Pony Club Challenge (Woodbury Pony Club Book 2)

by Josephine Pullein-Thompson

  “They’re not much,” answered Paul. “The water is the best. It’s not as wide as the one we had on the cross-country at Easter, but it’s deeper, more of a ditch really. Gary helped us dig it, and Dad fixed up a hose from the water trough so we don’t have to mess about with buckets.”

  “It’s not black plastic?” wailed Sarah. “Oh, you are mean. You know Chess has a phobia. He hates it.”

  “Bowie wasn’t here at Easter, I don’t know what he’ll think of it,” said Tina, turning pale.

  “Jigsaw and I weren’t here either,” observed Seb, shortening his stirrups.

  “Perhaps he’ll drop you in it,” suggested Hanif cheerfully. “That’s what Ferdie did to James. Luckily I’d brought some spare clothes.”

  “There was a girl from the Cranford Vale at my sister’s birthday party last night and she said they’ve built a cross-country course. A really stiff one: not high, but it’s all ditches and terrifically solid jumps. There are chicken coops and a timber wagon,” announced James, looking at David with a worried face. “She said it wasn’t really a novice course and she doubted if many people would get round.”

  “A timber wagon?” asked Lynne in horror.

  “Oh dear, if there are going to be unusual jumps Ra’s bound to stop for a look,” said Lizzie despondently.

  “And Stardust’s not up to a stiff course,” added Lesley.

  “It’ll be ghastly if we’re all eliminated,” observed Rupert in gloomy tones.

  David laughed. “There’ll be nothing over three feet;” he told them, “and after all the time we’ve spent training the ponies to be brave and bold, I don’t think we need be too downhearted. Come on, cantering, and then we’ll see what we can do about a few strange jumps.”

  They warmed up over three of the Robertses’ new jumps. A pair of hurdles across the gateway into the stubble field, a pen, built of straw bales and poles out in the middle of the field, and a section of the hedge back into Long Meadow, which they had layered and clipped until it was the regulation three feet.

  “Ugh, I hate hedges, they look so scratchy,” complained Tina, as they watched James start on his round.

  “I like them, you can take off all wrong, plough through them and they never fall down,” argued Rupert.

  “None of you should have any trouble over the hurdles or the hedge,” said David firmly, “but do use your heads, think about what you’re doing, especially when jumping into the pen. Warn your ponies when there are complications ahead. Collect them, make them attend. You’re not beginners, so don’t flap your legs or leave everything to the ponies. I want twelve clear rounds.”

  Ferdie jumped round neatly. Jupiter hurtled round and, despite Hanif’s efforts, took the pen far too fast before sailing, with at least a foot to spare, over the hedge.

  “These fences are much too small for that pony,” announced David. “The sooner we get Harry riding in senior tetrathlons the better.”

  Saffron and Jigsaw both jumped calmly and competently. Rupert started when Jigsaw was only one jump ahead and, racing after him, Rosie took far too large a leap into the pen and then fell on her nose as she braked violently. However, Rupert sat tight while she found a fifth leg and scrambled out somehow. Then they galloped on, apparently unconcerned, and made a magnificent jump over the hedge.

  Rajah began by peering distrustfully at the hurdles, but Lizzie, reins in one hand, gave him an indignant whack, and after that he behaved, jumping both the pen and the hedge in fine hunting style. Tristram whizzed round in his usual confident manner, and Lesley chased him, determined that Stardust should be inspired by his example. Bowie jumped the pen neatly and then carried a very faint-hearted Tina over the hedge. Lynne rode Vulcan slowly and carefully and was very pleased with her clear round. Chess jumped the hurdles and pen neatly, but then made an enormous and slow-motion leap over the hedge which left Sarah clinging round his neck.

  “Stay on, Sarah, stay on!” the others shouted to her. “Or David won’t get his twelve clear rounds.” Sarah struggled back into the saddle as Paul and Banjo cleared the pen and then the hedge with their usual stag-like leaps.

  “Good,” said David. “Now for the water.” He drove the Land Rover down the field to the four-feet-wide ditch, lined with black plastic and brimming with water, which the Robertses had dug at right-angles to the hedge. “James you go first. Seb, take a lead from Harry; Tina, from Lesley, follow Tristram, and Chess, Banjo.” He went on, “No, don’t show it to them; they’ve now got to trust you to ride them correctly at unknown fences. As this is a wide jump with no height to it, you aim to take off fairly near, come in briskly with a short stride and a giving rein. O.K.”

