Secret Pony Society (10 page)

My archrival was picking out Bambi's hooves in the yard when Bean and I rode back along the drive. Bambi was wearing her saddle, and her legs were muddy. It appeared that Cat had been out for a ride, too.

“Uh-oh,” I hissed to Bean. “Cat alert!”

Wriggling out of my backpack, I steered Drum over to one side of the drive and threw it in to the bushes. No need to arouse suspicion.

Cat scowled at me, and Bambi put her ears back at Drummer as we halted outside Drum's stable. Drummer couldn't help himself…

“You're looking good today, Bambi, ” he murmured.

“Go pull a cart!” Bambi replied, swishing her tail.

“I'd rather pull you!” said Drummer, sighing. Talk about corny. If that was my pony's best pickup line, then no wonder Bambi wasn't interested.

Cat leaned on her pony's skewbald back, body brush in one hand, currycomb in the other. “Will you ever stop annoying my pony, Mia?” she asked, a sour look that matched Bambi's crossing her face.

“Bambi's always making faces at Drummer,” I replied, “you know that. She likes doing it. Just like you do.”

“I know about you and that traveler girl,” Cat said, her green eyes shining.

“You're delusional,” I said, trying to be aloof.

“I can't believe you'd put all our ponies in danger for the sake of that lowlife.”

She knew nothing about Jazz, and yet she was calling her names.

“There's no need to take it out on everyone else, you know,” I said sweetly. “It isn't Jazz's fault you're not going out with James anymore.” I knew it was nasty, but she had totally asked for it.

Surprisingly, the smirk returned. It wasn't what I'd expected.

“You think you're so clever,” Cat said. “You won't be soon.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I said in what I hoped was a casual and innocent manner. My heart was beating faster. There was no way Cat could know anything, but I still felt guilty. I prayed it didn't show on my face.

“You won't feel so smart when they're gone,” Cat went on. “I bet you anything you want that they won't leave empty-handed.”

“Oh, are the travelers going?” I said, running up Drummer's stirrups. “It sounds like you know more about them than I do. Perhaps
you're
the one who's helping Jazz.”

“We both know who's helping her,” snapped Cat.

“You're talking nonsense,” I replied, leading Drummer into his stable, turning him round, and closing the stable door.

“That told her!” said Drummer, snatching at his hay net and taking a great mouthful of hay, which he couldn't eat because he was still wearing his bridle.

“What time do you want to go back to Jazz this afternoon?” Bean whispered as I hung Drum's bridle in the tack room, wiping bits of gunky hay off his bit.

“Er, about two o'clock?” I suggested.

“Fine. I'll get the pony cubes ready, and as soon as the coast is clear, I'll hide a couple of hay nets at the end of the drive. I don't think mounting up in the yard and riding off with a hay net bouncing about on each of our backs would go unnoticed.”

“Mmmm, good plan,” I agreed.

Bean went outside to watch Dee and Katy schooling. Moth was out in the field—James was obviously busy doing other things—and probably avoiding Cat. With a couple of hours to spare, I thought I might as well do something useful, so I got on with a job I'd been meaning to do for a while—clear out Drummer's tack box. Tipping everything out onto the yard outside the tack room, I sorted through it and divided it into two piles; one pile full of things that I wanted to keep, the other into stuff I didn't.

How does so much junk accumulate in tack boxes? I hauled out used baby wipes, tissues, old chip bags, a very moldy something that I thought might once have been a carrot, a couple of lids from cans of things long used up, a lead rope clip that I had thought might come in handy and hadn't, several hair scrunchies, a white ribbon I hadn't been too impressed with (which didn't look very white now), a show schedule from a year ago, a broken cell phone charm of a pony that looked like Drum, and two pens. The bottom of the tack box was awash with spilled hoof oil, so I added a soaked sponge to the pile of trash. Then I boiled a kettle, took some of the dish-washing soap that was next to it, and sat on the bench outside the tack room scrubbing the tack box inside and out.

From the bench I caught occasional glimpses of Drum as he walked around his stable and munched on his hay, and then noticed Cat bridling Bambi again.
That is weird
, I thought. Was she going riding again? It was a strange and strained atmosphere with only us on the yard, but I was determined not to be intimidated by Cat. I didn't want her to think she had me on the run.

Squish came over and settled down beside me with a grunt, watching the sparrows swooping down from the tree by Moth's stable, searching for fallen feed from the ponies' buckets. When the sun came out, it felt warm on my face, despite the autumn chill in the air.

