Pony Jumpers 6- Six to Ride

by Kate Lattey

  Pony Jumpers

  #6

  SIX TO RIDE

  Kate Lattey

  1st Edition

  Copyright 2016 © by Kate Lattey

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Preview of Pony Jumpers #7 : Seventh Place

  About the Author

  Find & Follow

  * * *

  “Horses and life, it’s all the same to me.”

  - Buck Brannaman

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  The road stretched out ahead of us, glimmering slightly in the heat as we drove further north. I knew from looking at my phone this morning that it was overcast and drizzling back home, and had sent Mum a text to make sure she put the appropriate rugs on all the ponies. I didn’t like being away from them, but Dad had insisted on this father-daughter road trip, as he was calling it, and for reasons known only to himself and my mum, they’d joined forces to make me go along.

  I half-closed my eyes behind my sunglasses, wondering why he was bothering. I hadn’t seen much of my Dad since I was seven years old, until he’d reappeared a couple of months ago and decided he could just waltz back into my life. I had to admit that there were upsides to this. For one, he was loaded from his years of working in Australia - and from shirking on his child support payments – which meant he could afford to buy things that Mum had been telling me for years were too expensive. An iPhone, for one, which was now one of my most prized possessions. And Molly, for the other, who was infinitely more valuable than any piece of technology. He’d saved the day on that one, for sure, buying my superstar lease pony from her owners so I wouldn’t lose the ride. So I had to appreciate him for that, and I did.

  But there were downsides, too. He seemed to expect me to have utterly forgiven him for years of absence, just because he bought me a pony, and he kept trying to be all fatherly. The attempts to hug me were bad enough, because I’ve never much liked being hugged anyway, but the attempts at discipline were even worse. I must have inherited my short fuse from him, as well as my tendency to say whatever comes to mind before thinking it through, and it had already made for some hefty arguments.

  “Not far now,” he said, shooting me a knowing look from the driver’s seat of his shiny Range Rover.

  “I’d be more excited if you’d tell me where we’re going,” I replied, my legs already sweating slightly inside my boots and chaps. He’d insisted I pack them and told me to put them on this morning, then had donned jeans and John Bull boots himself, which gave me the suspicious feeling that we were going to go on some kind of horse trekking adventure. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing – it had to beat yesterday’s activity in Rotorua, which had involved wandering for hours around stinky thermal mud pools, clutching a map and trying not to get sunstroke while Dad murmured things about geology – but if he thought taking me riding was going to be the way to my heart, he was wrong. Not that I don’t like riding – I live for it – but going to some mouldy trekking centre and riding some half-schooled horse with a mouth like iron and no independent spirit while Dad trailed along behind me on something half-dead didn’t exactly appeal to me. I was missing my ponies frantically, missing my mum and my bedroom and my little dog Critter. I’d barely slept in the two nights we’d been away, but I couldn’t tell Dad that I was homesick. Not now that I was almost sixteen. It would sound pathetic, and he probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  Dad flicked on his indicator and slowed down to turn. I glanced around us, then sat up straight and stared out of the window.

  “Are you serious?”

  We were heading up a large, tree-lined driveway. Lush green grass filled the paddocks on either side, bordered by immaculate post and rail fences and containing some of the most stunning horses I’d ever seen. I knew exactly where we were, but I still couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Little River Farm was one of – probably the – number one sport horse breeding facility in New Zealand. They’d imported a couple of incredible European jumping stallions, and had built up an amazing group of broodmares over the past twenty years. Their horses were the crème de la crème, the ones that always turned heads in the ring and jumped the tops of the stands as though they weren’t even trying. They’d won all the biggest breeding championships in the country for the past couple of years, and my heart was pounding as I turned to look at my father’s profile. A smile was playing around the corners of his mouth, and he looked at me sideways.

  “Nice place, isn’t it?”

  Why are we here? I wanted so badly to ask, but I couldn’t make myself speak. Until he told me, I wouldn’t know for sure. Until he told me otherwise, I could pretend that we’d come here to buy a horse. That he’d decided to do what I’d joked about with my best friend AJ, only a couple of days ago. That he was going to buy me a Grand Prix show jumper…

  But of course, that was nonsense. Dad didn’t like horses, didn’t think show jumping was a sensible thing to dedicate your life to. He was all for me getting an education, going to university, finding a sensible job in town and spending my life shuttling myself in and out of an office. I was all for becoming the best rider I could be, getting a working pupil job in Europe, rising up the ranks and finding good owners and sponsors and one day competing at the Olympics. It wasn’t a pipe dream. It was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do with my life.

  We pulled up in front of the massive stable block and Dad turned off the engine.

  “Say something,” he probed.

  I blinked a few times, then stared at him. “What…why are we…”

  But before he could answer, there was a crunch on the gravel and we both looked to see a woman striding towards us with two border collies at her heels.

  “Good morning! You must be Katy. I’m Marlene, welcome to Little River.”

