by Kate Lattey
I stood up and walked towards them both as Colin ran off in pursuit of a blackbird that was hopping across the grass nearby. Neither of their heads turned as I approached, and I swallowed hard as I stopped next to them, searching for the right words. John glanced over at me, his forearms still resting on the top of the fence.
“Something I can help you with?”
“I came to tell you why I left the gate open the other day,” I said quickly. “And to say I’m sorry, again. I mean, that I’m still sorry. I didn’t mean to, and I’ll never do it again. But there’s a wasp nest in that paddock – in the big flat one, not the hay paddock – and my pony disturbed it and we were getting stung all over, and our only way out was through that gate and I was panicking, I guess, because I didn’t even think about it being left open but I didn’t see any stock in those paddocks or I wouldn’t have left it open, no matter what, I swear.” I ran out of breath to keep talking, and looked up at him earnestly.
John just frowned, mulling over my words for a moment. “Where’s the wasp nest?”
“By the big stumps in the middle of the paddock. I just rode around them to see if I could jump over them and the next thing I knew my pony was going berserk and threw me off. Because the wasps were stinging him,” I added. “He’s a good pony usually.”
John looked at Tess, who was gazing at me with her light brown eyes. “You ever notice wasps down there?” he asked, as though he was checking the truth of my story.
She shook her head, and my heart sank. Then she spoke in her soft voice.
“No, but I haven’t ridden down there in ages. And Hayley said there were wasps buzzing around when she was on the road by the hay paddock last week.”
I let out a breath and shot Tess a grateful look, but she was avoiding my eyes.
“All right. I’ll take a look,” John said, apparently deciding to believe me.
“I really am sorry,” I said again. “I’ll never do it again.”
John nodded. “I’m counting on it. If you want to keep riding that pony of yours around our farm, you’d better learn how to shut a gate.”
I promised I would as he pushed himself away from the fence and took a couple of steps towards me. Instinctively, I backed up, and his expression softened.
“You get stung, did you?” he asked, gesturing to the side of his own neck.
I reached up and touched the burning patch of skin near my collarbone. “Yeah. And here,” I added, showing him my elbow. “And here, and here too. But Tani got the worst of it.”
“He’s got thick skin, he’ll live. Not allergic, are you?”
I shook my head, trying not to wince as the movement aggravated the sting on my neck. “Nope.”
“All right. Thanks for letting us know. Stay out of there in the meantime.”
John turned away from me and walked back into the building, and I let out a long, relieved sigh. Tess was still sitting on the railing, her feet dangling just above the heads of the sheep.
“Counting sheep?” I asked her, trying to make conversation with her.
Tess looked at me sideways. “No. Just watching them.”
The sheep were bleating and pushing each other around, and one of the farm dogs trotted over to the edge of the railing and stood on its hind legs, peering in at the sheep eagerly. I wondered if I could stay, and help out. I wondered if John would let me. Just then, he reappeared in the doorway, wearing a drench pack on his back.
“All right, let’s get started. You still here, are you?” he asked as he caught sight of me. He glanced at Tess, who was still refusing to look at me, then back in my direction. “Why don’t you clear off home, eh? We don’t need any help today.”
I was disappointed, but I didn’t want to argue with him. The stings on my neck and arms were burning again, so I said goodbye and walked slowly back down to the cottage, wishing I’d had an excuse to stay.
CASH IN HAND
When we’d first moved into the cottage, Dad had told John that he would help out with any work that needed doing on the farm. He’d have said anything to get John to let us stay, but I think he meant it at the time. John had just shrugged it off and said it wasn’t necessary. He’d told us that we could stay in the cottage for a few weeks, until we got things together, but those few weeks passed and he never came by and told us to leave, so we started putting down roots. Literally – Mum and I dug a vege garden and planted it with everything we could think of. Dad fixed up the most falling-down parts inside the house, we got the electricity hooked up off the road, and set aside a little bit of money each week to give to the Maxwells as rent. They hadn’t asked us for it, but it was important to Mum that we made some kind of contribution. At least until Dad got a job, and we found a new place to live.