Hearing car wheels on the gravel drive, I turned, expecting to see a familiar car—Mrs. Bradley's perhaps, or the farrier's van or the postman for Mrs. Collins. I didn't recognize the small blue hatchback that rolled past and parked next to Mrs. Collins's beater.

I glanced across the yard. Cat seemed tense. What was going on?

The car's inhabitants—a woman with two young girls—clattered into the yard. One girl looked about six, the other was in the woman's arms, clearly only a toddler. The older one wore pink trousers, a pale blue quilted jacket, and a riding helmet, and she ran up to Cat, squealing with delight.

“Shhhh,” said Cat, her voice kind. Bending down, she swung the young girl up in her arms. “You must always talk quietly and move slowly around horses because although they're big, they're nervous. There, you can stroke her now, she won't hurt you.”

The girl patted Bambi's forehead, and the mare nuzzled the girl, making her giggle.

The woman looked familiar, but I couldn't remember where I had seen her before. Perhaps she just had one of those faces.

I rinsed out the tack box and turned it upside down to drain. Then I fetched Drummer's bridle and started cleaning that, too. My mind kept working. Where had I seen the woman—and her two children? I was certain all three were locked in my memory banks somewhere.

I watched as Cat untied Bambi and tightened her girth. Then she pulled down the stirrups and lifted the girl up onto her pony's back.

I had seen them before. And the girl had ridden Bambi then. It was at one of the Sublime Equine Challenge shows. That was it! The woman had lifted the girl onto Bambi's back, and Cat had looked very unhappy about it but had said nothing. It had been very odd. And now they were all here, and the girl was riding Bambi again. And Cat looked no happier about it this time. What was going on?

Between shortening the girl's stirrups and showing her how to hold the reins, Cat completely ignored me. I tried to pretend I wasn't interested, but I was. Very. It was all coming back to me. The last time the woman and the children had appeared, Katy and Bean had gone all mysterious, like there was some big secret going on that they had sworn never to tell. And Cat had been upset enough afterward to try to get me eliminated from the Sublime Equine Challenge. So what were the woman and her kids doing here at the yard, playing riding school?

Would anyone tell me the secret now?

With the woman and toddler trailing along behind, Cat led Bambi along the drive, causing Drummer to lean over his door and neigh to Bambi's disappearing backside like she was the last pony in the world, even though Tiffany was in her stable opposite.

“Hey!” I yelled. “I'm here!”

“Oh, big deal. Why can't I go out in the field?”

“We're going riding again this afternoon. You know that.”

“Well, I could go out for an hour or so, you know, chill out.”

“You'll roll and get all muddy.”

“You can put a turnout rug on me.”

“No. Sorry.”

“Is it Christmas already?”

“No, why?”

“I thought I saw you cleaning my bridle.”

“Oh, very funny!”

“You wouldn't think so if you had to wear it.”

With the bit gleaming and the leatherwork clean and supple, I returned Drummer's bridle to the tack room and started on his saddle.
I have to schedule more time for tack cleaning
, I thought,
Drummer's saddle is a disgrace!
I had almost finished when Katy, Dee, and Bean returned from the school.

“Oooooo, Pia, you can clean Bluey's tack if you like!” Katy said hopefully.

“Get lost!” I snorted. “I'll watch you clean it instead.”

“Yoo-hoo, Drummer!” I heard Dolly shout across the yard. Drum glanced out over his stable door before ducking back inside again. He thinks Dolly's a man-eater.

“We're riding to the Quickmart to get some chocolate. Want anything, Pia?” asked Katy.

“Can you get me some licorice?” I said, fishing about in my pocket for some coins. “Cat's got visitors,” I added.

“Oh, yes?” Bean sniffed and fished about in her pockets for a Kleenex.

“A woman with two young children. The same woman who was at the Sublime Equine Challenge.”

Unable to find a tissue, Bean wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Gross,” she said sheepishly, “but totally better than
not
wiping it!”

I ignored her. “The woman,” I continued, “who is she? One of the kids is riding Bambi.”

Bean shrugged her shoulders and stared down the drive. “How should I know?” she said. “Hold on, I'm coming, too!” she yelled, grabbing her bike and pedaling after Bluey's and Dolly's backsides.

It was obvious she still didn't want to tell me anything. It was so frustrating!

When Bambi returned, the woman and her kids didn't hang about. As soon as the blue car had disappeared out of the yard, Cat hastily altered her stirrups, grabbed her riding helmet, and, mounting Bambi, rode off along the bridle path in a hurry.

