Greener Pastures

by Alyssa Brugman

  Do you know The Ledge? How about we say eleven?

  11 Shelby Names a Price

  Clint was always trying something new, and on this visit he had set up shop in the wash-bay, where he had the advantage of shade and a flat surface to roll on his new little wheeled stool. He held Siete's hoof across his lap. Shelby was worried that he wouldn't be able to move out of the way fast enough if one of the horses spooked, but so far none of them had.

  'You could do this,' he assured her.

  'I'm not strong enough,' she said.

  'You don't need to be strong if you have the right tools. You could be my apprentice. It would be a good career for you, Shelly Shoes. If you leave school in year ten you could put out your shingle before you're twenty. There's nothing like being your own boss.'

  She narrowed her eyes, not sure if he was teasing. What was it all of a sudden with people giving her options?

  'You're observant,' Clint continued. 'That's the most important thing. Horses are regular old chatterboxes, if you take the time to listen.' Clint rolled back and Siete put his foot down gingerly at first, testing it before he put his weight on it. 'This fellow doesn't trust me yet.'

  Siete twisted his neck around and nuzzled the top of Clint's head. 'But he thinks I did a pretty good job.'

  Clint stroked the horse's face, and then rolled back further, indicating that Shelby could take the gelding away. She brought in another of the school ponies, this time a mare, and Clint scooted around looking at her hooves from different angles.

  'What do you know about founder?' Shelby asked.

  'Probably a quarter of my business is founder rehab. Horses overfed and underworked. It's an epidemic. Why?'

  Shelby explained to him about Lydia and her pony.

  'Let me tell you something; steer clear of horses called Chance, or Houdini,' Clint said. 'Jinx is another one . . . and Bronco. I once worked on a racehorse called Problematic. What were they thinking!'

  'So what causes it if it's not diet?' she asked.

  Clint picked up one of the mare's hooves and cleaned it with a scrubbing brush. He held it up to his nose and sniffed it. 'It can be toxins, concussion, Cushing's disease, hyperthyroid, steroids.'

  'How do you test for those things?' Shelby asked.

  Clint selected a pair of nippers out of the toolbox and clipped away the overgrown wall of the pony's hoof. 'Blood tests usually. Your friend should also get him X-rayed to see how far the bones have rotated. She should get her hay tested while she's at it.'

  Shelby sighed. She couldn't see Lee going for all of those tests.

  'I don't think she's feeding him hay. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Lydia said "just grass and bread and stuff".'

  Clint put the nippers back and pulled out a rasp. 'Well, for starters, bread is wheat, which is the worst culprit. And you'd better find out what the "and stuff" consists of, because nine out of ten times founder is all in the diet. If you don't address that then you can do all the rehab in the world, but it won't make any difference.'

  'Would you come and see him?' Shelby asked.

  'I'd be happy to, if Lydia's parents ask me,' he answered as he rolled forward and picked up the mare's back hoof. She kicked out. 'Steady, girl.' He let her put her foot down. The mare shifted on her feet and then lifted it up again. Clint looked up at Shelby. 'I can't just go around rehabilitating hooves without the owner's permission.'

  'I don't think she will ask, though,' Shelby mumbled. 'What do I do?'

  'You don't do anything.'

  Shelby pouted.

  'How many horse owners do you see managing their animals differently than you would?' he asked. 'Who would you trust to care for Blue the way you do? Even around here, and this is a very enlightened place. You should see some of the things I see. You can't tell other people how to look after their animals – not unless they ask, and even then half the time they don't listen.' Clint rasped for a moment, frowning. 'Everybody knows how to lose weight and make money.'

  'What do you mean?' Shelby asked.

  'To lose weight or make money you work really hard for a long time. But people don't want to hear that, they want to know how to lose weight or make money overnight. They want the quick fix.'

  Shelby thought about all the horse owners she knew and how they looked after their horses.

  'I would trust you with Blue,' she told him.

  Clint had finished with the mare's back hoof. He crab-walked his feet around to the other side. 'Good. I'll buy him from you then.'

  Shelby passed him the toolbox. 'You want to buy Blue? For real?' She smiled, sure he was joking.

  'I'd buy Blue in a flash,' he replied. 'Sturdy little pony like that. Great feet. He'd be just the thing for my daughter.'

  'Isn't she two, or something?'

