by Kate Lattey
He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah. Appreciated it going down, not so much coming back up.”
“Oops.”
“Yeah. What a waste.” He shrugged, then looked at Misty, who had switched legs to paw with and was digging himself a trench. “We should get going before he hollows out the whole hill.”
I nodded. “Okay.” I looked at the downhill slope and felt my insides clench. “Wait, I can’t leave yet. I don’t have anything for Pop.” I saw Jonty’s curious expression, and explained. “I always leave him something. It’s like…a tradition I guess.”
It had taken me weeks to let Bayard see me leave an offering for Pop, let alone to tell him what I was doing. He’d accepted it with his usual equanimity, but he hadn’t really understood. Then again, he’d never known Pop, so I couldn’t really expect him to. But it was surprisingly easy to tell Jonty, and somehow I knew he’d understand.
Trouble was, my pockets were empty. Jonty saw me come up empty-handed, and fished around in his own pockets, but he also came up short.
“Sorry.”
“Oh well.” I tried to shrug and ride away, but something stopped me. It was stupid, because it was just a little ritual that I’d made up, that meant nothing to anyone other than me. Pop wasn’t really going to know – or care – if I didn’t leave him a token. And yet. I couldn’t make myself ride away.
Jonty noticed my hesitation. “I don’t know how Misty’ll feel about it, but you could leave a bit of his mane behind,” he suggested. “Since it’s your first time riding him all the way up here. That took courage, so I reckon your Pop’d appreciate that.”
I smiled at him, feeling the building tension drain out of me. He got it. “That’s perfect. Sorry Misty.”
I wrapped my fingers around a few strands of Misty’s mane and pulled them out with a quick yank, then knotted them together before steering the pony towards Pop’s cross. But Misty kept sidling away, as usual going out of his way to make my life difficult. I was about to dismount and do it on foot when Jonty rode up alongside me and held out his hand.
If Bayard had tried to do the same thing, I’d have refused. But I knew that it meant something to Jonty to be able to make his peace with my Pop, so I let him take the little knot of mane from me. His fingers grazed my palm and I felt a tremor run through me that was wholly unrelated to my nervousness about riding Misty. Jonty leaned over and held Copper steady as he placed the knotted strands on top of Pop’s cross. The wind caught it immediately and threatened to blow it off, but he’d somehow managed to wedge it under a sliver of rough wood, and it stayed fixed there.
Jonty sat back up in the saddle and looked at me, and once again I felt something shift. The world once again balanced precariously on a precipice, only this time I was going to fall, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
CHAPTER SIX
“Almost there.”
I nodded at Jonty, twisted around in Copper’s saddle as he watched my progress down the hill. Misty was fussing and fretting at the bit, trying to jog forward and overtake Copper, but I had so far managed to keep him under control – and myself in the saddle – all the way down the hill. We reached the flat ground at the bottom, and I let out a breath of relief that I didn’t know I’d been holding.
Jonty reined Copper in and held up a hand to me for a high-five. “Made it.”
I smiled at him and slapped his palm as Misty scurried past. But we were only a couple of metres from the gate and Misty didn’t have anywhere to go, so he stopped and then plunged his head down between his feet to eat grass.
“Which way?”
“Um…”
I looked at the gate, which led to a flat paddock that I knew would make Misty’s feet itch for a gallop, but then took us directly onto the road home. The other options were back the way we’d come - no thank you - or through the far gate, which went back through the forestry. It could get slippery through there, and even Rory found it spooky going between the shadowy trees, with rabbits and pheasants darting in and out of sight. If Misty got a fright and bolted, he’d probably run me into a tree or impale himself on a broken branch, so I immediately wrote that option off.
“Through that paddock and back along the road,” I opted, and Jonty obediently leaned down to open the gate. Misty jigged under me as I rode through, and kept him turned to face Copper while Jonty got the gate shut behind us, following the number one rule on any farm – leave every gate the way you found it.