I had other things to worry about. Two o'clock came quickly and, picking a moment when Dee and Katy were occupied, Bean and I saddled the ponies, filled the retrieved backpack full of pony cubes, dug out the hay nets from the hedge, and headed for the lake in a roundabout route, the hay nets bouncing about on our backs.

“Nasty growth you've got there!” giggled Bean as Tiffany put in another spurt. Out of the corner of her eye, the palomino could catch glimpses of the hay net bouncing about, causing her to shy and dart about.

“You look like the hunchback of Notre Dame,” I replied. Drummer couldn't care less about the hay net on my back. He thought it was a packed lunch. I hoped he wouldn't kick up when he found out it wasn't for him.

As we drew close to the icehouse we fell silent, glancing around behind us to make sure we weren't being followed. Halting, we listened. Nothing. No hoofbeats, no clink of a bit, only the rustling of the trees and unconcerned birdsong. I hoped Jazz wasn't still upset with us after our tethering disagreement.

We pushed our way into the clearing, the branches springing back behind us like doors in a Western saloon, hiding us from the rest of the world.

The clearing was empty. No Jazz, no scary dog, no Falling Snow.

“Oh,” I heard someone say. It was me. The door to the icehouse stood open, and I could see Drummer's exercise rug on the floor with all the food we had brought Jazz that morning. A bottle of water lay on its side, its contents half leaked on the grass, and the muddy ground was full of footprints, evidence of visitors.

“Where are they?” asked Bean. I looked around. On the opposite side of the clearing

I could see a gap in the bushes. Someone had forced their way in…and forced Jazz, Kasali, and Falling Snow out.

That's that, then.” Bean sighed as we rode home side by side. The ponies were silent, locked in their own thoughts about Falling Snow and Jazz having been discovered by her father. It had to be him. But how had he known where to look? It wasn't like you could get a vehicle through the woods, and the icehouse was fantastically well concealed. Had her father just stumbled upon it by luck?

However it had happened, Jazz's plans had come to an abrupt end. I didn't see how Jazz could escape again. Even if she did, where could she go?

“Do you think her father really will sell Falling Snow?” asked Bean.

I shrugged my shoulders, not trusting myself to speak.

“I'm sorry I was so horrible about Jazz to begin with, Pia,” Bean continued. “You were right; she loves Falling Snow just as much as we love Tiffany and Drummer—although that dog of hers gives me the creeps. I can't imagine how I would feel if my dad told me he was selling Tiffany. And Falling Snow is so gentle. It makes me cry just thinking about her being forced to race. It's not Jazz's fault her father's so mean and the others race their horses so hard.”

I shut my eyes tight. I couldn't bear to think about it. About Falling Snow being raced again, being sold to the highest bidder, to run and run until she broke down. And what would Jazz do then?

“You don't suppose Jazz will tell her dad about us, do you?” said Bean.

I hoped not. “I'm sure she won't,” I said firmly. “Why would she?”

“I don't know,” said Bean. “But if they beat their horses when they race, they might beat Jazz, too. She might be
forced
to tell him.”

I shivered. What a can of worms that would open! I imagined Jazz's dad lying in wait for me at the end of the yard drive, imagined a huge man with black eyes, wild hair, and an unreasonable disposition, bearing down on me and cursing me and future generations of my family. I wished—for the umpteenth time—that I had no imagination.

Leaning forward, I patted Drummer's fluffy bay neck to give myself courage. I still hadn't got around to booking him in to be clipped, what with the Jazz and Falling Snow drama and having had to stay with Dad. I couldn't get my head around that now, not with Jazz recaptured and Falling Snow's future in jeopardy. My brain felt like a heaped up plate of spaghetti again, all tangled and impossible to make sense of.

We rode back into the yard as night fell, the lights from the stables warm and inviting. I put Drum's tack away then made my way to the barn. With a heavy heart I turned Drummer's soggy exercise rug inside out to dry off. Black-and-white hairs were mixed with Drummer's red ones. The rug hadn't kept Jazz dry in the icehouse after all; Jazz had put it on her beloved pony to keep off the worst of the rain.

I felt like crying. Poor Jazz, she loved Falling Snow so much and now all her efforts and scheming and determination were for nothing. It wasn't fair! What was happening to her now, I wondered. Was she tied up in a trailer? Or nursing bruises? Or sobbing in a corner as her father put plans in motion to sell her pony? Maybe Falling Snow had already been promised to someone else and had, even now, changed owners.

“You're back then, Tia. Where have you been, as if I didn't know!”
Oh, great
, I thought as Cat walked into the barn. She was her usual buoyant, cocky self.

