Pony Jumpers 4- Four Faults

by Kate Lattey

  Rory tugged at the reins, wanting to eat again if she wasn’t allowed to move off, so I shoved my phone back into my pocket and clicked my tongue, directing her over to the Totara cross that Dad had carved for his father and halting next to it. I liked to bring Pop something whenever I came up here, a little memento from the farm that I thought he’d like. An early daffodil, a scrap of wool at shearing time, a cicada shell still clinging to a shard of macrocarpa bark. I dug my fingers into my pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone. I’d found it down at the river last week, and it was perfect for skimming. I knew Pop would like it. He’d taught me to skim stones when I was small, and it was the first thing I’d ever done that I was better at than my sister. She’d tried, failed, and given up, but I’d picked it up easily. I set the stone down on the top of the cross for him.

  “I miss you, Pop.” The wind swirled around us, then died away completely. For a moment it was completely still and warm, and I knew he was still there, watching over me. I let the feeling sink in and his spirit wrap all around me, until the wind picked up again and I rode on down the hill.

  I allowed Rory to pick her own way down, lost in my own memories of Pop, and the way he’d scoop me up onto his bony lap and tell me stories about what life was like on the farm when he was my age. How he’d get up before the sun to milk the house cow every morning, and would step in steaming cowpats to warm his bare feet on the way to school in the winter. How he’d had to ride his half-broke pony bareback, because his parents couldn’t afford a saddle, and about the time he’d decided to enter the show jumping at the A&P show, and had hitched a ride in a cattle truck. He’d chuckled at the memory of his pony’s head poking out the top as they drove, and how his legs and belly had been splattered in cow muck when they unloaded him at the other end.

  Pop always used to bring that story up when Hayley would start going on about how she needed another show jacket because hers was last season’s colour, and wanting to know why couldn’t we go to Pukekohe this weekend because seven hours each way wasn’t all that far really. Pop and I would roll our eyes at each other and he would snuggle me closer and whisper in my ear that I was his favourite granddaughter. He might have said the same thing to Hayley when I wasn’t around – I couldn’t be sure. But I was almost certain that he never had.

  I was so swept up in reminiscing that I didn’t realise that Rory had deviated from our usual route until we were too far down the track to turn around. Instead of going back along the bottom of the gully like I’d planned, she’d taken the more direct route towards home and was now striding towards the road gate directly opposite the farm cottage where Jonty lived. I winced as Taniwha lifted his head and whinnied a welcome to my pony. But it was still early, and there was nobody about. Faded clothes flapped on the line strung between two trees in the front yard, and a scraggly goat was wandering around on the lawn, trailing a piece of rope tied around its neck.

  I considered riding back up the hill, but we were almost home now and Rory had her heart set on going this way. Besides, Mum wanted me to help her get lunch made for everyone who had come to help with the drenching, and we both knew that Hayley was next to useless at coking, even when she wasn’t faking a migraine. So I leaned down and unlatched the gate, then nudged Rory through.

  Colin had already crossed the road and was sniffing noses with Taniwha, who was leaning his broad chest against the sagging wire fence and peering down at my dog. Rory flickered an ear in the gelding’s direction, but didn’t pay him any more mind than that. She was never the most sociable of ponies, which I was grateful for. If I was riding Misty, he’d have already dragged me across the road and tried to start a fight with Taniwha through the fence.

  “Good thing you’re the sensible one,” I told Rory as I turned her towards home and let her trot on.

  We’d gone a little way before I realised that Colin wasn’t with us, and I raised the dog whistle that I wore around my neck to my mouth, and gave it a sharp blast. A motley blur leapt off the front steps of the cottage and came racing towards me, and I looked over my shoulder and watched him come. Then I realised why he’d been up on the steps in the first place.

