Clearwater Bay 2- Against the Clock

by Kate Lattey

  “Are you okay?” I ask her as I pat Nonny effusively.

  She shakes her head, cradling her right hand in her left. “He bent my finger back big time over that Liverpool. I think it’s broken, I can’t move it.”

  “Oh no!”

  I walk Nonny around for her while she gets rushed to the First Aid tent, and help her mum untack him and wash him off, only making it back to the ring in time to see Savannah starting her round. Unfortunately her horse also takes a dislike to the Liverpool and refuses, sending her flying off over his head and crashing onto the jump. She’s not hurt, but she has been eliminated from the competition, and she stomps out of the ring, fuming.

  Anneke joins me at the rail twenty minutes later as Ellie waits at the gate to go in, the final rider for Waikato.

  “How’s your hand?” I ask Anneke.

  “Not broken, thank God. They’ve splinted it up and I’ve just got to rest it as much as I can before tomorrow night. Pony of the Year,” she reminds me as I give her a blank look.

  “Oh right. I hope it’s better by then!”

  “Even if it’s not, I’m still riding,” Anneke says determinedly. “It’ll take more than that to stop me. I heard Sav fell off!”

  “Yeah, unfortunately. And Northland and Canterbury have both posted triple clear rounds and are sitting on equal zero, so there’s definitely going to be a jump off. Ellie has to go clear if we want to be in it,” I explain, crossing my fingers and holding them up to her.

  But Anneke shakes her head, looking worried.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Aslan’s sore.”

  “What?” I look back at Ellie’s big chestnut horse in the ring. She’s showing him the planks and he sniffs them carefully. “He looks okay to me.”

  “He got in a fight with the horse in the yard next to him last night. He’s got a fat fetlock and he’s really feeling it. She’s been cold hosing it all night and we’ve tried everything, but he’s been stopping at the practice jump. If he gets around clear it will be a miracle.”

  “Oh no.” My heart sinks as I realise what this means. If Ellie doesn’t jump clear, we’re out of the top placings, especially since Wairarapa-Wellington are sitting on only two time faults, and Taranaki are right behind them with three. One rail down, and we’ll end up in fifth place, and there are no prizes for fifth today. It’s top four or nowhere, and I sigh as I watch Ellie pick up a canter.

  “Last to jump for Waikato, this is Ellie Warren riding Lionheart.”

  I look carefully at Ellie’s horse as she approaches the first jump, and almost immediately I see what Anneke means. Aslan usually moves so smoothly and fluidly, but today he’s a little off behind, almost stilted in his movement. He slows down as he approaches the first jump, but Ellie sits down and drives him forward, urging him on. He jumps cautiously, leaving the fence up, and I grip the rail tightly in my hands, willing her on.

  Anneke and I watch in breathless agony as Ellie rides the course, pushing Aslan on, knowing that he wants to stop but asking him to keep going anyway, to do it for the team. And Aslan, to his credit, does his very best. Even when he slips on take-off into the planks, and Anneke grabs my arm and swears, he twists his body in mid-air, tucking his hooves tightly against his body, doing his utmost not to let the rails fall. He scrapes through the treble, hitting every top rail but none of them fall, and suddenly Ellie is two fences from home and still clear.

  “I can’t believe it,” Anneke breathes. “I can’t believe he’s doing it.”

  “She’s not home yet,” I remind her. “Don’t jinx it!”

  Anneke’s grip on my arm tightens as Aslan clears the oxer, and canters down to the vertical. My heart is pounding in my chest as I watch, and it suddenly occurs to me to check the time. He’s cantering quite slowly, and it’ll be the worst luck if she ends up with time faults! I look at the clock in the bottom corner of the big screen. I’m so focused on checking her time that I forget to watch her jump the last fence, but when Anneke screams and grabs me in a one-armed hug, jumping up and down in excitement, I realise that somehow Ellie did it. She went clear, and we’re in the jump off!

  Anneke and I run to congratulate her as she comes out of the ring. As soon as she is in the chute, she jumps off Aslan’s back and hugs him fiercely.

