"They go that way," I pointed. "Come on."
We climbed over the fence, following the hooves. They ran down the fence line that separated Jess's property from the next one. I had no idea who the land belonged to and couldn't really care less whether or not they thought we were trespassing. I just wanted Bluebird back.
As we got further down I saw Jess standing outside her barn. All the jumps in the arena had blown over and there was a tree sitting on top of their horse trailer.
"She won't be happy about that," Mickey said. "Guess she won't be going to any shows any time soon."
But I didn't have time to worry about whether or not Jess hated me right now. I climbed up on the fence and waved my arms.
"Jess," I called out. "Jess. Have you seen a pony come by here?"
She held her hand up to block the sun from her eyes then, obviously recognizing us, she turned and walked off.
"Unbelievable," Mickey said.
"It's okay, we don't need her help," I said.
The hoof prints went down the hill and through a patch of trees. At one point there was a messy patch where it looked like Bluebird had stopped for a while.
"Maybe he waited out the storm in the trees," Mickey said.
“If he did, that was smart.”
“See, he knows how to take care of himself.”
“But which way now?”
We spent a few minutes walking round in circles. It was dark under the trees and the ground was wet and squelchy underfoot. I walked off in one direction and Mickey went in the other.
"This way," I finally heard her call and I ran after her voice. "Look, the trail of hoof prints goes this way."
We ran down the hill, following the trail but when we got to the bottom there was a fence and a gate. The hoof prints stopped but there was no Bluebird. The gate opened into a rundown courtyard with a slimy fountain and an old barn that was falling down. Beyond that was a house covered in green moss.
"Do you think it's abandoned?" I said.
"I hope so, because if it's not, I don't want to meet the kind of person who lives in a dump like this."
"It's not that bad," I said as a lone chicken walked across the yard and pecked at the ground.
Only I knew she was right. What if the person who lived here had stolen Bluebird and locked him away in the barn just because they found him?
"Bluebird?" I called out but the pony didn't answer.
"That's it," I said. "I'm going in."
I started to climb over the gate.
"What?" Mickey said. "Wait. You can't just go in there. What if a serial killer lives there or something? We should go get help. Tell Esther where we think he might be. Call the police."
"Call the police?" I said. "And tell them what? That we followed the hoof prints and they stopped at a creepy old barn and we think the owner kidnapped my pony? We need proof for that and I'm going to get it."
Before Mickey could do anything to stop me, I was over the gate and running towards the barn. The chicken ran squawking out of the way, brown feathers flying everywhere. I didn't care. I needed to know that Bluebird was okay.
The barn was dark and damp. There were puddles on the floor from rain from pouring in through giant holes in the roof and scratching in the darkness. There were probably rats. I hated rats. They liked to gnaw on things. A shiver ran down my spine.
"Is he in here?
I screamed as Mickey snuck up behind me.
"Don’t do that," I said, heart pounding.
"Well is he? Come on, look for him quickly so we can get out of here before someone finds us."
We walked through the barn. It looked like cows had been living in it recently. There were big piles of squishy manure and it smelt really bad. All the stalls had been ripped out except for two in the back. One was full of old pitchforks and rakes. In the other stood a chestnut pony, calmly eating a pile of fresh hay.
"Bluebird," I cried.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I couldn't get into the stall fast enough, first hugging his neck and then checking him over.
"Is he okay?" Mickey said.
"I think so," I felt his legs. "Nothing seems swollen, just a few scratches."
"Thank goodness. Come on, let’s get out of here before the serial killer shows up."
Bluebird's halter was covered in mud and the lead rope was a frayed mess but I put it on him anyway. I wasn't going to leave him in this hell hole for one second longer. Even if they had given him hay.
"You could have broken your leg," I told him. "What were you thinking?"
He just sighed as I led him out of the stall.
"Hey," Mickey said. "How come he went in this stall and he wouldn't go in ours?"
