Pony Jumpers 6- Six to Ride

by Kate Lattey

  Phil looked surprised by the question. “Isn’t that what friends do? Care about each other?”

  My heart rate was slowly returning to normal, and I took a couple of deep breaths before responding.

  “So we are still friends?” I asked him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to spare his feelings, so I set it out straight. “It means that you stopped talking to me three years ago for no reason that I could ever figure out.”

  He just blinked at me, expressionless, and the hurt I’d felt when he’d stopped smiling at me, stopped even saying Hi as we passed in the corridors at school, started to rekindle itself. We’d been almost like cousins when we were growing up, thrown together because our parents were friends, but over the years that had developed into a close friendship. Despite the fact that he had no interest in horses and I had little interest in anything else, he’d become my best friend and closest confidante, and for most of my formative years, we’d spent almost every spare minute in each other’s company.

  But somewhere along the line, that had just stopped. He’d stopped wanting to hang out, stopped sitting with me on the bus, stopped coming down to his family’s arena when I’d come over to ride, stopped replying to my texts. I didn’t know what had caused the change – all I knew was that suddenly I had no longer been good enough to be his friend. I was surprised by how much that rejection still hurt.

  “Sorry,” he said, sounding genuine.

  I hadn’t been expecting that – had been sure he’d argue with me and claim that it was my fault as much as it was his – so I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “So you should be,” I said rather lamely.

  Phil shrugged one shoulder and smiled at me, and I felt my irritation waver. That familiar impish grin reminded me so much of the way he’d been as a kid - always up to something, always with a trick up his sleeve and a mischievous look on his face. I missed that kid, and I suddenly missed the kid that I had been back then too, so much more carefree. Life had been so much simpler when we were twelve.

  “How’s your friend doing?” Phil asked, his expression turning sober again. I wasn’t surprised that he knew about AJ’s accident – his mother Miriam was close friends with my mum and they told each other everything – but I was a little surprised that he’d thought to ask.

  “Better. She’s coming home today,” I told him.

  “Cool. That’s good.” He scuffed his boot against the tarmac, no longer looking at me. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your run.”

  “And you can get back to your ride,” I told him.

  He flashed me one more grin before he rode off, the roar of the dirt bike reverberating in my ears as he accelerated hard. I tested my weight against my aching foot, winced once more, then turned around and resumed my steady jog back towards home and a hot shower.

  “Oh my God, Katy. She’s beautiful!”

  AJ was leaning against the fence and staring into Tori’s paddock, her mouth half-open as Squib nudged her shoulder insistently. AJ turned her head and kissed his nose, then dug around in her pocket for another peppermint. “You’re so lucky.”

  “I know.” I was feeling more positive in the bright morning sunlight. I’d gone into Tori’s paddock this morning and she’d let me walk right up to her and take her cover off without much argument at all. I’d had to move quickly to unclip the backstraps and she’d more or less trotted off while I was still in the process of dragging the rug off her back, but she hadn’t kicked me or tried to trample me, so I was counting that as a win.

  “Have you ridden her yet?”

  “Not since she arrived. I’m giving her a couple of days to settle in.”

  “Let me know when you do, I want to come and watch. I wanted to see you ride Squib, but I’m already exhausted. Sorry buddy,” she apologised to her pony, who was lipping fondly at her hair. “I would love nothing more than to leap onto your back myself and ride you for hours, but I’m not allowed.” She turned to face him and blew a raspberry on the spot between his nostrils, making him curl up his top lip at her in protest. “I hope you’re being good for Katy,” she added, looking sideways at me.

  I lied. “He’s been great.”

  “I’m so glad. You should’ve seen what he was like when I first got him – it took months before he would behave himself. I thought I’d made the biggest mistake ever in buying him, but I already loved him so much.” She leaned her head against Squib’s solid neck, which he tolerated for about half a second before backing up and nosing around her pockets again, checking for more treats.