  'She's nearly four now. Blue would be perfect. How much do you want?'

  Shelby laughed. 'You're not serious.'

  'I'm deadly serious! Once in a blue moon a solid pony like that comes around,' he answered. 'Name your price.'

  'Ten thousand dollars,' she said.

  Clint rasped the front of the mare's hoof, making a mustang roll. Then he brushed off the shavings with his gloved hand. 'I don't think he's worth ten. But I'd give you three and a half.'

  'Four,' Shelby blurted.

  'Done,' he answered.

  She laughed again. 'I'm not going to sell Blue,' she said, as much to convince herself as the farrier.

  'You just did,' Clint said. His face was solemn.

  Shelby felt a fluttery, panicky feeling in her stomach. 'But I . . .' She trailed off.

  'You should know better. Don't name a price unless you're willing to follow through. A deal is a deal.' Clint seemed irritated with her and Shelby was taken aback, because he wasn't normally stern with her, even when she had done something stupid.

  'Sorry,' she whispered.

  Clint nodded. 'Well, if you do decide to sell him, you know where to find me.'

  12 The Date

  The café had long timber benches with newspapers and magazines scattered about, and armchairs huddled in groups. Couples lounged around reading. Some were feeding babies in high chairs. There was a cluster of tall, spiky pot plants in the corner and big mirrors in gilt frames hanging on the walls, making the space look twice as big. They were playing a Ben Harper CD.

  Chad had selected a spot at the end overlooking the Gully. The first thing Shelby noticed was that he was wearing clothes that she hadn't seen before. His hair was meticulously ruffled. Chad always looked neat and clean, but today he looked groomed.

  Shelby looked down at her dirty jods and grubby tee-shirt and wondered if she was underdressed. Her face was flushed from riding her bike. Then another thought crossed her mind.

  'Are you going on a date?' she asked, sliding onto the bench opposite.

  'Yeah,' he grinned.

  'Who are you going on a date with?'

  'Oh, um . . .' Chad looked startled. 'No one you know.'

  Shelby tilted her head on the side. She could smell aftershave. 'Are you shaving now? Let me see!'

  'Shut up,' he said, holding his hand over his chin.

  She looked out over the Gully. From here she could see some familiar landmarks – the water tower, the causeway. Here and there she could see glimpses of the creek, and flashes between the trees of horses out on the trails – some from the stables that she recognised. Chad pointed out a group of hikers with backpacks and walking staffs wending their way up the hillside.

  Soon the waiter came over with his notepad and Chad and Shelby ordered their iced chocolates and a bowl of chips to share. While they were waiting for them to arrive Shelby explained her dilemma.

  'And now Clint has made an offer too. Man, that just came out of nowhere,' she finished.

  Chad seemed distracted, staring out over the Gully.

  'Well, what do you think?' she asked.

  'How long would you be going overseas for?'

  Shelby shrugged. 'Not sure.
About a month, I think.'

  Chad nodded. 'And how long will you live up the coast?'

  'As long as Aunty Jenny is away. At least a year. She might have said eighteen months. That's the plan for now.'

  The food arrived and Shelby stirred the chocolate at the bottom of her glass. Chad didn't say anything.

  'Don't you have an opinion?' she asked.

  'I reckon it would be great to travel. We travel around Australia a lot and we've been to Bali a few times, but Europe would be cool. You're lucky.'

  Shelby ate her chips. She was going to Europe. There was no question about that. It was how they were going to get there that was the issue.

  'But what about Blue? What should I do?'

  'I don't know. He's your horse.'

  'Chad!'

  'What?'

  She had been expecting Chad to be more helpful. He seemed to be more interested in the view. He wasn't even eating the chips.

  'Obviously you don't want to spoil your appetite for your date,' she said.

  'Obviously not.'

  'What is wrong with you today? I thought you were supposed to be my friend!'

  'Well, maybe I don't want to be your friend any more!' Chad pushed his chair back. He stalked through the café and out the door.

  Shelby sat at the table by herself. She thought at first that he had gone to the toilets, but after a few minutes he didn't come back. She felt as though everyone was staring at her. The waiter came back and slid the bill under the saltshaker.

  'My friend had to, um, go,' she said, reddening as she peeked at the bill.

  The waiter must have felt sorry for her, because he also slipped some magazines across the table. 'Something to read?'