  I scrambled out of the car, wishing I’d packed my new tall boots and some cleaner jodhs. When Dad had insisted I bring riding gear on this trip with me, I’d thrown some of my oldest boots into my bag, never expecting to turn up somewhere this smart. Now I was in muddy jodhpur boots with splits along one side and chaps that no longer clasped properly at the top. Fortunately Marlene didn’t seem to mind – or if she did, I couldn’t tell.

  She shook my hand, then Dad’s as he came around my side of the car. After a quick exchange of pleasantries – about the weather, and if we’d had a good trip so far – she looked back at me with a broad smile.

  “So, Katy. Are you ready to try out some horses?”

  It didn’t feel real. I watched the silvery grey gelding as he cantered around the arena with Marlene’s groom in the tack, looking effortlessly powerful. He was a little green, coming above the bit as she made a transition back to trot, but he was only a four-year-old and hadn’t been worked much. We weren’t here to look at established horses – those were outside even my father’s price range. But he’d told me earlier, as we’d walked over to the stables behind Marlene, that he’d decided to get involved with the horses
after all.

  “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” he’d smiled at me, clapping me on the shoulder in what he probably hoped was a fatherly way. I’d been too distracted by the gorgeous horses in the stable complex to say much of anything, just listening as he told me that it had been Mum’s idea for him to bribe me with a top level horse in order to win me over. He didn’t use those words, of course, but that was pretty much how it worked. Not that I cared. On the contrary, I thought it was the best idea Mum had ever had, and what’s more, it was already working.

  Marlene had given us a tour of the facility, pointed out some likely-looking horses, then taken us into her house for lunch. Her house was stunning, done in the Mediterranean style, and the food was plentiful, fresh and delicious. I’d been far too excited to eat much, and soon became impatient as she talked on and on with Dad about dull things like finance and interest rates, but finally we’d re-emerged into the sunlight and made our way to the arena, where one of her grooms had been waiting with a huge chestnut horse.

  After viewing the chestnut and a dark bay mare, we’d moved on to this dappled grey gelding. They were all nice horses, but there had been something about each one that hadn’t quite clicked with me. The chestnut had been so big that I’d struggled to adjust to his paces, and I couldn’t help feeling that I wouldn’t be able to do him justice, he was so powerful and strong. The bay had been a little on the lazy side, sucking peevishly back behind my leg and shaking her head every time I asked her to go a little more forward, and I could foresee having many battles on my hands with her. The grey seemed nice, with fluid paces and a sweet expression, but he didn’t exactly take my breath away.

  “So, what do you think?” Marlene smiled at me, but there was an edge of impatience now, and I knew she was finding my hesitation irritating.

  “He looks lovely,” I said honestly, and picked up my helmet as the groom walked the horse on a long rein towards us. “I’d love to have a ride.”

  The grey was as sweet to ride as he’d looked from the ground, and he jumped well too, cantering smoothly in a consistent rhythm and clearing each fence nicely. He’d make a super Show Hunter, I thought to myself as I brought him back to trot and gave his long slender neck a rub. But I wasn’t sure he was going to take me to Grand Prix.

  Marlene could see it on my face as I rode back over to them, and her smile became more forced.

  “She’s a tough one to please, your daughter,” she said to Dad. “Well, I suppose there’s one more you could look at, but I wasn’t planning to sell her. She’s exceptionally well-bred and I wanted to keep her for our breeding programme, but she’s so talented that Steven said it would be waste not to have her out competing.”

  My heart lifted as she spoke. Steven MacClennan was a top Australian rider who’d come over here last season and ridden her horses at some of the big events, including Horse of the Year. He was an amazing rider, and had competed all across Europe in massive World Cup events. He would know a quality horse when he saw one, that was for sure.

  “Quite liked her himself, Steven did,” Marlene continued, obviously having seen the way my eyes lit up at the sound of his name. “But she’s a little on the smaller side for him, just a whisker under sixteen hands. Ideal size for you,” she added, giving me an appraising look. “Although honestly, the thought of selling her to a teenager…” She trailed off, and I spoke quickly.

  “I’m only a teenager for a few more years, and at least you’d know I’d produce her slowly,” I pointed out. “We’d start out in the Juniors, move up to Young Riders and then Grand Prix.”

  Marlene didn’t look convinced. “I’d prefer to see her in the age grade classes,” she replied. “The tracks are designed for young horses, and are a lot less technical than what you’d get in Yong Riders.”

  “Of course,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean we’d go straight to those heights. Just that it would be a gradual progression, you know.” My nervousness was transmitting itself to the grey horse I was still sitting on, and he sidled underneath me.

  “Well no, of course not,” Marlene agreed, eyeing the grey as I slid to the ground and patted him. Her groom stepped forward and took his reins from me, and Marlene seemed to make a decision. “Well, you might as well have a sit on her, see what you think.” She turned to the groom, who was loosening the grey gelding’s girth. “Bring Tori out for Katy to try, would you? We’ll just pop up to the house for a drink, and meet you back down here in ten minutes.”