"I don't know. Maybe he was just so tired that he didn't care," I said but something wasn't right.
Bluebird was too calm. Too comfortable. Even if he was tired, he was in a new place. He should have had his nostrils flared and head up, calling to his friends back home only he wasn't.
"Come on boy," I said, pulling him.
"He doesn't want to come," Mickey said as Bluebird braced his feet. "He wants to stay with the serial killer. First he doesn't want to go in a stall. Then he doesn't want to leave. What a weird pony. He's kind of exhausting."
Mickey was right. Dealing with Bluebird was a far cry from the lazy days we had spent exercising Harlow and Hampton but Harlow was lame and as much as I tried, I couldn't make him sound. The vet was right. It was going to take time and in the mean time I had Bluebird. He was my responsibility now.
"Just what exactly do you think you're doing?"
The voice came from the end of the barn. Mickey and I froze. The person who stole my pony had caught us. I didn’t know what to do but I knew that I wasn't leaving Bluebird behind. We stood there for a moment, Bluebird, Mickey and me and then I finally yelled.
"Run!"
We took off through the barn, Bluebird clattering beside us. All I could hope was that the thief would jump out of the way before we ran her over and she did. But as we sped past the wheels in my head were turning. The thief was a girl, only a few years older than Mickey and me. She had pretty blonde hair and a smile that I'd seen before and maybe, just maybe, she wasn't a thief after all.
We were out in the daylight, the sun sinking low on the horizon. We could make it to the gate, across the field and we'd be home free but I didn't want to run away anymore. I wanted the answers I'd been looking for all this time. I stopped and Bluebird stopped beside me.
"Why are you stopping?" Mickey shouted. "Come on, we have to get out of here."
"No," I said. "We don't."
I walked back to the girl who was just standing there watching us.
"Why are you trying to steal my pony?" she said calmly. "You didn't really think you'd get away with it did you? I was just about to call the cops."
"So were we," Mickey said, putting her hands on her hips. "Bluebird is Emily's pony and you're the one who stole him."
“I didn’t steal him,” she said. “He just showed up at my gate, like a miracle.”
“So you think if a pony magically shows up you get to keep him? Like he’s a cosmic gift or something? Nice try. It’s still stealing,” Mickey said.
"But it’s not really stealing is it,” I said. “Because he's my Bluebird now but he used to be your Carson, didn't he?" I asked softly.
"Oh," Mickey said. "It's her."
"You're Sally Henderson, right?" I said.
"How do you know my name? Do I know you?"
"We've been looking for you. My friend Mickey sent you a friend request on Facebook."
Sally just shrugged like she didn't know what we were talking about.
"This used to be your pony, right?" I tried again.
Sally stepped over the mud puddles in her fancy boots. She didn't look anything like I expected her to. She didn't have a prosthetic leg or a limp or in fact look like a horse person at all. I mean she was wearing a dress. If I hadn't recognize
d her from the photographs, I would have never believed that she was the Sally Henderson who’d won all those show jumping cups and ribbons.
"I thought I'd never see him again," she said, reaching out and stroking Bluebird's face. He shoved his nose into her hand. "Where on earth did you find him?"
"Emily rescued him," Mickey said defensively.
"You rescued him?"
"From an auction," I said. "He was skin and bone and all beaten up. The dog food men were bidding on him."
"I can’t believe it," Sally said.
"I thought you were dead," I said.
"And that Bluebird was a killer," Mickey added. "There were all these rumors that he hurt someone."
Sally shook her head. "It wasn't his fault," she said. "Come inside and I'll tell you everything."
"In there?" Mickey said, her face all scrunched up as she took in the moss and mold.
"It's better on the inside," Sally shrugged. "It's my grandparents place. They aren't much for aesthetics but it's clean enough."
Mickey and I looked at each other. Sally obviously wasn't a serial killer but she wasn't quite like us either. Still, it hardly seemed right to just take off with Bluebird and I wanted to know how he almost ended up as dog food.