As predicted, Misty eyed up the flat paddock as a prime place for a gallop, and he fretted and pulled at the reins desperately. I held him back as much as I could, but when he started bounding across the grass in his strange, stag-like way, I knew I was stuffed. My arms were aching already and I couldn’t hold him.
I looked across at Jonty and shrugged. “Meet you at the gate?”
I didn’t let Misty’s head go – I didn’t trust that I would be able to stop if I did. I barely even relaxed my grip on the reins, but I did sit slightly more forward in the saddle, and that was enough of a cue for Misty, who started sprinting across the short grass, leaping with reckless abandon over scattered thistles in our path.
I could hear Copper behind us as we approached the road gate, and I dug my knees into the saddle and tried to slow Misty down. But he just went faster, and then faster still. The wind pricked the corners of my eyes and made them water, and I braced my knuckles at the base of Misty’s neck and used the other hand to haul his head around, trying for the one-rein stop that I’d always been taught would slow or stop a pony that’s running away on you.
But clearly whoever had told me that had never sat on a pony quite like Misty. He set his rubber neck against me and just kept ploughing on. My heart thumped as we came closer and closer to the gate, the flat stretch of dark tarmac glinting on the other side. I had no doubt that Misty could jump the gate if he wanted to – it was well within his scope. But I still wouldn’t be able to stop him before he ended up on the slippery tarmac, and if he fell on the road we could both get badly injured. I tried harder to turn him, but Misty just threw a wild buck and kept going. For a lack of anything else to do, I started swearing at him, telling him in no uncertain terms just how worthless he was. I was considering throwing myself out of the saddle before we got to the gate, when a large chestnut shape came looming up beside us. Copper’s shoulder pressed into Misty’s and turned him away to the left, back across the paddock. Jonty leaned down and grabbed one of Misty’s reins, and his stronger arm and better leverage did what I’d been unable to do, dragging Misty to a halt.
I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and dismounted, then took several steps away from the chunky grey pony, feeling as though I was going to be physically sick. Misty turned his head and watched me go with vague interest, as though wondering what I was doing. My legs were shaking so hard that they wouldn’t quite hold me up, so I sank down to a sitting position and stared at the vile pony, wishing he was dead – or at the very least, sold and out of my life.
“Are you okay?”
I shook my head, then nodded. “I’m fine. But I’m not getting back on.”
“Scared you, huh?”
I looked up and met Jonty’s eyes. “You think? He just about killed me!”
He tilted his head to the side and looked at Misty, who was standing quietly as though butter wouldn’t melt in his demonic mouth. “Nah. He just got a bit overenthusiastic, that’s all.”
I glared at him. He’d been so sympathetic earlier, and now he was siding with the pony? “That’s all? What if he’d run into the gate, or jumped it, and slipped on the road and squashed me?” My voice squeaked and broke at the end of the sentence, much to my dismay.
Jonty jumped down from Copper’s back and pulled the horses’ reins over their heads, then walked up to me, our mounts trailing behind.
“Yeah, but he didn’t. You’re okay.” He crouched down in front of me and put a hand on my uninjured knee. I stared at his scraped knuckles and torn fingernail
s, and at a shiny, curving scar across the back of his hand, running from between his ring and little finger down to his wrist. I reached out and touched it gently, looking for a distraction from my own problems.
“What happened there?”
Jonty’s eyes followed mine, and his hand twitched slightly under my touch. “It’s an old scar.” He hadn’t answered my question, but it occurred to me that maybe it was rude to ask, so I let it go. “We can swap horses, if you want.”
“No. I have to ride Misty.” I said the words firmly, resigning myself to the inevitable, but I couldn’t make myself get up.
Jonty shook his head slowly, and rocked his weight back slightly on his heels. His hand moved as he did, and I think that’s when I realised that he was still touching my knee, and my fingers were still on the back of his hand.
“You always do what Hayley says?”
“Usually. It makes life easier.”
Jonty gave a short laugh, and I looked at him, right into his eyes. He was grinning at me, creases appearing at the corners of his light brown eyes. I knew he was making fun of me, but I couldn’t work out why.
