The Pony Question

by Jackie Merchant

  “What’s that?” said Aiden as Essie held up a flat metal strip with a handle at each end.

  “A scraper, for pulling the water out of horses’ coats when they’re wet,” Essie explained. Holding it up she said, “No more plastic container lid, Moxie.” The mare, ears forward, was watching over the stable door. It all came back to Essie in a rush as she pulled out trimming clippers. Holding them up to Moxie she said, “You need these.” Then came brushes, Chet’s hair still in them, hoof pick, riding crop, bandages, an old pencil case with her plaiting stuff. In the next bag she found her saddle cloths, bridle numbers, Chet’s registration number still on display. She felt giddy. Opening the last bag, she saw Chet’s bridle, a tiny bit of grass stuck to the side of the bit.

  “What do you think, Mox?” she asked, holding up the bridle. “Will it suit you? Maybe a more girly browband for you? If you’re good to ride, we’re nearly good to go,” she said, then frowned. “With the one big exception of a saddle, of course – not that Chet’s would have fitted you.” At least Nick would use his for the clinic; she’d worry about a saddle of her own after that.

  They could hear Francesca and Rob coming from the house. Francesca talking fast, explaining what she’d done with the chair. “Because the fabric was in small pieces, and some quite fragile from age, I had to do something a bit different,” she was saying. “If I had put it on flat then it would have worn through really quickly, so you’ll see that – well, what if I just stop talking and let you see, how about that?”

  “Wow, Ess, that’s a lot of good-looking gear,” Rob said, “and a good-looking pony.” He walked over to pat Moxie. “You wouldn’t know she was the same pony.”

  Essie smiled up at him.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Rob, seeing Francesca waiting at the studio door. Essie and Aiden followed him. No one had seen the finished chair; Francesca had been secretive about it.

  It was in a cleared space under the window, covered in an old white sheet. When Francesca was sure she had their attention she asked, “Ready?”

  “Think so,” replied Rob, looking nervous. Essie figured you would be if you’d trusted someone with all those memories.

  “Okay,” Francesca counted, “one, two, three,” and then she gently pulled the sheet off. Essie heard Rob gasp and Aiden let out a soft whistle. It was, Essie thought, Francesca’s most beautiful piece ever. A base of deep blue covered the chair, and then out of the pieces of Rob’s mum’s fabric she had made intricate stars of all sizes. Tiny stars in the kitchen curtain fabric, a big one with the embroidered “Muddy” from his dad’s shirt in the middle, the baby clothes now stars dancing along the arm and then wrapping around the chair in an exploding line. Essie stared at it for so long she thought she saw it shimmer. She was speechless, but then she realised Rob was too. She looked urgently at Francesca, who looked increasingly worried as the silence stretched on. Finally she said, “Say something, Rob. Do you hate it?” But he just shook his head, and Essie realised his bottom lip was tucked up and trembling, unshed tears lining the bottom of his eyes.

  Finally, rubbing his face and clearing his throat, he stepped across the room and grabbed Francesca in a massive bear hug. Stepping back, he turned to Essie. “How clever is your mum?” he said, getting himself together. “It’s beautiful, Francesca. I never imagined anything like it. She’ll love it, I know she will, thank you so much.” Francesca looked thrilled. “It’s my pleasure, Rob, I loved doing it.”

  As if he was embarrassed about getting emotional, Rob quickly changed the subject. “Essie, I hope you’ve been taking lots of before and after shots of Moxie?”

  “We’ve got Aido for that.” Essie smiled back at him. “Hopefully next week, if we get her to the clinic, we’ll really have after shots.”

  “Does that mean I’m getting my camera back?” Aiden asked hopefully but Essie ignored him.

  “Great, so you’re going then. Is that what the float was here for?” Rob asked.

  “No, we’re not sure how we’re getting there,” said Francesca. “That was Essie’s dad’s float.”

  Essie could see that Rob wanted to ask why they weren’t taking Steve’s float, but then, thinking better of it, he said, “I’ll take you, if you don’t mind putting her back in the truck. I can bring a long loading ramp,” he added, seeing the question forming on Essie’s face.