But as summer shifted into autumn, Dad didn’t seem any closer to getting work, or even really looking for it. Mum kept cleaning at nights for a while, but with no mode of transport into town other than the car – which Dad often had, and forgot to bring home in time for her to get to work – she soon found herself unemployed as well.
Looking back, she must’ve been lonely, but she put a good front on it. She was sympathetic when I told her that I wasn’t allowed to ride over the farm any more, but sternly forbade me from doing it anyway. Most of the time I didn’t, but every now and then I went out at the crack of dawn, or sometimes after dark, but never when I knew anyone would be around. I didn’t even walk over the farm in the daylight, sticking to the roads and the paddock around our house. I set up some sticks in the ground and practiced bending and other games, but with no prospect of going to a gymkhana again any time soon, I quickly lost interest. Nothing was the same as it had been.
I was sitting at the kitchen table one night and slogging through my science homework when Dad came back inside, banging the front door shut behind him. Mum tutted as she looked up from the cake batter she was stirring.
“Shh,” she reprimanded him. “You’ll wake the girls up.”
“Sorry girls,” Dad called, and I grinned to myself as I turned back to my homework.
“What took you so long?” Mum asked. “You’ve been gone for ages.”
Dad had walked up to the Maxwells’ to give John the pitiful rent that we could afford. He hadn’t been gone all that long really, but Mum was on tenterhooks because he’d taken less than we usually gave, and she was terrified that John wouldn’t accept it. Dad walked past me to where Mum was standing, and slapped a handful of money down onto the bench next to her. My heart sank as she looked at it, then at him.
“Was he not home?” she asked tentatively.
“Oh, he was home,” Dad said. I watched him, trying to gauge his mood, but he was hard to read sometimes. He didn’t seem angry, but he could be unpredictable. “Wouldn’t take it. Said he didn’t want it.”
Mum blanched. “Is it not enough? I can try and get some hours next week to top it up…”
Dad put his hands on top of hers and stilled them. “He said not to bother paying him, that he feels bad taking money from us to live in these conditions. As he should,” he muttered, looking around at the shabby cottage.
My heart started beating normally again, but Mum wasn’t placated.
“We have to do something for him,” she said. “We can’t just stay here without contributing something.” She looked down at the chipped bowl full of cake batter in her hands, and I knew what she was thinking.
“You bought that stuff to make a birthday cake for Morgan,” I said. “You can’t give it away, she’d never forgive you.”
“Morgan would understand,” Mum told me, and I was about to tell he that she was dead wrong about that, but Dad cut in.
“Stop worrying, both of you. John’s asked me to do some work around the place instead of paying rent. Gives me something to do, and means we can save what measly scraps the Government throws to us.” He sat down in the chair opposite me and grinned. “Win-win.”
For the first time that I could remember, I was jea
lous of my father.
“What kind of work is it?” I asked him eagerly.
It was late autumn, shifting relentlessly towards winter, and the trees were turning golden and dropping their leaves as the temperatures steadily decreased. There were gaps in the walls of the cottage that Dad hadn’t got around to plugging up yet, and we had yet to try lighting a fire.
“I don’t know. Farm stuff.” He got up and went to the fridge. “Where’d all the beer go?”
“You drank it,” Mum told him sharply. He looked at her, then at me. I shook my head firmly. “And don’t you go blaming him, he’s clean as a whistle. Unlike you.”
“I’ll just run into town and grab a box or two,” Dad said, scooping the cash off the bench and shoving it into his pocket. “Be back soon.” He kissed Mum on the cheek, then walked out of the house, banging the front door shut behind him.
MISTY
I was walking along the road one afternoon past a paddock full of sheep when I saw a pale shape in the long grass up ahead. My first thought was that one of the lambs had got through the fence, so I approached slowly, not wanting to spook it.
