Читать книгу The Ryder Chronicles - Vicki Sach - Страница 6

The weeks following the show seemed flat and I kept glancing at the white satin ribbon to remind myself it all really did happen! And as for school…blah, it was so hard to concentrate. I doodled endless ponies on my schoolbooks and kept getting into trouble for not paying attention in class. Homework was something to be endured. Mum nagged me keep on top of it but how could I when there was so much fun horsey stuff happening?

Mrs Livingstone treated Solo’s ringworm by washing him with anti-fungal solution a few times, and she made me scrub all my grooming tools with the same stuff.

The horse dentist confirmed Solo was indeed around 10 years old. He also said Solo’s teeth were in terrible shape with sharp edges, then proceeded to rasp them, much to Jordan’s amazement (who then made a dill of himself by asking if Solo also needed any fillings…go figure).

Mrs Livingstone also had an equine chiropractor examine Solo, and he found several sore spots along Solo’s back, made some adjustments and said he’d be fine to ride after a couple of weeks’ rest. Poor Solo copped the full makeover as he was also wormed and had his feet done. This used up every bit of money I had saved but luckily my dad had just produced a single for singer Zac Adams. It was racing up the music charts, so he chipped in.

Solo started to bloom…he fattened up and his coat developed a gorgeous coppery glow. Even I could start to see he had potential as a show horse and Jordan stopped referring to him as ‘that nag’.

I spent every spare second I could with him…gooming, bonding, scratching his itches (it always cracks me up that when you scratch them a horse’s lips go all rubbery!) He even started turning his head showing where me wanted me to scratch and of course, I obliged. My fingernails were always disgusting but I had bona fide ‘horse hands’ now.

The day finally came when Mrs Livingstone said we could start working Solo. While I was busting to ride my horse, I understood he needed someone with way more experience. Besides, they were being more than generous by letting me ride Colby and with Tori offering instruction, I was learning a lot.

The Livingstones had constructed a round yard using old car tyres…it was ingenious really, and perfect for free-working horses. Mrs Livingstone left Solo’s headstall on and using a lunge whip, sent him away from her to work on a circle. I noticed she was wearing a safety helmet and proper riding boots, I guess she wasn’t taking any chances! Tori and I hovered around the outside of the yard, curious to see what would happen. Nothing did. Solo trotted obediently around as though he had been doing it all his life.

“CAANNTTER!” trilled Mrs Livingstone. And he did…just like that!

“I reckon Solo has done this before,” Mrs Livingstone called out, without taking her eyes off him. I had to admit, he did look blasé about this lunging stuff…he was cantering on the right leg, nice and balanced.

“…and wwooaahh,” Mrs Livingstone said, using a low, drawn-out tone.

Solo obeyed instantly, then turned to face her, puffing from the unaccustomed exertion.

“Goodness!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t quite sure what to expect but it wasn’t that!”

She worked him on the other rein for a while, then called him to halt again, rubbed his neck and fed him carrots. He’d broken into a light sweat by now.

“Good boy!” she exclaimed, clipping the lead rope onto the headstall as Solo dribbled chewed carrot over her boots. She gazed thoughtfully at him.

“Do you know, I think someone has put a lot of work into this horse,” she commented.

So why had Solo ended up at a stock market and in the hands of Jim McCormick? I had a horrible thought…what if the doggers had bought him?!

“Oh well,” continued Mrs Livingstone. “Nothing like a mystery horse! We’ll just have to figure out how much he really knows.”

How exciting!

After hosing Solo down and leaving him munching hay in one of the stables, we went inside for a cool drink.

Now I have to pause here and explain some stuff about the Livingstones. Don’t get me wrong…they are the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, but their house! My goodness, where do I start? It’s…umm…a little messy. Okay, a LOT messy. I mean, they only moved in a few months ago but the place looks like a bomb’s hit it! There is stuff everywhere…saddles resting on armchairs; bridles on door handles. I always empty and re-stack their dishwasher when I’m visiting, but no-one really notices. I like a cup of Milo as much as the next person but I do prefer it without dog and cat hair floating on top.