  “No, Rob,” said Francesca, “you’ve got a business to run, and you’ve done enough. We’ll hire a float.”

  Turning to look at Van-essa, parked by the studio window, Rob said, “I don’t like your chances of finding a float to hire, not one you’d feel safe putting Moxie in anyway. Honestly,” he insisted, “I know how many hours you must have spent bent over a sewing machine to do this chair. Even if I drove Moxie to Sydney and back three times, I still wouldn’t have paid you back for those stars.”

  Seeing that Francesca wasn’t convinced, he tried again. “How about this? You can pay for my lunch on the drive there and back. But before you agree, be warned: I eat a lot.” He smiled.

  For a moment Francesca looked like she was going to argue again, but then she laughed and said, “That would be fantastic. Moxie has to go Wednesday afternoon and be picked up end of day Sunday, would that work?”

  “Easy, done. Now,” he said, turning back to look at the chair, which seemed to glow in the corner, “I hope you understand, but I’m going to say goodbye now and take the chair across to Mum. All the family is getting together at her place for dinner tonight, the last one before she moves, and it’ll be the perfect time for everyone to see it. Only, I didn’t think to bring something to cover it in. Any chance I could borrow that sheet and bring it back on Wednesday?”

  As they watched him walk away, carrying the chair like it was the most precious thing on earth, Francesca said, “Another happy customer,” at the same time as Essie said, “What a nice person, and what a morning – a visit from Cardboard Caroline, an email from Shiny Steve and now,” she laughed, “generous, kind, magnanimous Rob. I wish I could think of an R word,” finished Essie.

  Turning and walking back into the studio, Francesca called back, “What about rare?”

  “What do you do all that for?” Aiden asked as Essie ran the clippers under Moxie’s jaw.

  “Because she looks tidier with a haircut,” Essie said. “Watch out, don’t let the hair blow on your uniform,” she warned, tucking the halter back. She stepped onto an overturned bucket, steadying herself on Moxie’s neck as she carefully trimmed her bridle path, just enough so her halter sat right. Then, turning, she trimmed just a couple of inches off the base of her mane, where in the next few days, she thought maybe a saddle might sit. She had tidied her mane as best she could, but it still looked like it had been chewed by something with blunt teeth. Hopefully after a bath, a neck rug would help it lay flat.

  Stepping down and turning the clippers off, Essie rubbed Moxie down the neck. “Good girl,” she said, checking her legs over. She contemplated trimming up her fetlocks, but decided she’d leave them until after winter. It was just a clinic, she reminded herself, not a show or dressage competition.

  “Who taught you how to do all that stuff?” Aiden asked, moving his schoolbag so Essie could put the clippers away.

  Essie paused. “Um, I don’t really know. I guess I’ve always done it,” but even as she said it, she remembered her dad when she was only very little, and had first got Chet, asking one of the ladies at the agistment place to show them how to trim Chet’s bridle path. It was when Essie had begged to go to her first gymkhana. Her dad had even tried to plait him up for her. It had rained all day, and Essie remembered she’d been too nervous to enter any events until the very last class of the day, when she realised it was now or never. It was just Essie, Chet and Steven. An image of rain running off the peak of his cap flashed across her mind. When she looked at him in the memory, he was smiling at her, cold hands in pockets. Afraid of the memory, Essie quickly shut it down.

  “What now?” asked
Aiden, snapping Essie back to the present.

  “I’ll put her in the paddock, hopefully get there in one piece, then I’ll pack the gear I need to take,” Essie said, doing Moxie’s rugs back up. “I’ll wash her mane and tail after lunch, then Rob will pick her up this afternoon. Mum and I will follow in Van-essa.”

  “Righto,” said Aiden. “Sounds like more fun than school. I’d better go or I’ll be late.”

  “I’ll be back at school next week, I reckon,” Essie said, untying Moxie and walking with Aiden to the footpath. “I’ve already had an extra week.” She turned towards the orchard as Aiden drifted in the direction of school. “I can’t go to a clinic with my horse and then say I’m too tired for school, can I?”

  “Guess not,” said Aido, walking backwards, giving her a wave. “By the way, what’s happening with your birthday lunch?”

