by Kate Lattey
At the top of the hill he slowed, and I put one hand on the reins again and patted his firm neck. “Good boy.” Even I could hear the smile in my voice. Buck snorted and tossed his head playfully, and I laughed at my usually staid, serious pony. He was having fun too.
I turned him along the top of the ridge and let him move up into a jog. The long grass tickled the soles of my bare feet as we went, and I looked up at the full moon, hovering above us in the dark night sky. Thousands of tiny stars sparkled overhead, and I heard a morepork call in the distance.
Something in front of us moved suddenly, startled out of its slumber and squawking as it ran through the long grass. A pheasant maybe, or a pukeko. Buck stopped abruptly, blowing hard through his nostrils, and I slipped sideways. I grabbed his mane to keep my balance and Buck shifted under me, helping me out. I rubbed his neck, then leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight. Feeling more in sync with him than I ever had before. We’d always made a good team, always been able to work together well, but this was different somehow. Maybe because we were both just there for fun. No pressure. No strings attached. Just him and me and the full moon, and whatever that had been in the grass. Buck was over it now, and he dropped his head to grab a few sneaky mouthfuls, forgetting his manners. I almost pitched forward over his neck, and I laughed again as I sat up and let him graze for a moment.
I should’ve done this years ago. Why had it never even occurred to me before?
I could hear Skip whinnying as we approached the barn, and I felt a pang of guilt. He hated being left behind. Maybe next time I’d take him instead. Or maybe I’d let him come too, see if he would be happy to run alongside Buck, free to play up as much as he wanted to without a rider on his back. I smiled at the thought. Skip came into view as Buck jogged down the hill, equally eager to get back to his friend. Then I realised that my chestnut pony wasn’t alone.
Dad was standing by the gate to his paddock, one hand on Skip’s neck. Watching me and Buck as we rode up to him, and I suddenly realised that I was riding alone, without a helmet, without a saddle or bridle or even shoes on. In the dark. I was about to get in some serious trouble.
I rode up to my father and halted Buck with just a light touch on the rope, then slid guiltily to the ground. Skip reached over the gate and sniffed his friend’s nose to reassure himself that he was really back, and I waited for my father to explode.
“Skip was screaming his head off,” he told me.
“Sorry.”
“I was worried. I didn’t know where you were.”
“Sorry,” I said again. “I went for a ride.”
“I know. I saw you.” He pointed up towards the ridgeline, and I realised that I must’ve been silhouetted up there. I wondered if he’d seen me almost fall off, and was immensely grateful that I hadn’t. I waited for him to start yelling, but he didn’t. He turned away from me and stroked Skip’s face.
“I’m going to miss these two.”
I felt a lump rise in my throat, and struggled to swallow around it. “Me too.”
He didn’t say anything, just looked at me sadly. I grabbed Buck’s cover off the gate and threw it back over him. Dad buckled the front while I did the back, and I let Buck into his paddock again. He wandered off to roll, Skip shadowing his steps closely.
Dad and I leaned on the gate and watched them go.
“Did you have fun?”
I looked at him as the moon slid behind a small cloud, making his face harder to make out in the dimmed light.
“It was amazing,” I told him honestly.
He let out a long breath, then stood up straight. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to packing.”
I turned to face him. “You could ask us to stay, you know.”
The moon returned from behind its wispy cloud, lighting his face clearly. He looked confused, then hopeful. “You think that’d work?”
“I think that’s what Mum’s waiting for,” I told him honestly.
We stared at each other for a moment longer, then he looked away over my shoulder and stared off into the distance. I knew he wouldn’t do it. He was too proud. But I really wished he would try.
I hung the halter on the gatepost, and put a hand on his arm as I passed him.
“Goodnight Dad.”
The next morning, I found my mother in the kitchen making coffee in her dressing gown. I stopped and stared. She padded across the floor towards me, her hands wrapped around a bright orange coffee mug.
“Morning.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall and frowned, then looked back at me.
“You’re going to be late for school.”
I stared at her, flummoxed. “Uh…”
The front door opened, and my brother strode in. “Morning all! Are we ready to go?”
Mum gripped the mug tighter, and didn’t move her feet. Pete looked around for our bags, then back at my mother, still in her nightclothes. A deep frown appeared on his face, and I saw so much of our father in him at that moment. I wished it didn’t frighten me, but it did.
Mum spoke up, her voice shaky. “I think we’re going to stay.”
Pete looked furious, then pleading. “No! Mum, don’t. You can do this!” Mum shook her head, and he looked angry again. “He’s got to you, hasn’t he? What’s he done? What’s he threatening you with?”
“Nothing. Darling, I just…I’m just not ready to give up on him.”
“But you’ll let him give up on me?” Pete’s voice almost broke on the words, and I could see the anguish it was causing my mother.
“No, that’s not… He’ll come around. He’s already starting to.”
Pete snorted. “I’m not staying here to let him decide to accept me back into his life. I’m going, and you either come with me or you don’t.”