Oh, the dogs…they have three. A Jack Russell, a whippet and a three-legged bitza. Then there’s the cats. I don’t know exactly how many as there are house cats and stable cats, which they feed on the kitchen bench so the dogs don’t get it. Blerk.

They’re all gorgeous animals but they shed like crazy and it mixes with horse hair brought in from the stables. I once saw Mrs Livingstone pull some wet saddle blankets out of the SAME machine as the one they use to wash their clothes!

If you could see how neat and tidy their stables were you wouldn’t believe me.

Anyway, as I was saying…we went inside for a drink (rinsing my cup first) and got to talking.

“I wonder if Solo’s ever been registered with Equestrian Australia,” Mrs Livingstone said. “Although I guess he would have had a different name.”

I was flicking through the latest copy of Horse Trader and only half-listening.

“I might do some detective work and see what I can find out.”

Tori was looking sideways at my magazine.

“It’s really weird,” she said. “I mean, to go from a horse that someone obviously loved into the hands of a dodgy dealer. If only Solo could talk!”

Then Mrs Livingstone had a light-bulb moment.

“Sarah, I’ve got a pile of old Horse Traders…you’re welcome to go through them on the off-chance Solo was once advertised in there.”

I looked at her dubiously. Was she crazy? Horse Trader might be the ‘bible’ of the horse world but each issue is about as thick as one too. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack!

“Umm, I guess,” I replied.

“How about I take a pile magazines at a time,” I offered, thinking I could accidentally-on-purpose forget about getting more.

And so it was I found myself staggering home with an armload of magazines, which I promptly dumped on my bedroom floor. Solo was staying put so Mrs Livingstone could work with him some more.

“How’s the mighty Solo Man?” Jordan sneered, trying to goad me, but I wasn’t interested today…there was too much rattling around my brain.

After a few weeks, Mrs Livingstone decided to try riding Solo. Again she was kitted up with a helmet and had also added a back protector and gloves. She led him into the round yard and mounted. Aside from walking a few paces and swishing his tail, Solo wasn’t bothered. At first she left his mouth alone and walked and trotted sedately around the yard. Then she gradually shortened the reins and Solo responded by arching his neck, rounding his outline and bringing his hocks beneath him. He looked just like a show horse! Tori and I gasped.

“Look how collected he is!” Tori exclaimed. I was gawping wide-eyed, mouth open. Could the ugly duckling I had so recklessly bought have turned into this beautiful swan? MY swan?

Confident Solo wasn’t going to do anything terrible, Mrs Livingstone rode him into the arena and proceeded to put him through his paces. She did all kinds of amazing things, such as a stunning extended trot, simple change of canter leads, a rein back…and Solo did it all. He still wasn’t very fit though so she kept the session short, finishing on a loose rein. I was struck dumb.

“Wow,” gushed Mrs Livingstone. “Just…wow! I haven’t ridden like that in years. The ponies, sure, but this is an educated horse who might have been used for show or even dressage. Who knows?” she finished, stroking Solo’s neck.

I marvelled at my luck finding Solo, a ‘diamond in the rough’. But just how had he fallen so low?

That night I started flicking through the pile of Horse Traders I had so reluctantly lugged home. As I suspected, there were just too many pages to wade through so I didn’t hold much hope of finding Solo. It was SO frustrating!

Meantime, I continued going to shows with the Livingstones, which was fun. I tried to make myself useful as much as possible and even got pretty good at applying makeup on the ponies. I held them, fetched water, stood ringside clutching towels and brushes, provided a one-person cheer squad and took lots of photos when I got a chance.

Eventually the show season wound up for the year and it was time to concentrate on Solo. Mrs Livingstone gave me a couple of lessons about how to tack up properly. I was using an old work saddle of hers since I didn’t have one of my own yet.

“It’s important to put the saddle on over slightly over the withers and shoulders and slide it into the hollow of the back,” she told me.

