Love and Horses at Bracken Page 4

  ‘Maybe we should have put them out separately’ said Bobby.

  ‘James said they were used to going out together’ Guy told her. ‘They’ll settle.’

  It took about twenty minutes of running and playing and then The Miller lowered his head to sniff the grass and began to graze and Frost soon did the same. Folly, annoyed that the fun was over, gave a tremendous bucking display and Heath said ‘that looks like being fun in the future’.

  ‘A long way ahead, thank goodness’ agreed Bobby.

  ‘Well,’ said Guy. ‘I’ve a lesson to give now. Ready Ladies?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve got the boys saddled’ Sonia, one of the coffee ladies, told him,

  ‘Can we do some jumping?’ Lucy, the other lady, asked him and Guy promised that they could. With a last look at the now grazing horses, Bobby also turned back into the yard and Heath, scooping her cat up into her arms, followed.

  ‘Did you have a nice evening with Edwin?’ Bobby asked her, and Heath said ‘yes, he’s nice, but Bobby, he isn’t going to be here for long, we’re just being friendly.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to pry’ Bobby told her, and Heath said she knew that. With Ming now perched on Heath’s shoulder they went on into the yard.

  After lunch the weather began to turn threatening, cloud spreading wispily across the sky, and the wind coming in sharp gusts. They decided to get the part stabled horses, who just had a few hours out, in early. They were skittish in the wind, turning sideways and spooking at the blowing leaves.

  Snow Goose got caught by the gate swinging onto him when he ran back, and Folly decided that it was all a great game. He almost pulled Bobby over, ducked back out of the stable before Bobby could close it, and ran round the yard, ending up by getting into the tack room and knocking the saddle horse over. Guy grabbed him by the tail, and Bobby managed to squeeze past him and get the head collar back on. They were all three breathless by the time he was returned to his mother, who was growing used to his antics and was calmly eating hay.

  ‘What are we going to do with him?’ wondered Bobby. ‘He’s a complete little brat, and don’t say he’ll settle, because I’m beginning to wonder just what he’ll turn into.’

  ‘He’s just clever, and ready to try anything’ Guy assured her. ‘He’ll surprise you one day, just wait.’ The wind got stronger during the evening and by the time the last of the evening lessons in the school were over it was raining as well, gusts being swept across the yard and shaking the heavy gates on the indoor school. The ponies who lived out were sheltering under the hedge, and the leaves were being swept off the trees. Heath retired gladly to her flat where Ming had already gone to ground, complaining loudly about the weather, and Bobby and Guy fought their way down the path to their own front door. Mrs Joyce had left a casserole in the Rayburn oven for them and gone home herself, and after doing the washing up Bobby settled on the settee with Guy’s arm round her, content to listen to the weather raging outside. This warm privacy was something that had not been possible in their old house, with resident pupils and staff always around, and soon their embrace grew warmer and the rest of the world retreated.

  The wind had died down by morning and the rain had stopped. The leaves torn from the trees were piled in corners and soggy in the yard, but the sky was mainly blue and Heath and Bobby saddled the horses for the ten o’clock hack. There were three riders, none of them very experienced, but the usual safe hour ride was sheltered, although it would be muddy, and Bobby was happy to take them on her own, leaving Heath to get on with the yard work. Bobby has decided to ride Sandpiper herself, as the bay mare was sensible, and she had her riders on gentle Dorcas, trustworthy Coffee and slightly less sensible Feathers, a part bred skewbald Welsh cob.