  “You are the best, most bravest horse anyone ever rode,” she tells him through her tears.

  I grin at her, then look down at his right hind leg. The fetlock is swollen and puffy, and he’s unwilling to put his weight on it.

  “I can’t believe he did it!” Anneke gasps, grabbing Ellie in a hug. Ellie hugs her back, then grins at me.

  “I can’t either. He really lived up to his name today,” she says proudly, rubbing his head. “Come on buddy, let’s get you looked after.” And she leads Aslan away, his limp becoming more pronounced with every step he takes.

  Kim comes rushing towards us, looking excited. “It’s down to the wire now, girls! Jay, you’d better go and get your pony ready for the jump off.”

  I stare at her in shock. “You want me to do the jump off?”

  “Has to be,” Kim points out. “Aslan’s lame, Anneke’s hurt and Savannah got eliminated, so she can’t go back into the ring. It’s got to be you.”

  “But…”

  Anneke claps me on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll help you tack up. Quick! We don’t have much time.”

  My hands are shaking on the reins as I ride Finn down the chute towards the arena entrance. Waikato have been drawn second in the jump off, and the rider from Northland is in the arena now, zooming around the course and cutting all the corners. I halt Finn at the gate and look up at the screen in time to see the Northland rider’s pony skid on the turn and crash through the big grey oxer, scattering poles. The rider is flung forward onto her pony’s neck, and has to push herself back into the saddle and balance her pony in time before the last fence comes up, but somehow she manages and gets over cleanly. I’m impressed, and drop Finn’s reins to add to the applause of the appreciative crowd. Finn starts forward, and the steward nods to me. I swiftly regather my reins and trot into the arena, looking around and drinking it all in, savouring the moment. I tell myself not to be nervous, but it’s harder this time. This time my team are relying on me, and if I stuff up, there’s no dropping my score. This is going to count, no matter what. Anneke waves to me from the rail, where she’s standing with Savannah and Kim. Alec is there too, and Abby, and behind her I can see Ellie hurrying back towards the ring to watch me jump.

  I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves, when a stand of saddle blankets near the ring gets knocked over. The metal stand crashes against a nearby picnic table, making a loud noise and scaring Finn. She leaps sideways, eyes goggling, just as the buzzer goes, giving me 45 seconds to start my round. I need to get focused, and now.

  I gather Finn together, holding her canter steady and speaking to her quietly, reassuring her that she’s going to be fine, and reminding her to get her head in the game.

  “This is it,” I tell my pony. “This is what we’ve been working for, what we’ve been fighting for, all this time.” I focus on the first jump as I steer her through the start flags. “Let’s show them what we can do.”

  Finn strains against my hand as we approach the first jump, but as soon as we land I turn her sharply towards the planks, and she suddenly remembers that she’s in a jump off. Her game face on, she stops thinking about anything other than which jump is next, and how quickly we can get to it. I focus on sitting up on the turns, balancing her and finding accurate distances, and together we fly around the shortened course.

  And as we gallop down to the last, knowing we’re coming home clear, I start seeing victory. It’s so close I can smell it…and then Finn speeds up, her canter flattens, and she jumps badly. Her front feet hit the top rail, and it wobbles precariously in the cups, then topples to the ground.

  Four faults. I’m shaking my head ruefully as I pull Finn up and head towards
the gate. The rider from Canterbury is entering the ring on a big, long-striding horse. She looks confident, and I realise that she knows that all she has to do is go clear, and her team has taken out the title of Pony Club Team of the Year. I sigh as I meet my teammates, who commiserate with me.

  “She was going so well!”

  “You rode brilliantly!”

  I shake my head. “I lost focus at the last, it was my fault.” I leap off Finn’s back and give her a big hug. “She was amazing though, I’m so proud of her!”

  “Be proud of you too,” Abby tells me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and giving me a tight squeeze. “You rode really well out there. Until the last fence, anyway,” she teases. “And you beat the Northland rider’s time, so you just rode your team into first place.”

  “Not for long,” I point out. “There’s one more rider to go, and she doesn’t have to go fast.”

