Clearwater Bay 2- Against the Clock

by Kate Lattey

  “Finn, slow down!” I mutter through gritted teeth as I haul on the reins, trying to get her back under control in time for the one-stride double that’s coming up.

  Somehow we make it through cleanly, but I lose my stirrup on landing and have to fight desperately to get it back as we race down to the next jump.

  Almost there… My toe touches the stirrup tread, then slides out again as Finn spooks at the spectators next to the ring. I take a quick pull on the reins to steady her, but she tosses her head angrily. The tall vertical looms ahead of us, and I kick Finn on towards it. She takes a huge stride, then swerves away, leaving me swinging over her neck and trying desperately not to fall off.

  I frantically push myself back into the saddle, regain both stirrups and turn Finn back to the planks, giving up on taking control and letting her gallop on. She takes off half a stride early, and I throw myself forward as she leaps, letting the reins slide through my fingers so I don’t catch her in the mouth. I’m still trying to regather them as we canter past the gate, where Alec is waiting for his turn. Finn sees Jack and bulges out towards him, wanting to leave the ring and join her friend.

  “Don’t let her nap, get your stick out!” Alec yells to me and I give Finn a hard smack behind my leg to remind her to behave.

  My pony leaps sideways, away from the whip, then throws in a big buck that sends me onto her neck, stirrupless and clinging. There is a moment in time when I think I can save myself, when I know can make it back into the saddle, but Finn bucks again, even bigger this time, and now all I’m left with is a brief glimpse of her shoulder and knee before I hit the ground.

  “Are you okay? I saw you fall off.”

  I meet Claudia’s eyes as I sponge Finn down.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Bit bruised,” I shrug, and she looks sympathetic.

  “Mostly just her ego,” Alec chips in as he tightens Jack’s girth. I throw the sponge at him, but he dodges around it and lets it fall into the dust at the foot of the ramp. “Missed me.”

  “You’ll keep,” I promise him, and he grins before swinging up into the saddle and kicking Jack into a trot.

  “Glad you’re okay,” Claudia calls over her shoulder as she rides after him, and I turn back to my wilful pony.

  “I hope you’re going to be better behaved tomorrow,” I tell Finn. “Because I’ve had just about enough of your freight train impersonation. You need to slow down and listen to me from now on. Okay?”

  Finn ignores me, pulling at her haynet and pretending not to hear a word I’m saying. I tip my sponge water out under a nearby tree, give my pony a quick pat and wander back to the ring to watch Alec smoke them all in the jump off.

  * * *

  It’s a struggle to get out of bed the next morning. I lie on my back in the top bunk bed and stare at the pale sunlight sifting through the truck’s threadbare curtains, trying to motivate myself to get up and help Alec feed the ponies. But I’m so warm and comfy, and Finn’s first class isn’t until lunchtime. And all my bumps and bruises from yesterday are starting to ache. I’m sure Alec’s got the feeding under control, I decide. I roll onto my side and close my eyes again, letting Tabby’s soft snores lull me back towards sleep.

  “Hey lazybones, wake up!”

  A jet of cold water hits me full in the face and I squeal and flail my arms at my assailant. I can hear Alec laughing as I sit up, spluttering, and his laughter only gets louder when I hit my head on the truck’s low ceiling.

  “Ow!”

  He’s still laughing. “Another bruise for your collection.”

  I throw my pillow at his head. “I hate you.”

  “I know, but someone has to be the grown-up around here. Left to yourselves, you’d both still be in bed at midday,” he claims.

  His mother groans. “Alec, honey, shut up and let me get back to sleep.”

  “Just as soon as Jay gets up and helps me with the ponies,” Alec replies, throwing my pillow back at me. “Come on lazy, we didn’t bring you with us to lie in bed and refuse to help out.”

  “I’m not refusing, merely postponing,” I reply, defiantly lying back down and pulling the covers up to my chin. “Finn’s not on until this afternoon, and I spend all day helping you, the least you can do is chuck her a morning feed.”

