He wouldn't even talk about it, or anything,' Mrs Crook finished. She had been giving her opinion of the matter. 'And of course the Steward did nothing. Next to useless, he was, but you step one foot out of line in the ring and he's bellowing like a branded steer. That's the last time I listen to one of them. I remember one time at the Royal the Steward kept Hayley and few of the other girls back after the Grand Parade and gave them a dressing down, just because they were talking!'

  'It was because I threw some chewing gum over to Kimmy, who was in the next circle, and she broke out of formation to catch it,' corrected Hayley.

  'Yes, well, it's hardly a capital offence, is it?' Mrs Crook added.

  There was a moment of awkward silence.

  Mrs Crook had driven the girls back to the stables, settled the horses, and then brought Shelby home. Shelby's parents had called the police to report the man, and the police had promised to drive to the house as soon as they had any news. It had been several hours now. Shelby could see that her mother was getting anxious because it was close to dinnertime. The boys were hungry, but she didn't have enough to extend an invitation to the three extra guests.

  'Can I make anyone some coffee?' asked Shelby's mother, leaning forward.

  'They're here,' said Shelby's dad, dropping the drape and heading to the front door.

  Shelby was relieved to see that it was the same constable who came the first time, and not Sergeant Everard. He took off his hat when he walked in the door, and shook Shelby's father's hand. Shelby's mother brought some chairs in from the dining room so that everyone could sit down.

  Mrs Crook didn't waste any time.

  'So did you check him out?'

  'Yes, I've just been to see Mr Olsen.' The policeman shook his head. 'This is such a terrible business,' he said.

  'So?' asked Mrs Crook.

  'Mr Olsen bought the horse through a broker. He has all the documentation. There was a veterinary inspection and a valid receipt. He bought the horse fair and square.'

  'But it's our horse!' protested Shelby's father.

  'Yes, but can you prove it? Does he have a brand? Do you have registration papers? A receipt from your original purchase? Even photographs?'

  Shelby stood up. She ran to her room and got the handful of photographs of Blue from her bedside table.

  The policeman looked through them and shook his head. 'These could have been taken anywhere. There's not even a date on them. There is no evidence that you ever owned this horse. It's your word against Mr Olsen's and he has all the proof.'

  'This is outrageous!' said Mrs Crook. 'What about our word? There has to be thirty people at the Pony Club who will tell you that the horse was Shelby's.'

  'Yes, but none of you can testify that Shelby didn't sell the horse. We know that she did enter into a transaction – she said so herself.' The policeman turned his hat over and over in his hands. 'Was he insured? You might be able to recoup your losses that way.'

  'But will I get Blue back?' Shelby asked.

  'It doesn't matter,' muttered Shelby's mother. 'He wasn't insured anyway.'

  Mrs Crook leaned forward and put her hand on Shelby's mother's knee. 'You need a good lawyer. We have some friends who might be able to help. When I get home I'll give them a call.'

  Constable Bidgood shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but there's no case here. It's just bad luck. These things happen. At least you will know for next time.'

  He stood up to leave and Mrs Crook followed close behind him.

  'This is not the end of it,' she told Shelby at the door. 'Something will be done, don't you worry.'

  'Thanks, Mrs C. And thanks for a great day. Some parts of it were really fun.' Shelby ran to catch up with Constable Bidgood before he drove away.

  'Can you please just tell me one thing?' she asked.

  The policeman stopped. 'What's that?'

  'The place where the Olsens keep him – was it nice?'

  The policeman put his hat on his head. 'Yes, it was all right.'

  'I mean . . . did he have room to move around? Was there grass? Can you tell me what it looked like?'

  The constable leaned his back against the side of the patrol car, and tilted his head to the side. 'Well, there was a paddock and it would have been around fifty metres by, say, twenty-five. There was plenty of grass in it – about up to my ankle, except it was bare under a few trees here and there. The fences had wooden poles into the ground, and wooden poles along the top, and under that was a wire.'

  'Post and rail,' said Shelby, smiling.

  'Yes. And in the corner there was a shed – quite tall, around the size of a single car garage. It was enclosed on three sides, but the front was open.'

  'What about water?' asked Shelby.

  'I'm pretty sure there was an old bath tub half in and half out of the shed.'

  'And what about the people? What about the little girl?' Shelby asked.

  Constable Bidgood scratched the back of his head. 'She's a sweet little thing – polite, quiet, but with a lovely big smile. Her parents love her to pieces.
'

  Shelby bit her lip.

