Pony Jumpers 6- Six to Ride

by Kate Lattey

  At least, that’s what I’d intended to do, but I hadn’t gone more than a few metres when I almost ran straight into Marlene.

  “Watch it!” she snapped as she stepped out of Molly’s path, then turned her head and recognised me. “Oh hello Katy! How are you?” Her entire demeanour had changed when she’d seen my face, and she was friendly and welcoming again, just as she had been when I’d visited her farm. But I couldn’t shake the nasty expression she’d just been wearing, and the speed at which she’d switched from one tone to the other made me uneasy.

  “I’m okay,” I said, pushing my emotions about Molly’s poor performance to the back of my mind. “How’re you?”

  “Excellent,” she beamed. “I’m just off to watch one of my stallions in the Four Year Old. You should come and take a look, he’s Tori’s full brother and he’s just like her. You’ll love him, he’s got the most powerful jump. Always wins the style prize, and he’ll be a genuine World Cup prospect. Steph Marshall’s madly keen on him, wants him for her Olympic bid in a few years, he really is that good. You have to come and watch him go. Ring Two, he’ll be jumping in about twenty minutes. I must dash, but I’ll see you over there.”

  And she strode away without waiting for a response, while I stood and stroked Molly’s neck, lost in contemplation.

  Curiosity got the better of me, in the end, and after I’d unsaddled Molly and washed her down, I fended off Mum’s attempts to make me eat breakfast and wandered over to Ring Two to see if I could spot Tori’s brother. I saw Marlene first, and carefully positioned myself on the opposite side of the ring to avoid further conversation with her. I’d been fortunate that she’d been so excited about her young horse that she hadn’t really asked how Tori was going, but her questions would be inevitable and I didn’t feel up to answering them. I didn’t have anything good to say, and I didn’t want to disappoint her by admitting how badly things were going.

  When the young stallion trotted into the ring, I didn’t need to be told that he was Tori’s brother. It was evident from the way he moved effortlessly across the ground. His conformation was flawless, and he had an eager yet calm expression and an intelligent look in his large eyes. His rider was relaxed and balanced in the saddle, and set him into a smooth canter as the bell rang to begin her round.

  “Next to jump will be Xplicit LR, owned by Marlene Halberg of Little River Sport Horses, ridden today by Bonnie Thompson.”

  Marlene hadn’t been exaggerating about this horse. He floated across the ground and soared over the jumps with almost super-equine grace. His pace never altered, his expression never changed, and he looked to be happy and enjoying his life. I chewed on the edge of a fingernail as I watched him jump, wondering if I would ever be able to get Tori to be that relaxed and soft. Xplicit cleared the last fence and came smoothly back to a trot as Bonnie smiled and patted his muscular neck.

  “A stunning clear round for Xplicit LR,” the announcer said, sounding as impressed as I felt. “There are some seriously top quality horses coming out of Little River Stud these days, they are definitely producing the ones to watch and this will be a very exciting bloodline for the future!”

  Marlene met her horse as he exited the ring, slapping his neck enthusiastically while striding alongside him away from the gate. I was so distracted watching them and admiring the young stallion as he came towards me that I forgot to that I had intended to avoid Marlene, and she spotted me.

  “What did you think?” she demanded as she marched in my direction, one hand still on the horse’s cresty neck. “Isn’t he just divine?”

  I nodded, since there was no point in denying the completely obvious. “He’s amazing! What a super jump.”

  “Just like his big sister,” Marlene said, giving me a shrewd look. “How is Tori doing these days, by the way? You have her here, I hope.”

  I nodded again. “Yeah, she’s in the stables. We’ve got a metre-fifteen in an hour or so.”

  “Lovely. I’ll try to get away and watch you,” she said, making my heart sink into my boots. No pressure, Katy. “She’s been behaving herself then?”

  Marlene kept walking as she spoke, so I fell into step with her. “Yeah, for the most part. She’s been a bit difficult on the ground, but we’re getting there.”

