Pony Jumpers 4- Four Faults

by Kate Lattey

  Finally Jonty got the gate latched and turned back to me. “Where should we go?”

  I shrugged. “You choose.”

  He looked around for a moment, then his eyes travelled uphill. “How do you get up there?”

  “Where?”

  He pointed to the high peak of Last Post, and my heart sank. “Um, you go along the creek and up the bush track. But it’s a bit of a climb.”

  Jonty looked at Misty and then back at me. “Looks like he could use a climb. Might settle him down a bit.”

  “Maybe.”

  Except that what comes up must go down, and Misty had a nasty habit of bucking and leaping when he was going downhill. The steeper the incline, the worse he’d be going back down, but Jonty had taken my response as affirmation of his plan, and was already riding Copper on towards the creek. I told myself to suck it up, and let Misty follow him. He started out okay, bouncing from side to side and pretending to be scared of a fantail as it swooped and chirped around us in its friendly way, but not actively trying to throw me off. Jonty rode on a loose rein, looking around and chatting to me about inconsequential things like how many paddocks we’d closed up for hay, how many head of sheep we were running at the moment, and whether I thought lamb prices would pick up before Christmas. I gave him short, simple answers, trying to concentrate on not falling off Misty. When we turned away from the creek and headed towards the bush, I felt the pony coil himself up like a spring beneath me. I’d never wanted to get off and run away more in my life, but I told myself to be brave. You can’t always run away. You have to face your fears. These were things I told myself all the time. They never really worked, but I told them to myself anyway. Just in case.

  Jonty looked over his shoulder at me as we headed uphill. “Wanna trot?”

  I took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay. Just go slow for a bit though. Let Misty loosen up, since he’s had a few days off.” It sounded pathetic, even to me, and I wasn’t sure that Jonty believed me. But he nodded and sent Copper forward into a steady trot.

  Of course, what was slow for Copper didn’t quite match Misty’s shorter legs, and while Jonty seemed to have a calm and responsive horse, Misty was bucking and cavorting along behind him. Jonty glanced behind at us a couple of times, but he always seemed to catch Misty between antics, and he just smiled at me and carried on. I didn’t want to tell him to slow down, since Copper was already going pretty slowly, and I figured that the faster we went, the sooner Misty would be puffing for breath and want to slow down of his own accord.

  But I’d underestimated how fit my sister’s pony was. We trotted on, and on, and on. The trail got steeper, and I could hear Copper’s breath coming harder as he pushed on up the incline, but Misty showed no signs of tiring. My arms were already aching from his constant pull against the reins, and I had no hope of stopping him when he decided to take advantage of the widening track around one corner. Shooting to the inside as Copper rounded the turn, Misty launched forward into a surging canter and raced on up the hill.

  I heard Jonty laughing behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder once to see him urging Copper on to keep up. He was clearly having the time of his life, while I was completely out of control. It was all I could do to try and duck out of the way of the worst of the overhanging trees and branches, and I was grateful to be riding in jeans as we brushed against gorse and bush lawyer along the way. But I couldn’t avoid all of it, and a reaching strand of bush lawyer tore right across my knee, digging its barbs into my skin.

  It stung like mad, but that was the least of my worries, because I was all too aware that we were about to turn the corner and find a solid wooden gate right in front of us. I buried the knuckles of my left hand at the base of Misty’s mane and pulled as hard as I could on the right rein, trying to enact a one-rein stop and turn him towards the bank instead of the drop-off on our left. Misty threw his head up and fought me, but the steep track had winded him a little, and he did steady to a more manageable speed. We made the turn and he baulked at the sight of the gate, much to my relief. I’d been half-afraid that he’d just keep going and jump it, and there was no way I wanted to go leaping over any kind of fixed wooden obstacle at the speed we’d just been travelling.