  “Already done,” Alec confirms. “But I need you on your feet, because Lucky and Jack have been drawn only four apart for the metre twenty-five. I tried to talk them into letting me swap order but most people have more than two ponies entered, so we’re all in the same boat. And it starts in half an hour, so c’mon. Up and at ‘em.”

  “What am I, your slave?” I ask as Tabby grumbles at us again for making too much noise this early in the morning.

  Alec ignores my question. “Mum, it’s half past eight.”

  “And I didn’t get in until three, so that still qualifies as early,” she replies.

  “Then maybe you’ll learn your lesson, and lay off the vodka,” Alec says unsympathetically, then looks back at me. “Are you going to get out of bed on your own, or do I have to drag you out kicking and screaming?” he asks, cracking his knuckles.

  “No screaming,” Tabby mumbles. “Jay, hurry up and get out of bed so he goes away and leaves me alone.”

  “Fine.”

  I sigh and wriggle my way out from under the blankets, then jump down to the floor, slide my feet into my jandals, and follow Alec out into the hazy glow of a show morning.

  I’m feeling nervous as I work Finn in for my class. It’s another metre-fifteen, but the jumps looked bigger than ever on the course walk, with sky high verticals, big bold oxers and several tight turns. I’m trying not to be nervous, but I can feel my hands shaking on the reins as I wait to ride into the ring.

  “Good luck,” Alec tells me as he rides out, patting Jack’s sweaty neck after notching up a tidy clear round. “You’ll be sweet, just try not to fall off before you get to the jumps.”

  “You’re hilarious,” I tell him sarcastically as Finn trots into the ring.

  I listen intently for my bell, not wanting to miss it as I had yesterday. The judges are busy writing down Alec’s time, so I take a breath and walk Finn up to the planks, letting her have a good look at them. She sniffs them carefully, and her nose bumps the top plank, making it swing on the flat cups. Finn snorts and jumps backwards, and the start bell rings.

  I rub her neck quickly as I shorten my reins, and press my pony into a canter. The loudspeaker updates the crowd as we approach the start flags.

  “That was a clear round for Alexander Harrison and Commodore, so they’ll be back for the jump off shortly. Our next combination to go is Jay Evans, riding That’s Final.”

  Finn is champing at the bit, and despite my best efforts to steady her, she takes the first fence off a long spot, rolling the front rail out of its cups. My heart sinks. I hate getting faults at the first jump, because there’s no chance of winning now, and I still have ten fences left in the course. I sit up as we land and try to rein my pony in, but she continues to ignore me, and somehow it seems like the harder I pull, the faster she goes. She knocks the next jump down, and the next. And the next. I get more and more frustrated, but it doesn’t get much better. At least you didn’t fall off, I tell myself as I land over the last jump and canter through the flags. And at least she didn’t have any refusals.

  “That was a twenty-four fault round for That’s Final,” the loudspeaker tells everyone, and I hang my head as Finn trots out of the ring, still dragging at the reins and adding to my embarrassment, wishing fervently that the ground would just open up and swallow us whole.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What’s wrong?” Alec sits down next to me on the truck ramp, chewing on a peanut butter sandwich. The smell is making me feel nauseous, and I sidle slightly away from him.

  “I entered the metre-twenty, but I don’t know whether I should do it or not.”

  Alec shrugs. “Do you want to?”

  “I…” I want to
say I’ve done it, I admit to myself. I want to tell people that I’ve competed at that height, because from there it’s only one more step to Pony Grand Prix. But do I actually want to jump that high, and risk further humiliation?

  “Finn can do it easy,” Alec assures me. “She’s only taking rails because she’s going too fast, but at least she’s going over.”

  “But I couldn’t slow her down. She wasn’t listening to me at all.”

  “Move your gag down onto the next ring,” he suggests. “And the bigger fences might back her off a bit.”

  I sigh. “I’m so conflicted.”

  “You can’t make any decision on an empty stomach,” Alec declares. “Have you had lunch yet?” He waves his sandwich in my face, offering me a bite, but I shake my head firmly.

