Pony Club Challenge (Woodbury Pony Club Book 2) Read online

  “Can we do the bank, David?” they asked, gathering round the Land Rover. “Please, David.”

  “No, never begin with a new fence, that’s asking for trouble. Warm up over the old and familiar,” said David. “If you want the sort of pony that jumps new fences first go, you have to introduce them carefully. When I’m through the slip rails will someone put them up, please? You can jump them, the old stickheap and the uphill log. You go first, Harry, James second and Sarah third; after that I don’t mind.”

  Except that Sarah had to circle Bowie, who got going too fast after the slip rails, no one had any trouble. And when they all jogged back across the field, chattering cheerfully, Alice noticed that there was an occasional smile on Seb’s sad face.

  “Why can’t we have a more natural-looking bank?” complained Sarah. “I hate those horrible straight sides; it’s like a box.”

  “What happens if we fall off sideways?” asked Rupert cheerfully. “Or try to jump the whole thing.”

  “Shut up, you’re putting me off.” Tina dropped her reins and put her fingers in her ears.

  “Get into a tidy line and I’ll explain,” said David, climbing down from the Land Rover. “The first thing to remember is that a bank is two jumps. Number one is up, number two is down. So, as in all combinations, grids etcetera, you ride for the last fence. You think about the down, you look over the bank, beyond the bank to wherever the next fence is. What you don’t do is to let the pony dwell, or stop, on the top. Straight on, straight off. Apart from that it’s like any other jump. Approach with impulsion and don’t let them run out. Any questions?”

  The pony club members looked at each other doubtfully.

  “Supposing I get stuck on top?” asked Rupert.

  “You use your legs, and if that doesn’t work I give you advance permission to yell, whack or kick,” answered David. “You look where you want to go, but never down. There is one other thing,” he went on. “If you go to Ireland and jump natural banks you take them slowly: partly because they can crumble under your weight, but mainly because there may be a sleeping pig or, worse still, a barrow, lying on the landing side.” David settled himself on his shooting stick. “Right, James, are you going to show them the way?”

  “O.K., but I don’t think Ferdie’s done one before.” James circled and came up to the bank briskly. Ferdie jumped up easily, but then stopped dead and looked with horror at the drop.

  “Legs,” yelled David. “Go on, get off.” And with a wild flurry of arms and legs they did. “Well done. Go again and this time come straight off.”

  Ferdie, knowing what to expect this time, banked neatly. Hanif was circling, ready to go next.

  “Now steady. You’ve walked the course, Jupiter hasn’t. You have to tell him, with a half-halt, that there’s a problem ahead. Don’t just sit there and let him race into trouble.”

  “Steady, Jupe, look before you leap,” said Hanif soothingly, and slowed the powerful pony to a trot. Jupiter took an enormous leap up, braked when he saw what lay ahead, summed up the problem in a moment and jumped down. Alice followed. Saffron slowed down, took a careful look at the bank, then he jumped up neatly, trotted across the top and popped down with no trouble at all. Alice patted him gratefully as Lizzie set off. She rode Rajah in a very determined manner, but he insisted on slowing up and inspecting the bank from a standstill. Lizzie, exasperated by this caution, said, “Oh Ra, don’t be so stupid!” and gave him a whack. The sturdy chestnut promptly heaved himself up on the bank with a very unseating jump. Lizzie lost both stirrups and clung round his neck. Rajah saw that he was surrounded by drops and stood snorting with disapproval. “Oh, come on, Ra.” Lizzie brandished her whip and they lurched down; she was still stirrup-less.

  “Well done,” shouted David.

  Nettie followed her sister, and grey Tristram seemed to know exactly what to do and jumped on and off with brisk efficiency.

  “If she can do it, so can we,” said Seb, leaving the dithering group of waiting riders. “Come on, Jigsaw.” The skewbald set off at a brisk canter, but at the last moment he saw that the jump was more complicated than he had thought and refused, sliding right into the sleepers. Seb shot up his neck, half landing on the bank, and then heaved himself back into the saddle. “None of that,” he said and, landing Jigsaw a couple of hard whacks, he turned and rode him at the bank again, kicking vigorously. Jigsaw refused.