  All was well as they set out, Bobby in the lead with Feathers close behind her. A few hundred yards down the lane a track led off along the edge of woods, and they had not gone far before Bobby saw the fallen tree down across the track. There was no room to get past, and Bobby realised that they would have to turn back and go round by the road to the woods. It involved a short stretch of fairly busy road, but all the horses were used to traffic and it was bad luck that the first traffic they met was a cement mixer with a turning barrel followed by a string of cars. Bobby called Feathers rider to come up on her inside and the rest to keep well in and the lorry slowed right down but even Bobby’s sensible mount was staring at it with her head high and Feathers tried to turn round. Bobby just grabbed his bridle in time but he swung sideways, pushing Sandpiper towards the lorry. For a horrible moment Bobby thought they were going right into the lorry’s path but the brown mare had more sense. She snapped at Feathers and went forward to get both of them past with a scramble and the other two horses right on their tails. The driver of the car behind the lorry had his window down and was shouting something about horses shouldn’t be allowed on roads and irresponsible behaviour but Bobby was too busy holding onto both horses and calling back to the others to shorten their reins to reply. Then they were past, the road ahead was clear, and the lane which led back to the woods was in front of them. Once off the roads horses and riders relaxed, Bobby made a joke about getting stuck in cement, and then dismissed it. It was the kind of incident that did happen and no-one seemed especially worried, even Feathers little rider. The woods were beautiful, the remaining leaves vivid russet and gold, the horses walking deep in the glowing drifts. There were raindrops sparkling as the sun came out and the still brisk wind sent them flying and flashing. Bobby led a sedate canter, and they returned happily to the stables to be greeted by an anxious Guy.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘What was this about a near fatal accident with a cement lorry, and all the traffic being held up.’

  ‘What?’ Exclaimed Bobby. ‘That’s nonsense.’ She explained what had happened and Guy looked relieved as the riders agreed with Bobby’s explanation.

  ‘I had an irate driver in here, telling me a great horror story about seeing a child almost go under a lorry because of the irresponsibility of a riding school’ he told her. ‘A shame about that tree though. You’ll have to go the other way along the hills, but of course it isn’t as sheltered’. I’ll have a word with Anderson, the farmer, and see if I can hurry him up moving it’.

  Guy did so, but as he later told Bobby and Heath the reply was rather disturbing.

  ‘He says he’ll get the tree cleared, but he wanted to know if I’ve had an offer for my land. He’s had one as well, and he he’s thinking it over. He doesn’t want to sell up, but he said with the state of farming at the moment he is tempted.’

  ‘That would mean the developer would be even keener to buy Bracken’ said Heath, and Guy agreed.

  ‘If he does sell it could mean all kinds of problems with access to paths and fencing arguments’ he said. ‘But I’m not changing my mind at present anyway.’

  Later that morning Bobby and Guy seized the chance during a slack hour to take their race horses for a hack. Both horses were on their toes, excited by the new scenery and wondering where they were. Riding up the track that led to the open hillside above the woods Frost jogged and snorting, ears up and mouth snatching at the bit. Beside him The Miller strode out with a long, bold, confident stride, Guy easy in the saddle but ready for anything. Bobby realised that apart from trying the horses in Wales it was a long time since she had ridden out with Guy. In spite of the damage to his back he still sat beautifully, his hands alive to the slightest change in his horse’s mouth, his legs close to The Miller’s sides. They made an impressive pair, Bobby thought. She knew she rode well herself, but not with Guy’s instinctive feel for a horse, his ability to read their minds. He had been a dealer when she first went to Bracken, buying, schooling and riding whatever came along, and competing the good ones at a high level. The riding school had developed gradually, and liveries had arrived as the reputation of the stables grew, but Bobby knew that it was the finding and making of good horses that he had missed the most since the accident. She hoped th
at this would all go right now and he could return to doing that. As they came out of the woods the ground dropped away on the left to magnificent views of the Weald country, fields and small towns and scattered houses, more of these than there used to be when she first rode Shelta along here. The horses shook their heads and snorted, excited by the sudden openness and the short grass beneath their feet. This was downland grass, on chalk, always invitingly good going.

  ‘We’ll trot,’ said Guy firmly, as Frost began to jog sideways. ‘We don’t want them convinced they’re on the gallops again’.

  ‘We can try,’ Bobby could feel her horse’s eagerness and she was not at all sure that trotting was going to be an option. It was not a trot for most of the way, more a sideways canter, but they did stay beside The Miller who was pulling hard with his mouth tight on the bit but just obeying Guy’s insistence that he did not break towards the end, where the track went among bushes again. The grey horse suddenly dropped his nose and gave to Bobby’s hands. For a few strides Bobby felt that lovely, floating trot and then they brought both horses back to a walk. Guy grinned at her. Great, aren’t they?’ he said, and Bobby agreed that they were. Frost wasn’t Shelta, but he could come close to being as much fun, if all went well.