Mum looked from him to me, clearly torn. “I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Sussie? You’ll come with me, won’t you?” Pete asked.
Why were they trying to make me decide? I had no idea what I wanted. I shook my head and backed up, then fled the room. I could hear them yelling as I ran out to the paddock to see the ponies. They were waiting at the gate impatiently, ready for their breakfast because I was late and where had I been all this time?
I opened the gate and led them into the barn by their neck rugs, and they went automatically into their own stables. I shut the doors behind them and went to mix their feeds. Went through the usual motions, finding calmness in the familiarity of it all. Dipping my arm into the deep bins, scooping out the pellets, grabbing handfuls of Fibre Pro, getting it under my fingernails as I dug it out of the bag. Dropping it into the buckets, adding supplements and a bit of water to damp it all down. Mixing it with my hand. Listening to the boys banging impatiently at their stable doors.
Then I heard a familiar ping noise, and realised my phone was in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at it.
It was AJ.
Todays the day right? :( sorry I only just got to know you. wish you were staying we had so much fun at CHB. Gonna miss you x
I blinked back tears and started to compose a response, but it was interrupted by another message that popped up. This one was from Katy.
It’s a shame your leaving bc Mum is making me sell Forbes (hint hint)
My heart pounded as I stared at her message. Of all the things to sway me, this one might actually do it. I replied to her first.
Really? You’d let me have him?
I watched the dots jump up and down as she wrote her reply, then it appeared.
Yeah hes a pain in the neck anyway you two will suit perfectly ;)
I laughed out loud. Buck whinnied at me, and I shoved the phone into my pocket guiltily and took the boys their breakfast. They tucked into it eagerly, and I stood and watched them for a moment. I couldn’t help picturing Forbes in the stable next to Buck, his elegant neck dipping into his feed bin. I wondered whether I could get him to perform, could work around that stubborn streak that he had
. I wondered how he would get along with the other two. The hardest thing about leaving as always going to be leaving them behind. They might have only been bought for me because they were winning machines, but they were ponies too, and I’d come to love them.
A figure appeared in the doorway of the barn, making me jump. Pete walked up the aisle towards me, his hair rumpled.
“She’s staying.”
He sounded defeated, but I felt a wave of relief wash over me even as I looked at my brother’s heartbroken expression.
“I’m sorry.”
“You could still come,” he suggested, but he didn’t look surprised when I shook my head.
“I can’t. But he will forgive you eventually. It’ll just take a bit more time.”
Pete avoided my eyes, instead turning to watch the ponies eat. Teddy’s stall stood empty, the shavings banked up against the back wall, and he rested a hand on the lower half of the door and looked in sadly.
“He was a good pony.”
I nodded. “I miss him.”
Pete looked at me, and we both knew that we weren’t really talking about the pony anymore. He opened his arms to me, and I went to him and gave him a hug, holding him as tight as I could. I still loved him, would never stop, no matter what he did. I couldn’t help it. He was my brother, after all.
When he’d gone, I went into the other empty stable, where Molly had been housed only a couple of weeks ago. I grabbed a muck fork and started pulling down the shavings, flattening them out into a bed. Grabbed another bag from the store room and dragged it back into the stable, then emptied it onto the floor and spread that out too. Swept the front edge back into a neat, straight line, and filled the water bucket in the corner. Buck had finished eating and was watching me curiously. I stepped back into the aisle and took my phone out again, snapped a photo, and sent it to Katy with one last message.
How soon can Forbes get here?
Mum made me go to school, even though I was late. I handed in my note at the office, not waiting to see what excuse Mum had come up with to explain my tardiness, and headed to class.
But halfway there, I passed Mrs Bryant’s office. Today, the door was sitting ajar. I took a few steps past it, then stopped.
Turned around, took a breath, and knocked.
THE END
PONY JUMPERS
Follow AJ, Katy, Susannah and Tess
as they negotiate the ups and downs of
life, love and show jumping.
#1 First Fence
#2 Double Clear
#3 Triple Bar
Coming Soon:
#4 Four Faults
Reader reviews for Double Clear:
“I loved First Fence and this book has been just as awesome. Hard to put down! Kate Lattey’s ability to write from the different views of her characters is phenomenal.” – Reader review on Amazon.com
“One of the things I love about this author’s writing is that all of the characters are very much individuals. They are all teenaged girls who love horses and show jumping, but that is where the similarities end. Each new narrator allows the reader to experience this world from a unique perspective. Lattey definitely takes a very realistic angle on the horses, they are not brilliant winners every time and have their issues, but that is all part of working with horses and something these girl narrators are all learning in their own ways!” – Reader review on Amazon.com
Keep reading for a sneak preview of the next book in the series, FOUR FAULTS.
Pony Jumpers #4
FOUR FAULTS
* * *
CHAPTER ONE
The sheep flowed down the hill below us, scattering like confetti once they were through the gate at the bottom. Dad’s sharp whistle travelled along the gully and made its way back up the track towards me, making Colin sit up and look downhill, his head cocked to the side. Rory shifted her weight under me and rested a hind leg, bored of waiting. It was a warm day in late spring, almost summer, and the flies were starting to strike. A trickle of sweat ran down my back, between my shoulder blades, funnelling its way along my spine. Colin dropped back to his belly, panting hard, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.
