by Kate Lattey
I gather up my reins and push Finn into her fast, smooth canter. Circling before the jump, I hear the bell ring and turn towards the first fence, an upright of unpainted poles. Finn canters quickly towards it, head up, ears pricked. She takes off further out than I expect, making a huge leap over the fence, and I get left behind and land uncomfortably at the back of the saddle. I quickly regain my seat as I turn her towards the next jump. Finn clears it as easily and enthusiastically as the first, but I lose a stirrup on landing. I’m struggling to get it back as I turn her towards the double. She puts in another huge leap over the first fence, leaving her too close to the second to fit in another stride, but too far out to take off. Finn quickly makes up her mind and stops abruptly, swinging off to the side. I slide in the saddle but manage to stay on, getting my stirrup back and pulling the mare up. So much for impressing the spectators. I can feel my face go red as I think of what they might be saying about me, and hope like mad that Natalie and the twins aren’t watching.
Setting my teeth, I trot Finn back to the first element, take a deep breath as she leaps into a canter and hold her firmly together as she approaches the jumps. I keep the reins tight as she clears the first fence, holding her back as she surges towards the second fence, and she springs off her hocks and over-jumps the spread by a huge margin. Again I’m left behind, and ready to murder my pony for making me look bad. I’d been so sure I would show everyone here what a brilliant pony I have, and here she is making me look like a fool. I steady her quick strides as much as I can, and turn her to the next jump. She flies over, but this time I’m expecting the size of her leap and stay with her. We complete the rest of the course with no more disasters but after flying the last jump, it takes me a full circuit of the ring to get Finn back under control. I’m shaking my head in disappointment as I trot her out of the ring. Sarah passes me on her bay pony, looking perfectly turned out as usual.
“Cool pony,” she says as Mickey trots smoothly past us, calm and supple and on the bit. I clench my teeth and ride over to Alec and Tabby, standing by the ringside ropes.
“Not bad,” Alec says, and I shoot him a dirty look, sick of people making fun of me. He gets defensive. “Hey, I was serious. For your first time doing a proper course on her, that was all right. She was a bit ahead of you, but at least you didn’t fall off.”
I frown, looking out at Sarah jumping effortlessly over the jumps in the ring.
“Come on, you can’t compare yourself to that,” Tabby says to me, patting Finn’s sweaty shoulder. “She’s had that pony for a couple of years, and he was jumping Grand Prix before she got him. All she’s got to do is sit there while he goes over. I don’t know what she’s even doing in a class this height, it’s hardly fair.”
“Finn stopped,” I mutter, still not seeing how they could consider my round a success.
“Because she came into the jump totally wrong,” Alec points out, sounding irritated now. “You’d rather she tried to jump and took the whole thing down, or landed on it? She could’ve fallen and hurt herself, but she’s smart enough to know that she couldn’t make it. She’s got a brain, that’s generally considered a good thing.”
The steward calls his name, and he turns Dolly and trots her away. I sigh and pat Finn’s neck, relaxing a little. Maybe it wasn’t such a disaster. After all, it is only our first time. I slide my feet out of the stirrups and nudge Finn into a walk, letting her stretch her neck out on a loose rein.
As we wander, I look around me and remind myself just how lucky I am to be here, and on my very own pony. The sun is shining, the sky is blue with no sign of rain, and I’m surrounded by ponies of all shapes and sizes. A girl trots past me on a tubby chestnut, bouncing hard in the saddle, her pony looking utterly fed up with the situation but being too polite to object. Two young Pony Clubbers are sitting sideways in their saddles under the shade of a willow tree, sharing a can of Coke and watching the jumping going on in the ring. A tiny kid on a shaggy lead-rein pony is bawling her eyes out, and I’m watching her try to punch her long-suffering mother when a woman on a huge, out of control black horse comes charging past, scattering ponies in all directions. I rein Finn in and glare at the woman along with everyone else.
“If you can’t control it, don’t bring it to Pony Club!” someone yells after her.