  “No, but she has to go clear, and anything can happen. Never say never.”

  I nod, but I decide not to get my hopes up. Second place is still amazing, and although I’m disappointed in myself, I’m elated with Finn, and I continue rubbing her sweaty neck as we walk up the chute. Then I hear Anneke give a yell, and I turn back to look. She glances over her shoulder at me and Abby, her eyes bright.

  “She knocked down the first fence!”

  I hurry Finn back towards the gate, suddenly eager to watch. No longer just needing a clear round, the rider from Canterbury has to go fast now, and not have any more rails down. She adds speed, and I watch intently as she swerves between the jumps, pushing her horse off tight lines and sharp angles, and several times I suck in a breath, unable to believe that the horse hasn’t taken a rail yet, but everything else is still in its cups. As she comes towards the last two fences, I glance at the clock.

  “What was my time?” I ask Abby.

  “Thirty six point six five,” she replies, her eyes fixed on the horse as it approaches the oxer. The clock on the screen ticks over thirty seconds as I watch it, and I know that all that stands between us now is the chance of this rider taking another rail. The horse jumps awkwardly over the oxer, but leaves the poles up. His rider urges him on, galloping the line to the vertical, trying to leave a stride out. I gasp as the horse takes off from a really long spot, stretching his body over the fence. His forelegs are clear, and he tucks up his hind legs, but he’s coming down too quickly, and despite his best efforts, his back feet hit the pole. It wobbles, looks like it’s going to settle, then falls.

  I stand in shock as my team erupts into a burst of screaming excitement. Finn pulls back from me, goggling at the end of her reins as Anneke comes running towards us, and Abby snatches Finn’s reins from my hand just before Anneke tackles me in a bear hug.

  “WE WON!”

  I’ll never forget the glory of that victory lap, the adrenalin and excitement of the gallop around the ring, Anneke on one side of me, riding one-handed, and Savannah on the other, with Ellie struggling to contain a fidgeting Aslan in the middle of the ring.

  The bright red sash gleams around Finn’s neck, and the black show rug flaps over her hindquarters as we ride around the perimeter of the premier arena. The other teams follow us, Northland in second place and Canterbury finishing third, with Wairarapa-Wellington in fourth. The other teams pull up as we are urged on for a final lap by the announcer, and as we pass the gate, Anneke waves me forward to take the lead.

  “Go for it!”

  With the strains of Stand up for the Champions ringing in my ears, Finn and I thunder past the grandstand, her hoofbeats blending into the clapping rhythm of the crowd, who cheer loudly as Finn and I lead the way around the ring.

  I guess it’s true what they say about horses being great levellers. Yesterday we were a complete failure, but somehow we picked ourselves up. As we gallop past the grandstand once more, I think of all the people who helped me get here, who always believed in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself. Who assured me that I could do it, even when I thought I couldn’t. All of the people I’m so lucky to have in my life, and I grin and pat Finn’s glossy neck as she canters proudly back to the gate where everyone is waiting to congratulate me.

  The best kind of people are the ones that come into your life

  and make you see the sun where you once saw clouds.

  The people that believe in you so much,

  you start to believe in you too.

  The people that love you simply for being you.

  The once in a lifetime kind of people.

  - unknown

  Jay’s story continues in

  Clearwater Bay #3

  HIGH JUMP

  I jog Finn down the road, enjoying the feeling of her bunching muscles beneath me, the gentle tug of her mouth against the bit. The road stretches ahead of us and Finn dances sideways, wanting to canter along the wide verge. I nudge her over with my leg and she springs forward eagerly. We’ve taken six or seven strides when we both hear the hoofbeats. Finn slams on the brakes and I turn in the saddle as we see a light grey pony cantering along the road towards us, his shod hooves sending up sparks on the sealed road. I turn Finn towards him, blocking his flight, and he slows at the sight of us.

  “Good girl,” I murmur to Finn as the pony approaches, his curved ears pricked and wide nostrils flaring. I reach down and grab his rein, then stare at him. He’s absolutely stunning. Every inch of him screams show jumper, from the arch of his solid neck to the slope of his powerful hocks. His mane is pulled and his tail trimmed, his jumping saddle looks brand new, and his legs are expertly bandaged.

