They waited in silence. A moth fluttered around the lightbulb in the ceiling. Outside the garage door the crickets and locusts were making cheerful night noises. But inside there was a strange quiet. Finally Ginny realized that she was missing the sound of Mokey moving around in her stall. Crunching her hay. Rattling her feed tub hopefully every once in a while.
The doctor rose to his feet. He checked the pony again with his stethoscope. For the first time that night, he smiled. More shots. More medicine. Then he nodded to Ginny. “Progress,” he reported. “I really think she's going to make it after all.”
The hours went by in a gray haze. Ginny's mother and father came back from the movies. They were told what had happened. They made coffee. They asked brief, worried questions about the sick pony.
Dawn came. The sun rose. At seven o'clock, Dr. Nichols checked the pony again. By this time, Mokey was poking her muzzle cheerfully into every corner of her stall. She was looking for a stray wisp of hay or one tiny spilled grain of oats to eat. Her stomach was back to normal size. There was a light gray film of dried sweat on her sides and shoulders. Other than that, there was not a sign that anything had been the matter with her at all.
“I'll just bet,” said Ginny wearily, “that she'd eat all those apples again, right now.”
“She certainly would,” agreed the doctor. “A lot of caring for horses and ponies is protecting them from their own foolishness.” He snapped the clasp shut on his black bag. “You can give her two swallows of warmed water every hour. But nothing to eat. I'll be back this evening after office hours to check her again.” He rumpled Mokey's black forelock. Ginny thought he looked almost as tired, and just as glad, as she felt herself.
“To bed with you, young lady,” her mother said firmly to Ginny. The doctor drove away. “I can give that pony of yours two swallows of water. Yes, I know. Warmed once every hour.”
Still saying that she wanted to take care of Mokey herself, Ginny stumbled up the stairs. She barely managed to kick her sneakers off. Then she threw herself on her bed and fell asleep.
Ginny stood by the gate to the white-fenced show ring. Cheery marching music came from the loudspeakers. Red and white flags snapped in the brisk early-morning breeze. They marked the outside course. Ponies of all sizes and shapes whirled in circling patterns. They were all across the vivid green of the polo field where the show was being held.
The music stopped. The speaker's low, clear voice sounded across the field. It was calling the first class of the day.
“Model ponies, large group. Bring your ponies to the ring, please.”
Ginny backed away. The wide gate swung open. A crowd of gleaming ponies rushed into the ring. All of them were without saddles. They were led by their riders on foot. This class was to be judged only on the ponies' looks. Pam was in the ring with her coppery Firefly. As usual, he was dancing at the end of his reins. There were bays and blacks and browns and grays. But no spots, Ginny saw. All the ponies had their manes done up in small braids. The tops of their tails were braided as well.
Ginny shook with excitement. Pam had finally talked her into entering Mokey in this show. The pony was waiting in Pam's trailer in the shade of the huge old oaks on the edge of the polo field. Michael had spent the past week teaching Ginny how to shorten and thin out the pony's mane. Then he taught her how to do it up in braids.
Ginny found that it took a lot of practice. The first five or six times she'd tried it, the mane wasn't short enough. The braids were limp and lumpy. Finally, though, even Michael had to nod his approval.
The braiding of the tail had been a different matter. Thinking about it, Ginny made a face. She knew how it was done. She pulled the first few strands at the top of the tail tightly. It looked nice when it was finished. But the moment Mokey switched her tail at a fly, the whole thing started to come apart. Ginny tried so many times. Even Mokey became impatient. Michael finally came to the rescue. He told her to let it be. He said that he would do it for her the morning of the show.
Now Mokey was waiting for her first class. Her mane was done up. Her smartly braided tail (thanks to Michael) was snugly wrapped in a protective bandage. Ginny stood by the ring. She watched Pam's first class.
The two judges were walking slowly around each pony. They stood back to get an overall picture. Then they went on to the next and moved the ponies into two lines.
Firefly was standing with his weight properly balanced on all four legs. His red-gold coat was shimmering in the sunlight. His small ears pricked toward Pam.