I put Bluebird back in his stall. He went willingly and turned around as I took his halter off as if he was secretly laughing at me.
"We couldn’t get him to go in a stall," I said. "And he got away from us during the storm. I was so worried about him."
"Why wouldn't he go into a stall?" Sally asked, looking puzzled.
"I have an idea," I said. "But it's a long story."
"So is mine," she said.
Sally was right. Outside the house looked like it was about to fall down but inside it was nice, in an old sort of way. The kitchen had a giant butler sink and a big wooden table. The smell of baking bread wafted out to great us.
"Granny Mae," Sally called out. "We have company."
An old lady strode into the kitchen, boots on her feet and her gray hair tied up in a braid on top of her head.
"There you are dear," she said. "I wondered where you had run off to."
"This is Emily and Mickey," Sally introduced us. "They came looking for their pony."
"Oh my," she said. "Well we'd better all sit down then."
The story was shared over cups of sugary tea and cookies that were so hard they nearly broke our teeth. Bluebird or Carson as he was known back then, had been Sally’s prize jumper pony. Her parents had bought him from another girl who’d outgrown him. He was a champion. A winner. There was no course he couldn’t complete, no cup he wouldn’t win.
“He was the best pony I ever had,” Sally said. “He’d jump a mountain if you asked him to, he had no idea how small he really was and when you were on his back, the jumps seemed like they were cross rails. He hopped over them like a little bunny. It was so cute.”
“But then you fell,” I said.
It was the thing I’d come to hear. The thing I needed to know. I didn’t know any of the details of my sister’s riding accident. What happened to her that day was still a mystery, one I was forbidden from asking about. But this time I needed to know.
“It wasn’t his fault if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’t do anything wrong. It was a really windy day, and just like today a storm was brewing. All the horses were acting up. Things were blowing around. I should have known better, I should have scratched him but I didn’t.”
“And he bolted out of the in gate,” I said, my tea and cookie long forgotten.
“A tent broke loose from its mooring. Took off like a giant kite. What pony wouldn’t spook at that?”
I shook my head, imagining how terrifying it must have been for poor Bluebird to see a giant white monster rising up into the sky.
“I fell,” she said. “My foot got caught in the stirrup. I was being dragged and praying that eventually he would stop but the in gate was open. He darted out of the arena.”
“That’s awful,” Mickey said.
“It was pretty bad,” Sally nodded. “I almost lost my leg but they managed to save it and I’m actually back riding again. I have an amazing mare that I’m leasing. She’s back at school, waiting for me.”
“So what? You just got rid of Bluebird because of what he did to you?” I said, suddenly not feeling sorry for Sally at all after everything that the poor pony had been through.
“No dear,” Granny Mae said as a tear rolled down Sally’s face. “Her parents got rid of him while she was still in the hospital. By the time she got home, he had gone.”
“I tried to find him for ages,” she said. “I wouldn’t speak to my parents for weeks. Threatened to starve myself if they wouldn’t get him back for me but no one knew where he had gone.”
“Well we know who had him before he went to the auction,” I said.
“Yeah, the spoiled brat next door,” Mickey added.
“I don’t think I know her,” Sally said.
“Lucky you,” Mickey grinned. “She kind of hates us, well Emily mostly.”
“I beat her at the last show,” I said.
“And she thinks you stole her boyfriend,” Mickey added.
“Which I didn’t,” I said, my face turning red.
“Okay but why would she send poor Carson, sorry Bluebird, to the dog food auction?” Sally said.
“Probably because he wouldn’t do what she wanted,” I said. “She thinks she can ride well but she can’t really. And we saw something in her barn. A pony tied with her head up in a stall. We think that is what she was doing to Bluebird.”
“Trying to get his head down?” Sally said. “Horrible and cruel and it won’t work. That’s just the way he goes. He jumps with his head held high. That’s why I did the pony jumpers. He’ll never be a hunter.”