  They had turned for home along some quiet lanes when both horses pricked their ears and started forward at the sound of hooves coming towards them. Rounding the next bend Bobby and Guy saw Jay Ashford riding towards them on a leggy looking bay horse. Jay ran a dealing and livery business with his sister Darren, and it was there, since she and Jay had become close after an accident, that Ellen kept Minos. Jay was a dashing looking young man a bit younger than Guy. When they first met him he had been a very strong but reckless rider, but since losing control of a difficult horse and being involved in a dangerous situation he had become less impetuous, and more thoughtful with his horses. All three horses were excited now by meeting strangers and Jay kept his mount well to the side while grinning at Guy.

  ‘It’s good to see you back in the saddle’ he said. ‘And that’s some horse. Nice little grey too Bobby. I bet they’re both ex racehorses. That’s where this one came from Ascot sales. They’re getting quite popular.’

  ‘They can make great riding horses, given a bit of time and thought,’ agreed Guy. ‘What are you planning for that one?’

  ‘Not sure yet,’ replied Jay. ‘Though I have got an eye on trying a bit of team chasing in the spring, if I can get a team together. Would you fancy a go, if you’re back into riding?’

  ‘It depends how it goes,’ Guy told him. ‘I can’t say I’ve thought of it but it could be fun. What do you think Bobby?’

  ‘I’m not sure, I was thinking more about show jumping this one, but Guys right, it could be fun.’

  ‘Right, we’ll keep it in mind’. Guy restrained The Miller, who was getting restless, and Jay let his own horse walk on.

  ‘Think about it’ he called over his shoulder. ‘See you’. He sent his horse into a trot, still casual about his effect on its manners, and Frost and The Miller started forward, snorting and excited.

  ‘Typical Jay’ said Guy, controlling his horse’s idea that it would be good to go faster. ‘Do you fancy a bit of cross country galloping love?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in a few months’ said Bobby. ‘When I’ve a chance of stopping. This fellow feels feels as if he could be off for ever at the moment. But Guy…’

  ‘As I said, I’ll see how it goes’ Guy knew what she was thinking, but if he could ride in something like that he really would be getting back to normal.

  Team chasing. Bobby had heard of it, but she did not know a lot. Teams of four, she thought, big cross country fences, mostly natural hedges and rails, not trappy like eventing jumps, and judged on speed, far from ideal for someone who was still suffering some results from breaking bones in his back, but she knew better than to say so. Guy and The Miller still had a long way to go before that, and so did she and her prancing little grey.

  Chapter five

  When they got back to the yard Heath came out of the hay shed looking anxious. The wind was still gusty, sending fallen leaves skittering everywhere, and after asking if the horses were all right Heath said ‘Ming has gone missing. He was dashing about chasing leaves when I went to answer the ‘phone and when I came back he’d gone.’

  ‘Maybe a doors blown shut somewhere and shut him in,’ suggested Bobby, but Heath said she had looked everywhere. ‘It’ll be great if I have to tell Edwin I’ve lost the cat he trusted me to look after’ she said.’ We are supposed to be going to the cinema tonight, great start to the evening that will be.’

  ‘He’ll turn up’ Bobby told Heath hopefully. ‘Isn’t it the sort of thing cats do…disappearing and then turning up?’

  Heath said that she supposed it was, but she was not convinced. They settled the stabled horses with some hay and Heath went up to her flat for lunch while Guy and Bobby headed for the gate. Looking back as Guy closed it Bobby saw Folly come charging to his gate, squealing. Shelta was grazing and ignoring him, but as Bobby watched Folly turned round and went racing back down his field, past his mother, to prance and paw under a tall pine tree which grew close to the fence.

  ‘What on earths the matter with him.’ She appealed to Guy. ‘He really is a bit scatty’.

