People and Horses at Bracken Read online

  PEOPLE AND HORSES AT BRACKEN

  The third in the new Bracken series

  Gillian Baxter

  People 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: November 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 seventeen

  Introduction

  Fifty years ago among the pony books I wrote was a series of three books about Bracken stables, ‘Jump to 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 series 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. These books are quite separate from the earlier ones but many of the characters, both human and equine, do remain the same.

  Roberta, known as Bobby, and Guy Mathews met when Bobby was still at school and he owned Bracken Stables, a riding school and horse dealing business. Bobby proved to have a flair for show jumping and with Guy’s help she was reunited with Shelta, a chestnut mare whom she used to ride for a previous owner. Over the next few years Bobby and Guy became closer, as Bobby grew up and disaster over-took Guy when a plane crash and fire almost destroyed his business and put him in hospital, leaving him temporarily disabled by a severe back injury. By the end of the third ‘Bracken’ book Guy recovered sufficiently to feel able to propose to Bobby, and the first in the new ‘Bracken’ series, ‘Love and Horses at Bracken’, tells their continuing story at Bracken and ends with the arrival of their baby, Rose, and their story went on in the sequel ‘Horses and Challenges At Bracken’. In this, the third in the new ‘Bracken’ series, Bobby and Guy and their horses face new problems when Bobby has to take over the riding school when manager Heath goes away on a course. Guy has to deal with an arrogant new client, his top event horse is injured and Shelta’s son Folly is proving to have his own ideas about life. Shelta is in foal again, but will she have the chestnut filly which Bobby is hoping for? Then there is a personal problem which Bobby must deal with herself.

  Chapter one

  Roberta Mathews, known as Bobby, sat up in the pile of last year’s leaves in which her horse had dumped her and cursed softly. Folly had done it again. He knew exactly how to catch her out, he relaxed for a moment, stretching his neck in a deceptively peaceful way, then back to attention as if something had caught his eye and before she had time to react he was round, dropping his shoulder, and his rider was on the ground. Now he was standing a few yards away, looking at her, ears pricked, willing her to get up and come and play catch with him. If she did Bobby knew that he could keep the game going for ages, if she stayed where she was he would come to investigate.

  She and the big brown and white horse stared at each other, Folly’s eyes bright in his white face. He was a solidly built four year old with a look of quality mixed with the cob colour and amount of bone, she was a slightly built young woman with long light brown hair, lively, attractive face, and bright hazel eyes.

  Bobby sat it out. Within three minutes Folly began to worry, his long brown ears went back and forward again, he took one step towards her and then another and reached down his nose to breath sweet breath over her face. Bobby took hold of his reins and scrambled up.

  ‘Oh Folly, why are you still such a brat?’ she asked him. ‘Your Mum is so sweet and gentle and biddable, why aren’t you like her? Come on, let’s get you home’.

  The skewbald horse stood like a rock while she climbed back onto him, and she knew that he would be angelic for the rest of their ride. Her husband, Guy, had told her that she shouldn’t hack Shelta’s son out alone, but he did not try his trick in company, and Bobby was determined not to give in.

  They were heading on now through the woods towards home, springtime woods, with the first small, bright new leaves on the trees and bright celandines and rare primroses where the undergrowth was thin, and as she had expected Folly behaved perfectly, trotting along, hopping neatly over a fallen log, and giving her that feeling of eager power that she loved in him. He had always been a character, this little changeling, a surprise late in the year arrival, his father a marauding travellers’ cob, his mother Bobby’s beloved chestnut show jumping mare. Bobby had resented his arrival, struggled with his foal hood, and thought that they were reaching an understanding, until he had thought up this trick. She was hoping to have him ready to jump in four year old classes later in the summer, but there was quite a bit of work to do before that.

  Back at Bracken Stables Bobby and Guy’s three year old daughter, Rose, was busy brushing the donkey, Moses, who belonged to Guy’s work rider and groom, Dean Adelbayo. She was a slight, pretty child with her father’s curly brown hair and Bobby’s vivid, lively face and hazel eyes.

  ‘Mummy’s fallen off again’, she announced, seeing the dried mud and leaves sticking to Bobby’s leg. Guy, who was nearby grooming one of his event horses, looked round anxiously.

  ‘Not again’, he said. ‘I wish you wouldn’t…’

  ‘Ride him out alone’, Bobby finished for him. ‘It’s the only way we’ll sort this out, and he tips me off gently’.

  ‘One day it might not be so gentle,’ Guy warned her. ‘And how would we find you?’

  ‘I’ve got my phone’, Bobby reminded him. ‘And I wouldn’t be surprised if Folly came home to fetch you.’

  ‘He may be clever, but he isn’t a rescue dog,’ said Guy dryly ‘and you know there’s no reliable phone signal in those woods’.

