Love and Horses at Bracken Read online

  LOVE AND HORSES AT BRACKEN

  Gillian Baxter

  Love and Horses at Bracken © 2019 by Gillian Baxter. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover images: Pixabay

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United Kingdom

  First Printing: January 2019

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Chapter one

  Chapter two

  Chapter three

  Chapter four

  Chapter five

  Chapter six

  Chapter seven

  Chapter eight

  Chapter nine

  Chapter ten

  Chapter eleven

  Chapter twelve

  Chapter thirteen

  Chapter fourteen

  Chapter fifteen

  Chapter sixteen

  Chapter sixteen….later

  Introduction

  About fifty years ago among the pony books I wrote was a series of three books about Bracken stables, Jump to the Stars, The Difficult Summer, and the Perfect Horse. They were about Bobby, who worked there and fell in love with the owner, Guy, about Bobby’s show jumper, Shelta and the disasters and recoveries which led to Bobby and Guy becoming engaged at the end of the third book. There, on the edge of marriage, I left them until now. Readers have asked me, over the years, what I thought had happened to them since, and now that I am less able to take part in horse activities myself except through my horse owning daughters, I decided to find out. This book follows straight on with Bobby and Guy’s wedding, but it is set in the present day, ignoring the years between. Not a lot has changed basically in the horse world, a few competition rules, decimal currency and metric measurement seem the main differences, but horse behaviour and riding skills remain much the same. This book is quite separate from the earlier ones, but the characters and some of the horses are unchanged, and it can perhaps no longer be described as purely a ‘pony book’ owing to some of the more mature problems of the characters. I do hope that you will enjoy it.

  Chapter one

  It was the last of the season’s agricultural shows, and late in the day. Shadows were lengthening across the main ring, shadows of flag poles and tents and show jumps and the crowds were beginning to leave apart from the show jumping fans watching the big class. The warm air smelled of trampled grass and frying, of horses and diesel. Waiting for her turn to jump in this main class, the 1.30 open, Roberta Morton realised that this would be the last time that she would be announced under that name. In two weeks time she would be Roberta Mathews, wife to her present employer and long time love, Guy Mathews, owner of Bracken Stables.

  ‘Ready Roberta? You’re next’ the steward’s voice brought her back to the present and she turned her brilliant, beloved chestnut mare Shelta towards the ring entrance.

  It was a big course but well within Shelta’s range. Outside the ring Guy watched, tense as he always was when Bobby jumped. He was a tall, slim man of twenty six with curly brown hair, a tanned, serious face, and dark eyes. Until recently he had used a stick for support as his back recovered from the damage done to it in the fire which had almost destroyed him and his business but now merely out of habit he was resting a hand on one of the ring posts, hoping for Bobby to do well and be safe.

  Shelta looked a little fatter than usual, she had been short of work while they were busy with the wedding preparations, but they were over the first fence and going on down the ring to a big oxer and an upright and then turning for the first combination, an upright to a spread. Shelta almost hesitated, unusual for her, but then she was over and out clear. The next fence was a big single spread, Bobby felt the mare gather herself to take off but then she checked, slid, and the fence collapsed around her as she stopped. All around the ring and in the collecting ring there was a startled silence. Shelta never stopped. Even a pole down was unusual and as Bobby rode the mare out from among the scattered poles she could feel Shelta’s heavy breathing. Something was not right. Bobby raised her hand to the judges and rode her out of the ring to where Guy was waiting.

  ‘She just felt as if she couldn’t make it’ Bobby told Guy outside the collecting ring. ‘Did she look lame?’

  ‘No, not at all’ Guy assured her. ’Just slightly unfit.’

  He put a hand thoughtfully on Shelta’s flank but said nothing. He could not have seen what he thought he had, it wasn’t possible.