The bell rings and I turn to watch Alec’s round. Dolly has her nose poking out and her usual wide-eyed expression, as though she’s wondering how on earth she ended up here, but Alec is sitting on her easily as she spooks and baulks, his seat relaxed in the saddle, hands light and still. He jumps her around the course neatly, a clear round, and I drop my reins to clap as he trots out of the ring.
“Nice one,” I tell him and he shrugs.
“She knows her job now. Still a bit hesitant, and she almost stopped at the wall, but she’s getting more confident now she’s had more mileage. Cheers for that.”
Dolly goes clear in her jump-off and places third in the class, which Sarah unsurprisingly wins on Mickey. Alec and I take the ponies back to the truck and tie them up while we eat lunch before our next class. I’m jumping right after Alec this time, and Tabby and I stand at the gate and watch him go. He’s going quite fast, as this class is a speed round. Alec’s position over fences is definitely unorthodox, but he doesn’t interfere with his pony’s technique. Dolly jumps bravely, for her, but knocks two rails down.
“Go steady,” Tabby advises me. “Don’t try and win your first time out, just ride for a nice clear round. There will be plenty of opportunities to be competitive later. Think of this as a schooling session.”
That makes sense, I think to myself. After all, this is just a tiny Pony Club event, just for practice and nothing to get excited about. We’ll save our best efforts for the big shows. Alec shakes his head ruefully as we pass each other at the gate, Finn trying to aim a kick at poor Dolly.
Finn jumps better this time, starting out a little mad and overenthusiastic, but she quickly discovers that these larger jumps take more effort, and she allows me to steady her between fences. We rattle a couple of top rails, but nothing falls down, and I’m beaming with pride as we trot out of the ring, passing Natalie as she rides Spider in. She looks straight past me, as though I’m not even there, and kicks Spider into a canter. I walk Finn out of the ring and dismount, running up her stirrups and patting her neck.
“Such a good girl. What a good mare,” I praise her.
Alec rides up to me, feet dangling out of his stirrups, reins slack on Dolly’s neck. “Not bad for your second ever round on her,” he grins at me.
The bell rings and I turn to watch Natalie’s round. She’s cantering Spider slowly in a circle, then turns him towards the first fence. He pricks his ears and starts to increase his speed, but Natalie keeps her rein tight and holds him back to a very slow pace, insisting he keep his head down and neck arched. Spider reaches the fence without really being able to see it, and meets it on the wrong stride. He jumps, but knocks down the back rail. He bucks in frustration after the fence and Natalie is momentarily unseated. She yanks his head up, growling at him, and turns him to the next jump, still with a stranglehold on the reins. He wants to jump and he’s starting to pull against her, speeding up despite her hold on his mouth. Somehow he makes it over, and they negotiate most of the course this way, but when they come to number seven, a wide oxer, Spider has had enough. Bracing his front legs, he slides right into the jump, scattering the poles. Natalie, clearly shaken, turns him away as a few local volunteers duck under the arena ropes and rebuild the jump.
“Give him a smack Natalie!” comes the inevitable call from her mother at ringside, and Natalie uses her whip to give Spider two solid whacks behind her leg. He squeals in protest and kicks out with a hind leg, and even from here I can see her face go pale. She’s scared of him, I realise suddenly. But he’s such a nice pony, he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. What’s to be afraid of? Natalie turns Spider back towards the jump and he grabs at the bit, rushing
into the fence and leaping over. Careening madly to the last jump, Natalie is no more than a passenger, and at the last moment Spider realises this and ducks out to the side. Caught off guard, she slides down his shoulder and hits the ground hard.
Alec tosses Dolly’s reins at me as he vaults off her back and jumps into the open gateway, blocking Spider’s attempted escape. The grey pony skids to a stop and Alec, quick as always, grabs his reins.
“Easy there buddy,” he tells him as he leads him back over to Natalie. She’s on her feet, her mother literally brushing her off and loudly telling her what she did wrong. For a moment I’m thankful that I’ll never have to suffer that kind of embarrassment. As Alec hands the reins to Natalie, she catches my eye, and we stare at each other for a moment before she looks away. Without even thanking Alec, she leads out of the ring. A few people start clapping, as if it wasn’t entirely her own fault that she fell off.
