Greener Pastures

by Alyssa Brugman

  'Get back here, you cheeky monkeys!' called a voice from inside. 'Sorry! Just push them away. They have no manners at all.'

  Cheryl emerged – a tiny woman in a long floral-print summer dress and bright blue gumboots. She planted a hat on her head and skipped down the steps to embrace Mrs Crook. 'Jill, you look fabulous! Hayley, gorgeous as ever, and who's this?'

  'I'm Shelby.'

  'Welcome to Wanada Park. Do you ride? Of course you do! Do you want a pony? You've come to the right place. What are we doing standing around here? Come and see these foals.' Cheryl marched round the side of the house. Shelby almost had to jog to keep up. Most of the dogs ran ahead. 'It's been a fantastic season. Foals dropping all over the place. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. Down, you little rascal!' She pushed away one of the terriers that was dancing by her side.

  At the back of the house there was a big, old, timber barn, filled with round bales of hay. Cheryl noticed Shelby staring. 'We've been cutting our own hay the last few seasons because of the drought. My darling husband says if we dedicate more paddocks to hay that's less room for ponies.'

  On the other side of the hay shed there was a row of stables. Each one was at least three times the size of the stalls at the Edels' stables. They were breeding stalls, designed to give the mare and foal room to move around together. About half of them were occupied. Shelby looked over the half-doors as they made their way along.

  Some of the foals were tiny, with sweet, dishy faces and big eyes.

  'We've brought Song and her foal in this morning,' Cheryl told them.

  'That's Echo's mum,' Hayley explained to Shelby. 'She's just had a foal to one of the stallions we're thinking about.'

  Song was in the breeding stall on the end. She called out when she saw them approaching.

  There was a bale under a tarp next to the door and Cheryl broke off a biscuit. She unlatched the stall door and put the biscuit in the hay bag clipped to the wall.

  Shelby looked over the door at the little foal peeking out from behind Song's back legs. 'Oh! He's so adorable!'

  The little foal was chestnut, with two stockings at the back and a star slightly off centre.

  It took Cheryl a few minutes to catch him. He kept slipping under Song's tummy or ducking around under her throat, but eventually she managed to grip his halter. He struggled against it, but she quickly slipped her other hand around behind his rump, and as soon as she did that he settled.

  'Do you want to come in and pat him?' Cheryl asked. 'One at a time is probably best.'

  Hayley slid through the door and approached the foal.

  'He's so soft!' she said. 'I love his little beardy.' She ran her hand over his mouth, and the tiny colt snapped at her fingers. 'Ooh!'

  'Careful,' Cheryl said. 'He doesn't know that's naughty yet.'

  Soon it was Shelby's turn. She kneeled down beside the colt. Shelby had expected his thin, Mohawk mane to be wiry, but it was soft under her fingers.

  The colt didn't seem afraid at all. She guessed Cheryl must have handled him quite a bit already. His knee and fetlock joints were so out of proportion that they looked swollen. He had tiny pointed hooves.

  'He's a nice shape already, isn't he?' Shelby said.

  'He's a very handsome boy,' Cheryl said. 'Lots of bone. He'll make a good hunter.'

  After the girls had finished patting the foal, they stood outside the stall watching for a while. The colt picked at wisps of hay that fell from the bag. Song swished her tail at him and he wandered away to lie down.

  'So what else have you got?' Mrs Crook asked.

  'You want to see more?'

  'Are you kidding?' Mrs Crook laughed. 'I could look at ponies all day long.'

  At the end of the row of stables there were three long straight paddocks. Each held at least twenty ponies.

  As they walked past, Hayley pointed out a cresty palomino. 'That's Wanada Park Autumnal.' Shelby recognised him from the show magazines. In the flesh the little stallion was spectacular. His coat was so shiny it almost looked like glitter. He raced around the mares tossing his head and flicking out his feet like a dancer. Mostly the mares ignored him.

  Hayley pointed to a tiny bay stallion. 'And that's Tuppence.'

  Tuppence was smaller than Autumnal with finer legs, but he had a similar dished face and cresty neck. Tuppence and the great dane sniffed at each other through the fence. The dog wasn't much smaller than the stallion.

  'If you were to cross your chestnut with Tummy you'd have a fifty-fifty chance of chestnut or palomino. If you cross her with Tuppence you could get a black, chestnut or bay foal.'

  'Oh, I think we should try for the pally. Don't you, Hales?' Mrs Crook said.

  Hayley nodded. 'Yeah, sounds good.'

  Shelby couldn't believe Hayley was so casual about it. If it were Shelby's horse she would be jumping up and down with excitement.

  'Where is Smarty anyway?' Shelby asked.

  'She's over here with my scraps,' Cheryl joked.