  'Let me tell you something,' said the constable. 'I don't know anything about horses, but I know cats. The Olsens had two of them. They were two sleek, shiny, healthy-looking critters. The pair of them strutted around like they owned the place. Maybe the Olsens don't know anything about horses either, but if they look after Patches the way they look after their other animals, he'll do all right.'

  Shelby nodded and took a step backwards. He was the Olsens' pony now and his name was Patches. She didn't trust herself to speak, but she did manage a whisper. 'Thank you.'

  32 Honorary Member

  It was the weekend before school. Shelby was going with her mother to buy stationery, but Erin rang and asked her to come to Pony Club instead. It would be the first time she went back since Calvin Protheroe's guest lesson and she was dreading it, but Erin was so insistent that she agreed.

  It seemed strange to be sitting up in the clubhouse with the grown-ups while all the girls were down in the arena. Shelby reached forward to help herself to a piece of fruitcake that was on the bench. Mrs Hockings gave her a stern glance and Shelby withdrew her hand. Mrs Crook saw it.

  'Oh, Joy, don't be so stingy. Let the girl have some cake if she wants it!' She grabbed the plate and plonked it on the bench right under Shelby's nose. 'You have a piece, love. Have two.'

  Shelby grinned.

  'Now go on outside and watch the others, because it's time for our boring old meeting.'

  Shelby took a slice of the cake, holding one hand underneath to catch the crumbs, and sat out on the front step to watch. She could hear the shuffling, scraping sound as the parents moved their seats around the little meeting table.

  They must have thought that Shelby had moved further away, because inside Shelby could hear Mrs Crook talking. 'I've taken a real shine to the girl. I wasn't so sure before, because she was such a quiet little thing, but that Shelby's got spunk – and good manners too.'

  'Yes, well, that does quite neatly bring us to the matter of late membership fees,' said Mrs Hockings.

  Mrs Crook continued. 'I always thought her Mum and Dad were a bit snobby not ever coming along to any of our events, but I've met them and I think they're genuine. Very down to earth.'

  'You mean the sort of down to earth that have to pay their membership in instalments,' commented Mrs Hockings.

  Shelby felt the blood rush to her face.

  'That may be so, Joy, but I think we can all afford to be a bit lenient, don't you? Let's just give her the blessed membership. All in favour say aye.'

  'Aye,' came a chorus of voices.

  'Wait a minute, I'm the President here,' protested Mrs Hockings. 'This is a matter of general business, and we haven't got to that part yet.'

  'Oh, Joy, hang your silly rituals. The motion has been passed. Shelby's a member and that's that.'

  'Hear, hear!' said another voice that Shelby recognised as Erin's mother.

  Shelby stood up and wandered down towards the fence. It was nice that Mrs Crook and Erin's mum had stuck up for her in the meeting, but it was too late. Pony Club wasn't much fun if you didn't have a pony.

  At least Mrs Hockings will leave me alone now, she thought. That was one person that she wouldn't miss at all.

  She climbed up on the rail of the arena and looked around her. It felt like her last day at primary school, where she had walked around the old familiar playground, knowing that it might be for the final time. She had had some fun here. She had made some friends. Erin would still be her friend. Mrs Crook might keep her word and let her ride Echo at shows from time to time, but Shelby wasn't holding her breath.

  At lunchtime when all the members were assembled at the picnic tables at the front of the clubhouse, the committee made their announcement that Shelby was an honorary member. Shelby stood up and bowed. Erin and Hayley cheered.

  At the end of the day she hopped in the car next to Erin and watched out the window as the Pony Club grounds slipped away behind her. Shelby was sad, but endings were always beginnings too.

  Maybe I'll get a pushbike. They're much cheaper than horses.

  She opened the front door and skipped down the hallway. Usually at this time she would be pulling off her grubby Pony Club uniform to throw into the wash, but today she was almost clean.

  'Hello!' she called out.

  'We're in here,' her father called from the lounge room. There was something in his voice that sounded grim.

  'What is it?' she asked, peering around the corner. Her mother and father were sitting on the lounge.

  'Come and sit down,' he said.

  Shelby squeezed into the space between her parents.

  Her father began. 'While you were away today, we had a phone call. It was Mr Olsen. Apparently a few days ago his daughter was riding Blue and she took a bit of a spill.'

  'Is she OK?' Shelby asked.

  Her father shook his head. 'That little girl won't be riding again – at least not for a long, long time.'

  'Was it Blue's fault?' Shelby asked.