“Bad luck,” Sarah tells Natalie sympathetically as she trots past on her grey pony. Personally I think Spider’s the one with the bad luck, stuck with a rider like that. I watch the girl in the ring now, who’s having a hard time holding her solid roan pony despite all the junk she’s put in his mouth, and Alec takes Dolly’s reins back from me. We start to walk our ponies back to the truck, passing Natalie and her mother arguing by their float.
“He can jump that height easily, you’ve done it before.”
Natalie scowls at her. “He’s not in the mood today, he’s being stupid.”
“All the more reason to make him go out there and do it!” her mother replies. “I paid good money for that pony and he’s not to get away with that kind of naughty behaviour, especially over an easy course like that. Brooke jumped a clear round and her pony’s much smaller.”
“Zeke’s easy, anyone can jump him. Spider’s different.”
“I’ve had enough of this!” Natalie’s mother is really angry. “You’ll get back on that pony and go and jump your next round. No arguments.”
Natalie glares at her, but her shoulders drop and I can see the fight go out of her. “Fine. But if I fall off and break my neck, just remember it was all your fault!”
Remounting, she hauls her poor pony around by the rein and kicks him into a hurried trot. As she rides past us, I can see her blinking back tears.
Alec and I look at each other, and he shakes his head. “Poor pony.”
“I know,” I reply. “Imagine having to put up with that.”
Natalie’s mum walks around from the other side of the float and glares at us, clearly having overheard. She doesn’t say anything, but leaves me with a burning face.
Alec doesn’t seem to care. “She’s a cow, worse than her daughters,” he tells me. “Mum’s had fights with her before. She thinks that because she spends a ton of money on everything top of the line, ponies and tack and whole nine yards, that it gives her the right to look down on people like us who actually have to work to earn our ponies. I reckon Natalie’ll give up riding completely soon. You see it all the time. Like I said before, the problem with buying your kid a pushbutton pony is that when they move on to something they have to actually ride, they can’t work out how to do it.”
“Can’t find the right buttons?” I suggest cheekily and he laughs.
“Exactly.”
“Well I can’t wait for her to give up,” I tell him honestly. “Imagine the relief.”
“Her pony will be pretty happy too,” he agrees.
We reach the truck and untack the ponies, throwing rugs over them and leaving them with buckets of water and small haynets. Tabby is helping to steward in the lower ring, so we’ve got to wait a bit before we can leave. We walk back down to the ring and Alec nudges me.
“There goes Pushbutton.”
I turn to see Natalie riding into the ring again. Her body is tense and rigid, hands clenched on the reins, and Spider is coiled tight as a spring.
“This should go well,” I tell Alec sarcastically, and he grins. Natalie canters a tight circle in front of the first fence, her whole body tensed as if for battle.
“She’s nervous,” I tell Alec. “She thinks he’s going to stop again.”
“He will, if she keeps on riding him like that.”
The bell rings and Natalie turns Spider towards the first fence. He backs off it as soon as he sees it, unwilling to jump any more.
“Get after him Natalie!” her mother yells and Natalie digs in her heels and, thankfully, lets Spider’s head go. He canters forward and leaps neatly over the jump. Someone on the sidelines inexplicably cheers as she turns to the next fence and he gets over that too, and the third. Spider’s going too fast now and Natalie knows it, so she pulls him in on the turn towards the double. He hesitates and drops back behind the bit, but she pushes him on. Spider takes two big strides but arrives at the fence on the wrong stride, missing his take-off point. Panicking, he skids to a stop and Natalie falls onto his neck. Her mother groans as the poles clatter to the ground again, and someone’s helpful father runs into the ring with the steward to rebuild the jump. Natalie circles her pony, and as she trots past us, Alec calls out to her.
“You’re pushing the wrong button!”