  “Where on earth did you come from?” I ask the mystery pony. He responds by trying to touch noses with Finn, who squeals in protest and strikes out with a foreleg.

  “Don’t you dare,” I tell her. “We cannot afford to hurt this pony. He’s probably worth more than our house.” Not that that’s saying much, I reflect. The little house that Dad and I live in is hardly a mansion. But it’s home, and I wouldn’t trade it for all of the mansions in the world. Well, maybe I would, but only if I could sell the mansion and use the money to buy a farm. And even then, I’d probably have our house moved onto it, so I could keep living there. I’ve grown attached to the place.

  I pull the reins over the pony’s head and turn him back in the direction he came from, closing my legs around Finn’s sides and urging her on. She argues, tossing her pretty chestnut head and shooting death glares at the grey pony, but she doesn’t try to kick him again.

  We trot back up the road for a short distance before the pony pricks his ears and makes to veer off up Valley Road.

  “You don’t live up there,” I tell him. “I would know if you lived on my road.” But the pony is insistent, and as I struggle to turn him away, I see his rider.

  She’s small, skinny in that awkward way that kids are when they haven’t quite hit puberty yet. She’s walking towards us with her head down, the sun glinting off the diamantes on her helmet. Her cream breeches have a grass stain on one knee, and there’s an ugly looking scrape on her elbow. Her eyes are downcast, and she doesn’t notice us until the grey pony whinnies shrilly.

  The girl’s head shoots up, but instead of running up to us, her steps slow, then stop completely.

  “Is this your pony?” I call to her.

  She nods, but still makes no move towards him. Rolling my eyes, I nudge Finn into a walk, and lead the grey pony over to the girl. Up close I can see that she’s not quite as young as I’d thought. Short for her age, probably. Younger than me, but only by a year or two. She looks up at me with big grey-blue eyes, and I hold her pony’s reins out to her.

  “Here.” She doesn’t move. “Well, take him.”

  Her gloved hand reaches out and grasps the soft leather reins. The pony touches her with his nose, then his ears flicker back and he nips her sharply on the forearm.

  “Don’t, Misty!” she protests, pushing his head feebly away from her. Misty gives her a sideways look and swings his head
back towards her again. The girl jumps backwards, and the pony tosses his head, clearly pleased with himself.

  “He’s got your number all right,” I tell her.

  “I know,” she says.

  “Why don’t you tell him off?”

  She shrugs. “It makes him worse.”

  “I doubt it,” I tell her firmly. “Where’d you come from, anyway? You don’t live around here.”

  “Yes I do. We just moved in up the road.” She points over her shoulder, and I realise who she is at the same time as my brain registers her American accent.

  “Your family bought Clearwater Estate.”

  I stare at her again, reeling with jealousy. I’ve always coveted that place, ever since the day I first came here and saw it behind the big wrought iron gates. Especially once I’d ridden up into the hills above it and looked down onto the big house, huge barn and full size jumping arena. Alec had mentioned that someone had been out grading the arena last week, and tidying up the stables, but nobody had said anything about the rich American who’d bought the place having a daughter. I look at the pony she’s holding, a pony that’s clearly been bred to jump, and wonder why she looks so terrified of him.

  “Are you going to get back on?” I ask her.

  “Um...” she hesitates.

  “Go on. I’ll ride back up the road with you,” I offer. “Make sure you don’t fall off again.”

  “Okay.”

  Finn paws the ground impatiently as the girl lifts the reins back over Misty’s head and prepares to mount. The grey pony keeps spinning away from her when she lifts her foot to the stirrup, and in the end I have to grab his rein again to keep him still enough for her to get back into the saddle. But eventually she’s on board, and I let Finn move on up the road, watching the kid as she rides alongside me. She sits well, with her heels down and back straight, hands light on the reins as Misty strides out with ears pricked forward. If it wasn’t for the look of terror on the girl’s face, they would look picture perfect.