  Marlene’s thin eyebrows shot upward, then folded in on each other. “I hope you’ve been keeping her in line. She’s not a lapdog, you know. You can’t treat her like one of your ponies. She’s a powerful horse and she needs firm handling.”

  I nodded silently, slowing as we reached a gateway. Marlene stepped through it ahead of us and fell into conversation with someone else, and I sensed that I’d been dismissed.

  “Hey.” I glanced up at the girl in the stallion’s saddle, who was looking down at me. “You’re the kid who bought Tori?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t trust her,” Bonnie warned. “Give that mare an inch and she’ll drag you a mile. She’s got a mean streak, and she’ll take advantage of you if she thinks she can get away with it.”

  The gateway cleared and Bonnie clicked her tongue to the stallion, riding away and leaving me speechless.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I’d ridden hot horses before. I’d ridden spooky horses, nervous horses, bolshy horses. I’d ridden ones that napped and reared, that bucked or swerved, that dropped behind the bit or bolted through the bridle. But I’d never before ridden a horse that was completely impervious to everything I did – until Mum legged me up onto Tori that day.

  Dad was standing nearby, having driven himself up to the show to watch his latest ‘investment’, as he kept referring to Tori. He kept a cautious distance from the big mare’s teeth as I slid my feet into the stirrups and checked the girth. Tori stood stock still, every muscle in her body tensed, as I tightened the girth a notch and shortened my reins.

  “Come on then,” I told the horse, closing my legs against her sides, but she didn’t move. I squeezed again, still got no reaction, and then nudged her more sharply. She jolted forward, as though awakened from a daydream, and marched across the grass with her head held high.

  I tried to get her to relax, slipping my reins into one hand and running the other down her neck, but I might as well have been stroking a block of wood for all the reaction I got. A couple of kids on ponies rode across in front of us, and I sat up and closed my fingers around the reins to check Tori’s stride. She didn’t respond at all, carrying on at her big-striding walk and almost flattening the children. They looked startled and their mother snapped at me for riding over the top of her kids, but it wasn’t as though I’d done it on purpose. I’d had literally no choice in the matter.

  Somehow I managed to convey to Tori where I wanted her to go, and we ended up in the warm-up area for our ring. She walked through the gate, then stood still again, blocking the entrance and staring around her as though she had never seen a warm-up before. The feeling that a bomb was about to explode underneath me was more intense than ever before, and my pulse quickened, despite my attempts to take calming breaths. Someone behind me asked me to get out of the way, and I squeezed Tori with my legs, but again – nothing.

  “Come on,” I muttered, risking a small kick of my heels against her sides.

  I should’ve known better. Tori flung her head into the air, narrowly avoiding giving me a nosebleed, then swung her hindquarters and aimed a kick at the horse behind us. The rider swore loudly, and as I glanced over my shoulder to check that they were unhurt, Tori let loose. She flung herself forward and up and sideways all at the same time, and all I could do was grip as tight as I could and try to stay in the saddle. I could hear people gasping and swearing, and I grabbed the pommel with one hand and dug my knees in as she tucked her head between her knees and let rip with a serious rodeo buck, twisting right through her back. Somehow I stayed on, and when she landed she started trotting at high speed across the warm-up. I managed to find my balance and get my reins back, figuring I’d let her trot it out for a while
before asking her to do anything else. And it wasn’t as though I could stop her anyway, so we trotted. And trotted, and trotted. It was like a particularly aggressive game of bumper cars as I careened around the warm-up, desperately trying to keep the mad mare under control. I caught a glimpse of my parents as I went past, Mum’s face white and pinched, Dad’s expression slightly confused, as if he was wondering why I was riding so erratically.

  All around me, people’s heads were turning as Tori launched past them, springing off loaded pistons with each stride. I could see them staring at me, and I wondered what they were thinking and saying to each other. Should never have bought that horse. Massively over-horsed. These kids, they think they know everything. Far too much horse for her to ride.