“What?” I asked.
“If riding Misty is the easier option, I’d hate to know what the hard one is.”
He turned his hand over and took hold of mine, then stood up and pulled me with him. I was on my feet before I knew it, squinting into the bright sunlight as Misty tugged at his reins and Copper stamped angrily at the flies swirling around his stomach. Jonty held Misty’s reins out to me, inviting me to take the pony from his control. I hesitated, my other hand still clasped in his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.
Misty reached over to Copper and snapped at his face, making the bigger horse jump backwards and wrench Jonty’s arm. He stumbled to keep his footing, and his hand was pulled free of mine. I took a breath, recovering myself, and loosed Misty’s reins from his grip.
“The hard part,” I told him as I flipped the reins back over the grey gelding’s head and prepared to remount, despite my trembling legs, “is living with Hayley when she’s mad at you. There aren’t many things more horrible than that. This pony included.”
I clapped Misty on the neck as though I was confident, shoved my foot into the stirrup and sprang back into the saddle before I had time to talk myself out of it. Misty sidled a little, but he let me get my offside stirrup and shorten up my reins.
Jonty was still standing next to Copper, watching me with an inscrutable expression.
“What?”
He shook his head, and led Copper over to the gate to open it. I let Misty follow. Now that he’d had his gallop, some of the tickle had gone out of his hooves, and he stepped calmly through the open gateway and waited almost patiently for Jonty to latch it and swing back up into Copper’s saddle.
“All good?” he asked me, and I nodded. “All right.”
He nudged Copper into his long-striding walk, and Misty jogged up alongside, his enthusiasm steadily returning. I forced myself to take a deep breath, and then another. Don’t think about what could happen. Just relax so that it doesn’t.
“You’re a liar, you know that?”
Startled, I looked over at Jonty. “No I’m not!”
He grinned at me, his smile lighting up his face. “Sure you are. You told me you weren’t brave.”
We rode home past his house, and his sisters came running out at the sound of hooves clopping on the road. He waved to them as they dashed into the road, their eyes fixed on their brother astride the gleaming chestnut horse.
“Wow, Jonty! He’s huge!”
“He’s beautiful!”
Copper stopped and snorted at the sight of them. Jonty gave his neck a gentle slap and urged him forward again as one of the girls sharply admonished her siblings.
“Stop running you two, can’t you see you’re scaring him?”
“He’s okay,” Jonty told her. “He’s got to grow up sometime.”
He clicked his tongue and Copper stepped out, accepting Jonty’s reassurance almost without question, and showing more trust in him than he ever had with me – or Hayley, for that matter.
“Can I pat him?” the smallest of the girls pleaded, and Jonty glanced at me.
“You mind? Won’t take a sec.”
I shook my head. “Of course not, it’s fine.”
I convinced Misty to stop and watched as the smallest girl held her hand out to Copper, palm turned upwards and fingers held diligently flat. Copper leaned down and cautiously lipped at her empty palm, which made Misty think that treats were being dispensed and he was missing out. He barged over before I could stop him, pushing the small girl with his head and demanding his share.
“Misty!” I scolded him, tugging the reins and making him back up a couple of steps. He tossed his head angrily, but complied. “Sorry. He thought you were giving out treats,” I explained.
“Should we get him something?” the eldest of the girls asked, looking at their house. “I think we’ve got carrots in the garden. I could bring him some.”
Jonty shook his head. “Can’t you see how fat he is, Bella? He needs more food like he needs a hole in the head. Maybe less. And Copper’s making a meal out of Phoebe’s hair,” he added, leaning down to look as the chestnut horse snuffled through the smallest girl’s dark curls, making her laugh. Her shorts and t-shirt were faded and stained, and she was barefoot. Only the eldest of the girls had shoes on, scuffed pink trainers with broken shoelaces.
As they crowded around Copper, I became increasingly aware of how shabby the cottage really was. The walls sagged, the corrugated iron roof was streaked with rust, and there was a broken window pane in the front room that had been patched up with cardboard and duct tape. Dad should fix that, I thought, wondering if I should bring it up with him.