“This helps keep the hair nice and flat. If a horse is in any way uncomfortable or in pain, he will play up.

“Now…do the girth up gently, a few holes at a time, running your fingers beneath it to make sure the hair there is also flat. Oh, and make sure the saddle blanket is pulled up away from the withers and isn’t bunched up.”

I was absorbing all this like a sponge…who knew saddling a horse could be so technical? It all made perfect sense the way she explained it.

I should explain here that Solo is what’s known as ‘girthy’, meaning he doesn’t like it being done up and will flatten his ears and nip whoever has the misfortune to be standing close by. Or if no one is around, he will try to nip my butt! Mrs Livingstone switched to using a soft neoprene girth on him and told me to make sure it was always kept spotlessly clean.

I learned how to put the bridle on gently so the bit didn’t bang Solo’s teeth, and also how to make sure everything fitted properly.

Finally the day arrived when Mrs Livingstone uttered the words I’d been waiting to hear.

“Want to try riding your horse Sarah?”

Oh. My. Goodness.

“Really?” (I think I may have squeaked that a little).

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Mrs Livingstone reassured me.

I was nervous but focused on saddling Solo up like I’d been taught. I asked Mrs Livingstone to check everything before I even thought about getting on. For that matter…would I be able to get on? He seemed so tall after the ponies. I’d used a rusty feed bin to mount at the dealer’s.

I needn’t have worried…with Tori holding Solo’s head (he had a habit of walking forwards when anyone tried to mount), Mrs Livingstone legged me up. And there I finally was…only my mouth was dry and my legs felt like jelly.

Mrs Livingstone led Solo for a few minutes until I gathered my wits, and my anxiety was soon replaced by euphoria. Everything seemed to be coming together at long last.

“Just leave his mouth alone as much as possible,” Mrs Livingstone told me. I kept the lightest of contact, gliding my hands forwards and backwards as his head moved, just as Tori had taught me. He felt so high and springy! I hadn’t realised how much I’d become accustomed to Colby’s shorter strides.

I walked Solo in a circle around Mrs Livingstone.

“Sit up…you’re slouching a little…that’s better. Keep your hands soft, slightly rounded at the wrists. Good!”

Walking was easy and I was relishing the view of Solo’s gleaming chestnut neck and mane stretching before me,.

“TROT!” Mrs Livingstone called. Gathering up the reins, I pushed with my seat while squeezing my legs and off we went. I sat a few strides before rising on the outside diagonal.

“Great work Sarah!” called Mrs Livingstone.

Gosh he was bouncy! He felt totally different to the neglected, drugged horse I’d ridden at the dealer’s all those months ago.

“Push him on….” She said, clicking her tongue at Solo, who by now had twigged I was a novice rider and decided he could get away with slacking off. He coughed, much to my alarm. I hope he wasn’t coming down with something!

“Gently take up contact, that’s good, and push with your legs. Sit softly in the saddle at the rising trot…you’re not a sack of spuds! That’s better…..”

I was working really hard but enjoying every moment of it. We changed rein a few times and tried a brief canter.

“Swing your seat in rhythm to his stride Sarah…yes…sit up, you’re slouching again. Good riding takes effort!”

She wasn’t wrong! I was soon puffed and brought Solo back to a walk.

“That was really good Sarah,” she told me. “How did it feel?”

“AWESOME!” I exclaimed, leaning forward and flinging my arms around Solo’s neck. No other word would have done really.

Mum was rapt, she’d been coming to watch us working with Solo and was impressed with how he was looking.

“I would never have believed it was the same horse,” she commented, shaking her head in wonder. She and Mrs Livingstone (or Jane as she calls her of course!) had really hit it off. Mum even got over her initial shock regarding the state of their house–to which the Livingstones seemed to be completely oblivious–to have coffee there.

Meantime, I continued going through back issues Horse Trader whenever I had a chance. If nothing else, I was looking at beautiful horses which is always nice.