“Look at you,” I teased him, leaning down and lowering a hand towards his mottled head. “Piking out already. Don’t you know you were bred to work in Australia? It’s a lot hotter there than it is around here.”
Colin pulled himself into a sitting position and licked my fingers cheerfully, then leaned against Rory’s leg with a sigh. My pony lowered her head and looked at him, but didn’t object to being used as a leaning post.
Reaching around behind me, I pulled a water bottle out of Rory’s saddle bags and took a swig before leaning down and squirting some into Colin’s waiting mouth. He gulped and swallowed, wagging his tail in thanks. Rory huffed out a sigh, and lowered her head to crop the short grass.
“You can drink out of the creek,” I told her. “Not long now.”
I leaned back in the saddle and replaced my water, then rested a hand on my pony’s hindquarters as I waited for Bayard to catch up. I could see almost the entire farm from the top of this hill. Rolling hills speckled with sheep, their tracks zig-zagging haphazardly down the steeper inclines. Misshapen patches of scrub provided shelter on the rugged hill country that had been farmed by my family for four generations. Most of it was cleared by my great-grandfather, who had moved here from England as a keen young man willing to work hard to make his way in the world. He’d bought a parcel of land and set to work cutting scrub and building a small house for him and his young wife. It had long since been replaced by the larger, less rustic homestead that we lived in now, over there in the distance, partially obscured by trees.
Rory lifted her head and whiffled her nostrils as a stock chestnut horse came jogging up the incline behind us, bashing his way through the scrubby manuka. Rusty’s rider slouched in the saddle, his lower legs jutting forward. The sun made a halo of his thick blonde hair, and he raised a hand and gave me a thumbs-up signal.
I nudged Rory forward to the gate and reached down to grab it as Rusty went through, his shod hoofs clipping across the stones in the gateway.
“What were you doing down there?” I asked Bayard as I swung the gate shut behind us. “You took forever.”
“Sweeping for stragglers, like I was told.”
“You probably didn’t need to be so thorough,” I told him. “Move over Rory, I can’t latch the gate up unless you’re standing next to it.”
Rory swished her tail and grudgingly moved a half-step closer. I could feel her weight starting to swing back already, preparing to step away, and I moved quickly, shoving the gate clip onto the heavy staple. It latched with a satisfying click and I grabbed a hunk of Rory’s dark mane to keep my balance as she swerved away and hurried down the hill behind Rusty, ever fearful of being left behind.
I watched Bayard as we rode. He hadn’t been born into a farming family like I had, and still had some catching up to do after moving out here to live with his aunt and uncle when he was twelve, because his parents had split up and couldn’t agree who was going to take him. Being one of eight children meant he wasn’t considered a prime commodity, so in the end he’d come out here with two of his brothers as what was supposedly just a temporary respite. His brothers hadn’t lasted, missing the brighter lights of the city, but Bayard had stuck around. He never wanted to leave. We’d been friends for a long time now. Both of us were happier helping out on the farm than going to school, or into town, or out to parties. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but I liked the peace and quiet. Riding with Bayard was never exactly thrilling or hair-raising, but that’s exactly how I liked it. The only thing that irked me sometimes was that, despite my attempts to improve his equitation, he was perfectly happy to slump around in the saddle like a sack of potatoes. At first he’d just nodded along when I corrected his riding, but eventually he’d got fed up and told me that Rusty didn’t seem to mind whether his heels were al
l the way down or not, so why should I?
“I’m not planning to start show jumping any time soon,” he’d reminded me. “Won’t be following you lot around to the shows and all that, so teaching me to jump would probably be a waste of your time.” And I’d had to admit he was right, and conceded defeat.
Rusty swished his tangled tail, and Rory flicked her head out of its way. That’ll teach you for crowding his heels. The track wound around the edge of the steep hill, and we let the reins loose on our horses’ necks, allowing them to find their own way down.
“Watch out,” Bayard called back to me, ducking sharply to the side to avoid being hooked by the encroaching bush lawyer. It appeared innocent enough, looking like just another leafy green plant growing from the clay bank, but its sharp hooks would dig into your skin and rip it right open if you gave it half the chance. Not to mention it would then sting like billy-o, as Pop used to say. I leaned out to the left to avoid it touching it, then heard something that made me pull Rory up with a frown.
“Hey, hold up.” Rory tossed her head in irritation at the delay as Rusty ground to a halt too, and I held a hand up to Bayard, listening hard. “Do you hear that?”
He frowned for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Down there.”
He jumped down from Rusty’s saddle and walked to the edge of the bank, looking down. On steep land like ours, the tracks between paddocks are often quite narrow and overgrown, because it’s only the sheep that usually have to make their way along them. The drop-off on the side of this track was steep, and somewhere down there was a lost lamb.