  ‘Catty, I think you mean’ replied Guy. ‘I think I know where Heath’s cat has gone’.

  With Bobby following he called up to Heath, who came to her window.

  ‘I think we’ve found your cat’ he told her. ‘Or someone has. Come and see.’

  Folly flew to meet them as they came into his field, squealing and kicking and turning to gallop back to the tree. Shelta was interested now, and all five of them stared up the straight, branchless trunk to where Ming crouched on the first branch, making loud Siamese remarks about being stuck and no-one cared.

  ‘How on earth will we get him down?’ wondered Heath. ‘Well, were not calling the fire brigade’ Guy told her. ‘Half the local boys know us, we’d never hear the last of it. He isn’t that far up. Bobby, get Shelta’s bridle.’

  When Bobby came back he said, ‘she’s a sensible mare, if Heath sits on her and calls I think the cat may decide he can bale out onto her’.

  He gave Heath a leg up onto Shelta’s sleek chestnut back and Bobby held her mare and talked to her while Heath leaned back and called. Folly was fascinated, hopping about squeaking and snorting. For a minute Ming ignored them, staring into the distance and grumbling in a deep cat growl and just when Bobby had decided that it was not going to work he suddenly stood up, slid his front paws as far down the trunk as he could reach, hesitated, and then launched himself to land delicately on Heath’s shoulder. Shelta started forward and then relaxed as Heath slid to the ground holding her cat and everyone patted and praised her. Folly pranced up, pushing his nose at Ming, who jumped to the ground and headed back to the yard with Folly chasing him. When they reached the gate he was showing off, bucking and squeaking and demanding praise for his cleverness. Bobby grabbed his neck and scratched and rubbed his ears and Heath said ‘I’d never have believed it. That foal really is something.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think you’re right,’ Bobby agreed.

  Walking home she asked Guy how he had guessed.

  ‘The foal had to have a reason for what he was doing’ Guy told her. ‘I’ve said before, I think there’s some exceptional intelligence there. I know you think he isn’t what you would have hoped for from Shelta but you could be surprised’.

  This perception about animals was something about Guy that Bobby always admired, especially when it concerned horses. It really would be sad if he could not make use of it in his riding again.

  The local paper had come and Bobby was leafing through it while they had lunch when one of the letters caught her attention.

  ‘Guy, listen to this’ she exclaimed. ‘This must be from that man who came storming in here after that business with the concrete mixer. He’s saying
that riding schools should not be allowed to take young pupils on the road, where they are a danger to themselves and others. The paper asks ‘do other readers agree with this..?’ Could they really ban us?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Guy took the paper from her to read the letter himself. ‘He’s just stirring, but we rarely take kids on the road anyway.’

  ‘We certainly won’t again for a time anyway’ Bobby agreed. ’It was just bad luck having to the other day’.

  It seemed more than bad luck a few days later when Bobby and Heath turned down the bridle path with two children on leading reins and two older riders on their own to find it again blocked, this time with fly tipped rubbish, builders waste and tree prunings.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Heath, determinedly cheerful. ‘Well have to turn back and go along the hill. You’ll get a longer ride anyway’.

  ‘Fine by me,’ the lady riding Dorcas was quite happy.

  ‘Will we be able to trot lots..?’ asked the little girl on Goldcrest, whom Bobby was leading and Bobby promised that they would.

  Luckily it was a calm day, grey and cloudy and quite warm, not likely to upset any of the horses. They walked and trotted along the open green track, the view below hazy and the ground soft and they reached home again just as Guy and Yolanda were starting to wonder why they were late.

  ‘Guy, do you think it could possibly have been deliberate?’ Bobby asked him later, when the riders had gone.

  ‘To do with that offer from the property man?’ replied Guy. ‘I must say I thought of it, but it would take an awful lot more than that to put us out of business.’ He telephoned their farmer neighbour, who promised to get the rubbish cleared as soon as he could spare a tractor and a boy to do so and for the next couple of days they kept rides to the school or the bits of woodland which had quieter access than the road.