  Jonty was standing in the doorframe of the cottage, staring at me. He was dressed only in a faded pair of rugby shorts, and he lifted his hand in a brief wave when he saw me notice him. My cheeks burned red as I dropped the whistle from my mouth. It bounced against my chest as Colin reached my side, and I looked down at my dog, pretending not to have seen Jonty. I wondered if he was still staring at me, but I refused to look back, in case he was.

  “Let’s go home,” I told Colin, and kicked Rory into a canter.

  I’d expected Hayley to still be in bed, but I found her at the stables, flinging a saddle onto Misty’s broad back.

  “There you are,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Take forever, why don’t you? I was about to give up waiting for you and ride Misty myself, but since you’re here I’ll give you a lesson.”

  My insides clenched up as I kicked my leg over the back of Rory’s saddle and slid to the ground.

  “You can ride him,” I mumbled, but Hayley wasn’t having it.

  “You said last night that you’d ride him. You promised. And if you think I’m going to let you convince Mum and Dad to sell him, you’re dreaming. It’s never happening, so you better harden up and get on with it. It’s not that hard Tess, you just have to have a bit of gumption.”

  I scowled at her from underneath Rory’s saddle flap. Gumption was one of Pop’s words, and I didn’t like hearing her use it. She knew that it riled me up too – it was why she’d said it. Hayley smirked at me as she slipped Misty’s bridle on, and he tossed his head and chomped at the bit. I could feel the strength draining out of my arms as I pulled Rory’s saddle off her back and slung it over the railing, then flipped her damp saddle blanket upside down on top of it to dry out in the breeze.

  I took Rory’s bridle off and led her out to the hose that was coiled up at the end of the building. She twitched and shivered her muscles as I directed the cold spray onto her back. Usually I liked to take my time over hosing her off, getting all of the sweat out of her coat before scraping off the excess water and rubbing her down with a dry towel, but I could feel Hayley’s eyes boring into me, so I just ran the spray over Rory’s back and girth area, between her back legs and across her neck and chest, then shut it off.

  “Get a move on Tess,” Hayley grumbled as I searched around for a scraper. “Just let her drip dry – she’s a horse, not a freakin’ miniature poodle. She’s not going to start shivering and falling down if you don’t scrape every bit of water off her. Go bung her in the paddock and come get on this magnificent beast.”

  She clapped Misty’s neck, and the magnificent beast tossed his head and pawed at the ground. They were as impatient as each other, and I reluctantly turned Rory out into the house paddock to roll, then walked over to Hayley’s side. Might as well get it over and done with, because there was no arguing with her. Never had been, never would be.

  Hayley grabbed my calf and hoisted me into the saddle before I even had a chance to say hello to Misty, and I shoved my feet quickly into the stirrups. They were set to her length, which was several holes too long for me, and I struggled to adjust them as Misty followed my sister over to the flat paddock that we used for schooling. Hayley had been bugging our parents for years to put in a proper arena, but so far that was one battle she hadn’t won, although it was probably only a matter of time.

  “Take him for a trot, get the tickle out of his toes,” she bossed me, striding into the middle of the paddock and shoving poles and jumps around, making my heart sink. I’d been hoping I’d get away with just having a flat lesson, which was bad enough and always left me with aching arms and frazzled nerves. But adding jumping to the equation made Misty ten times stronger and more excited, and me at least ten times more likely to fall off. Not to mention Hayley ten times more likely to scream at me for ruining her pony.

  I l
et Misty trot on, trying to convince my brain we were having fun, but it didn’t work. Misty’s hooves sprang up from the grass like he was stepping on hot coals, and he got faster and faster as he trotted around the perimeter of the jumping paddock. I took a contact on the reins, giving them a firm squeeze to slow him down. It would’ve worked on Rory, who would’ve lowered her head and stretched, mouthing softly at the bit and letting me use my seat and legs to bend her body to my will. But Misty’s cresty neck was made of solid muscle, and it only came up higher in front of me, as hard as a block of wood and twice as strong.