  “Well you’d better hurry up and decide,” he tells me as he gets to his feet. “Class starts in less than an hour.”

  “What would you do?”

  He grins at me. “I’d do it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”

  I keep telling myself that as I canter Finn into the ring. The jumps look huge, bold and imposing, with big gaps between the poles and fancy-looking wings and fills. We’re in the main arena now, right in front of the large crowd. Not just horse people but the general public have come to see the show, and here I am, suddenly certain that I’m about to make a huge fool of myself.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I give Finn’s neck a quick scratch with my fingertips as the bell rings and the announcer gives the crowd our names. Finn tosses her head and the tinsel on her browband flashes in the sun. We canter towards the first jump, and it suddenly looks impossibly, ridiculously high. I hold my breath as it gets closer and closer. I can’t see my stride at all, have no idea when Finn is going to take off, and I feel myself starting to panic. Finn’s ears go back, her stride slows, and she weaves slightly in front of the fence before grinding to a halt.

  First refusal, first fence. What are you doing, Jay? I admonish myself, clenching my teeth as I turn my pony around for a second attempt. The jumps are only five centimetres higher than the ones you jumped this morning. Tabby is by the ring and she calls to me.

  “Kick her on!”

  I take a breath and canter back towards the jump, determined to make it over. What was it that one of my instructors in England used to say? Something about throwing your heart over first… I sit down and push Finn forward into the bridle. She collects her stride and canters a little more boldly this time, but I can tell that she’s losing her nerve.

  “Come on pony,” I urge her, and this time she jumps it, scrambling slightly but making it cleanly to the other side.

  We canter on to the rustic rails, and out of the corner of my eye I can see Claudia sitting on Titus and watching me. I struggle to concentrate as we reach the next jump. Finn baulks again, and I dig my spurs in. She flies over the jump, and I feel a thrill of excitement as we land. We’re really doing it, I think happily as we turn towards the next jump. We’re actually doing a metre-twenty round, and she’s jumping it easily!

  Finn has picked up speed now though, and she flies at the third fence, once again ignoring my attempts to slow her. It’s a one-stride double, and it’s only her quick reflexes that allow her to get through it cleanly, but at least it has slowed her down a little. Then I turn her to face the wall. It’s big and entirely solid, and Finn’s forward momentum abruptly stops as she props on her forelegs and drops the contact. Her head flies up into the air and her eyes bug out on stalks as she comes to a halt three strides away from the jump, snorting warily.

  My heart sinks as I talk to her reassuringly, telling her that’s it’s okay, it’s just another jump. I turn her away from it and pick up a canter again, giving her a sharp smack behind my leg with the whip to remind her that she has to go over this time. Finn bucks, but I’m expecting it and manage to keep my seat. Back towards the jump and push her on, eyes up and legs squeezing hard against her sweating sides, adrenalin pumping through my veins. But when we get to the base of the jump Finn changes her mind yet again, slamming on the brakes and sending me flying over the wall on my own.

  On the way home, I’m still feeling dispirited about how the show went, but I don’t realise that I’m sighing out loud until Alec tells me off.

  “Would you get over it already? We all have bad shows, they just make us appreciate the good ones even more,” he tells me in his usual forthright manner.

  “I guess. But Finn’s so wilful at the moment, and I don’t know how to make her listen to me better.”

  “Good thing we’ve got camp next week then,” he reminds me. “There’ll be heaps of instructors there to help you out.”

  “Do you know who’s coaching yet?” I ask as Tabby pulls off the road towards a petrol station.

  “Not yet,” he tells me, then leans forward and looks up at the forecourt roof, which looks ominously low. “Uh Mum, I don’t think we’re going to fit under that.”

  “Rubbish. You always say that, and it always fits.”

  “Yeah, but this one’s real low. Mum!” Alec’s voice starts to sound panicky as we drive under the overhang, and a horrific scraping noise over our heads quickly proves that Alec’s instincts were right.