  Bobby slid down from the horse and Folly nuzzled her in his cheerful, friendly way. Guy sighed. He knew that he couldn’t win, his much loved wife would do what she felt driven to do, whether it was riding difficult horses or looking after their little girl. Bobby was bright and dedicated, brave and beloved, but there was also, these last eighteen months, a mostly buried sadness about her since the she had lost their second baby at only two months pregnant. Bobby had been unable to believe how much that loss had hurt, and she had struggled through the depression which followed but the shadow of it had never quite left her. It wa
s a part of her that he had never quite been able to reach, but he knew that she was not yet ready to risk such hurt again.

  Bobby led Folly into his stable and Rose followed her. She had learned from very early how to behave with horses, and she came to stand by Folly’s shoulder while Bobby took off his saddle. The brown and white horse lowered his head to nuzzle her gently, as gentle with a child as he was with his great friend, their riding school manager Heath’s part Siamese cat Ming.

  ‘Folly’s naughty’, she said, and Bobby agreed that he was.

  ‘Sit on him’, demanded Rose now and Bobby lifted her to sit on his soft back. Guy appeared in the doorway, and Bobby said, ‘He knows exactly when he has to behave. Obviously I’m just a playmate’.

  ‘He’s too big for that,’ Guy told her. ‘He’s got to learn the difference. Let me take over for a bit.’

  ‘He’s my horse, I’ve got to sort him out.’ Bobby led Folly round his stable with Rose happily holding the mane, and Guy said, ‘Just don’t trust him too far. He’s only a four year old, and he’s always been cheeky.’

  ‘I know’, Bobby lifted Rose, protesting, down from his back and Guy said ‘I’m going to give The Miller a gallop in the field before that nephew of Fiona’s arrives for a lesson, goodness knows what he’ll be like, but I hope teaching him will keep her happy. Dean can bring Ziggy out with me.’

  Fiona Allsop was Guy’s sponsor, a gushing but tough lady who was joint owner of a company which specialised in cross country and outdoor wear for riders. Guy’s dun horse Minos was now famous for being central to their advertising campaign, and they paid his entries and kept his equipment up to date but Guy was hoping to find more sponsors to help fund his eventing career and keep Bracken from struggling.

  Guy called Dean, who appeared from the direction of the barn, and who grinned in delight at hearing what Guy wanted. Bobby knew that he still found it hard to believe that his riding had come on enough for Guy to consider him a real work rider.

  ‘Great’, he said now. ‘Ziggy and me will enjoy that.’

  He went off to saddle the young bay and Guy got his tack for The Dark Miller, his ex-racehorse, now his favourite event horse, on whom he hoped one day to qualify for the big five star events.

  Bobby led Folly out to go back in the field, Rose beside them. Bobby left Folly greeting his friend, the gentle young palomino Golden Ghost, and went on with Rose to look at her beloved chestnut mare, Shelta, Folly’s mother who was almost due to produce her new foal.

  Shelta came to meet them, her ears pricked and nostrils fluttering in greeting. Bobby gave her carrots and stroked her bright neck and Rose hugged her front leg. Bobby trusted Shelta completely, they had been together for a long time and been through so much and it was largely due to Shelta that Bobby had struggled back from the depression she had suffered after losing her baby.

  The little mare had been a brilliant show jumper but her legs had begun to show some signs of wear and Bobby had decided to put her in foal. She had been a good mother to Folly, and this time, instead of a stray travellers’ cob, the sire was a well known show jumper himself.

  There were two more mares in foal in the same field, June Evening, another ex-show jumper, and their sweet little riding school mare Coffee. Bobby handed out carrots all round and turned back towards the yard. None of the foals were due for about another month, and all three mares looked well.

  Guy and Dean were in the long schooling field when they got back, and Bobby and Rose paused to watch. Guy and his big black horse were magnificent to watch, the horse enormously powerful but the power contained as they had turned to face the line of three schooling fences, Guy quiet and supple in the saddle. He was a beautiful rider, Bobby thought, his hands light and quiet, his legs strong and still against his horses sides but ready to drive on if necessary. After the fire that had brought the stables down on him and left him with a broken back it had seemed he might never ride again, but helped by Bobby’s support and faith in him he had found the will to fight back.

  On the other horse, the bay Ziggy, Dean was looking happy. He had come to them from a city farm having ridden nothing but Ziggy bareback, but he had learned fast and was able to ride work on most of the horses. He was eighteen now, tall and muscular, his brown face settling into more mature lines, and his black hair no longer in the dreadlocks he had once favoured but tidily trimmed by their faithful, long term housekeeper and child minder Val Joyce, who ran a bed and breakfast establishment close by. Ziggy had come from the same city farm, and was now a useful novice event horse.

  ‘Now you Dean,’ called Guy as he brought The Miller back to a trot, and Dean turned Ziggy toward the first simple set of rails.