  They kept walking towards the third paddock, which had ponies of differing ages. The terriers ran ahead, yapping. One of the border collies slipped under the fence and chased the nearest pony. Cheryl called it back.

  'There!' Shelby spotted the little mare in the back corner. Smarty had become quite tubby, but she looked happy and healthy. Shelby smiled, pleased to see the pony again. She thought Hayley might want to take a closer look, but she seemed to be content to watch her from the fence.

  'How many ponies do you have at the moment?' Mrs Crook asked.

  'Altogether? Goodness, if you add the new foals ...I don't know.' Cheryl put her hand to her cheek. 'At least a hundred.'

  She caught Mrs Crook winking at Shelby.

  'Don't laugh at me, Jill. I know I have to get rid of some, but it's so difficult. My goal in life is to produce the ultimate pony. What do you do with the ones that are less than perfect? You can't sell them. They're out there with your name on them and you can't get them back again. You don't want to breed from them. What do you do with them?'

  'Nothing, of course! You keep two-dozen nearly perfect ponies in your back paddock.' Mrs Crook laughed.

  Cheryl sighed. 'There are a few ponies out there that would probably do well with a bit of work, but I have enough to do showing my boys. I could send a few of the geldings out to my clients to show, but everyone has ponies of their own. Unless you want to take a couple back with you, Jill.'

  'Hales is starting a warmblood this season,' Mrs Crook said.

  Cheryl pulled a face. 'Are you serious? Big dumb things they are. You'll come back to ponies in the end, you know, Hales.'

  Hayley smiled but she didn't answer. In the time Shelby had known her Hayley had had four different horses. She didn't seem to be able to stick to just one. Shelby thought Hayley's arrangement with Mrs Edel to start young horses would suit her much better than buying and selling ponies or hacks all the time.

  'What about you, Shelby? Do you show? Jill could pop a couple of geldings in the straight-load float and take them back with you. You can bring the float back next time you're up.'

  Shelby's face broke into a grin. Imagine that! she thought. Two beautiful show ponies. She would be happy to take any one of these home.

  'See that little blue roan there? That's Tribute,' Cheryl went on. 'He's by Tuppence. You'd do well on him. He blitzed them as a yearling, but then he had an injury. He has a scar, so I'm never going to sell him now, but he's a dynamite little pony.'

  'Cheryl! Don't tease the girl!' Mrs Crook admonished.

  Shelby folded her arms. She didn't think Cheryl had been teasing. She was pretty sure Cheryl was for real, but sadly for Shelby, Jill Crook was having none of it.

  They turned back. Shelby would have nowhere to keep two ponies anyway. Mrs Edel wasn't going to let her agist two ponies for free. Unless she sold Blue. Then she would have ten thousand dollars in her bank account. That was a lot of agistment money to have up your sleeve.

  Shelby pic
tured Blue's trusting face and felt bad for even thinking it. Besides, she was moving house. Handing two ponies over to Mrs Crook was one thing, but she was pretty sure Cheryl wouldn't send her geldings off just anywhere.

  On the way back they passed a paddock about the size of a dressage arena. There was no grass. It was all dirt. A few ponies stood together under one of the trees dozing.

  'A Jenny Craig paddock?' asked Hayley.

  'Yes, for my founder ponies,' Cheryl replied.

  'A what pony?' Shelby asked, remembering her conversation with Lydia.

  'They get founder. Laminitis. It's a foot disease. Horses can get it when they're too fat, so we keep them in here during the spring to stop them getting overweight.'

  Founder, Shelby thought, not foundation. Could it be that word Lydia had misheard?

  'What is it? What do you do about it when it happens?' she asked.

  Mrs Crook chimed in. 'They stand funny. On their heels. They can get it in one foot, or just the fronts, or sometimes all four if it's really bad.'

  'They also get it when the mare retains the placenta,' Cheryl added. 'That's why I like to bring our mares into the breeding barn to foal, so we can make sure the afterbirth is complete.'

  Shelby watched the ponies. One of them put back its ears and snapped. The group broke apart, sauntering out of the shade. 'They don't look sick,' she said. 'What can you do about it if they do get it?'

  'I think they put some special sort of shoe on them, don't they?' Mrs Crook asked.

  'They used to years ago. I'm not sure what they do now,' Cheryl answered. 'We've never had a case of full-on founder here, just a bit of tenderness, which we've nipped in the bud. Now we're always careful to bring them in to this paddock as soon as the winter frosts finish and the spring grass starts to grow.'

  'It's really serious. It can kill them,' Mrs Crook told Shelby.

  'Kill them?' Shelby repeated.

  Could it be that Chance had this 'founder' disease? Would Lydia listen? More importantly, would her dad?