  Connie and Percy, and Aiden and his family were meant to be coming over for her birthday. Francesca said they had to do something to celebrate her becoming a teenager. “Cancelled,” shrugged Essie. “I’ll be at the clinic.”

  “Righto, see you Monday then,” called Aiden, turning into the park and disappearing from sight.

  “Yep, bye,” called Essie, distracted by Moxie, who realising she was headed for the paddock had started to jog and pull. “Cut it out, Mox,” Essie said, as the mare shook her head, then froze, every muscle in her body tense. Step by slow step, Essie took the last few metres to the gate. As she unclipped the lead, Moxie spun away, throwing in a series of bucks that Essie was sure no one could ride, then took off joyfully across the paddock.

  Watching her go, Essie was terrified the clinic wouldn’t help. No matter how good this Nick was, how could four days be enough? Her mood sank. Francesca will have lost her money, Essie will be left with a pony she doesn’t know what to do with, and Steven will have the smug satisfaction of being right.

  Watching Moxie drop her head to graze, Essie made herself stand up straight. “You can’t give up, you have to at least try, strive,” and then laughing, because Steven of all people had given her the third word in his email, she finished, “endeavour.”

  Rob was right on time, and Essie had Moxie ready. “Well, it’s a bit different to last time,” said Rob as she tied Moxie up in the front of the truck, noticing that Rob had washed the truck out and put rubber matting on the floor.

  “Just a bit,” smiled Francesca as Essie checked the knot one last time. Legs in bandages and wraps, clean rugs and tail bag on, feet trimmed and bright-eyed, you’d never know Moxie was the same pony.

  “Right,” said Rob, dropping in the heavy metal pin to secure the ramp, “I’ll get going and see you there.” Percy came bursting out from behind the house pushing an old lawn mower with no catcher, throwing grass clippings and little rocks everywhere.

  Turning it off, he yelled, “On your way then?”

  “Yes,” Francesca called, giving him a wave. “Back late this afternoon, once we get Moxie settled in. Should you be doing that?” She asked nodding at his bandaged hand.

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s my new gardening glove. Have a good time, Ess,” he called as he started up the old mower again, ending any conversation.

  “No wonder Percy’s deaf,” said Francesca. With a wave and a thumbs up, Rob climbed into the truck and slowly pulled out. Essie shoved her hands in her pockets, watching Moxie as the truck took the first corner. The mare shuffled a bit, working out where best to stand and balance herself. The last thing Essie saw before the truck disappeared behind the trees was Moxie, turned as if watching Essie, whinnying one high sweet call.

  The radio reception in the van kept dropping out as they wound their way through the low hills, exasperated Essie switched it off and said worriedly, “I hope I didn’t forget anything.”

  “Well, if you did, we can get it tonight and take it back in the morning. That’s the third time you’ve mentioned it.” Francesca smiled. “Feeling a little nervous, anxious, fretful.”

  “Just a bit.” Essie smiled. “At least I’m not feeling sick, nauseated, queasy,” she said, holding up her wrists to reveal the anti-nausea bands she was trying.

  “So, they work then?” Francesca asked, smiling. “Speaking of not feeling sick, how would you feel about going back to school next week?”

  Essie laughed. “I told Aido this morning I’d be back. Even I know that the unwritten school code says if you’re well enough for a horse clinic, you’re well enough for school.”

  Suddenly Essie was distracted by something out the window. “Look, is that it?” she said, stretching up in her seat. On the other side of the road ran a long, shallow valley. In the centre was the enormous roof of an indoor arena.

  “Hmm, the navigation says we have four minutes to go?” said Francesca.

  “There’s the truck,” Essie said as the blue cab of Rob’s truck appeared for an instant over a rise before vanishing again.

  Essie let out a big sigh.

  “You know, Essie, you don’t have to go,” said Francesca as they rattled over a cattle grid. “Not if it’s going to make you this worried?”

  “I know,” said Essie, swallowing hard so she didn’t say the rest of what she thought, which was “But yes, I do have to go; Moxie and I need help.” The image of Percy’s hand flashed through her mind.