  “Hold it,” said David, as Seb swung round for a third attempt. “It’s a new fence, he may never have seen one before; you should have let him have a look the first time he stopped. I think he’s uncertain, rather than obstinate, so let’s give him a lead. You follow James. Then we’ll have Harry and Lizzie. Netti, you give your brother a lead. Lesley, follow Alice. Don’t follow too close,” he added as they found their pairs.

  Ferdie jumped the bank perfectly, but Jigsaw, who followed him up, then stood teetering on the brink while David roared at Seb to look up and use his legs. Suddenly Jigsaw found the nerve to jump off and then, delighted by his own bravery, he galloped across the field, celebrating with a series of bucks. Jupiter jumped confidently and well, Rajah soberly, but without any fuss. Lesley gave Stardust a lead, but the Araby little chestnut lost heart at the last moment and refused. Lesley let her inspect the jump, then took her back quietly and tried again. This time Stardust heaved herself up in slow motion, walked across the top and heaved herself down on the far side.

  “Too slow, try and bustle her up a bit next time,” shouted David and turned to watch Tristram, who whipped over in copybook manner, and Rosie, who approached with large goggling eyes, leapt on boldly, looked round her in horror, turned and jumped down the way she had come up.

  “Steer, and look where you want to go,” David shouted at Rupert.

  “At least it was original. Can I have another lead?” asked Rupert, ramming his cap on harder.

  “Rosie really is the stupidest pony in the Woodbury Pony Club,” said Netti in a forgiving voice. “I only hope Rupert finishes schooling her before I grow out of Tristram and have to take her on.”

  “I thought it was quite bright of her,” shouted Rupert, circling. “She knew this side was safe. O.K., Seb, I’m ready.” This time Rupert was prepared; he stopped Rosie turning and steered her firmly across the bank. She looked down with goggling eyes and then, deciding to follow Jigsaw, flung herself recklessly from the top.

  “Terrific,” shouted Rupert, as he rode back patting her. “Does anyone want a lead?”

  “Yes, please, but what does it feel like?” asked Tina apprehensively. “It looks enormous from down here on Chess.”

  “It’s good fun, rather like going on a switchback at a fair.” Rupert looked at David, and shouted, “Can we go next?” and was waved on.

  Rosie, proud of her new accomplishment, flew over with a pair of dramatic leaps, but Chess refused.

  “One more go and then I’ll put someone else up,” David threatened Tina. “Someone give Paul a lead.”

  Banjo’s usual stag-like leap landed him on the bank and he had plenty of room to trot across and pop down on the far side.

  “Well done,” shouted David, and several people clapped.

  “There, Banjo’s done it first go; you’re miles bigger and you made all that stupid fuss,” Lizzie reproached Rajah.

  “I think he’d have done it without a lead,” said Paul, jumping off and patting the little black proudly. “Go on, Lynne, it’s great. You’ll love it.”

  “I’ll give you a lead,” offered Alice.

  But Berry ran out, and Lynne, laughing helplessly, circled. “I’m not going to jump that in a million years,” she shrieked, “Berry really hates it.”

  “You’re not going to jump it in a million years because you’re riding badly,” roared David. “Why won’t you listen…” Then he decided he was wasting his breath and turned to Sarah. “Do you want a lead? Can we have everyone again? The three who haven’t done it take leads. Don’t jump on each other’s tails.”
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  The ponies who had already jumped were racing over with evident pleasure, but Chess, ridden without much enthusiasm by Tina, refused. Berry ran out. Bowie, going last and following Netti, approached the fence cautiously. Sarah attacked him with a flurry of legs and whip, and the flustered pony leapt on to the bank at an angle and, slithering across, almost plunged over the side.

  “Bowie!” shrieked Sarah, “Bowie!” as he teetered, scrabbling with his hoofs and fighting to get his balance.

  “Sit still” roared David and then, as the pony found a firm foothold and stood trembling, he told her to calm him down.

  “Talk to him, Sarah, pat him and then show him where he’s supposed to be jumping down,” said David quietly. But Sarah threw herself off. “I hate him,” she stormed. “He’s a stupid, clumsy, screwy pony; he’s useless at cross-country.”

  “Sarah, Sarah,” Mrs Rooke joined in. “You know that’s not true, just think how many rosettes the pony has won.”