  Bobby dismounted and with Guy walking beside them she led Shelta back to the horse box. Once there Shelta seemed the same as usual. Bobby took off her hat and show jacket and unsaddled the mare and she had a drink and started happily on her hay net. Bobby removed her jumping studs and put her summer sheet over her and Guy felt the mare’s legs and assured Bobby that he could find nothing wrong. He watched Bobby as she put the mares travelling boots on her and put on the tail bandage. He loved to watch her, this slight, slim strong girl with her long light brown hair and bright hazel eyes. She had been with him through so much, without her strength he did not think he would ever have got through the last two years. She had lost her parents young, as he had, and had battled her way through life as ward of an unfeeling aunt and at a strict boarding school until finding him and her lovely mare had given her new things on which to fasten. All she wanted at the moment was assurance that Shelta was alright.

  ‘Lets get her home’ he said now. ‘Give her a break out in the field until we’ve dealt with this wedding. She’s probably due for one anyway.’

  Back home at Bracken Shelta seemed her usual self. She was soon settled in her box eating, and Heath, Guys head girl, joined Bobby as she leaned on the stable door watching. Heath had been at Bracken when Bobby first came and she and Guy knew that they would be lost without her to keep everything running smoothly. She was a little older than Bobby, stockily built, with springy red hair.

  ‘Guy told me what happened’ she said. ‘He said you’re worrying about her, but I’m sure there’s no need. She can go out with the ponies where there isn’t too much grass until you’re married. You’ll have time then to sort any problem out.’

  Bobby knew that she had no choice. She left Shelta eating hay and went to join Guy as he went up to their house.

  There had been some changes to the yard when it was rebuilt and it now had a flat over the stables which Heath claimed for herself. Guy had sold his large old house a little distance away to his housekeeper and her husband, Val and Ed Joyce, who now ran it as bed and breakfast accommodation and could house any resident pupils that he might have. He had bought a smaller house close to the yard for himself and Bobby. It had been lucky to escape the fire, and had needed quite a lot of work done on it, but now it was tidy and attractive, brick built and partly tile hung, and inside it was furnished with Guy’s old furniture and some things that he and Bobby had chosen together. It had a Rayburn stove for heating, and to Bobby it already felt like the real home she had never had.

  Bobby and Guy would have liked to get married quietly with just a few friends but Bobby’s Aunt Helen had insisted that they should have a traditional wedding and reception and for the sake of peace they had agreed.

  ‘We don’t want it to appear a hole and corner affair of which we are ashamed’ she had said. ‘Eve
n if you do insist on marrying this horse dealer.’

  Bobby had swallowed the implied insult but she would be very glad when the whole thing was over and she and Guy could get on with their lives.

  On the day before the wedding most things were ready. They had insisted on having the reception at Bracken, and there was a wooden floor down over the fibre surface in the indoor school and the roof and sides had been draped in white canvas so that it looked like a marquee. There were tables and seating along the sides and a buffet table across the top, handy for the caterers to use the space under the balcony to prepare the food. Flowers would arrive in the morning in good time for the wedding at eleven in Bracken church. Bobby’s cousin Ellen, with whom she had been brought up, had hauled her off to buy a dress, and the local hairdresser, a client of Brackens, would come to do her hair. On the evening before she and Guy were going out to dinner at the Flying Kite, the area’s best restaurant, with Bobby’s Aunt and her Uncle Charles, Ellen, and Guy’s brother James, who was an assistant racehorse trainer at a yard in Wales. James’ wife had stayed at home with their very new baby. He and Guy had not seen much of each other since their mother died, leaving her big house to the boys. It was the money from the sale of this which had enabled Guy to buy Bracken and James his cottage in Wales close to the racing yard, racing having always been his passion.

  Work finished a little early that evening and Yolanda, their working pupil, went home. Bobby made her last visit of the day to Shelta’s field. The sun was low, throwing long shadows across the field and making the changing leaves on the big horse chestnut tree glow golden. The forecast for tomorrow was for showers and a breeze but this evening all was serene. Shelta was standing a little apart from the ponies, her bright coat shining with the deep glow which meant that her winter coat was starting to grow. Perhaps it was the changing season which had put her off at the show. Bobby hoped that it had been nothing more but for now there was no more that she could do.She went back to the house, her house, she thought, to get clean and tidy for the formal meal.