The winners were announced. A pewter-gray pony left the ring. He had a snow-white mane and tail. The blue ribbon hung from his bridle. A rather unkind look of success was on his owner's face. Pam held Firefly back. They let the gray go through the gate. Then she followed him out. She handed Firefly's reins, and the second-place red ribbon, to Michael.
“Very nice, Miss Pam,” said Michael. He threw a wide light wool blanket over the chestnut pony. “We'll just get this cooler on you, young fellow. The breeze is still a bit fresh this time of day.” He was whistling cheerfully. He led the pony back toward the trailer. Pam came over to join Ginny at the ring fence.
“That gray is a lovely pony,” Pam said. She was excited. “He's an English Anglo-Arab— half Thoroughbred and half Arabian. This is the first time I've seen him. He's only been in this country about six weeks.”
Pam glanced at her watch. “Your first class is coming up in half an hour. You'd better get Mokey.”
Ginny stomped along beside Pam. They were on the way over to the trailer. Ginny's new riding boots felt stiff and heavy. Her breeches felt strange. She was sure she was slowly choking in her long-sleeved shirt. It had a tight collar and tie.
They reached the trailer. Ginny struggled into her new blue riding coat. She crammed her black helmet on top of her head. She looked at Mokey gloomily. “You,” she whispered crossly to Mokey. “You are pretending to be something you aren't. I have never seen so many great ponies in one place in my entire life. I can't imagine what we are doing here.” Mokey helped herself to another mouthful of hay. It was from the rope net tied high in front of her. She sneezed. Then she went on eating.
Michael put Firefly into the stall next to the trailer. He backed Mokey carefully down the ramp. He slipped her bridle on. Ginny protested. “Honestly, Michael, don't bother. I can do that myself!” He put the saddle onto Mokey's back.
“She looks sort of strange,” said Ginny. She was unsure.
Pam laughed. “You're just not used to seeing her all braided up and with a saddle on her,” she said. “But you can't very well ride her bareback today! Just be glad we were able to borrow one that fit her.”
Michael waved to Ginny. “Give you a leg up for luck,” he said. He swung Ginny up into the saddle. Ginny grabbed for her stirrups. She decided they were too long. She made them shorter. Then she changed her mind. She let them down again. She had practiced with Mokey for several days. They had used Pam's saddle. But it still felt strange. She had ridden the pony bareback for so long.
Mokey stood patiently. Ginny fiddled about with her stirrups and reins. Michael took off the tail bandage. He checked the tightness of the girth. He went over the pony one more time with a soft cloth.
“Bring your ponies to the ring gate,” the loudspeaker called. “For Class Eleven, Pony Working Hunters, over the outside course.”
“Now, remember,” said Pam. She was walking beside Mokey. “The looks of the ponies don't count in this class. They are judged only on their manners. And on how they perform over the outside course. And on the way they move and jump.”
“Okay,” said Ginny. Then, faintly, “I think I'm going to be sick to my stomach.”
“No, you're not,” said Pam firmly. “Take deep breaths. We'll get your number listed. We'll find out how soon your turn is. Then you'd better get busy warming up.”
“Okay,” whispered Ginny. Pam checked in at the gate. She found Mokey would be the seventh to go on the course.
Then Ginny trotted Mokey far out on the polo field. She was alone on her pony. She began to feel much better once they were trotting and cantering in wide circles on the smooth grass.
She caught sight of Pam waving to her. It was much too soon. She turned Mokey back toward the ring. She didn't want to go.
“You're next,” said Pam.
“Yuck,” said Ginny.
Pam stepped back with an understanding grin. The wide white gate swung open. Mokey walked into the ring.
Ginny was numb with nervousness. Somehow she managed to gather her reins into a short tangle. She pushed Mokey into a canter. She circled toward the first jump. Mokey raised her head. She pricked her ears.
“Oh, gosh,” cried Pam to Michael. “I never thought! I'll bet Mokey has never seen a brush fence in her life!”