  I used all my remaining strength to drag him back to a trot as Copper came up level with me, his neck dark with sweat, nostrils flaring red. Jonty shot me an exhilarated grin, but his expression changed swiftly to one of concern. I guess I was too shaken and exhausted from our uphill bolt to hide my fear any longer, and Jonty got to see it for what it was. Sheer, unbridled terror. I could feel my hand shaking, and as Misty tried to surge forward again to get ahead of Copper, Jonty leaned down and grabbed his rein right behind the bit and brought him to a halt, his eyes fixed on mine.

  “You okay?”

  I drew in a shaky breath and lied. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But my voice betrayed me, quavering despite my attempt to control its pitch.

  “Sure? You look scared shitless.”

  I gave up. “That obvious, huh?”

  I tried to keep my voice light. I wanted to tell him that I didn’t want to be scared. It wasn’t something I’d chosen, and as hard as I tried, it wasn’t something I could control. I wanted so badly to be fearless like Hayley. I didn’t want to care when I lost control of my pony, didn’t want to let Misty intimidate me, didn’t want to always have flashes of the worst possible outcome at the front of my mind whenever anything untoward happened. And in the back of my mind, I’d somehow thought that I could survive these remaining six weeks without losing my nerve completely. But right now, the thought of being on any horse – even sweet little Rory – was making my whole body quiver and I wanted nothing more than to burst into tears and throw myself onto the ground in a trembling mess.

  I didn’t, of course. But I had completely lost the battle to hide my emotions, and the worried look on Jonty’s face somehow made me feel even worse. He wasn’t supposed to see me like this. Get a grip, Tess!

  “You should’ve said.” His tone wasn’t accusing, just concerned.

  “Said what?”

  “That you didn’t want to canter.” Jonty’s hand stayed steady on Misty’s rein, no matter how hard the pony tugged against him, and it made me feel a little safer. Only a little, but a little was quite a lot in my current state of mind.

  “Yeah, well Misty didn’t exactly give me a choice.”

  Comprehension dawned. “I thought you wanted to race.”

  “You thought wrong.” I sucked in another breath, which came in a bit less shaky this time, thankfully. “You just made Misty’s day though.”

  Jonty didn’t laugh with me this time. “Why do you ride him, if you’re so scared of him?”

  “Because Hayley makes me.” I wondered if he was going to get off and open the gate, because I knew it was too heavy to manage on horseback. I’d do it myself except that I didn’t trust my legs to hold me up, and once off, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make myself get back on.

  “So tell her no.”

  “You say that like it’s easy.”

  Jonty shrugged. “Not easy, maybe. But not impossible.”

  “You have met Hayley, right?”

  “She’s bossy. She’s not an ogre.”

  There was no way to explain, so I just pointed at the gate. “We go through there.”

  “Sure? We can turn around, if you want.”

  “We’ve come this far. And Misty’s a bit puffed, but if we stand around any longer he’ll get his breath back, so we should keep moving.”

  “Okay, if you say so.” He released Misty’s rein, and I gritted my teeth, trying to force myself to be calm. Jonty kicked his feet out of the stirrups and leaned forward, preparing to dismount. Then he paused and looked at me again. “I won’t think any less of you if you want to go home.”

  “Just get off and open the gate before I change my mind,” I told him irritably. I didn’t want him feeling sorry for me. He already thought I was a wimp – or what was it
he’d called Copper the other day? You big sook. Yeah, that was me. Riding since I was three years old and still afraid to canter up a hill.

  Jonty pulled the gate open and held it for me. I squeezed Misty forward as lightly as I could, and he moved swiftly, eyeing up the next section of track. Despite what I’d said to Jonty, the pony already had his breath back and was ready to keep going. Jonty’s hand shot out as Misty passed him, and pulled him back to a halt. I was torn between gratitude and anger, and the latter was much easier to express in my current frame of mind.

  “You don’t have to do that! I’m not a little kid that needs to be led.”

  Jonty’s eyebrows shot up, and he let go. “Sorry. Just trying to help.” He shut the gate and swung back into Copper’s saddle, embodying the confidence that I longed for so badly.

  “Sorry. I’m being rude again.”

  “You seem to be making a habit of that,” Jonty commented as he turned Copper uphill. “You want to lead for a bit?”