  The dinner was rather a strain, but between them Guy, James, and Bobby’s Uncle managed to keep things light and pleasant. Later, back home, Bobby and Guy hugged each other, relieved that the meal was over.

  ‘Well,’ said Guy. ‘Are you ready for your wedding to the despised horse dealer?’

  ‘Oh Guy, why can’t they just be happy for me?’ Bobby asked him, and Guy put his hands on her shoulders and looked at her seriously.

  ‘But you’re happy, aren’t you love?’ he asked. ‘You don’t feel I’m pushing you into this, do you?

  I mean, a lame horse dealer really isn’t every girls dream.’

  ‘But you’re mine’ Bobby told him. ‘And if you kiss me you’ll know that it’s true.’

  And Guy did so before they went to their separate rooms as wedding eve protocol expected.

  Bobby was woken next morning at first light by Heath banging on the front door and calling her.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Bobby hung over the banisters as Guy came out of the other bedroom. Heath was looking worried, wet from the shower which was blowing against the windows, and now she said ’I think you’d better come, both of you. There’s something wrong with Shelta.’

  ‘What? Oh no.’ Bobby turned back into her room to drag on jeans and sweater and then hurtled down the stairs and out of the door, Guy following as fast as he could, hampered by his still damaged back. Bobby’s boots were by the back door, she trampled into them almost without stopping and ran for the field. Rain drove into her face. She could see the ponies sheltering under the hedge and a dark heap on the ground close to one of the horse chestnut trees was Shelta down on her side, her neck stretched out. Bobby scrambled over the gate and kept running, slowing as she got close to the horse. Shelta looked strange, neck stretched out, her sides rigid. For a moment Bobby thought that she was dead but then a huge breath heaved through her and she groaned, a deep sound that Bobby had never heard from her before.

  ‘Guy, she’s got terrible colic.’ Bobby was sobbing as Guy joined them and put an arm round her. He hadn’t been mistaken at the show, he realized. He had seen movement inside the mare.

  ‘It isn’t colic,’ he told the two girls. ‘She’s in labour. She’s about to foal.’

  ‘What’? Bobby was amazed. ‘She can’t be. There’s no stallion here, except Heath’s Shetland…surely he couldn’t?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Guy told her. ‘But she’s found one somewhere.’

  Shelta groaned again, straining, and two tiny hooves appeared, wrapped in the shiny birth membrane. She half got up, fell back, and suddenly the foal was there, sliding out into the wet grass.

  ‘Put your fingers in its mouth’ Guy told her. ‘Make sure the airways are clear.’

  Dazed with astonishment Bobby knelt in the wet grass to do so, feeling warm new life under her fingers. The birth sack was slipping off now, and Shelta was struggling to her feet. Turning, she sniffed her baby and then began to lick its wet, curly coat. Bobby sat back on her heels, staring.

  ‘It’s skewbald’ was all she could think of to say. ‘Oh Guy, I thought she was dying.’

  She remained on her knees until Guy pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Far from it’ he said. ‘But I think they’d both be better out of this rain. Heath, will you fetch a head collar and then put a deep bed down in the foaling box.’

  ‘Sure.’ Heath ran off and Bobby and Guy stayed watching the chestnut mare and her baby, who was now sitting up, flickering its long ears, and considering getting to its feet. Guy laughed.

  ‘Poor girl’ he said. ‘No wonder she was having trouble jumping.’

  By the time Heath got back with the head collar the foal was on four legs, legs that were splayed out and shaky, but already taking weight. It was a skewbald, with big blotchy markings and a big white face. Shelta’s head as she licked it looked incredibly fine by comparison and her expression was so warm and concentrated that Bobby exclaimed ‘she loves it.’

  ‘Him’ said Guy. ‘It’s a colt. And of course she loves him, he’s her baby.’

