Pony Jumpers 5- Five Stride Line

by Kate Lattey

  “What time do you call this?”

  Katy glared back at him. Her father had been absent from her life for several years, and she was still adjusting to his recent reappearance. He’d done his best to make things up to her, buying her expensive presents – the biggest of which so far had been Molly, the pony she was riding – and was spending as much time with her as she’d allow, but they were as stubborn as each other and seemed to argue constantly.

  “You said four-thirty,” Katy retorted. “It’s four-twenty-five.”

  “I said I’d pick you up at four-thirty,” Lionel said. “I expected you to be ready.”

  “Well, you expected wrong.” Katy flung herself out of the saddle and led Molly into one of the boxes to untack her as Lionel gave an exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

  “Can I expect you to be ready on time in the future?” he asked, trying to keep his tone civil.

  “It’s not even my fault that we’re late,” his daughter replied. “I kept saying we had to go, but AJ insisted on riding Lacey’s new pony and she wouldn’t get off.”

  I stared at her with my mouth half-open. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Well,” Katy said, looking slightly embarrassed at being caught out. “If you hadn’t been riding Biscuit we could’ve left sooner.”

  “Like five minutes sooner, so you’d still have been late,” I snapped back. I loved Katy, but sometimes she made me want to knock her head against a wall. “Don’t blame me. If it’s anyone’s fault it’s Phil’s, for causing all that ruckus that held us up.”

  In the end, I took care of both ponies while Katy went into the house to shower and change. Fortunately for her father, Katy has never been one of those girls who spends hours in front of the mirror applying her makeup. A thin layer of foundation, a quick flash of mascara and some lip gloss was all she had bothered with when she came back out twenty minutes later in skinny jeans and cowboy boots, lugging an overnight bag. Her father breathed a sigh of relief and got into the car, but Katy insisted on giving Molly a kiss before she joined him and they drove away.

  Deb emerged from the house once her ex-husband was gone, and I stuck around to help her feed out in exchange for a ride home. It was almost seven o’clock by the time she finally dropped me off at the end of my driveway.

  “Thanks for your help today,” she said as I extricated myself from the horsy debris that littered the car, untangling my feet from loops of baling twine and picking up the bag of mouldy carrots that had fallen out of the car when I opened the door.

  “No worries.” I threw the carrots back into the footwell and started to close the door until she spoke again.

  “Are you feeling prepared for Taupo on the weekend?” she asked.

  “Um, sort of. I think so.”

  I wasn’t really sure, to be perfectly honest. The Taupo Christmas Classic was one of the biggest shows of the year, a premier show that spanned four days and was capped off on the Sunday with a big Open Derby event that Katy was determined to win, having finished in the placings several times but never managing the big prize. I’d entered Squib in one of the mini derby events at 1.15m, the same height we would be competing at throughout the event. I was nervous, but looking forward to it. And my ride on Biscuit today had given me a confidence boost.

  “I can give you a lesson tomorrow if you’d like a bit of a tune-up before the event,” Deb offered.

  I leapt at the chance. “That’d be great!”

  She smiled. “Be over as early as you can, then. We’ll try to fit it in before Katy gets back, keep her out of our hair.”

  “Sounds good.” I pushed the car door shut and waved her off, then walked up towards our house where Dax greeted me with his loud bark and a wagging tail.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “That was better out of the turn, but don’t throw the reins at him,” Deb called across the arena to me the following morning. “Do that line again, and this time keep the contact all the way to the base of the fence.”

  I sat up and steadied Squib’s stride, then cantered back down the long side. Sitting up and keeping my shoulders back through the turn so that Squib kept his balance, fingers closed around the reins, legs firm against his sides, eyes up and looking over the fence. Squib gathered his hindquarters then sprang into the air, and I grabbed a hunk of mane as I struggled to stay with him. My pony was incredibly scopey and gave good clearance to every jump, but his enormous leaps were sometimes difficult to sit to. We landed and I counted the five strides as we approached the square oxer ahead. Three…four…five! I leaned forward as Squib took off, sliding my hands forward as he launched over the jump, giving it heaps of air as usual.