  I hoped it wasn’t going to take months for Squib to start behaving for me. We were leaving for Dannevirke that evening, and I had classes on him tomorrow and Sunday. Much to her disappointment, although not to anyone’s surprise, AJ had been forbidden to join us.

  “Take a thousand photos and videos for me,” AJ reminded me again as we walked slowly back to the gate. She was still experiencing some dizziness, and her steps weren’t entirely steady. It frightened me, but I did my best not to show it.

  “I’ll try,” I replied. “But you know how crazy it gets at shows.”

  “Shouldn’t be too manic though, with only three competing,” AJ countered, and I pulled a face at the reminder of my depleted team.

  “I guess. But Robin’s cantering under saddle again now, so he’ll be back out there in no time at all,” I told her. “And Lucas might even get to a show or two by the end of the season, if we play our cards right.”

  I wasn’t in any real hurry to get the chestnut pony competing again – the season was a write-off for him so there was no point pushing him too early. Our plan was to get him fit enough to be sure that he’d healed properly, then work him lightly until the end of the season when he’d be turned out on the Fitzherberts’ hills for the winter. Hopefully the steep inclines would help him regain some of his lost muscle and fitness, and he’d come back in July raring to go. It would be my last season on ponies, so I wanted to make it count.

  AJ climbed slowly into her mum’s car and rested her head against the seat, closing her eyes. Her mother looked over at her from the driver’s seat anxiously.

  “Are you okay, Possum? I told you not to over-exert yourself.”

  “I’m fine. I needed to see Squib,” AJ told her without opening her eyes. “But I think I’m ready for a nap now.”

  “Right you are.” Christina started the engine, and AJ half-opened her eyes and squinted at me as she buckled her seatbelt, moving awkwardly with one arm still in its sling.

  “Good luck for the weekend,” she told me. “Break a leg!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  My best friend’s words came back to me time and time again over the course of the show at Dannevirke, which turned out to be one of those ones I’d rather forget. As I saddled Squib for our last class on Sunday afternoon, I couldn’t wait to get it over and done with and head back home. We probably would’ve been better off just staying there in the first place. Molly had taken rails in both of her classes, including at the first three fences in the Pony Grand Prix, which had just been embarrassing. I’d been slightly placated when Susannah had also taken a rail each on both of her ponies, and we’d concluded between us that the course builder had set an unjumpable track that nobody but the most accomplished of riders had a chance of getting around. For a while that had seemed to be true as two more good combinations faulted badly, but then a girl we’d never seen before on an undersized piebald pony came out and blitzed the class, with two other novice combinations finishing in second and third, which made us feel even more useless. Anna Harcourt had picked up fourth on her experienced grey pony Six of One, Stacey Winchester had jumped to fifth on her sweet black gelding Westminster Gothic, and Grace Campbell had scraped into sixth on her brother Connor’s former ride Summertime. Susannah had finished seventh and eighth, and I hadn’t even bothered to check where I’d ended up. Probably la
st.

  I couldn’t really blame Molly for our poor performance, I admitted to myself as I retied my ponytail before pulling on my helmet. I hadn’t given her a very good ride, and had been lucky she hadn’t put the brakes on the way that Puppet had that morning in his 1.05m speed class. He’d been jumping super until I’d overshot one of the turns and found a bad angle to a square oxer. Momentarily forgetting his inexperience, I’d thrown my weight forward and expected him to jump from a very tricky spot. Never an exceptionally brave pony, he’d lost heart at the last minute and opted out, leaving me to pick myself up out of the scattered poles and trudge back to the truck with a sweating pony and grass-stained jodhs.

  As for Squib, he’d just been a brat all weekend. I’d been sorely tempted to scratch him from this last class and take him home, except that this was supposed to be his first proper metre-twenty and I knew AJ would want him to go round. It had taken Mum half an hour to get his studs in, what with him fidgeting and hopping and snatching his legs out of her grasp, but she’d persevered and managed it. Seemed like a waste of time not to jump him after she’d gone to all of that effort, and I really didn’t want to let AJ down, but I couldn’t say I was looking forward to it.