  “I expect it was all lies. It’s not my fault if you were cheated; anyone can see he’s useless at cross-country,” Sarah screamed back.

  David sighed. “This is when it really gets me,” he said, looking down at his limp arm and lame leg. “Oh for the days when one could get up on a horse and prove one’s point. Lizzie, could you get the lunge rein from the back of the Land Rover. James, hop up on the bank and buckle it on the snaffle ring. Sarah, cross your stirrups and put a knot in your reins, we’re going to tow the pony down.”

  Lizzie towed, James led Bowie to the edge and made encouraging noises, and Netti and Alice held out handfuls of pony nuts. Bowie, allowed to consider the matter calmly, decided that the drop wasn’t as bad as he had feared, and jumped down nimbly. The waiting pony club members all made a fuss of him.

  “Any volunteers to put the two refusers and Bowie over?” asked David.

  “Yes, I’ll try Chess,” offered Paul.

  “No, I want to put Chess over,” screamed Sarah, jumping down from the bank and snatching her pony from Tina.

  “Can I have a go on Berry?” asked Netti.

  “And I wouldn’t mind trying Bowie,” said Alice.

  “Alice recklessly sticking her neck out,” teased Rupert.

  “Alice the Amazon,” added Hanif.

  “I’d like to have a go on him,” said James, “but I’m much too big.”

  “Leads, please. Netti and Berry first,” decided David. Netti was absolutely determined not to let Berry run out, and the pony, having tried a couple of swerves and found that this new rider had her firmly between hand and leg, suddenly gave in and followed Banjo over with no trouble at all.

  Everyone cheered. “Well done, Netti.”

  David had sent Lesley to give Chess a lead. And Sarah, on her mettle, for she had to show everyone that she could get a sensible pony over, rode like a whirlwind and Chess heaved himself up and down in Stardust’s wake. No one cheered Sarah.

  Then Alice, who had been riding round getting the feel of Bowie, asked, “Can I try without a lead first? He seems a very willing pony, not a bit obstinate. I like him.”

  “Right you are,” agreed David, “but take him slowly and ride straight. Look where you want to go.”

  Alice rode at a slow canter, but, as they drew close, Bowie pricked his ears and accelerated of his own accord; and she only had to sit tight as he leapt lightly on and off with an air of complete confidence.

  “He’s clever,” said Alice, riding back. “He was convinced he knew how to do it this time. He practically told me to shut up and leave it to him.”

  “I don’t know what to make of this,” worried Mrs Rooke. “Sarah’s such a good little rider. She’s always done so well in the past. Do you think we’ve let her stay on dear old Chess too long, David? Perhaps we should have made the break last year.”

  “I don’t think that would have helped,” answered David. “If Sarah wants to move up in the competition world she’ll have to change her style, but I have a feeling that she’d rather have another year as a carefree gymkhana kid. It’s a pity, you’ve got a good little pony there.

  “Now,” he turned back to the pony club members. “We’ll jump it once from the opposite direction. Make sure your ponies know what you intend. Tell them, don’t take them by surprise.”

  “Do you hear that?” Rupert leaned forward and whispered the instructions into Rosie’s ears.

  “And, as we’ve overrun our allotted time,” added David, “any one who refuses or runs out will just have to end on a bad note: there will be no second tries.”

  Sarah was demanding a lead from Netti, and Lynne had arranged to follow Paul. Tina was left holding Bowie as the long line of riders snaked round the field and then came cantering at the bank. Bursting with confidence and proud of their new skill, the ponies followed each other, leaping on and off with ease.

  “Good,” David was shouting, “Good.” And he added, “Well done, Lynne,” as Berry, coming last, hopped neatly over.

  Tina watched them sadly. You had your chance and you bungled it, she told herself. You were the only person who didn’t jump the bank. And now it looked as though Sarah meant to ride Chess home. I suppose Lesley will lead Bowie and I’ll go in the car with Mrs Rooke, she thought drearily as she led him towards the group of triumphant, blowing ponies. Then she stopped. “Stand,” she told Bowie as she mounted. “I’m going to give up being gutless, I’m going to ride you home.”

  “And now we’ve to pay for our glorious bank­jumping,” Rupert was moaning. “Back here on Friday for this revolting running.”