  Remembering his wetting at Easter, James sat down and rode hard. Ferdinand, feeling his rider’s determination, didn’t attempt to refuse and jumped easily. Jupiter followed, making the ditch seem nothing. Behind him Jigsaw approached with goggling eyes and tried to run out but Seb was ready and his long legs drove the skewbald pony on. Saffron followed eagerly. Bowie, to Tina’s amazement, took the ditch in his stride. Rosie swept over fast, with pricked ears and shining eyes. The waiting ponies were twirling about impatiently, longing for their turns to come. Even Rajah forgot to be cautious, caught up in the rising tide of confidence. David roared at Lynne to ride on and not to hold Vulcan back. Banjo flung himself upward and over. Only Sarah, waving her legs and shouting at Chess, refused.

  “Seb and Lynne had better go again—and you, Sarah,” decided David. “Could the rest of you build a timber wagon? You’ll need three of the thickest rustic poles, two of the largest drums and four tyres. If you lean the tyres against the drums they’ll look enough like wheels to fool the ponies.”

  “Where do you want it?” asked James.

  “In line with the hedge,” answered David as he watched Jigsaw fly over the ditch, “so that we can jump it and then the hedge from this side. Go on, Lynne.” He waved his good arm at her. “Don’t kick, use your whip if he’s idle.”

  Vulcan jumped easily, but Chess, unmoved by Sarah’s kicking heels and scolding voice, refused again.

  “It is a phobia,” Sarah shrieked angrily at David. “He won’t do it.”

  “He jumped the water jump last holidays,” David pointed out calmly. “But I haven’t a lunge rein and Julia to pull him over today. Let’s put Paul up and see what he can do.”

  “All right, I don’t care.” Sarah flung herself off Chess as David called Paul. “Ride him round, get him going and try him over a couple of small jumps first,” he told Paul, and then he limped across to the timber wagon builders. “Does that look frightening enough for you?”

  “It’s not bad, fairly realistic,” admitted James.

  “It’s terrifyingly solid and has no groundline at all,” observed Rupert gloomily.

  “They all look terrifying when you’re on your feet,” Alice told him, “but they shrink as soon as you mount.”

  “Chicken coops, you said, James,” David went on. “There are some old ones in the tractor shed, but I’ll need a couple of you to load them in to the Land Rover. Lynne, would you run up to my tackroom and fetch one of those navy-blue day-rugs out of the chest. Now, can anyone else think of a scary object which we can incorporate in the course?”

  “Yellow plastic sacks stuffed with hay,” suggested Sarah. “Stardust won’t go near them,” she added with relish.

  “Well, there are plenty of brightly coloured sacks in the tractor shed and plenty of loose hay in the barn. You go and fill a few of them up,” David told her.

  “Can I scout round?” asked Rupert. “I might find something…”

  Alice and Hanif went with David to load the coops, and Lynne told Sarah that she would help her with the sack-stuffing as soon as she had fetched the rug. Paul was schooling Chess over the small jumps. Everyone else was pony-holding and gossiping.

  The four chicken coops, with a pole above, were positioned so that they could be jumped before the timber wagon, while the navy-blue, red-b
ound rug was draped over a pole and the plastic sacks were propped against one another at the lower end of the field. The jumps were ready and everyone was mounting when Rupert appeared, carrying the top half of a trestle table followed by Mrs Roberts with the trestles.

  “What’s that for? We can’t jump tables.”

  “Oh Rupert, why are you such a nut?” the pony club members protested. Rupert looked at David.

  “I don’t see why not,” David answered his silent question. “They sometimes have solid, flat-topped jumps they call tables, in horse trials. Put it down with the other scary jumps and give it a pole for groundline.”

  “I’ll just fetch the chairs,” said Rupert, handing the table top to Lizzie and Netti who had gone to help him and running back to the yard. He reappeared with two broken-down, canvas-seated chairs, which he arranged at either end of the table. “That’s it,” he said, mounting Rosie.

  “Right,” said David. “Now, let’s be clear in our minds what we’re doing. The rug, plastic sacks and table are to accustom the ponies to jumping unusual scary jumps without a preliminary look. Therefore, we keep the fences low and simple and try to make them jump first time, from a standstill if necessary. The chicken coops and timber wagon are for the benefit of the riders. You think they are frightening, but horses, if they can do the height, generally jump much better over solid-looking obstacles. We’ll try the scary jumps first. Start slowly, you’ve only got to pop over with the ponies full of impulsion and in an obedient frame mind. Sit up, look up, and use your legs. Who wants go first?”