  Essie pointed ahead as the indoor arena came into view. Rob’s truck waited, Moxie in the back, ears on high alert. She was pawing the floor and throwing her head up. “It’ll be fun leading her out of there,” Essie said, biting her lip.

  As they got close, Rob slowly drove around to the other side of building, where he backed onto a wide turf horse-loading ramp. Francesca parked and they made their way to the truck, where they could hear Moxie still pawing, the sound bouncing off the metal side of the indoor arena.

  “Was she like that the whole way here?” Essie asked Rob as Moxie, seeing them, became even more impatient, throwing her head in between pawing, making Essie wonder how she was ever going to untie her. Sensing her hesitation, Francesca said, “You aren’t to go in with her while she carries on like that. We’ll wait until she calms down, or ask someone to help us.”

  Stepping up beside Essie and touching her on the shoulder, Rob said, “I’ll grab her for you, Ess.”

  Just as he took his first step onto the ramp, a man’s voice called out, “G’day, how are you going?” Turning, they saw a cheerful face looking over the half-wall at the end of the arena. The man stepped through a wooden panel gate, shutting it behind him, and approached the truck. He held out his hand and said, “I’m Nick and you must be Essie.” They shook hands. “I can guess, because you’re my only girl rider,” he explained, then turned a dimpled smile on Francesca, who introduced herself and Rob. “And who’s this?” asked Nick, turning to look at Moxie.

  “That’s Moxie,” said Essie as the mare continued to paw.

  “And how long has Moxie been on the truck?” Nick asked.

  “About an hour,” Rob replied.

  “Well, she is very impatient, an hour’s not so long,” said Nick. He walked over and took a close look at the inside of the truck and the way she was tied. “Now, given that she can’t hurt herself in there, and she isn’t too bothered, just impatient, we might kick Moxie into school mode straight up and do a lesson called “waiting”. How about I give you a quick tour, show you where everything is, while Moxie waits, and when we’re done I’ll unload her for you,” he suggested. “I’m guessing Moxie is rude to lead?”

  “Sometimes pretty bad,” Essie agreed, her brain scrambling with the constant racket Moxie was making.

  “Right,” he said, “follow me then. On my left is the indoor arena – you’ll get pretty familiar with that – and over here are the camping facilities. Are you staying with us?” he asked as he led them through the trees to a stone building that had flyscreen walls all down one side, and barbecues and trestle tables. “That’s the kitchen, eating and social space,” he said.

  “
We weren’t sure, we thought we’d just look today,” said Francesca, looking at Essie, who shrugged, a bit overwhelmed by everything.

  “Over there,” Nick continued, “are showers and toilets. You’re welcome to stay, most riders and their families do. It saves a lot of travelling at the end of what will be long days. We just ask for a gold coin donation each day to pay for the gas.” Stopping and turning his head to listen, he said, “Can you hear that?” A kookaburra called overhead, and for a moment Essie thought that was what he meant.

  “Moxie is quiet,” Nick said, not looking at all surprised. For a moment Essie panicked. What if she was quiet because she had hurt herself?

  As if reading her mind, Nick said very calmly, “She has to learn, Essie. She has to know that she is capable of being calm in her own space. We’d never leave her where she could hurt herself, I wouldn’t have left her in a float, but I’m guessing if you tried to lead her off earlier, she would have run all over you, maybe hurt you or herself. What’s more, she wasn’t actually worried about being on the truck, she just wanted off, and it only took her minutes,” he said, holding his hand to his ear as if listening extra hard, “to give in. Now, lastly, over there are the yards. They all have water troughs, but you’ll need your own feed and feed bin – I’m sure the staff told you that. If the weather gets bad there are stables alongside the indoor arena and we can put them in there and saddle up, but otherwise it’s nice to leave them out in the air where they can see everything. And that, I think, is about it. You’ll see the staff getting around in their T-shirts – just ask them if you have any questions.”

  Looking at Essie’s anxious face, Nick finally took pity on her and said, “Righto then, Essie, let’s go unload her.”

  As they passed a big bag of horse gear on the ground outside the arena edge, Nick hunted through it and grabbed a long lead rope with a strong clip. Approaching the truck, he said, “Just wait there and watch what I’m doing. I’ll explain it all tomorrow, in your lesson.”