Mokey never had seen such a thing. Neither had Ginny. It was nothing more than short evergreen branches. They were packed tightly into a long white wooden stand. But it looked hairy and huge. Mokey stopped. She was unsure. Ginny sat unmoving in the saddle. She completely forgot everything she had practiced so hard, so many times, in the schooling field. The confused pony slowed to a trot.
Ginny became aware that things were not right. From some dim working corner of her mind, she remembered to give Mokey a kick to prompt her. Then she grabbed hold of the braided mane.
Mokey felt more sure that she really was supposed to jump that strange green thing in front of her. She trotted forward. She jumped the brush with a giant spring. It tossed Ginny up onto her neck. She was gasping. Then she came back with a jolt into the saddle.
Mokey landed. She cantered on. Ginny poked her feet back into the stirrups. She tipped her helmet back in the right place. She pulled herself together before they came to the next fence. It was a very comfortable-looking stone wall. And it was of a size and type they had jumped many times before this.
Mokey jumped it well. The course swung to the left. It went between two flags. Ginny began riding her pony instead of just sitting in a helpless lump. They began to enjoy themselves. Over a gate. Neatly through an in-and-out. Then a zigzag rail fence. Two more fences. And then they finished the course over a last brush fence. It was the twin of the first. It led back into the ring. Mokey jumped this with ease. She even bobbed her head. She gave a flip of her tail as she landed. She was clearly pleased with herself and her performance. Ginny's face was glowing with delight. She pulled Mokey up and trotted from the ring.
“Wasn't she wonderful?” she gasped. She flung herself out of the saddle. She gave Mokey a hug. Pam and Michael joined in warm congratulations. The unlucky first jump was talked about only indirectly. Mokey was being sponged off and walked in the shade.
“You'll be all right from now on, Miss Ginny,” Michael said kindly. “There can't ever be another first fence in your first class in your first show.”
“Thank goodness for that,” said Ginny.
The show went on through the morning. Pam won a big class with Firefly over the outside course. Then they won another in the ring. The beautiful gray pony was named Ashes. He did not jump very well in his hunter class. “He's young and still very new to this,” said Pam. But he went very well in the walk, trot, and canter class in the ring. He and Firefly were chosen to work together for several minutes. Then the judges' decision went to Pam's pony.
It was clear that the girl on the gray pony was not at all pleased with the way things were going. When the judges weren't looking, she briefly let her pony bump up against Firefly. There was an instant of confusion. The girl on the gray said she was sorry sweetly to Pam. Pam smiled back politely. But then she moved Firefly to the far side of the ring.
The chestnut pony was upset, Ginny saw with a sinking heart. She could see the white showing around his eyes. His ears were flicking back and forth. They always did when he was nervous. Ginny thought that Pam was probably angry. But she saw that Pam's face stayed calm and unruffled. She spoke softly to her pony. She soon had him settled down.
“What was that all about?” asked Ginny. The class was over. “Was all that fuss on purpose? Or was it an accident? It was hard to tell.”
Pam's mouth set briefly into a grim line. “That Angela Longworth is a pain,” she said. “Firefly hates feeling crowded. She knows it. But that new pony of hers is too nice. It doesn't need that kind of foolishness. He's good enough on his own.”
Ginny was watching the two girls ride in a later class. She thought they made it look so easy. The two wonderful ponies moved like precision clocks. There was hardly a wasted movement by either pony or rider. “This Angela person may be a pill,” Ginny said to Mokey later. “But she sure can ride.” Firefly shied and played in this class. He had to be happy with a white ribbon for fourth place. The gray pony was first.
At the lunch break the two girls lay out in the shade. They had a picnic basket. Their coats were off. Their collars were open.
“You know, Ginny,” Pam said at last. “I really am sorry I talked you into bringing Mokey to this show.”
“What for?” gasped Ginny. She sat up in surprise.
“I don't think it was fair to start you off with such strong competition,” said Pam. “It seems as though every good show pony in the country is here today. This show used to be small. It was friendly and fun. I guess I was remembering how it used to be. That's why I talked you into coming with me today.”