  “I will,” offered Hanif, who was already practising a little shoulder-in. He began slowly. Jupiter didn’t seem bothered by the rug, but he eyed the plastic sacks suspiciously and made a large, careful leap, and then flew over the table.

  The pony club members cheered. Mrs Roberts and some of Julia’s ride, who were looking over the fence between the fields, clapped.

  “It’s good for an over-confident pony like Jupiter to meet a few horrors,” said David. “You could see him steady himself and think, instead of just charging at them.”

  Saffron wasn’t worried by the strangeness of the jumps either; he looked at them attentively and jumped them extra carefully. Ferdinand tried to run out of the plastic sacks, but James, sitting tight, held him into the fence and he jumped reluctantly with goggling eyes.

  “Good,” shouted David. “That’s how it should be done.” And Ferdinand, suddenly accepting the domination of his rider, went on to jump the table with hardly a second look.

  Jigsaw had run out at the plastic sacks. “Sit up, feel both sides of his mouth, ride every stride then he can’t take you by surprise,” David was shouting.

  “Ra’s put his spectacles on already,” Lizzie called despondently, as Jigsaw jumped at his second attempt and she tried to shake Rajah into action.

  “Try shoulder-in, you must get him going in front of the leg,” instructed David, watching Seb push a disapproving Jigsaw over the table.

  Rajah jumped the rug cautiously and then approached the sacks at a peering, snorting trot. He stopped, despite Lizzie’s efforts, and stretched out his neck to sniff the sacks from a safe distance.

  “Oh Ra, stop being so ridiculous: they’re sacks,” Lizzie scolded and then, since her legs could do no more, gave him a sharp whack. Ra took off at once, jumping from a standstill. Looking quite pleased with himself, and seeming to realize that he wasn’t being asked to do anything really dangerous, he jumped the table without any fuss.

  “Well done, that wasn’t bad for old Safety First,” shouted David, as he turned to watch Tristram who popped over all three jumps with pricked ears and a smug expression. Rosie followed him, her toad eyes bulging with horror as she refused to approach the rug.

  “She thinks there must be a poor, thin, half-starved pony inside that rug,” announced Rupert, giving up a frontal approach and trying to edge her nearer from the side.

  “We can’t waste time on prima donna acts. Netti, ride Tristram over and let him sniff the rug,” ordered David. Seeing Tristram sniffing, Rosie hurried forward to join him. Suddenly all her terror vanished and she turned away quite prepared to accept that this was a jump. But then, the moment she was over it, she began to gaze at the plastic sacks with equal horror.

  The watching pony club members groaned. “Oh, do get on with it, Rupert. We want our turns,” they complained, as Netti trotted back to go through the sniffing procedure again.

  “She thinks they’re crouching yellow cats, waiting to scratch out a pony’s eyes,” announced Rupert as she sniffed each sack gingerly. Satisfied at last that they were harmless, she allowed Rupert to take her back and then jumped eagerly. They cantered on towards the table. Rosie seemed to be attending, but then she saw the chairs, lost her concentration, missed her take-off stride and, with a tremendous crash, scattered the table top and trestles, landing on her nose and knees in their midst. Rupert was still sitting in the saddle as she heaved herself back on her feet.

  “Sorry, David,” he said, pushing his crash cap off his eyes, “I hope the table wasn’t valuable.”

  “You must use your half-halt and pop over tricky jumps,” David told him. “You’re inclined to ride at a sheep pen and a steeplechase fence in exactly the same way. But the real trouble is that neither you nor the pony concentrate on the job in hand. Still, well stuck on. Go and give her a confidence restoring popover one of the little jumps and she can have another go at the table in a minute.”

  As soon as Mrs Roberts, Harry and Alice had restored the table, Paul, looking unfamiliar on Chess, started and went round neatly with no trouble at all. Sarah followed on Banjo, giving surprised shrieks at the powerful spring of his stag-like leaps. Then Vulcan cantered round soberly, the superior expression of an “old hand” on his blue-roan face. Tina started slowly, stroking and talking calmingly to an apprehensive-looking Bowie. She used her legs and seat to urge the pony on, but very quietly and in rhythm with his stride. They jumped the rug and then Tina began to persuade the nervous pony to approach the sacks.