I can’t help myself, I crack up laughing. Natalie shoots both of us a dirty look and tries the jump again. Spider goes over this time and jumps the second element, but he’s fractious and making life increasingly difficult for her. Ears pinned back, he tosses his head constantly, fighting against her stranglehold on the rein.
“She’s got to let his head go,” I say.
Tabby comes over to stand with us, and makes a disapproving sound at the sight of Natalie kicking Spider over the remaining jumps.
“Shame,” she says as the pony stag-leaps into the air, scattering rails behind him. “He could be a nice pony, that one.”
“She’s gonna totally wreck him,” Alec tells her, and Tabby nods.
“Not our problem though. Come on, let’s head home.”
I shoot a final look over my shoulder as we leave. Spider is refusing the last jump, digging his heels into the ground and flinging his head around in frustration. I feel sorry for him, and wonder how Natalie can possibly think she’s doing the right thing, riding him like that.
* * *
I spend the next three days in a state of nervous panic as I wait for Finn’s owner to ring. It’s been over two weeks now with no word from them. Alec tells me to stop stressing myself out and just call the woman myself, but I’m worried that she won’t accept my $2,000 budget and if that’s the case, I’d rather delay the inevitable. Tegan suggests telling her that Finn has been really badly behaved, so clearly isn’t worth the asking price, but that I’m willing to take a chance on her because of her breeding.
“Make her think that you’re doing her a favour by taking the pony off her hands,” she insists.
Alec overhears and agrees with her. “She’ll be wanting to get rid of her. She’s just sitting in the paddock doing nothing. But she’ll try and get the full amount out of you, they always do. Stick to your guns and tell her that two grand is your best offer. Tell her that’s all you have. She might take pity on you.”
The words sting, although he doesn’t mean them to, unaware of how much I loathe being pitied. After my mum died, my friends had all tiptoed around me, afraid to laugh or make a joke in front of me. They’d all treated me like I was made of glass, when all I’d wanted was for them to treat me the same as they always had.
I’m still not sure what I’m going to say to Carolyn when the phone rings on Wednesday night. Dad answers it, then calls up to me moments later.
“Jay? Phone for you.”
I walk apprehensively down the stairs, my heart pounding. Dad is in the kitchen washing up and making a racket so I shut myself into the living room as I answer.
“Hello?”
“Jay, it’s Carolyn here. How’s that pony getting on?”
“Good.” I try not to sound too enthusiastic, remembering Tegan’s advice. �
��She passed her vetting,” I tell her.
“Of course she did, there was nothing wrong with her.” Except that she was about 100kg underweight, according to the vet, but I kept quiet. “And have you done a bit of jumping? Tried her out over some fences?”
“Yeah, a bit. I took her to a little show. She had one refusal in her first round, but then jumped clear.”
“You know refusals are always the rider’s fault,” Carolyn tells me, her voice carrying loudly down the phone. I feel my face go red and I’m sure that she’s wrong about that, but I don’t want to start an argument. “So are you keen to buy her then?”
“Well she needs a lot of schooling still,” I tell the woman hesitantly, stumbling over the words in my nervousness. “There’s a lot she doesn’t know.”
“She knows how to jump, and that’s what you want her for,” the woman replies brusquely. “I did tell you she hadn’t done much dressage, but you said you wanted a show jumper.”
“Yes, I know.” My heart is sinking. There’s no way she’s going to accept my price for Finn. “It’s just, well, she…” I run out of words, too terrified of what she might say when I offer her my price.
“Spit it out,” Carolyn demands. “What’s wrong?”
I opt for honesty, knowing Tegan will be furious with me. Why tell the truth when a lie always sounds better? she’d insist, but I’m not her and I can’t bring myself to lie.
“I can only afford two thousand for her,” I tell Carolyn in a rush. “I just moved here and my dad doesn’t have much money, and that’s all he can afford. My mum died last year,” I add, figuring why lay out just one pity card when I can play the whole hand? “And I’ve always wanted my own pony, and I think Finn…your pony is great. But I know you were asking for more…” I trail off as Carolyn remains silent on the other end of the line.