  Shut up, I told myself. Ignore them. Focus. Ride the horse that’s under you. How many times had I been told that in my life? Forget about what you look like – or what you think you should look like – and just focus on getting the job done. Tori’s pace was too quick – I needed to steady her. I attempted to circle, but she pretended that I had asked her to go faster and spook at the railings, which she obligingly did. I finally managed to wedge her in between a slow-moving horse and the rail, and she was forced to come back to a walk. My still-raw hands were shaking on the reins – I’d never felt so powerless before, and I had no idea what was going to happen when we got into the ring. I looked dubiously at the practice fence, which suddenly seemed immense.

  “Victorious LR?” The steward was looking at me as I rode past her. I nodded, and she tapped her clipboard. “You’re in next.”

  “What?” My heart thudded. “I can’t be next, I haven’t even jumped yet.”

  “Hurry up then,” she snapped. “We’re behind schedule already and this class is running in blackboard order. You ride next or you don’t ride.”

  I was pretty sure she couldn’t do that, but I was also pretty sure that nothing in my warm-up was going to get better any time soon, so maybe I was better off just cutting it short and going in cold before Tori lost her mind again and threw me off. I looked over at the ring and realised belatedly that I’d missed the course walk and had no idea where I was supposed to be going.

  “Looks like you’ve got your hands full today!”

  I turned to see a rider leaning against the rail and grinning up at me with a wide, infectious smile. I made myself smile back at Marley Carmichael as I reflexively rubbed Tori’s hard neck.

  “You can say that again,” I agreed. Marley had grown up riding tougher horses than I had, but even she was giving Tori a respectful, slightly dubious look.

  “Not listening, huh?” she asked, and I shook my head.

  “I don’t think we speak the same language,” I confessed. “It’s like I’m trying to communicate in Mandarin or something.”

  Amusement glittered in Marley’s eyes as she held out a hand to Tori to sniff. “One of those, are you?” she asked my mare, who gave her a suspicious look and turned her head away huffily.

  “Do you know the course?” I asked Marley. “I’m in next and I haven’t walked it.”

  “Yep.” Marley straightened up and raised one hand to point into the ring as the horse in there approached the treble. “You start at the green oxer, then the blue upright, red and white oxer, left to the picket…” She pointed out each fence as she spoke, telling me not only which jump was next but how many strides were between them, and other useful hints. “The triple bar to the plank is built as a long five or short six. You’re going to have to ride for five by the looks of her, so just sit up and put your leg on as you come off the triple bar and hopefully she’ll find the distance okay. Then you go left and over the wall, then to the treble which is built short, so you’ll need to hold all the way down.”

  I nodded, committing the course to memory. “Okay, green oxer, blue upright…” Marley nodded along as I reviewed the track, then wished me luck as the steward ushered me into the ring.

  By some minor miracle, Tori had stood still while I learned the course, but she was awake again now. I rode her forward and she danced into the arena as though she was stepping on hot coals, pinging sideways and spooking at the least provocation. I asked her forward into canter, but she just kept trotting. Irritated, I sat down and kicked her on, and she bucked angrily, pulled the reins through my hands, then exploded forward. I scrabbled to gather up the reins, my arms like wet noodles, weak and ineffective. I shoved my heels down and dug my knees into the saddle, then the edge of my vision went blurry and I felt suddenly light-headed.

  I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision, but it remained fuzzy and I felt oddly distant, and disconnected from what was happening. The start bell rang and I turned my head, trying to get my bearings. There was the green oxer ahead of us, so I made a decision and rode Tori towards it. She obliged, at least, thundering forward and snatching at the bit before flinging herself into the air over the fence. I was unprepared for the violence of her leap, and felt myself shaken loose in the saddle. I gripped as hard as I could as we travelled through the air, but my body didn’t seem to be cooperating, and all my muscles had gone lax.

  Is this what being nervous feels like? I wondered in confusion as I regained my balance and steered Tori towards the blue vertical. She threw in another massive leap, once again almost losing me in mid-air as we soared over it. I’d never really suffered from nerves, and had always been irritated with people who did, wishing they’d just suck it up and get on with it. But if it felt like this, if your brain was telling you constantly as you rode that this was a terrible, terrifying idea – why on earth would you put yourself through it at all?