I was so not in the mood for this. Instead of ignoring her, I snapped.

“Who's the mystery woman with the two kids?” I asked.

For just a second, I saw a flicker of doubt replace Cat's usual expression, but then the sneer was back.

“That's none of your business, nosy!” she snapped.

“OK, if you don't feel like telling me, I'll just ask Bambi,” I said with an exaggerated smile, realizing that was quite a good idea. I didn't usually strike up a conversation with Cat's skewbald mare, for obvious reasons, but maybe I could get around her and ease some info out of her with a few carrots or mints.
Ding!
went my brain like the oven timer. Why didn't I think of that before?

I decided not to hang around and enjoy the look of fury on Cat's face. Brushing past her, I went back to settle Drummer for the night, my thoughts returning to Jazz and Falling Snow. How had it all gone so wrong?
But then
, I thought,
Jazz probably never stood a chance of escaping with her pony
. It had just been a desperate attempt to ward off the inevitable—her pony being sold. Putting my arm on Drummer's neck, I tried to imagine how I would feel in that position. Sensing my mood, Drummer nuzzled me.

“It's all gone wrong, hasn't it?” he said.

I nodded, feeling choked.

“Well, you did your best.”

“It wasn't enough,” I replied, sniffing.

“There wasn't much more you could have done, and you at least gave Jazz your support,” Drum told me. “You were there when she needed a friend. That must have meant a lot to her.”

I leaned on Drummer's solid bay neck, feeling his warmth on the cold night. He always knows what to say to cheer me up when I'm feeling down. He's annoying, and he drives me crazy sometimes, but when the chips are down and I'm in need of a friend, he does it for me every time. He really is the best.

“Thanks for trying to cheer me up,” I whispered.

“Now run along and get me a tea snack,” he said. “It's late, and I'm hungry.”

I knew his sympathy wouldn't last! I filled Drummer's hay net and mixed his feed. Then I tidied his bed and added some more bedding to make sure he was comfortable. Seeing to my pony's needs made me feel better, and flicking off the light, I settled myself in a corner so I could watch him eat. I love doing that when Drummer's in at nights. I can hear him munching and watch him doing what he loves best—eating—and it feels all warm and cozy as the light fades. Bean put her head over Drummer's half door.

“You all right?” she asked, sighing.

“Sort of,” I replied.

“I've got to go,” said Bean. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yup, see you.”

I heard her bike creaking as she pedaled down the drive. I heard her shout good night to Mrs. Collins, heard Mrs. C call Squish and then slam her front door, heard Cat check Bambi's bolts and give her pony a carrot before running across the yard as her mom came to collect her, and then the yard was quiet, save for the usual rustling and munching of the horses and ponies in their stables. It was almost dark, but I could make out Drummer's shape as he shifted his weight from one back leg to the other, locking his leg into position so he could stand up without effort.

I sat hugging my knees, feeling the cold seep around me. I didn't want to go home yet. I just wanted to be still and quiet with Drummer and think about Jazz. What would happen to her? Poor Jazz. Poor Falling Snow. But there was nothing I could do. Nothing.

Suddenly, I heard a car crunch its way along the gravel drive. The car stopped, and the door slammed. Footsteps passed Drummer's door, and he stopped eating for a moment. Then he started chewing rhythmically again as I heard the click of a switch and saw light spilling out into the yard, filling up the black square that was Drum's open top door. The light was from Moth's stable—James had come to feed and water his pony. Either his mom or his dad—or possibly both—were still in the car. I could hear the muffled music of the car radio.

Shrinking back into the corner, I prayed James wouldn't look over Drummer's door. I didn't want to talk to James right now. I didn't know what to say to him; he had been understandably anti the travelers and Jazz, and I didn't know whether I was supposed to know about him and Cat breaking up. I didn't want to get Bean into trouble.

James's footsteps retreated, and then got louder as he walked from Moth's stable to the barn. I heard the tap running as he filled her water bucket, heard Moth's soft whinny as she watched him approaching with her feed, listened to James talking quietly to his chestnut mare, straightening her rug and checking her over.

“How're you doin', Moth?” he whispered. “Go over, now, let me straighten your bed. Good girl…”

Drummer shot me a quizzical look, but I shook my head. Sighing, he returned to his hay net, twirling it as he selected the best pieces of hay. It would take me ages to unravel it again in the morning.

I heard James's footsteps again. Then they stopped outside Drummer's stable. Obligingly, Drummer shoved his head over his door, blocking me from view.