  'Not really. Mr Olsen said he shied away from something and the girl wasn't expecting it,' said Shelby's mother. 'It's very serious.'

  'That's terrible,' said Shelby. 'I hope she'll be all right.'

  Shelby's father looked at his hands. 'It's a dangerous hobby. We've always known that. That's why we say you must always, always wear a helmet.'

  'I do!' protested Shelby. 'Or at least I did.'

  'Shelby, Mr Olsen rang because Blue is for sale. He's offered him to us first,' explained Shelby's father.

  'Really?' asked Shelby. She couldn't believe it. After all this time things could go back to normal – back to the way they were. 'Can we buy him?'

  Her parents looked at each other. 'Shelby, Mr Olsen wants three thousand dollars.'

  Three thousand dollars.

  Shelby's family struggled to scrape together the eighty dollars for the Pony Club membership fees. Shelby's brothers were wearing school shorts that had patches on patches. Where on earth were they going to get three thousand dollars?

  33 A Magic Trick

  Shelby sat on the edge of the water trough in Bandit's yard.

  'I can't ask them to do it. It's not fair. And even if I did ask, they wouldn't be able to. It's a huge amount of money – more than I can even think about.'

  Erin tipped a bag of chaff into the bin behind Shelby.

  'Can't you get a job or something?' she suggested.

  'Doing what? I can get a paper run, but even a long one is only about twenty-five bucks a week. It would take years even if I saved every cent.'

  Erin frowned. 'Maybe we could hold a fundraiser or something?'

  'Three thousand dollars – that's an awful lot of raffle tickets. No, Erin. I'm just going to have to live with it. Nobody will ever love him as much as I do, but there's probably lots of families who can look after him just as well.' She thought about the Mulligans.

  'Maybe even better. Maybe one day when I'm grown up I can get another horse, but for now I'm just going to have to find a new hobby – like collecting stamps.' She stood up, sighing. 'I'd better get going.'

  It was still early, but she had to walk home. Her father had dropped her off at the stables in the morning, but he wasn't able to pick her up again. He said he had some chores to do. Shelby started the long walk home across the gully.

  It was a beautiful day. The sun shone down warming her hair and face, but there was a cool breeze blowing through the trees.

  When she got to the causeway she took off her shoes and splashed through the cool water, stopping at the other side to wait for her feet to dry – waggling her toes in the warm sun, before she put her shoes back on. She saw a goanna scuttling away into the bushes and she wondered if it was the same one that had spooked Brat so much.

  Shortly afterwards she heard the sound of hoof beats coming along the path. She leaned forward to see who it might be. It was Lindsey on one of the riding school's horses – a big Clydesdale cross.


  'Where are you headed?' asked Lindsey, smiling.

  'I'm going home – up on the other side of the gully.'

  Lindsey tilted her head to the side. 'Do you want a lift? I was going to head up that way anyway.'

  'That would be great,' grinned Shelby.

  Using the stirrup, Shelby climbed up behind Lindsey onto the Clydesdale's broad back.

  'Gee, he's big,' said Shelby, looking down over the side. The ground seemed a long way away.

  'Just like a great big rocking chair,' said Lindsey. 'Are you ready?' She squeezed at the horse's sides and he set off at a lovely loping canter.

  'Good, huh?' called out Lindsey. 'I'd never go back to ponies now, not after riding the big ones.'

  Lindsey pushed the horse on up the hill and then slowed down to a walk at the top. 'I'm heading back around now. Does that get you a bit closer?'

  Shelby slid off the big horse's back. They were not far from a trail that led out onto the road near Shelby's house. 'Thanks heaps. It's just up the top of the hill.' Shelby shaded her eyes as she looked up at Lindsey.

  'Thanks for helping me out that night too. It was dumb, after all, and we both got in trouble, but you were, kind of, there for me anyway.'

  Lindsey nodded. 'That's OK. I would have done the same thing. I'm glad you did it. I would have thought you were a wuss otherwise.' She smiled.

  'You should come over one day – when you've got the day off.'

  Shelby felt comfortable with Lindsey. She wouldn't be embarrassed about the way that her family lived.

  'Sounds good,' said Lindsey, turning the horse away and trotting down the trail.

  Shelby waved goodbye and then headed along the trail to the road.

  As she walked down her street she noticed that her Dad's car was not in the driveway. He mustn't have come home yet. She wondered where he had gone that had taken so long.

  She pushed open the screen door and walked down the hallway into the kitchen. Her mother was sitting at the dining room table going through some papers.