  Focus! I tried to ignore my swirling emotions and increasingly blurry vision, dug my knees into the saddle as hard as I could, and turned towards the third fence on course. Once again Tori surged forward, and I knew I had to sit up and do my best to hold her steady, but I couldn’t get my body to cooperate. It was like the miscommunication between Tori and I was now happening inside my own head – I couldn’t get my muscles to do what I was telling them to, and I still felt as though I was watching myself from a distance. And then another wave of dizziness hit, and I felt myself sway in the saddle. I grabbed at Tori’s mane and she yanked her head down in protest, pulling me off-balance before spinning sideways in front of the jump. I had no hope of staying in the saddle then, and a brief glimpse of her glossy black shoulder was the last thing I got my eyes to focus on before I ate dirt.

  “What did you have for breakfast?”

  I lifted my eyes slowly and looked at the paramedic in confusion. “What?”

  I was sitting in the back of the ambulance with my head in my hands, trying to work out what had happened as the young woman crouched in front of me, looking intensely into my eyes.

  “What have you eaten today? Anything?”

  I thought about that for a moment, then shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

  I could hear Dad muttering something, and Mum responding defensively. “I tried to get her to eat. You know what she’s like, it’s hard enough to get her to eat on a normal day, let alone when she’s as nervous as she was this morning.”

  I wanted to tell her to shut up. “I wasn’t nervous,” I told Mum. “I just wasn’t hungry.”

  But she wasn’t listening, because Dad had talked over top of me. “Nervous about what? She competes all the time, and she doesn’t normally get nervous.”

  “She doesn’t usually compete on a mad animal that she can hardly control. Honestly, when you said you’d buy her a horse…”

  “Stop it!” I snapped, raising my voice so they’d hear me. I could feel the heat on my cheeks as I glared across at them. “Quit arguing.” I didn’t have the energy to elaborate, but they did at least look slightly embarrassed and stopped shouting at each other.

  “Sorry honey,” Mum said quickly. “How’re you feeling? Any better?”

  “She needs to eat,” the paramedic said decisively, standing up and dusting off her hands on her trousers
. “Blood sugar’s low, and she’s almost out of fuel.” I lowered my head again as she turned away from me and addressed my parents. “Get some food into her, make her lie down and don’t let her ride again today.”

  “Wait, what?” My head snapped up and the whole ambulance went blurry around the edges again. I blinked hard, forcing myself not to visibly sway as I struggled to regain my focus. “I have to ride, I’ve got classes this afternoon.”

  Mum looked from me to the medic and back again, but Dad folded his arms and looked firm.

  “I’ll get you something now. What do you want?” he asked me, glancing over his shoulder towards the food caravans. “Hot chips? Bacon and egg sandwich? Burger?”

  I recoiled slightly at the thought of that much greasy food sitting in my stomach like a lead weight. “No thanks.”

  “You have to eat something,” Dad argued.

  “She doesn’t like burgers and things,” Mum told him, both of them reverting to talking about me as though I wasn’t sitting right there.

  Thankfully, before World War Three could break out between them, a call came from over my parents’ shoulders, and they turned to see a white-faced rider being half-carried over to the ambulance.

  “Suspected broken ankle,” someone announced excitedly, and moments later I’d been ejected from the vehicle with a packet of electrolytes and a reiteration of the paramedic’s orders to sit around doing nothing for the rest of the day. Yeah right. Molly was late-entered in another class this afternoon to get her back on track before tomorrow’s Grand Prix. Squib had two classes today, and so did Puppet. I wasn’t in a rush to get back on Tori, but I wasn’t going to lie in bed all day, that was for sure.

  “How are you feeling now?” Mum asked as we walked back towards the truck.

  I was doing my best to appear normal, but I still felt dizzy and couldn’t quite see straight. We passed the food trucks and I felt my stomach quiver and twist, as though it was chewing on itself. I had to eat, or I wouldn’t get to ride. That much was obvious, and I turned to my father.