  But Deb wasn’t satisfied. “You did it again!” she told me. “Don’t go forward until he starts to go jump. You always jump ahead of him, and you’re making it more difficult for you both when you do. Come again.”

  I kept Squib cantering as Deb raised the height of the second fence. A flutter of nerves hit me as I turned Squib at the bottom of the arena, and I wondered if I was going to make a fool of myself at Taupo by committing to jumping in metre-fifteen classes all show. I’d only shown Squib once at a metre-fifteen so far, and that was the class he’d slipped over in and strained himself. So now I had him slipping on the turns to add to my worries, and Katy’s voice in the back of my head nagging me about putting shoes on him…

  I was so distracted by these thoughts that I forgot to focus on the jump ahead until it was right in front of me. Panicking, I clamped my legs on, which Squib took as his cue to take off half a stride early. I got a little left behind in the air and had to slip my reins to avoid hauling on his mouth, then tried to quickly gather them up on landing as I rode the remaining strides to the second fence. I was so distracted by collecting up my reins and getting my pony rebalanced that I didn’t even have time to remember Deb’s advice, and once more I threw myself forward as he took off. Squib jumped willingly, but his front hooves tapped the rail and it clattered to the ground behind us as we landed.

  “Walk him for a moment, then come again,” Deb told me as she replaced the rail. I brought Squib down to a walk and patted him apologetically.

  “That was my fault, I lost focus,” I told Deb.

  “And it was a prime example of what I’m talking about,” she said as she walked towards me. “By going forward too early, you put your weight over his shoulders and made it hard for him to snap up in front. You’ve been getting away with it over the lower jumps, but now that you’re moving up it’s time to get rid of those bad habits.” She patted Squib’s sweaty neck. “Again, and concentrate this time!”

  I headed Squib back down the long side, determined this time to get it right. I focused hard on keeping my shoulders back and upper body still, waiting this time to feel Squib’s quarters bunch and his shoulders start to lift off the ground before I leaned forward. It felt smoother, and I didn’t get the same whiplash through the air that I was getting when I’d been folding early. Deb called out her approval as we cantered down the five to the second fence, and this time I did the same thing, staying sitting tall until Squib had started to jump. His leap was so big and bold that I felt myself come loose in the tack, and had to grip hard on landing to avoid falling forward onto his neck. Jamming my heels down, I let him canter on around the turn then gave him a grateful pat.

  “Much better,” Deb said as Katy came striding around the corner to the arena. “Morning hon, how was your night?”

  “Fine,” Katy shrugged, then looked at me. “How’s Squibbles?”

  “Awesome. All set for Taupo.”

  Katy grinned at me. “Good, because I can’t wait to get there!”

  * * *

  It took us almost an entire day to get the truck packed and ready for Taupo, because four days away with four ponies and the three of us meant a lot of packing, and nothing could be left behind. The truck was stuffed to the gunnels with saddles and bridles and tendon boots, covers and leg wraps and halters and lea
ds, grooming kits and plaiting bands and saddle blankets, bales of hay and water buckets and bags of feed, stud kits and spurs and boot polish and hoof oil…the list went on and on.

  Katy ran around like a headless chicken, throwing more and more things into the truck just in case we needed them, while Deb stocked up the fridge with plenty of food, made up the beds with clean linen, swept out the accommodation. Once I’d made sure that everything Squib needed had been packed, I turned my attention to the ponies, washing legs, trimming tails and pulling manes until my arms ached.

  Finally we were on the road, the ponies travelling happily in the back as we headed to the National Equestrian Centre in Taupo. Katy was half-awake, flicking through messages on her phone as we drove through the early morning mist.

  “It looks like there’s a ton of entries in the low classes, so we won’t be on until at least lunchtime,” she said, sounding satisfied. “Even at the speed Mum drives we’ll arrive in plenty of time.”

  Her mother smacked her on the arm as I leaned back against the seat and propped my feet up on the dashboard.