  “Stupid animal,” said Sarah, and then, looking round, “Where’s Lesley vanished to? It’s going to take another half-hour to get Stardust over; she’s got a phobia about them too.”

  “It wasn’t very sisterly of you to suggest we jumped them then,” observed Seb.

  “Oh, I hate my sister, but she doesn’t seem to be around. Do you think she’s gone off and hidden herself?”

  “No, she’s been having a little school on the quiet,” said Mrs Roberts. “She gave me the pony to hold while she filled a couple of yellow sacks for her own use. She deserves to go straight over the jump after all that patience.”

  When David looked round for her, Lesley was ready. She started at a very brisk trot, pushing Stardust into a canter as they came up to the rug and jumping it neatly. Then, as the chestnut pony’s eyes began to pop with horror at the sight of more plastic sacks, Lesley brought her back to a powerful collected trot. The moment she was in complete control she drove the pony forward and, obedience triumphing, Stardust jumped the small fence with only a moment’s hesitation. Lesley collected her again for the table and they hopped over easily.

  “Well ridden!” said David. “You really made use of your schooling then. Now you can give Chess and Paul a lead over the ditch. Everyone else prepare to jump the chicken coops, timber wagon, hedge, pen, hurdles and finally the ditch in that order. At a fair hunting pace, I want clear rounds and no time faults.”

  Chess, who was now going forward freely, forgot about the black plastic until the very last moment. Then he tried to stop, but Paul had his whip ready in the hand on the non-hedge side and hit him on the take-off stride, whereupon the startled Chess flew over.

  “Good, do it again from the other side,” shouted David, turning to watch James sail over the timber wagon in fine style, and then back to Chess, who, intimidated by Paul and well aware that he had changed his whip into the other hand and was ready for any attempt to run
out, followed Stardust over the ditch meekly. “Good, give him back to Sarah,” called David, one eye on Seb who was approaching the hedge, the other on James who was sailing over the ditch. Then Saffron and Rajah were on the course, both galloping round at a purposeful pace. Hanif waited until they were nearly home before he started as he didn’t want Jupiter excited by the sight of a pony ahead. Rupert followed him, then Lesley and Netti. All the ponies were jumping well, full of confidence and apparently enjoying themselves. David held up the last four. “I’d like the poles over the coops and the timber wagon down a bit for you,” he said. “I know you can do the height, but we want this to be fun for the ponies and not too much of an effort.”

  When the last puffing pony had returned, David called the riders together. “Have I convinced you that our fairly well-schooled ponies can now be trusted to jump new and unusual fences without a preliminary look?” he asked. “Or are you still quaking at the thought of the Cranford Vale’s course designer’s horrors?”

  “You’ve almost convinced me,” admitted James. “So long as he doesn’t think up something we haven’t practised at all.”

  “Or something very tricky,” added Hanif.

  “I’ll be all right if they’re not too high or too wide,” decided Paul.

  “Well, are the rest of you happy about the way your ponies are going?” asked David, looking at the faces of the people who hadn’t answered.

  “Yes, I’m terribly pleased with Saffy, but I don’t want to tempt fate by saying so,” explained Alice.

  “I’m happy too,” said Netti, “though I expect something ghastly will happen on the day.”

  “Yes, we’ll all take the wrong course or something,” suggested Rupert gloomily.

  “Stardust’s never got round a cross-country yet,” Lesley admitted suddenly, “but if it’s not too stiff I think she might this time.” Tina and Lynne stayed silent, both wondering which pony they were going to ride.

  “I discussed teams with the Cranford Vale secretary last night,” David went on, “and she said that as it was a junior competition and boys and girls swim and run the same distances, they’d decided to let clubs which couldn’t produce a single-sex team have a mixed one, so our third team will be mixed.” He produced a rather crumpled sheet of paper and tried to flatten it one-handed. “Here we are. Girls: Lesley, Lizzie, Alice, Netti. Boys: James, Rupert, Sebastian, Harry. Mixed: Lynne, Sarah, Tina, Paul. Mrs Rooke has very kindly offered to lend Bowie to Tina.” David ignored the disbelieving gasps which greeted this announcement, and went on, “I’d like Lynne to ride Vulcan. If that’s all right with you, Lynne?”