  Tabby swears loudly and starts reversing, petrol station employees come running out the door of the shop, and Alec dives to the floor, hiding under the dashboard in embarrassment. I can’t stop laughing, even with the death glares we’re getting from all sides. There’s a station attendant waving frantically at us with one of those car window-washing things, and Tabby backs up, turns the truck back onto the highway, and puts her foot down.

  “There’s another one just a bit further up,” she says calmly. “I know I can fit under that.”

  Alec returns to his seat and tells his mum off for not listening to him, warning her that they’ll have taken her license number and they’ll bill her for damages.

  “I’d like to see them try. If they’re gonna build their overhang so low that a horse truck can’t fit under it, then they should put up warning signs that say so.”

  “Maybe they just expect people to use their common sense and watch where they’re going?” Alec snaps back, but there’s a hint of a grin on his face too.

  One thing’s for sure, anyway. Life’s never uneventful around here.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I can’t walk in the Harrisons’ gate these days without being accosted by puppies. The pups have grown so fast, and there are now always five balls of manic fur around Alec’s feet. The puppies leap and bound around him as he walks down the drive, and one of them comes running towards off towards me at top speed. Another one follows, and soon the two are engaged in a furious race. I crouch down and encourage them on, recognising the second pup as my favourite, the little male with the mischievous-looking face. He swiftly overtakes the leader, glances over his shoulder in delight, then hits a pothole and somersaults, face-planting into the dirt. The other puppy sprints past him and reaches me first, but when I reach down to congratulate her, she runs back to her littermates.

  The other pup is back on his feet, trying to look like he doesn’t care as she dashes back past him. I call to the little guy and he comes bounding over, jumping up on me and trying to lick my face.

  “You’re cute,” I tell him. “Bit uncoordinated, but very cute.”

  “He’s such an egg, that one,” Alec tells me as he catches up, and I’m surrounded by a swarm of black and white puppies. “Always tripping over things and getting himself into trouble.”

  “He’s so cute. I wish my dad would’ve let me have him.”

  “Too late now,” he replies. “They’re all spoken for. Going to their new homes after Christmas.”

  I look down at the puppy in disappointment. “Oh.”

  “They’re all going to farms, which is good. Border collies are bred to be farm dogs, they can be a nightmare in town when people don’t exercise them enough.”

  “What’s his name
?”

  Alec shrugs. “Doesn’t have one. We didn’t name them yet ‘cause the owners will wanna give them their own names, so…”

  “True.” I ruffle the pup’s head and he wags his tail happily. I know what I’d call him if he was mine – I have the perfect name in mind. But he’s not mine, and he never will be.

  “Ready to get the ponies in?” I ask Alec as I get to my feet. “Finn’s looking forward to being a shepherd’s hack.”

  Alec had asked me a couple of days ago to help them bring the sheep in for shearing today, and I’d assumed we’d be using the ponies to herd them down. But he shakes his head and leads the way towards the woolshed, which is already buzzing with activity.

  “Nah, we’ll get the mob out of the creek paddock first, then the ones off Base Rd. Easier to take the quad for them, since the tracks are good so they’ll just run up the race. Ponies can do the afternoon run bringing the rest of them off Pine Ridge.”

  The puppies dart past us, scrambling over each other and yapping in excitement. “Do the puppies get to come?”

  Alec scoffs. “No way, we’re locking this lot up before we go. Stock work is what the real dogs are for.”

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting on the back of the quad with Alec as we go haring over the hills to bring the sheep in with the working dogs. Rebel takes his job seriously, but Bouncer starts a rabbit and takes off after it. Alec calls him back with a sharp, ear-splitting whistle that makes me wince, then tells me to hold on and heads the bike straight down the steep side of a hill after the scattering sheep.

  I cling as tightly as I can, the wind in my face making my eyes water as the quad bounces over the lumpy ground before finally reaching the flat again. The dogs are back in formation and run the sheep through the gate, and I jump off to close it behind us. We’re in the raceway now, and we slow down and jog the woolly ewes down to the shearing pens under the woolshed.