  ‘It…’ Bobby couldn’t put what she felt into words. It was crazy, but Shelta was hers, she thought that the mare had loved her and somehow she felt usurped. Guy pulled her close and kissed her.

  ‘Come on’ he said. ‘Let’s get them both into shelter. This winds quite cold. You lead your mare and I’ll carry this fellow.’

  Heath handed Bobby the head collar and Guy picked the foal up with all its four legs together and they headed towards the stables through the now driving rain. Shelta was anxious at first, trying to turn to check her baby, and so Guy walked ahead and like that they made their way through the gate and across the yard to the box, now deeply bedded with wood shavings. The foal was beginning to struggle, surprisingly strong, and as soon as Guy put it down it started to seek for milk. Shelta seemed to know just what to do, gently pushing her foal with her nose as he nuzzled and nibbled and latched on to the teat and licking him softly as he began to suck. Bobby, Guy and Heath, joined by an astonished Yolanda, were all gathered round the door watching when the sound of a vehicle coming into the yard behind them made them turn.

  ‘The florist’ exclaimed Heath. ‘Bobby, you’re getting married in two hours. Just look at the two of you. You’ll never be ready.’

  ‘I can’t just leave them.’ Bobby felt panic setting in. ’What if something went wrong?’

  ‘I’ll stay with them’ Heath promised. ‘It won’t take me two hours to get ready, I’m not the one who’s going to be on show. Go on Guy, take her with you and scrub her or something.’

  ‘Heath’s right.’ Guy put his arm round Bobby. ’Come on love, they’ll be fine. We mustn’t prove your Aunt right about me by turning up looking like tramps. We’ll give them all a good show, won’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’ Bobby knew that he was right. ‘I’ll do my best. Just be there, waiting.’

  ‘I will‘ Guy promised her softly. ‘
I’ll wait for as long as you want me to.’

  Ellen was in the house already, hopping up and down with impatience. She hurried Bobby into the shower while the beautician laid out her tools, and her cousin asked demanding questions about underwear and traditional ‘borrowed and blue’ while getting her own blue bridesmaid’s dress out of its bag. Through all this Bobby puzzled about how Shelta could have got herself in foal, very late in the season, for it must have happened in last October. It was Heath, coming to check on her progress and to report that Shelta and her son were fine, who came up with the only possible answer.

  ‘Do you remember that group of travellers who were about last autumn?’ she asked. ‘They kept pinching a few hours in local fields for their coloured cobs. One of those must have got in and taken Madam’s fancy. The owners would have kept very quiet even if they noticed anything.’

  It sounded the only explanation. Bobby, wincing under the beautician’s determined assistance with make up, had to accept it. Goodness knows what a foal from that mixture would turn out to be like.

  There was the sound of an engine outside and Ellen called that the car had come and that she and Bobby’s Uncle, who was to give her away, were waiting.

  ‘Go on’ Heath told her. ‘Lord Bobby, you really do look terrific. Good luck.’ And Bobby went downstairs to go to her wedding where Guy was waiting.

  At the church the organ stopped playing softly and burst into the wedding march and Guy turned to watch as Bobby, as he had never seen her before, started up the aisle with her Uncle beside her to join him. She wore a simple white shift dress, roses in her hands, her hair up with a single white rose holding a small veil. She looked beautiful and unworldly, and the memories ran through his mind. Bobby as an eager schoolgirl, coming to ride his horses. As a rapidly maturing teenager jumping the lovely mare he had found for her. Her face in the violent light of the plane crash. Outside the blazing stable as the roof fell in on him. Visiting him in hospital day after day when he did not know if he would ever walk again, standing by him through all her Aunt’s disapproval and now surmounting all that to marry him. Bobby saw a serious looking young man in an unfamiliar dark suit, James beside him, his eyes, she knew, seeing nothing but her as she walked towards him past the packed guests, clients, friends, and her Aunt’s frosty expression in the front pew. Then as her Uncle stepped back, leaving her beside Guy, he smiled and very softly he said, ‘you look beautiful’ and Bobby knew that she had come home.