  I tightened the girth another hole, pulling a reciprocal face at Squib as he expressed his displeasure with me, then led him over to the ramp and used it as a mounting block.

  “Right then,” I told the grey pony, rubbing his neck firmly in an effort to transmit a sense of confidence that I didn’t feel. “Let’s do this thing.”

  We jumped the entire course, and I didn’t fall off, but those were probably the only positives to take out of the round. Squib battered his way around the ring, alternating between barrelling towards the jumps at full speed and flinging himself sky high over them, or backing off three strides away, pretending to be scared, then barely scraping himself over and leaving scattered rails in his wake. It had taken a supreme effort from me to even get him over the last jump, which he’d taken a vehement dislike to from the moment I’d pointed him towards it. My childhood technique of literally sitting down and kicking on had come back with a vengeance, and I could only hope that the photographer standing ringside and snapping shots of the class would have the common sense to delete every image they’d taken of my round, because I was sure none of them would be worthy of review.

  “What are you going to tell AJ?” Mum asked as we drove home through the dusky evening light.

  I shrugged. “That I didn’t fall off,” I muttered. “I don’t know. I feel terrible. Am I ruining her pony?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said carefully, which wasn’t all that reassuring. “He’s just…well, he’s not really your type.”

  I bristled at that. “That’s hardly the point. I should be able to ride anything.”

  One of my greatest ambitions has always been to get onto a Young Rider team and compete internationally, and I knew that if I did that, I’d have to ride unknown horses. I’d ridden every type of horse and pony under the sun throughout my childhood, and although there had been some I hadn’t really liked, there had never been a pony I couldn’t get to perform. I had to be able to adjust my riding to suit any horse. Not my type wouldn’t be any kind of excuse when it came to team championships, and we both knew it.

  “Well, never mind,” Mum said, trying to sound cheerful. “Look on the bright side. You’ve got a brand new horse to ride tomorrow!”

  * * *

  “Was she like this when you trialled her?” Mum was watching me with a concerned expression as Tori wrenched her head skyward once more, refusing to let the bridle anywhere near her head.

  “I don’t know,” I muttered through gritted teeth. “I didn’t see her being tacked up.”

  Mum let out an exasperated sigh. “Really Katy, you know better than that!”

  I glared at her, unwilling to admit that I had simply assumed that horses coming from a top stud farm would be manageable on the ground. “We’ve had difficult ponies before,” I reminded her. “And they’ve all turned out okay in the end. She’s just going to take some time, that’s all.”

  “Hmm,” Mum said, seeming unconvinced.

  “Besides,” I continued, running my hand up Tori’s neck and trying to get her to at least let me touch her ears without yanking her head away from me. “You’re the expert rope-twirler. I’m sure after a few good groundwork sessions, you’ll have her eating out of your hand.”

  I was trying to flatter her, but she wasn’t buying it.

  “I don’t think so,” Mum said. “She’s your horse, and it’s your responsibility to get her trained.”

  Tori flinched away as my fingertips connected with the base of her ears, and I stared at my mother. “What?”

  “Your father and I agreed,” Mum told me, trying to sound stern but not quite able to meet my eyes. “That you should put the work into Tori yourself, without relying on me to do the hard yards for you.”

  “Is this not the hard yards?” I asked her, motioning towards the bridle I had in my hand that was no closer to getting onto Tori’s head. “Have I asked you for help yet? No. Blimmin’ heck,” I muttered as I turned back to my wilful mare. “Why is everyone out to make my life difficult right now?”

  “I’d watch what you’re saying,” Mum cautioned me. “Your life is pretty darn easy in comparison to some people you know.”

  I blushed, knowing she was talking about AJ, who couldn’t ride at all for months, and about Anders, who was still in hospital and undergoing yet another surgery on his leg as the doctor’s attempted to screw his bones back together.

  “I know. I’m just tired, okay?” I responded. “Can you at least give me some advice on how to get this bridle on?”