  The bay horse was less powerful than The Miller but he had a nice, flowing jump and Dean sat quietly, not interfering, and they went efficiently over the rails and the two brush fences. The fields were green with the first new grass and the blackthorn was in flower. Beside Bobby Rose balanced on the bottom rail of the fence and said ‘Rose do.’

  ‘One day, but you have to learn to ride first,’ Bobby told her. ‘On a pony, Moses can’t jump.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Rose and Bobby said ‘donkeys aren’t the right shape.’

  ‘Why not?’ Asked Rose, and Bobby knew that this could go on for some time.

  ‘Good,’ called Guy, and Dean said ‘that was great,’ and patted Ziggy, looking pleased.

  In the yard behind Bobby Heath, their stable manager, and Yolanda, her main helper, were clattering in with a ride and Bobby seized the chance to distract Rose and take her into the tack room where they kept her rocking chair and some toy ponies.

  She left Rose there while she went to help the riders to dismount and to take the riding school horses into their stables. She helped with the riding school whenever she was free although she mainly worked with the competition horses. At the moment, with Shelta in foal she only had Frost, her own ex-racehorse, and Folly in work for herself. Lass of Mohar, the difficult mare on which she had done so well for its owner, had been sold on, and for a time had done well with a new rider although it was some time since Bobby had heard anything of her.

  Bobby’s other main work was riding out and helping to school the young event horses and liveries in for re-schooling which were Guy’s main business.

  When Bobby came out of the stable with the welsh cob, Bryn’s, tack she saw that Heath had paused herself to watch Guy working The Miller over the off-set corner fence, and she turned and looked at Bobby. Heath was a little older than Bobby, a bit thick set with curly red hair. She had been their rock and support for as long as Bobby had been at Bracken, and she and Guy did not know how they would manage without her.

  ‘Still got it, hasn’t he?’ she said, and Bobby knew that she was not just referring to Guy’s riding. She had fancied Guy herself before having to accept the intense bond between him and Bobby.

  ‘Yes,’ Bobby agreed. ‘He has. Ken isn’t lacking either.’

  Ken was the young farmer next door, and he and Heath had become close, although Heath was not completely committed. It had been Heath’s birthday on the previous day and Bobby knew that Ken had been planning a special outing for them.

  ‘Did you have a good time last night?’ she asked now and for a moment Heath did not answer. When Bobby turned to look at her she realised that the other girl was crying.

  ‘Heath,’ exclaimed Bobby. ‘What…?’

  ‘I…I’m sorry’, Heath was wiping her hand across her eyes, shaking her head as Bobby reached an arm out to her. ‘It’s just Ken…he’d set up this cheesy scene in the restaurant when he…he hands me a card and when I open it there’s a…a ring in it. Oh Bobby, I don’t know…I thought he was happy to cruise along like we have been, but I suppose he has been dropping hints, I just didn’t want to hear them. Now I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘But you do like him?’ Bobby asked her, and Heath nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But it all seems so convenient and final, the
boy next door and all that. I can’t decide that what we have is enough. I told Ken I wanted to think it over, but I know he was hurt. He thought he’d judged me right.’

  ‘So what will you do?’ Bobby asked her, and Heath said, ‘I need to go away for a bit…give myself space. I haven’t been away from Bracken since I left school. I’m thinking about taking my instructor’s certificate, I’ve only got my assistant cert at the moment, and if I did a short intensive course I could see how I really feel and have something solid of my own to fall back on if I ever have to move on.’

  ‘But the riding school…’said Bobby, and Heath nodded.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And it’s almost summer.’

  Behind them in the yard Yolanda, slight and fair and very efficient, was greeting the next group of riders and Heath said, ‘I’d better get on, two leading rein children now. I’ll take them myself. Don’t say anything to Guy, I haven’t really thought it out yet.’

  She hurried off leaving Bobby feeling shaken. Bracken without Heath, the threat had been there before, and it had never been a happy one. Now it felt like looking over a precipice.

  She was unbuckling the skewbald pony, Feather’s, bridle when Yolanda looked over his door, looking slightly pink.

  ‘Bobby,’ she said. ‘There’s someone waiting for a lesson, he’s a bit impatient and a bit…well, confident.’

  ‘It’ll be Fiona’s nephew for his lesson’, Bobby told her. ‘Will you finish this one, I’d better go and speak to him.’

  There was a tall, blond boy of about eighteen in the yard, wearing impeccable casual riding clothes, black breeches, short boots with knee high chaps, and a black sweater, an expensive looking riding hat in his hand. Fiona’s nephew, decided Bobby. He was good looking and his almost insolent glance made Bobby realise what had made Yolanda go pink.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You must be Anthony Jarvis. I’m Roberta Mathews, Guy’s wife. He’s just putting his horse away.’