“Never mind,” said Ginny. She flopped down in the grass again. “Mokey is very special. But this is all a bit over her head. Don't worry about it, though. It's fun to be part of all this.” She waved her sandwich at the polo field and the white-fenced ring.
“Anyway, we only entered her in two classes. We never did plan to make a big thing of this.” She took a bite of sandwich. She mumbled around the edges. “Stop worrying. Save your energy for beating that awful Angela. You'll need it.”
“But,” Ginny said quietly to Mokey later. She went to put her bridle on for the next class. “It sure would be fun to win a ribbon.” She sighed and patted Mokey. She felt sorry for her. Then she backed her out of the trailer.
Firefly whinnied like mad as Ginny led Mokey away. Michael was at the pony's head in a moment. He was calming him down. Ginny saddled Mokey. She trotted off to warm up. She promised herself that this time, she would keep her wits about her. She wouldn't let herself get so nervous that she forgot how to ride.
Ginny nearly managed to keep calm. Everything went well until the very last moment. She was waiting to go into the ring. She heard a shout from Michael and a shriek from Pam. She pulled Mokey out of line. She wondered with fear what she had done. “Hey, wait! Mokey still has the bandage on her tail!” cried Pam.
Ginny was upset and annoyed with herself. She felt her face growing red. Pam took hold of Mokey's bridle. She held her still. Michael swiftly took off the bandage.
“Okay now,” said Pam with a giggle. “She'd have looked a little funny going around the course with that still on.”
“Gosh,” said Ginny. She was angry with herself. “There's so darned much to remember.”
“Never you mind,” Michael spoke quietly. “You just get in there with that good pony. Give her a chance to show what she can do.”
“Right,” Ginny said firmly. She took her reins smoothly and carefully. She rode Mokey in through the open gate.
Mokey went well, from the first green brush to the last. Ginny was very pleased. She trotted out of the ring. Michael was pleased, too. She could tell by his silent nod. He reached for Mokey's reins.
“Thanks, Michael. But I'll cool her out,” said Ginny. She slid from the saddle. “Her halter is in the trailer, isn't it?”
“I wouldn't untack her just yet,” said Michael. “Loosen her girth. Walk her around. You might be wanted back in the ring after a round like that.”
A wave of hope swept over Ginny. “You mean we might get a ribbon?” she said weakly.
“Not for sure,” warned Michael. “There are only four ribbons. But the judges wil
l call about ten ponies back. From what I have seen of the others in this class so far, Mokey just might be one of them.”
“Oh, wow,” said Ginny. She walked Mokey for a few minutes. Then Michael began rubbing the pony down. Mokey wanted to eat the short, sweet grass of the polo field. She was not allowed to do so because her bit would get stained. She looked bored.
The last pony finished the course. There was a pause of several minutes. Then the loudspeaker called: “Bring the following ponies into the ring, please.” Mokey's number was the fourth to be called.
“Quick, tell me what to do now,” Ginny said in a panic.
“Just get on. Ride her in,” said Pam. “The ringmaster will tell you what to do.”
They were asked to line up in single file. They were to be in the order their numbers had been called. The judges held a short meeting. They checked the numbers on their cards. Then the ringmaster in his scarlet coat came over to Ginny. He touched his top hat. The girl on the bay was in line in front of Ginny. He asked that they change places.
This moved Mokey up to third place in line. Ginny felt she could not take one more moment of suspense. She managed to keep Mokey standing well. She tried to look like she knew what to do.
Finally one of the judges waved his card. The first pony trotted across the ring. A chestnut followed. Then Ginny on Mokey. Three or four others were called. Ginny knew all of them were being trotted out for soundness. The judges were looking to see if any of the ponies were lame. A lame pony could not win a ribbon. She knew she had nothing to worry about. Mokey was perfectly sound.
Another pause. The judges spoke to the ringmaster. He went to the announcer's stand. Mokey was tired. Ginny could feel her sigh. Mokey started to droop a little.
Summer Pony Page 5