  A flicker of astonishment had crossed the groom’s face at Marlene’s instructions, and she shot me a rather impressed look. Clearly she hadn’t expected to be asked to bring out a higher calibre horse for the likes of me, and I felt a small swelling of pride as she nodded and led the grey away.

  “This mare would be more expensive,” Marlene warned Dad as we walked back up to her long, low house, surrounded by a garden full of spiky-looking plants and terracotta pots. “She has been lightly competed, so she’s a little pricier than these babies who’ve only had a couple of months’ work under saddle.”

  Dad raised an eyebrow in my direction, and I shot him a pleading look. “Well, I suppose if she’s the right horse for Katy then we might be able to extend the budget a little,” he conceded.

  I rewarded him with a huge smile and a quick hug, letting go before he had a chance to try and hug me back.

  Inside, I sipped on a glass of ice cold water and wandered around the foyer, looking at photos of stunning horses clearing huge jumps while Dad and Marlene chatted in the corner. Occasionally I heard my name mentioned, and I drifted closer to listen to what they were saying.

  “Extremely dedicated, and has been very successful with her ponies,” Dad said.

  Marlene had clearly done her research. “Yes, after you called me last week, I spoke with Steph Marshall. She’s got one of my other mares, another gorgeous horse that I was extremely reluctant to part with, but Steph said she had to have her and I couldn’t turn her down, could I?” I heard Dad make a noise of vague assent. “And she said that Katy knew what she was about when it came to riding and schooling. It’s really on her good opinion that you’re here at all,” she confided to my father, lowering her voice slightly. “I don’t usually sell horses to children.”

  An intercom beeped, and she looked at her watch. “That’ll be Jennifer, ready with Tori. Let’s go down and meet her, shall we?”

  As soon as I laid eyes on Tori, I knew that she was the one I’d been waiting for. I watched her striding effortlessly around the arena, the sunlight glinting off her sleek black coat. She had plenty of ‘bling’, with three high white socks and a straight white blaze down her pretty face. There was something incredibly self-assured about the way that she carried herself, and the way she moved. I was breathless just watching her as she trotted around the large arena, her body flexed to the inside, her hocks bending under her to produce a powerful stride. She seemed to flow across the ground like water, a picture of grace and elegance. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  “That’s a nice looking horse,” Dad said admiringly as we stepped into the arena.

  Jennifer touched Tori into a canter, and I gazed at her as Marlene rattled off information about her breeding.

  “Victorious LR is her registered name – we call her Tori for short. She’s by Spectacular out of a Coup De Grâce mare, so she has impeccable jumping bloodlines on both sides.” Jennifer cantered past us, flecks of foam spattering Tori’s dark chest. The horse was over-bending slightly, but that would be fixable with a bit more schooling. “She jumped in the Five Year Olds last season, and went double clear every time. Steven was all set to ride her in the final at Horse of the Year, but unfortunately she contracted a mild hoof abscess two days before the show, so we had to leave her at home. Never been lame a day in her life before or since, of course,” she assured us. “Just one of those things, unfortunately.”

  I nodded. I knew all about those things that happened with horses, always at the most inc
onvenient times.

  Jennifer spent another few minutes riding the mare, then took her over the course of fences. Tori was a keen jumper, getting a little quick on the way to the fences but clearing them all by at least a foot. The only things that were imperfect about her would easily be fixed with some schooling, and thanks to Mum always buying me cheap, un-made ponies throughout my childhood, schooling was something I knew how to do.

  Finally, I got my chance to ride. Dad gave me a leg-up into the saddle as Jennifer held the mare’s bridle, and I picked up the reins confidently.

  “Let’s go, girl,” I told her, and she walked forward.

  From the ground, she’d looked like a dream, graceful and easy to ride. But from the saddle, Tori was a different story altogether. She was straight through her body and accepting of the bit, but she leaned on my right hand, sucked away from my left leg, and just felt generally irritable. I’d hoped for an instant connection, for the kind of feeling that I’d had when I first got on Molly and we’d just clicked, falling in love with each other right away. As I moved Tori up into trot, I got the feeling that she didn’t give away her affection anywhere near so easily.

  But wow, could she move! Marlene hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d said the mare was talented, or that her quality breeding showed. Her trot was engaged and powerful, and even though the thread of communication between the two of us seemed tenuous at best, her length of stride and the grace with which she carried herself was intoxicating. Her canter was so strong and balanced that I felt like I could take her around a metre forty course right now, that they could set the jumps at the top of the stands and she would canter over them as though they were poles on the ground. Her jump was scopey and bold, but it was easy to stay with her. She lifted herself as though on wings, and we seemed to have the same eye for a take-off spot, agreeing on every distance as we cantered the course of fences. I felt her attitude towards me start to soften slightly, and I knew that once I’d won her over, she would truly be the horse of a lifetime.