  “Um.” I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. At least with Copper in front of him, Misty had something to crash into. Then again, he hadn’t exactly stayed behind Copper before. I glanced at Jonty. “Side by side? It’s wide enough for a bit.”

  “Sounds good.”

  We headed up the track alongside each other, Misty jogging a bit to keep up with Copper’s reaching stride. I looked down at the thin trail of blood seeping through my torn jeans. Stupid bush lawyer. I wished Dad would eradicate the bloody stuff. Jonty’s eyes had followed mine, and he winced.

  “You okay?”

  “Can you stop asking me that? I’m fine. I don’t need you feeling sorry for me.”

  “Why would I feel sorry for you?”

  I looked over at him and opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. My jeans might be slightly torn, but his were threadbare. His faded rugby shirt looked like it had seen better days, lots of them, and there was a crack in the side of his boot wide enough to shove a pencil through. I noticed that he wasn’t wearing socks, and wondered how he avoided blisters. Then I realised that I was staring, and snapped my eyes back to the trail ahead of me as I searched for an answer.

  “Because my sister’s a bully and she makes me ride her crazy pony?” Jonty looked like he was about to tell me again that I could stand up to Hayley, and I cut him off before he could spout any more of those lies. “So now you know that I’m a huge wuss.”

  “I don’t think you’re a wuss. I think you’re pretty brave, actually.”

  I choked out a laugh, startling Misty and making him prop on his forelegs and throw his head back. I ground my teeth together and lightly squeezed him up again, and he jogged after Copper, swinging his quarters frighteningly close to the drop-off. I should’ve made Jonty ride along this side of the track. Given the option, I’d take bush lawyer over a forty-foot drop any day of the week.

  “I’m not brave.”

  “Sure you are. Look at you.”

  I glared at him, wondering what he was getting at. Yeah, look at me. Shaking and trembling and imagining the worst case scenario, freaking out if Misty so much as shifts sideways.

  “Well I don’t feel too brave,” I admitted, my hands clammy on Misty’s slippery reins. “Not like Hayley.”

  Jonty snorted. “Hayley’s not brave.”

  “Of course she is,” I told him irritably. “She never gets scared. She’s fearless.”

  “She never has to be brave because she’s not smart enough to be scared in the first place.” Oh, how I wished Hayley could hear him say that she wasn’t smart. “Being brave isn’t not being scared. It’s being scared but doing it anyway.”

  It was a nice thought. “But if I was brave,” I told him, “I’d tell Hayley to get stuffed and refuse to ride Misty at all. Explain that.”

  “You’re too nice,” Jonty replied easily. “You don’t like upsetting people so you just go around doing what everyone else wants, no matter how hard it makes things for you.”

  “Is that so bad? I thought being nice was a good thing.” I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t a little hurt by the character assassination.

  “It is. But you have to take care of yourself too. Try saying no, once in a while. I promise it won’t kill you.”

  “I say no all the time,” I told him.

  “And when was the last time it worked?”

  I hesitated. I’d said no when Hayley had demanded that I ride Misty, yet somehow I’d ended up doing it anyway. I’d tried to tell my Mum for years that I didn’t want to compete, didn’t want to jump higher and be more successful, but she couldn’t see that what I wanted and what she wanted were different things. I’d even spent several days avoiding Jonty just because I thought it would make Mia feel better, when she had no idea I was even doing it. Perhaps I did try a bit too hard to be nice. But that still didn’t explain how Jonty suddenly got to be so insightful.

  “You don’t even know me,” I told him. “What makes you so sure what I need?”

  Jonty shrugged. “Maybe I know you better than you realise. I’ve been watching you for a while now.”

  I raised my eyebrows, feeling slightly creeped out. “Well that’s great. Now you sound like a stalker.”

  He laughed, breaking the tension. “Sorry. I haven’t been following you around or anything. But you know, I see you on the bus and at school and stuff, and when you ride past our place. Not that you go that way too often.”

  I felt horribly guilty then for how many times I’d avoided Jonty. But it did prove that I hadn’t been imagining it when I’d felt his eyes on me.