“Hey there, Drummer,” said James, patting Drum's bay head. Drummer blew gently through his nostrils. “I know you're in there, Pia,” said James. I held my breath. He couldn't possibly know. “Your bike's leaning against the tack room.” I groaned. How stupid was I? Knowing the game was up, Drummer backed up and returned to his hay net, exposing my terrible hiding place. James ran his hand through his hair and grinned. “Are you hiding?” he asked.

“Er, no, not really,” I lied. “I'm just enjoying some quality time with Drum.”

Drummer snorted. I ignored him.

“How were things at your dad's?” James asked.

“OK. How were things here?” I'd said it before I could stop myself. Honestly, how could I be so dense?

“Well, funny you should ask,” began James. “Can I come in?”

“Er, OK,” I said.

“What is this?” asked Drummer “My stable's not the YMCA, you know.”

James joined me in the straw.

“Too many legs cluttering up the place, lounging about, getting in the way,” grumbled Drummer. “Don't blame me if I stand on one or two of them.”

“Watch out for Drum,” I said. One person could comfortably curl up in a corner. Two people made the floor space a bit crowded, and I knew that if any grown-ups were around, they'd warn us about it being dangerous. As Drummer walked over to his water bucket and took a long slurp, James tucked his knees up under his chin like me.

“I suppose you know that I broke up with Cat?” he said.

“Oh?” I lifted my eyebrows in feigned ignorance.

“Yes, thought it best. Things weren't exactly peachy between us.”

“I thought you liked her,” I said, blatantly fishing for info.

“Yeah, yeah, she's nice enough,” James replied. “I just don't want to go out with her.”

“Oh. I see,” I said.

Lifting his head from the water bucket, Drummer spun around to his hay net, dribbling water from his mouth over our knees.

“Look out, Drum!” I cried.

“No, you look out,” mumbled Drummer, dribbling even more.

“To tell you the truth,” James continued, staring hard at his wet knees. “I only asked her out in the first place to stop her objecting about you in the Team Challenge at Brookdale and getting our whole team eliminated. Desperate measures and all that! You must have realized that.”

“Er, well…”

“It wasn't very nice of me, was it? Not chivalrous. I'm not proud of it. Don't tell her, will you? She must never know.”

“No, no, of course not,” I said, shaking my head furiously, my heart soaring inside—James hadn't asked Cat out because he liked her. He'd asked her out to protect the team. Phew! I wondered if Cat had guessed the truth. I would have wondered about it if I were Cat, but then, I'm paranoid.

“Want to go riding sometime?” asked James.

My heart took off like a rocket launcher.

“We haven't been riding together for ages,” he went on.

“OK,” I said, nodding, trying to play it a bit cool. I thought James would still be mad at me about standing up for Jazz, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.

“Did you hear about our nasty run-in with one of the travelers?” he asked.

I held my breath and nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Seems his daughter's run away. I'm not surprised. The guy's a total psycho!”

“So I heard,” I mumbled.

“Good for her,” continued James, with feeling. “She must be brave to run off with her pony. But then—” He turned and looked at me. I was glad it was dark, so he couldn't see my face. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had
yes, I know, I helped her
written all over it. “You always stood up for her, didn't you, Pia?”

“Er—well—um—” I stammered. “I wouldn't say I stood up for her, exactly.” Was this where our riding date got nixed?

“He said
someone
was helping her…”

Oh, no. I could almost hear James's brain working.
Click, grind, ching…bingo!

“Is it you? Only Bean's been acting strange lately, so I wondered whether it was her.”

I wanted to deny it, but I thought it only fair to divert attention away from Bean and fess up. After all, I wasn't helping Jazz anymore. No one was. If James hated me afterward, well, then I'd have to deal with it. I took a deep breath.

“Sort of,” I said slowly.

I felt James sit up. “How?” he whispered. He didn't sound angry, just curious.

“I showed her the old icehouse. She hid there with her pony and her dog.”

James let out a low whistle, causing Drummer to stop chewing for a millisecond and flick his ears back toward the sound. “Wow, she's brave,” James said. “That's not somewhere I'd choose to spend the night.”

“So you understand why she had to run away?” I said, relieved to talk about it. “Her father was going to sell her pony. She ran away to save Falling Snow. I had to help her—I'd want someone to help me if Drummer was under threat. I didn't think anyone would ever find her at the icehouse. Practically no one knows about it, only us here at Laurel Farm. I mean, her father must have been lucky to have stumbled across it.”

“What? He found her there?” asked James.

I realized that only Bean and I knew Jazz had been found. Until now, James thought she was still missing.