  “Wake me when we get there,” I said, closing my eyes and dozing off into a vivid dream of Squib jumping so high that he sprouted wings and flew all the way to Australia before I could turn him around.

  * * *

  “Next to jump will be AJ Maclean on Squirrel Nutkin.”

  I shortened my reins and pushed Squib into a canter as we rounded the end of the grass arena later that afternoon. My pony had been busting out of his skin ever since we’d arrived at the show grounds, pacing around his yard and whinnying to every horse that went past, and the half hour of warmup I’d given him didn’t seem to have calmed him down much. I just hoped that he’d settle once we jumped the first fence, but as we made our way past the judges’ truck, one of them leaned out and rang the start bell. Knowing what that meant, Squib let out an excited squeal and threw a couple of large bucks that almost unseated me. I’d been planning to canter another circle before approaching the first fence, but by the time I’d regained my stirrups and my balance we’d somehow made it through the start flags, so I put my leg on and we got on with it.

  Squib lined up the jump eagerly, powered towards it, saw a long spot and took off half a stride early, flying through the air with his forelegs outstretched. I grabbed a chunk of his dark mane as he landed, wincing at the sound of the back rail hitting the ground behind us. Squib knew he’d taken the rail down as well, and he bucked again in irritation. I pulled his head up and made the turn towards fence two. Once again he took charge, racing towards the jump and flinging himself over. Another rail hit the ground as I sat up as tall as I could and struggled to steady him.

  “Would you behave yourself!” I grumbled to him as I shortened my reins on our way to the white oxer at fence three. I held his head tightly, refusing to let him run off on me, and this time he jumped late, his forelegs hitting the front rail and sending it tumbling down behind us.

  I realised belatedly that I’d done again what I’d been doing in my lesson with Deb a few days earlier, jumping before my pony and throwing my weight onto his shoulders just as he was trying to lift them up. But there wasn’t too much time to worry about that because we were approaching the first double on course, and it was a short two-stride of verticals which needed a steady approach. I checked Squib hard and he finally started to listen, jumping both fences cleanly although getting a bit close to the second one and only making it over by the skin of his teeth.

  “Good boy!” I said in relief as we turned to the Swedish oxer at six, followed by the wall at seven and the triple bar at eight.

  He cleared every jump with aplomb, snapping his forelegs up tight and kicking his hind end into the air to make sure that he didn’t have any more rails. Unfortunately, it was too little too late. It had been a two-phase class, and if we’d gone clear we could’ve continued into the timed jump-off round. I’d walked the course with Katy and planned my lines carefully, looking forward to riding against the clock, but now I wasn’t going to get the chance. The judge rang the bell to let me know that I had to stop, and once again Squib exploded into a series of bucks at the sound, forcing me to circle him a couple of times to get him back under control.

  “Jeepers, settle down would you?” I muttered as I brought him back to a raking trot and headed him towards the gate, looking disappointedly at the one-stride double, planks and Liverpool fences that I hadn’t been allowed to jump. The next rider into the ring grinned at me from the back of a flashy chestnut mare.

  “Your pony can really jump!” She was looking at Squib with admiration so I smiled back, despite my aching arms and fingers that had been rubbed raw on the reins.

  Katy met me a few strides out of the ring with an amused expression.

  “What’ve you been feeding him?” she asked, rubbing Squib’s forehead firmly. “I’ve never seen him buck like that before!”

  “He used to do it all the time,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. “But he’s been pretty good lately. He just got a bit excited when he heard the bell because he knows it means time to start jumping.”

  “Hmm. We’ll stick some ears on him tomorrow, try and muffle the noise so he doesn’t lose the plot again,” Katy decided, watching me flex my chafed fingers painfully. “And we’d better find you some gloves too!”

  Our friend Susannah Andrews rode towards us on Forbes, the dark bay gelding she’d bought from Katy only a few weeks ago.

  “Setting the standard for hi-jinks out there?” she teased me. “He jumped well though, once he settled into it.”