  Mum nodded. “There’s no magic button, unfortunately,” she told me as she stepped into the box with me. “No switch we can just flip to resolve an issue like this. She clearly doesn’t like having her head touched, so you’re going to have to gain her trust, then work on desensitising her.”

  I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from reminding my mother that I knew all of that already.

  “But for now, maybe we can bribe her,” Mum suggested. “I’ll get some oats.”

  It took us almost half an hour, but between us we managed to get the bridle onto Tori’s head, although we had to do it piece by piece, settling the headstall on first before guiding the bit into her mouth and each doing up a cheekpiece. I let out a sigh of relief as I buckled the throatlash, while Mum stroked Tori’s neck and spoke to her in a reassuring voice.

  “She’ll get better at that,” I said out loud in an effort to convince myself.

  Mum made a tutting noise. “She will, but for the price your father paid…”

  It was bothering me too, but I wasn’t about to admit that to her. I led Tori out into the yard, snapping up the chinstrap of my helmet as I went. The big mare tossed her head irritably, tugging against the reins, but I could at least control her now that she had a bit in her mouth, even though it was only a snaffle. I tightened the girth and pulled down the near stirrup, then gathered my reins at the base of her neck and looked dubiously up at her saddle, which seemed miles away.

  “Can you give me a leg up?” I asked Mum, who nodded and stepped up behind me. No sooner had she boosted me into the air than Tori spun away from us with a snort, and I had to struggle to gain the saddle and not end up sprawled in the dirt. Mum was looking dubious as I found my stirrups and gathered up my reins. Tori threw her head up and down and danced on the spot, gathering herself together like a bomb that was about to explode. She felt so different from the first time I’d ridden her, and I swallowed hard against a rising swell of nervous anticipation.

  “Are you okay?” Mum asked anxiously as I closed my legs against Tori’s sides.

  “She’s just fresh,” I reassured her as Tori marched past with her ears pricked.

  Her back was still up, but she hadn’t bucked yet. I took a slow, steadying breath, tryin
g to relax. I could sit a buck pretty well, but Tori had a lot of power under that shimmering black coat. If she decided to get rid of me, she could probably do it. I just hoped she’d wouldn’t try.

  I let Tori walk around the outside track, sitting quietly as she peered at the flax bushes and eyed the jumps nervously. I leaned forward slightly and ran a hand down her neck. “Don’t worry about those. You’re not jumping today. Just a nice gentle schooling session, while we get used to each other.” Her large ears flickered back and forth as I spoke. She felt huge – so high off the ground and her head seemed to be miles away – but her stride was as fluid as I remembered.

  “It’s so strange seeing you on a big horse,” Mum commented as I turned Tori across the middle of the arena and walked her on the opposite rein.

  “Feels weird,” I admitted. “At least the jumps will look small from up here!”

  As first rides went, it wasn’t terrible. Once I picked Tori up into a trot, I remembered how stiff she’d felt to the left, how she’d leaned on my right rein and been bolshy about obeying my aids, but I knew you couldn’t really see any of that from the ground. Tori’s springy, ground-covering trot was still breath-taking, and I could feel my body working overtime as I struggled to absorb the power of her movement.

  We only had one hairy moment, the first time I asked her to canter. Instead of stepping smoothly into the pace as she had when I’d trialled her, Tori lifted her back and lowered her head, threatening to buck. I turned her quickly onto a small circle, then asked her again. She laid her ears back but obeyed, moving up into that strong, flowing canter that I’d ridden before. She really was like something out of a dream, and I couldn’t help smiling as I rode her around the outside of the arena, across the diagonal for a flawless flying change and back the other way. She was well-schooled, if still reluctant to give me more. I wanted to ask for it, wanted to see how well she could extend and collect her strides, but I resisted the temptation. It was our first ride, and I wanted it to be a fun and easy one for her. Overwork her physically or mentally this time, and she’d be unwilling to try for me next time. I’d learned that lesson before, the hard way. I wasn’t taking any chances with Tori – she was far too valuable to mess up.