  I shortened my reins, and he lifted his head more, until it felt as though his short mane was about to brush against my face. I swallowed hard and tried to make myself let his head go, but as soon as I relaxed my hold on the reins he shot forward into a canter. I gripped with my legs and pulled back on the reins, trying to get him back to a trot. I’d won plenty of Best Rider classes on Rory, and was often commended on my balanced and natural position in the saddle, but five minutes on Misty’s back always made me feel like a beginner again. The aids I used on Rory, and every other normal pony I’d ever ridden, simply didn’t compute with Misty. There was no line of communication between us, no common language that we both understood. Misty’s stride shortened and he strained against the tight reins. My brain told me to relax and let him go forward, but I couldn’t make my body comply. I just kept pulling, even as Hayley started up yelling at me again.

  “For crying out loud Tess, let his head go!”

  I wanted to, but I couldn’t. Misty took shorter and shorter steps until it felt like I was sitting on top of a pogo stick that was powered by a jet engine, waiting for the whole thing to explode. It didn’t take too long. Misty rationalised that if he wasn’t allowed to go forwards, he’d try going backwards instead. He shot into reverse, backing halfway across the paddock before I got brave enough to kick him forward. He lurched into his springy trot, and I slipped sideways and lost a stirrup.

  Hayley stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head at me. “Why are you so useless? I thought you could ride? What’s wrong with you?”

  I wished I knew. I shoved my foot resolutely back into the stirrup as Misty bounded past her, and gritted my teeth.

  Seven more weeks, I told myself, and then this will all be over.

  Mum ended up fixing lunch on her own, because Hayley wouldn’t let me get off Misty until I’d taken him around the course of jumps that she’d set up without falling off. I had managed it in the end, although it had been messy and we’d knocked two rails down. In the end she’d told me that watching me attempt to ride had brought her headache back, and she was going inside for a shower. I was left to untack Misty, but I didn’t mind. Handling him on the ground wasn’t exactly easy, but it was infinitely preferable to being on his back. I washed him down thoroughly, scrubbing every trace of dirt and sweat from his coat, then found my scraper and sluiced the water off. He stood happily in the yard while I worked on him, his eyes half-closed as the sun warmed his broad back.

  “See, you like this,” I told him. “If Hayley wasn’t so lazy, she’d do it every time she washed you.”

  Misty swished his tail at me, and the wet strands slapped my cheek, making my eyes water. Ungrateful animal.

  I turned him out with Rory, and he immediately went to the dustiest part of the paddock and rolled, undoing my grooming efforts in a matter of seconds. I shook my head at him as he worked the dirt into his coat, wriggling around on his back with his legs tucked up against his stomach and getting all the spots that he thought I’d missed. Only once he was completely filthy did he stand up and shake, sending a cloud of dust up around him. His gleaming white coat had turned patchy brown, and he looked deeply satisfied by his efforts.

  I tidied all of our gear away, then went up to the house, hoping Mum had left some lunch for us. Colin followed me to the door, then lay down on the front porch and rested his chin on his paws, watching me dolefully as I went inside.

  “I’ll come back and eat with you,” I told him, eyeing up the hammock that was strung across one corner of our porch. It was my favourite reading spot, and I was in the middle of a really good book. Hayley was still in the shower, as evidenced by the steam puffing its way out of the half-open bathroom window, and my stomach rumbled as I kicked off my boots and went inside, hoping she hadn’t eaten lunch yet, because chances were she’d have taken the lion’s share.

  I was in luck. There were two large pieces of bacon and egg pie sitting on the bench, with a note on top that said ONE EACH! in Mum’s handwriting. I reached for the bigger slice, then realised that my hands were still filthy and covered in grey horse hair. I turned to wash them at the kitchen sink, only to find that the soap container was empty. Great. And now the sound of running water was making me need to pee as well.

  I went down the hall and banged on the bathroom door as hard as I could.

  “Hurry up and get out of the shower, or I’ll eat all the pie!”