  'Thanks,' Shelby mumbled, She had been thinking about leaving too, but for fifteen dollars she was at least going to finish her drink. She flipped through a Gourmet Traveller, pretending to read.

  In her mind she was going back through their conversation trying to think what she had said that had made Chad so mad. She shook her head. Boys! She didn't understand them at all.

  13 Googling

  As soon as Erin had tossed her bag down and plonked onto the bench on Monday morning, Shelby told her about how she'd met Chad at the café and his date.

  'You're an idiot,' said Erin.

  'What?'

  'You heard me!' Erin snorted in disgust.

  The two girls had recently moved spots in the playground, and now Shelby realised it was a spot with a better view of Ethan Agnew.

  'You know who Chad went on a date with?' Shelby asked.

  'Of course I know.'

  'Who?' Shelby demanded.

  Erin shook her head. 'You're an idiot. Why didn't you ring me beforehand?'

  'I've had some stuff going on at home,' Shelby confessed. She had been holding off telling Erin, but now it was time. 'We might be moving, unless I sell Blue to Zeb and give my parents the money.'

  'No way! They're bribing you?' Erin gasped.

  'They don't even know about Zeb's offer. We're going on a holiday,' Shelby explained. 'To pay for the holiday we are moving to my great-aunt's, but we wouldn't have to move if I could give them enough money for the trip, which I could do if I sold Blue.'

  'But if you sell Blue then you won't have a horse at all,' Erin said. 'You can borrow Bandit whenever you want. We can always double.' She looked sad for her friend. 'I know it's not quite the same.'

  'You think I should do it?' Shelby asked.

  The bell rang for the first class and the two girls swung their bags over their backs. All the students herded in through the doors. Erin stared straight ahead.

  'If you move we'll say that we'll write, and talk on Messenger, and we will for a little while, but then we'll stop. I know because I don't talk to any of my friends from my old primary school, even though I swore I would. The saddest thing is that I don't even miss them now. I would hate to not miss you, Shel.'

  They stopped outside the classroom. The computer teacher arrived and unlocked the door to let them in.

  'It's not forever; I'll be coming back. Maybe we will write and –'

  'We won't, though,' Erin interrupted. Her eyes were misting up.

  Shelby sighed. Just as she had anticipated, Erin had managed to turn this conversation around and make it about herself.

  Across the room Lydia was pulling out a chair. Shelby suddenly remembered about the founder. 'Save me a seat,' Shelby said.

  Erin picked a computer behind Ethan and put her bag on the seat next to her.

  'Did you manage to get the vet out to your pony?' Shelby asked.

  Lydia shook her head.

  'How is he doing?'

  'Worse than ever!' her new friend said. 'He lay down almost the whole weekend. And he was sweating. I asked my dad yesterday, but he said the vet charges more to come out on a weekend.'

  'When the people gave him to you, are you sure they said foundation? Could it have been founder?'

  'It might have been. Why?'

  Shelby logged on to the computer, keyed in the address for Google, and then typed 'founder' in the search field. 'I've heard about this thing called founder and I was wondering maybe if that's what he has. Here. What does this one say?' Shelby murmured, squinting at the page as it loaded.

  As she read she realised that many of the words were familiar to her. She'd heard other people at the stables using those terms, or she'd read about them in books without quite knowing what they meant.

  Lydia craned forward and read for a while. 'It looks like a whole bunch of medical words.'

  'Well, it says it's called laminitis – inflammation of the laminae. Do you know what that is?'

  Lydia shook her head.

  'When you clean out your horse's foot you see a yellowy kind of line around the edge. Sometimes it's called the white line. There's a white line too, but that's called the water line.' Shelby shrugged. 'I know. It's confusing, isn't it? Anyway, the yellow line is the laminae. It holds the wall of the hoof to the inside.' Shelby read the page again. 'So it looks like the laminae gets inflamed, and then it stops doing its job. It says here that "the structures inside the hoof capsule aren't held in place".'

  Lydia stared at the screen. Shelby wasn't sure she understood.

  'OK everyone, eyes forward,' the computer teacher said.

  Shelby whispered to Lydia, 'If the inside of the hoof isn't stuck onto the wall around the outside of the hoof, then the bones of the horse start coming down – and if you don't treat it they can come out through the bottom of the hoof. See there in the picture. That horse's pedal bone is coming out through its sole. Look, it says here, "can be fatal".'