“Did you escape?” I asked quietly as I got closer, and at the sound of my voice, a head with two large pointed ears popped up out of the grass, and a tail started wagging. I laughed, and crouched down to greet Colin as he came trotting over to say hi.
Tess’s puppy put his paws on my knee and licked my face tentatively, checking that I tasted okay.
“What’re you doing out here on your own?” I asked him, looking around. I couldn’t see Tess anywhere, or anyone else. “Did you escape? I bet you did. Come on then,” I told the puppy, scooping him up into my arms and carrying him back down the road towards the homestead.
At first, Colin was accepting of this new plan, licking my face repeatedly and thumping his little tail against my side, but as we got closer, he suddenly realised that he was being taken home against his will, and started squirming. I clutched the wriggling puppy firmly to my chest, but he just scrabbled harder, leaving scrapes all over my arms and stomach. Fortunately, a strand of baling twine was caught up on a nearby fence, so I unhooked it and tied it through Colin’s collar as a makeshift leash. It sort of worked – he didn’t get away from me – but I could tell he’d never been taught to walk on a leash, and he didn’t like it. When he eventually flopped down on his stomach and refused to move, I picked him up again. He growled at me half-heartedly, but finally accepted his fate and allowed me to carry him to his home.
But when we got there, no-one was around. The house was locked and the garage empty. I thought about tying Colin up to the porch, but figured he’d easily gnaw through the baling twine, and then he’d be right back where he started. So I walked a bit further up the track, looking for somewhere to shut him in. The gate was shut at the bottom of the road leading towards the woolshed, so I followed the track uphill. Colin strained at the twine, but I kept hold of him as we went up behind the small orchard at the back of the house and found ourselves in a large farmyard in the shape of an L. A long outbuilding ran down one side, housing tractors and other farm machinery, and a big corrugated iron barn sat adjacent to it, with a large stack of balage rounds between the two buildings. The barn’s roller door was up, and I could see a couple of internal looseboxes, so I carried Colin inside and shut him into one. The puppy started digging happily through the shavings, sending them flying through the air before chowing down on a morsel of horse manure. I bolted the stable door behind him, then looked around for somewhere to leave a note. It was a nice barn, with a feed room and tack room opposite the looseboxes, and a big stack of hay bales at the far end. Eventually I noticed a big whiteboard on the wall by the entrance, half-covered in scrawls and sketches that the girls had left behind. I picked up a marker pen and scanned their notes to each other (Tess ur whip is in the jump paddock by the green wall), lists of what they needed to buy (hoof oil, saddle soap, purple shampoo, fly spray?), show plans (Misty – PGP Taihape, CHB, Taupo, Woodhill? - Nov) and other miscellaneous scrawls (Rory’s name surrounded by hearts, a drawing of Misty jumping over a house). Eventually, I found a blank space to write a note of my own.
Colin is in the losebox. He was on the rode. Jonty.
I put the pen down, then thought for a moment, pulled the lid off again and added Dont worrie hes fine to the bottom, then circled it twice.
As though he had some kind of sixth sense, Colin started whining pitifully and scrabbling at the stable door, convinced that he was far from fine.
“Sorry Colin,” I told him, putting the pen down. “But it’s for your own good. You want to get hit by a car?”
Colin barked at me as I walked back outside, leaving the wonderful smell of hay and shavings and leather behind me in the barn as I squinted into the sunlight, wondering where everyone was on a day like this. It was perfect riding weather, warm but not too muggy, and looked enviously at the flat paddock near the barn, scattered with makeshift jumps. Like the ones I’d built for Taniwha back at Murray’s place, they were a combination of unpainted poles and oil drums, but they were all stacked up much higher than I’d ever convinced Taniwha to clear.