  “And here I thought you only had eyes for Hayley,” I teased him, trying to make him blush. But he didn’t. He just looked straight at me and shook his head.

  “Guess you thought wrong.”

  The track narrowed ahead of us, and Misty barged forward to take the lead. I let him, and then looked over my shoulder at Jonty. “It gets pretty steep here.”

  He winked at me, and my stomach did this weird flip-flopping thing that I wasn’t prepared for. “I’m ready.”

  I swallowed hard and faced forward again, focusing my vision between Misty’s curved ears.

  “Come on then,” I told the pony resignedly as I loosened my reins and let him plunge forward. I ducked low under an overhanging branch and closed my eyes, letting Misty carry me all the way to the top of the hill, trusting that I would be able to stop him at the top. Strangely, admitting that I was scared had made me feel slightly braver. Or at least, knowing that Jonty thought I was brave was making me try to live up to his opinion. I was still petrified of the thought of riding back down the other side of this hill, but I found comfort in knowing that I wouldn’t be doing it alone.

  Misty dug his toes into the rocky edges of the clay track and scrabbled his way up. I opened my eyes and realised that more of the trail had been washed away by the rain than I’d realised, and I hoped Copper would make it without mishap. I grabbed Misty’s short mane and leaned forward, impressed with how sure-footed he was. I looked behind me as soon as we were on level ground, watching Copper make his way up behind me. Misty’s mane fluttered in the breeze, and I shivered slightly at the chill in the air. Copper reached the summit, looking alarmed at how difficult his ascent had been, and Jonty gave him an encouraging pat.

  “Good boy.”

  I patted Misty too then, but he only took advantage of my loosened rein to prance across the top of the hill. My heart was pounding as I circled him back towards Copper, trying not to imagine him bolting straight downhill like I was sure he wanted to.

  Jonty was looking at Pop’s grave curiously. He rode Copper towards it, and I felt my breath catch in my throat, suddenly aware of how much this place meant to me. When Jonty had said he wanted to come up here, I’d been so preoccupied with how nervous I was about getting here to consider how he’d react when he arrived.

  “I remember him,” he said as I circled Misty closer to Copper’s heaving sides. He motioned towards Pop’s grave, look
ing thoughtful. “He gave me a pie once.”

  I looked at Jonty curiously. “A pie?”

  “Yeah, at the A&P Show when I was about six. I think your Gran made it, for the baking competition.”

  “Right.” Gran had been a sublime cook, and had won that competition every year she’d entered. “She made a mean apple pie. And Pop gave you some? Lucky you.”

  Jonty shook his head. “Not just some. Gave me the whole thing, and it was huge. He said I looked hungry, and then he just handed me this whole pie and told me to take it home for my family.”

  I smiled. “That sounds like Pop,” I said proudly. Even before Jonty’s dad got laid off, his family hadn’t exactly been well-off. That whole pie would’ve gone down a treat, and it was exactly the kind of generous thing Pop would’ve done.

  But Jonty looked uncomfortable. “I always felt really bad about it.”

  “Why?” I had managed to convince Misty to stand, but he was pawing the ground impatiently and I knew we’d have to move on soon. But I wasn’t quite ready yet. Nobody ever talked about Pop anymore “I’m sure Pop didn’t mind. He liked to help people.”

  Jonty shrugged, looking down at Pop’s grave, then turned back to me, his eyes sad. “I didn’t take it home. I went round behind the goat sheds and ate the whole thing myself.” He looked so guilty that my heart went out to him.

  “Oh. Well, you were six. Kids do that kind of thing all the time.”

  “Do they? I felt really bad about it. I was too embarrassed to carry the pie dish around, and I couldn’t take it back to your Pop without admitting that I’d just scoffed the whole thing. So I hid it in the grass and ran away.”

  “Gran had like a thousand of those plates. I’m sure she never even noticed.”

  Jonty sighed. “That’s not really the point though, is it?”

  “Guess not. But it’s done now. You can’t change the past. And it’s not like you didn’t appreciate it.”