  “It’ll do you good,” Lesley snapped at him. “You’ll know how Rosie feels when she has to gallop uphill.”

  “I know already, she hates it as much as I do,” Rupert answered, “but at least she’s got four legs.”

  “Don’t forget that we begin with shooting,” said Alice, “and that could be fun.”

  4

  Guns Are Dangerous

  It felt very odd, thought Alice, to be going to Garland Farm by car, without a pony and clutching a bag of swimming things. Mrs Franklin, who was driving them, wasn’t wearing a sari but a pink blouse and a fashionable denim skirt and looked like all the other pony club mothers. Well, she thought, all of them except for Mrs Rooke, whose clothes were always very old-fashioned and dull; worse than Aunt Margaret’s. Alice was wearing shorts, ready for the running. Harry was dressed in jeans, but as his holdall looked even fatter than hers she decided that he was carrying his running clothes.

  “It’s going to be exciting finding out who’s good at other things,” she said, turning to talk to him in the back. “We only know each other as riders.”

  “You mean it may change the whole pecking order of the pony club, that Lizzie or Lynne will suddenly become our leader instead of James?” suggested Hanif. “No, nothing as dramatic as that, because I expect James is good at other things too. I guess he’s a good all-rounder.”

  “Yes, he looks irritatingly pleased with himself like all good all-rounders,” agreed Hanif, a jealous note creeping into his voice.

  “I think James is a very nice boy; he is kind and sensible,” said Mrs Franklin reprovingly. “You should not be jealous of him. He is older than you, so of course he is better at sport.”

  “Yes, Mum, but I do hate all this competition, this picking of teams; it makes people like the Rookes worse than ever.”

  Mrs Halford, of the Woodbury Rifle Club, was plump, brisk and confident with short, grey hair, and dressed in greenish trousers and a pale yellow anorak. She had arrived early and, as the pony club members drifted into the farmyard, they found her bustling about with string and targets, turning the half-empty Dutch barn into a firing range.

  David, sitting on his shooting stick and watching helplessly, called to them. “James, Seb, can you come and move these bales for Mrs Halford? Alice and Harry, you take over the reel of string and fix it to divide the watchers from the shooters.”

  “Why don’t we shoot outside, it’
d be far less trouble,” commented James.

  “Because of the breeze,” answered Mrs Halford briskly. “The air pistol pellet has a low muzzle velocity and is badly affected by wind and rain. Grab the other end of this measure, would you? You pony club juniors have to stand seven metres from the targets, which will be pinned to those frames. We will fire towards the stack of straw bales; they’ll absorb the pellets, while a wall would cause them to ricochet.” She turned to Paul and Lynne who’d appeared carrying two small card tables, “Put them up opposite the targets, please, and with the far side exactly on the seven metre line.”

  She inspected Hanif and Alice’s string barrier. “Good. That’ll keep the general public out of the firing line.”

  Hanif laughed, “There are only about two mums.”

  “And Ollie and Julian, looking for trouble because David won’t let them shoot,” added Rupert, who was inspecting the arrangements suspiciously.

  “And all the competitors waiting their turns,” said Mrs Halford. “It’ll be a long-drawn-out business with only two pistols, and it’s impossible to shoot well if your concentration is broken by people chattering round you.”

  By the time the range was ready, with the targets pinned to their frames and the two pistols lying on their tables, each with a box of pellets beside it, everyone had arrived—including Tina, who said she hoped it was all right if she trained, though she had no pony to ride in the actual competition.

  “Of course,” David answered, getting to his feet. “Will everyone sit down and stop talking, please,” he shouted to be heard above the chatter. “Now,” he went on when they were silent and seated. “I want to introduce Mrs Halford, a member of the Woodbury Rifle Club who’s very kindly giving up her time to come and help us. She’s an expert shot and shoots regularly in competitions so she does know what she’s talking about. As I know nothing about the correct drill I want you all to listen very carefully, so, when we practise without her, we’ll know exactly what to do. Guns, even air pistols, are dangerous, so we must be very careful and take this section of the Tetrathlon seriously. Right, Mrs Halford, over to you,” he added and, limping to the nearest straw bale, sat down.