“It’s a good job I love show jumping then,” I grinned.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
We spent the evening spread out on Granny Mae’s old couch with a black lab called Ace who warmed our laps and then fell asleep with his mouth open. We watched home movies of Sally jumping Carson, from the first time she tried him out, all pigtails and smiles, to the jump off at the Southern Cup finals. Sally was right about one thing, he sure had an unorthodox way of going, galloping up to the jumps with his head held high then throwing himself over them in a flash of chestnut and white. But he got the job done, even against bigger ponies he stood his ground.
“He’ll take the inside turn every time,” Sally said. “Cut corners even where you think it’s not possible.”
“He’s amazing,” I whispered.
Over the course of the day I’d gone from being terrified to elated to exhausted. I didn’t think I had any emotions left but there was one still lingering in the pit of my stomach, a tiny voice that whispered in my ear that maybe just maybe, Sally would want her amazing pony back and after everything she’d been through, I wouldn’t be able to say no.
We were half passed out on Granny Mae’s hot coco and cookies when Ace started barking at Mickey’s coat.
“Do you hear that?” Sally sat up on one elbow. “A sort of buzzing sound?”
“Is it a bee?” Granny Mae asked, adjusting her hearing aid.
“My phone,” Mickey cried.
She grabbed it from her coat and found an angry mother on the other end. I could hear her voice screaming down the phone that she’d been worried sick about us and Esther was in the background, adding that she we’d better be dead because otherwise we were in big trouble.
“I can help you with him if you like,” Sally said as we stood out in the dripping darkness watching the lights of the car flash up the drive towards us.
“You don’t,” I paused, heart pounding. “You don’t want him back?”
“Of course not silly,” she said. “He’s your pony now. I had my time with him and for a long time I wanted him back more than anything but look at me, my feet would drag on the ground if I rode him now.”
Sally was laughing but tears were streaming down my face. I’d been so scared that I was about to lose Bluebird but now not only had I uncovered the truth about him, I’d also found someone to help me.
“You really wouldn’t mind?” I asked.
“Of course not. I’ll come by in a couple of days.”
“Thanks,” I leaned in and hugged her.
“Get in the car now girls,” Mickey’s mom shouted through the open window, her face black as thunder. “You are in big trouble.”
“Gotta go,” I said. “You’ll make sure Bluebird is okay until Esther picks him up tomorrow?”
“You know I will,” she said.
I couldn’t stop grinning as the car pulled away, even though Mickey’s mom was yelling at us so loudly that my ears were ringing. I didn’t even care that we were in trouble. It was totally worth it.
Esther went to pick up Bluebird the next day. I desperately wanted to go but Esther had put us on double time camp duty as punishment for not letting her know that we were okay.
“It’s not really fair,” I said. “She let us go and look for him and she was the one who said that she couldn’t come with us. What did she expect?”
“I think she expected a phone call,” Mickey grimaced. “And for us not to wander too far from the property.”
The kids were practicing braiding in preparation for their big show and as a result our fingers were being poked and prodded as we held knots in place for them to tie.
“Well you were the one with the phone,” I said.
But I didn’t really care that we were being punished. I liked helping the kids learn about horses and Sally was going to help me with Bluebird. Everything was right with the world.
“He’s back!” Faith called out as the trailer swayed down the drive.
She had been most concerned about him and I’d had to promise that she could feed him some carrots when he got back.
“He’s fine,” Esther told them as they all crowded around the back of the trailer. “Now give him some room. Everyone get back.”
The kids shoved one another to get a better look as Esther undid the latch and Bluebird backed out into the sunshine. He looked around and blinked a few times, then whinnied. One of the horses in the barn answered. Then he put his head down and snatched a mouthful of grass.
Pony Jumpers (Show Jumping Dreams ~ Book 2) Page 8