I’d taken a few steps downhill before I noticed Misty, standing in the paddock and watching me curiously. I glanced around, but I was still alone, so I walked over to say hi to him. Misty bobbed his head, then came up to me as I leaned on the gate. I held out an empty hand, but when he discovered that I had nothing to offer him, he gave me a disgusted look and went back to grazing. I rested my chin on my hands and looked at his broad, muscular back. What would it feel like to sit on a pony with that much power, that much muscle? I could hardly even imagine it, but I wanted to. I wondered if Hayley would ever let me ride him. She’d held it out to me as a possibility, then snatched it away again, but I was fixated on the idea, and there was nothing I wanted more in the world than to know what it felt like to ride a pony like Misty.
So what’s stopping you? asked a voice in my head. There’s nobody here. No-one would know.
I looked around again, then climbed quickly over the fence and went up to Misty. He lifted his head and regarded me warily as I ran my hand down his powerful neck, across his muscled shoulders, and then along his strong back. Misty relaxed under my touch, then nudged my hip, as if to ask me what I was waiting for.
I needed no further invitation. I grabbed a handful of his short mane, swung my right leg back, and vaulted up onto his back.
I’d only planned to sit there, really, maybe walk around on him. I just wanted to feel what it would be like on a different pony – Taniwha was the only pony I’d ever ridden. But Misty didn’t like standing still, and he started to walk. I could feel his muscles shifting underneath me as he moved, and I ran my hands down his arched neck, intoxicated by his fluid, free-moving stride. Misty tossed his head and broke into a bouncy trot. He was so different from Taniwha that I lost my balance, slipping to the side, and I grabbed a handful of his mane as Misty bucked and broke into a canter. I gritted my teeth as I sat up straighter, gripping with my legs, determined not to fall off. Fortunately, Misty’s canter was much easier to sit to than his trot, and soon we were rocketing around the paddock together. I was grinning from ear to ear as Misty threw out little bucks and twists as he cantered around, swerving around the jumps as he playfully tried to unseat me. I was completely out of control, but I didn’t care. It was the most fun I’d ever had, and when Misty eventually got bored and slammed to a stop, I flung my arms around his neck to stay on, then left them there as I hugged him.
“You’re amazing,” I told the grey pony, who nodded in agreement. I sat up again and looked around, wondering whether I could convince Misty to jump over one of the lower jumps in the paddock, but my plans were scuppered as I heard the approaching growl of a quad bike engine. Colin heard it too and started barking to alert them to his imprisonment, and I slid off Misty and ran towards the gate, hoping that whoever was on the quads would turn off towards the woolshed, and I’d h
ave time to escape before anyone knew I was here.
Too late. Two quads came zooming into the yard, and sitting on the back of the second one, facing backwards and looking right towards me, was a boy about my age with thick blonde hair.
I ducked down and switched direction, heading towards the line of pine trees that bordered one side of the paddock. It was only a few strides away, and I dropped into the drainage ditch that ran along that fence line, my heart pounding. I didn’t know whether the boy had seen me. I lay down on my stomach, feeling the mud seep into my dark grey t-shirt, glad that I’d decided not to wear bright colours today. I could hear people talking, calling to each other as Colin continued to bark. If they let him out, he’d probably find me, and I peeked out of the ditch to see what was happening.
Everyone had their backs to me except the boy, who was walking towards the gate into the horse paddock and squinting into the bright sun. Misty had gone back to grazing, acting as though nothing had happened, but I knew that once they went into the barn, they’d see my note and know I was up here. Why had I signed my name? Stupid. I should’ve just left it anonymous, but I’d wanted them to know that I cared, that I’d gone out of my way to do the right thing and make sure Tess’s dog was safe.
I’d wanted her to like me, and then I’d gone and done something as stupid as this.
The boy unlatched the gate, and stepped into the paddock. I froze, wondering if he’d spotted me. I could see the top of his head from my position in the drain, but not much else. I didn’t move a muscle, my heart still pounding in my ears.
“Bayard, what’re you doing?” The boy stopped and looked over his shoulder without speaking. “Get over here, boy. Stop mucking about.”