  There was no reply, and I wondered if Hayley had heard me. Then I heard a thump as she banged on the shower wall in response, and I stuck my tongue out at the closed door. Fine then. I decided to go and use Mum and Dad’s ensuite instead. I wasn’t supposed to, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

  Hayley banged on the wall again, twice. “I get the point, sheesh,” I muttered. I turned away, then back again as Colin came scrabbling down the hall towards me with an anxious expression.

  “Hey! You’re not supposed to be down here,” I reminded him, but my dog ignored me. His eyes were fixed on the bathroom door, and he stopped and scratched at it, whining loudly.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him. “Do you need to pee as well?”

  I was joking, but Colin wasn’t. He became more agitated, whining again and then letting out a short bark.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him. He was starting to scare me, and I knocked on the bathroom door again. “Hayley? Are you okay?”

  No response. I pressed my ear against the door and tried the handle, but it was locked. Another muffled thump, and I was starting to get worried.

  “Hays? Shut up, Colin!” His whining was drowning out any sounds I could pick up through the door. He finally ceased his whimpering, and I listened to the water running from the shower head into the enamel bathtub. Then there was another strange thud, followed by a low moan that made my blood run cold. Something was wrong. I yelled my sister’s name again and tried the door handle again, but it was still securely locked.

  Think! Colin started barking again, and I remembered the open window. I ran back down the hall and outside, scrambling over the porch railing until I was under the bathroom window. They were the old-fashioned type with wooden frames that slid up and down, and Hayley had used an old piece of wood to prop the window open while she showered. I grabbed the windowsill and pulled myself up onto it, wriggling on my stomach until I was half in-half out of the bathroom window.

  “Hayley?” Still no response, and I was really getting scared now. For once I wanted her to yell at me, but all I heard was running water, then another thud, another low moan.

  Squirming desperately the rest of the way through the window, I jumped to the floor and ran to the tub, then pulled the shower curtain back. Hayley was lying on her side, convulsing. There was blood around her mouth and spattered across the sides of the white enamel bath, and I stood there and stared in horror as the hot water kept pouring down.

  Colin barked from the other side of the bathroom door, and I jerked back into action, turning the shower head off. Hayley’s head jerked back and forth, banging against the edge of the bathtub, and I grabbed a towel from the hand rail behind me and shoved it under her head. I tried desperately to remember what to do when someone was having a seizure. We’d covered it in Health class at school, when we’d done First Aid, but I couldn’t remember. It was too late to try and stop her from biting her tongue, so I crouched, frozen, next to the tub as Hayley’s convulsing finally
ceased.

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she groaned again, a long, drawn-out sound like an animal in pain. I struggled to hold back panicky tears as I reached out and laid my shaking hand on her damp arm.

  “Hays? You okay?” She opened her eyes and looked at me. There was no recognition at first, and it chilled my blood to see those familiar blue eyes staring at me so blankly. I reached down and grabbed her hand, squeezing it in what I hoped was a reassuring way. She blinked a couple of times, and then my sister came back.

  “Wha’ happened?” She struggled to speak through her bruised mouth, and I saw the confusion in her face.

  I tried to speak calmly. “I’m not sure. Can you get up?”

  She started to move, then lay back again. “No,” she said, sounding scared and bewildered.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go get Mum.” Mum would know what to do, I was sure of it. I started to stand up, but Hayley gripped my hand tight.

  “Don’t go,” she insisted, her fingers clutching mine like a vice.

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t want to argue with her just then, so I sat back down. After a moment, Hayley’s grip loosened, and her eyes closed again. She seemed to be falling asleep, even though she was lying in the bath. Colin was still pawing desperately at the door, so I slipped my hand out of Hayley’s and stood up, my knees weak. I unlocked the door and let Colin into the room. He ran to the tub and put his paws on the edge, peering in concernedly at Hayley. He whined again, and looked at me.

  “I know,” I told him. I was dangerously close to bursting into hysterical sobs, but I had to hold it together. I had to go and get help. “You look after her for me, okay? Good boy.”