  10 A Matter of Arithmetic

  When Shelby arrived home Aunty Jenny was there. She had come to Sydney to pick up some last-minute visas for her trip and was staying with Shelby's family overnight. Shelby and Aunty Jenny were bringing in the washing while Shelby's mum cooked. Her dad was running a bath for the boys.

  Shelby's great-aunt was looking really healthy. She had been going to the gym in preparation for some of the treks she was going to make when she was away. Shelby thought this trip was the best thing Aunty Jenny had ever done. Having an adventure to look forward to had given her a new attitude to life.

  Shelby asked, 'Are you nearly ready for your trip?'

  Her great-aunt nodded. Her eyes were twinkling. 'I've bought new luggage. I have my tickets and my itinerary. I've decided I'm only going to take a few changes of clothes and then I'm just going to buy clothes when I'm over there. I can keep them as souvenirs. I'll post them back to myself when I have too many.'

  'Good idea.' Shelby smiled. 'You're probably less likely to get mugged if you're dressed like the locals,' she added. Then she blushed.

  Her great-aunt laughed. 'I can't believe it's nearly here. I have been planning it so long, and here we are, only a few days away. Have you had a chance to look at the brochures about the riding tours your father has been talking about?'

  Shelby nodded quickly and then looked away. She didn't want to talk about that.

  'What happened to Rex?' Shelby asked.

  Rex had been Aunty Jenny's first horse.

  Aunty Jenny's face fell, and Shelby wished she hadn't brought it up. 'He got colic and my dad had to shoot him. I was about eleven at the time. Rex had gotten into something. It might have been crofton weed or Paterson's curse. Maybe some of the hay we had was mouldy. Who knows? He was in a lot of pain. I can still remember him lying there with sweat dripping off him, panting like a dog and groaning. He had rolled and rolled, and got himself cast against a fence, the poor old thing.'

  Shelby could picture the horse in her mind. She had an image of her great-grandfather with a shotgun over his arm, taking aim. How would you know where to shoot? It would take a lot of confidence that you were doing the right thing.

  She murmured, almost to herself. 'How could you let your dad shoot him?'

  'Animals die, Shelby,' her great-aunt said. 'He was going to die anyway. It would have been much more cruel to make him suffer.'

  Shelby looked doubtful.

  'They tell you when they've had enough. You'll know it when you see it,' Aunty Jenny told her.

  Shelby folded a pair of jeans against her chest and placed them in the basket. 'I hope I never see it.'

  'If you have horses for long enough, you will have to put one down eventually. It's a simple matter of arithmetic,' Aunty Jenny said. 'There are realities about owning animals – particularly large animals – that you have to come to terms with.'

  'I have a friend whose pony is sick,' Shelby said. 'I think he's in lots of pain already, but she doesn't know enough about horses to see it. Her dad thinks a vet is too expensive.'

  'Well, I feel very sorry for that pony,' Aunty Jenny replied.

  They each took an end of a sheet, folding it in half and half again. Shelby took the corners from Aunty Jenny, and made the last two folds, laying the sheet across the top of the basket.

  'I have the removalists coming in next week to pack up most of my furniture and put it in storage,' Aunty Jenny said. 'That way there will be room for all your things. Have you decided which room is going to be yours yet?'

  Shelby blanched. 'Um, no. I suppose Mum will pick for us.'

  'I bet the boys will be glad to get their own rooms,' Aunty Jenny added. Then she started talking about all of the different places that were within walking distance of the house. 'There's the beach, of course, which you have discovered already, but there's also a lovely reserve ...'

  Shelby tuned out. She was thinking. It had been in the back of her mind all weekend, but she hadn't really let it surface.

  If she was going to sell Blue to Zeb and give the money to her parents for the overseas trip she would need to do it soon. Aunty Jenny was almost packed. If Shelby's family wasn't moving in, Aunty Jenny would need to decide what to do with her place. Shelby's parents must be making arrangements for their own removalists, and signing up with a real estate agent to rent out their house. They needed to know. Shelby had to decide now.

  If she waited too much longer her parents might decide to go ahead anyway, and then she would lose Blue and move away.

  She needed advice but who could she confide in? Aunty Jenny and her parents all wanted to move, so there was no point talking to them. They had already made up their minds. The Crooks had made it clear that they thought she should sell Blue anyway, and Erin had said that she needed her friend at school. Lindsey and Mrs Edel would want her to stay too, because she did a good job at the stables. There was only one person she could think of who didn't have a vested interest in her choice.

  When they went back inside Shelby wrote Chad a quick email.

  Would you be able to meet me tomorrow?

  She had promised to help Clint with the school ponies in the morning and she had a trail ride in the afternoon, but there was a gap in between. The Ledge Café was perched on the escarpment overlooking the Gully. It was not far from the stables, and easy for them both to get to on their bikes. She had also heard that it served excellent iced chocolates.