“What’s your pony’s name?”
I jerked my head back from staring at the cottage to meet the eyes of Jonty’s middle sister. She looked about ten or so, eleven maybe at a stretch. She was skinny, with scabs on her knees and a large birthmark on one cheek that I couldn’t stop looking at, no matter how hard I tried. I knew her name, but I couldn’t remember it.
“Um, Misty. He’s my sister’s pony.”
“He’s really pretty.” She reached up to touch Misty’s face, and he butted her with his nose, trying to shove his way into her personal space.
“Sorry,” I muttered, shortening my reins. “He’s got no manners.”
“Takes after his owner, eh?” Jonty quipped, and his sister gave him a horrified look.
“Jonty! That’s not very nice.” Her eyes were wide, and she looked anxiously at me, trying to gauge my reaction to his comment.
“It’s fine, he doesn’t mean me,” I told her, then glanced back at her brother. “Right?”
Jonty just winked at me, then leaned down and held out his hands to his littlest sister. Grinning, she reached up towards him, and he swung her into the air to sit in front of the saddle with him. My breath caught in my throat as Copper threw his head back and rolled his eyes in alarm at this strange new experience, but Jonty spoke to him encouragingly.
“You’re all right mate, Phoebe doesn’t bite. Hard.” He grinned over at me as Copper relaxed slightly, though his large ears still swivelled nervously back and forth at the unaccustomed weight over his withers. “Give him a pat Phoebs, let him know you’re friendly.”
Phoebe patted the horse gently on the neck, and a moment later Copper blew out through his nostrils, showering Bella with snot. She jumped backwards, and we all laughed.
“Gross!”
Phoebe lay down on Copper’s neck and wrapped her arms around him. “I like this horse. Can we swap him for Taniwha?”
“Hey now, there’s nothing wrong with Tani,” Jonty told her.
Phoebe pulled a face. “He’s grumpy and old and he tries to bite my fingers,” she complained.
“Because he wants to see if they taste good!” Jonty teased, tickling her sides and making her squirm
and giggle.
I kept expecting Copper to explode, but he just lifted his head slightly and rolled his eyes back, as if trying to see what was going on. Bella was still stroking his face, and despite the occasional tense moment, he actually looked happier than I’d seen him in a long time. Who knew he loved little kids so much?
“He only nips because you don’t hold your fingers out flat,” Jonty’s middle sister said imperiously. “If you did as you were told, you wouldn’t get bitten.”
Phoebe sighed dramatically. “Whatever, Morgan.”
Morgan rolled her eyes as she turned back towards Misty, patting him gently. I could tell that she liked horses and was confident around them, but she was on edge, and keeping a tentative eye on me the whole time. I wondered what she thought I was going to do that had her so worried.
“Give him a rub behind his ears,” I suggested. “He loves that.”
Morgan glanced up at me, then obediently rubbed the base of Misty’s ears. He leaned his head to the side and grunted happily, and she broke into a tentative smile. Despite the birthmark, she was very pretty when she smiled, though I got the feeling it didn’t happen all that often. She seemed very serious, like she was carrying a burden much too heavy for her to bear.
“Okay, down you get. Time for us to get going,” Jonty decided.
Phoebe squealed in protest and gripped harder around Copper’s neck, and the horse shifted into reverse, his alarm returning. To her credit, when she realised she was upsetting the horse, Phoebe’s attitude changed at once.
“Sorry Copper,” she said, sitting up straight and patting his neck. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
She let Jonty pass her down into Bella’s arms, then squirmed free and ran straight to Copper’s head to give him a kiss.
It was another minute or so before the girls had said what they considered to be a sufficient farewell to Copper and Misty, and we were able to ride on.
“Sorry about that,” Jonty said, giving a final wave over his shoulder as the girls stood in the road, watching us go.
“Why?” I asked. “They loved it, and it didn’t bother me.”