  “He just got a bit over-enthusiastic,” I agreed. “How’s Forbes going?”

  Susannah shrugged. “Hard to say. He schooled amazing on the weekend, but bucked me off twice at home two days later, so anything could happen really.”

  But she didn’t seem mad, and she gave the warmblood pony an affectionate pat as she spoke, apparently enjoying his eccentricity. The steward called her name and she headed Forbes back towards the ring as scattered applause rang out for the girl who’d ridden after me.

  “All clear for Anna Harcourt and Flamethrower in a blistering time of 26.74 for the second round, which puts them into the lead,” came the announcement. “Next to jump, Susannah Andrews and Primo Del Maestro.”

  Katy hurried off to watch Forbes, and I let the reins out loose on Squib’s sweaty neck as I walked him back in the direction of Katy’s truck, trying to contain my disappointment.

  I was halfway through washing Squib down when Katy returned, grinning from ear to ear.

  “You should’ve seen Forbes go!” she exclaimed in delight, running up the ramp into the truck and yelling her news back down to me. “He jumped amazing, double clear and sliced it up in the jump off to be almost five seconds clear of Anna’s time!”

  “Awesome! How many left to jump?” I asked as I sponged between Squib’s hind legs.

  “Not many, five or six I think. I’m going back to watch in a second. Where’s my phone?”

  “On the bed,” I called back and moments later I heard her triumphant shout.

  “Found it! Okay I’ll be back in a bit. Oh calm down Puppet, the world’s not ending,” she added as the black pony tied to the truck pulled back to the end of his leadrope, wide-eyed at Katy running up and down the ramp in front of him. She took off back towards the ring, her long legs covering the ground effortlessly, and I tossed the sponge back into the bucket and clapped Squib’s damp neck.

  “You did pretty good, all things considered,” I told him, reminding myself that it was only his second ever metre-fifteen round. “And tomorrow you’ll do even better. Right?”

  Squib rolled an eye backward, then reached around and nuzzled my hip, as if to assure me that he would. I kissed his forelock and untied him from the truck to take him for a walk and stretch out his muscles after the effort he’d put into the class.

  I was letting him graze at the end of a row of trucks fifteen minutes later when the girl
on the chestnut pony rode past me with a blue second place ribbon around her pony’s gleaming neck. I smiled to myself, knowing that meant nobody had managed to beat Susannah’s time and Forbes had won the class. Anna flung herself out of the saddle next to a large dark blue truck and fended off her pony’s attempts to rub its bridle off on her shoulder as another girl stuck her head out of the truck next door.

  “I’d say well done, but how in hell did you not win it?” the other girl asked, sounding amazed. “I saw your round, Flame carved it up out there!”

  “Susannah Andrews beat me,” Anna said in disgust. “Cut the corner so tight into the triple bar that I don’t even know how her pony got over it, but by some freak accident he did.”

  “Ugh, that sucks,” the other girl said, sounding equally revolted. “She’ll do anything for a ribbon, that girl. As we all know.”

  “Yep. No sane rider would’ve tried that turn,” Anna agreed as she removed her pony’s bridle. “Personally, I’d rather be second than risk my neck – or my pony’s – like she does.”

  I’d heard enough. Pulling Squib’s reluctant head up, I started walking past their trucks, but Anna saw me. Apparently not realising that Susannah was a friend of mine, she called out at the sight of Squib.

  “It’s the pony with springs in his feet!” She unbuckled her mare’s girth and dragged the saddle off. “I meant to ask you before where you got him from.”

  I wasn’t planning to stop and chat, but Squib spied a tasty patch of grass on the ground and dove his head down to get it, forcing me to halt.

  “Masterton,” I told her. “About a year ago.”

  “He’s awesome,” Anna said, then looked over at her friend. “You should see this pony jump, he’s amazeballs,” she told her, then turned back to me. “What else is he entered in this weekend? I wanna watch him go again.”

  I pulled Squib’s head up. “Um, the metre-fifteen accumulator tomorrow, Mini Prix on Saturday and Mini Derby on Sunday.”