For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [20]
Brat skipped once on her back legs. She jumped sideways and then Shelby heard an alarming metallic twang. Shelby gasped. Brat was caught in the fence.
She ran towards the pony. Brat panicked. Shelby could see the whites of her eyes and her nose flaring in distress. As Brat jumped up and down in fear, Shelby could see the entangled foot twist, and the wire in which it was caught biting into the flesh.
'Whoa,' Shelby said. 'Settle down.'
Far from settling, Brat writhed all the more. Shelby's heart beat faster and faster as the wire got tighter and tighter around the pony's limb. She leaned forward, trying to catch hold of the flailing leg. A thought, eerily calm, crossed Shelby's mind – she's going to rip her hoof off. And then, snap! The wire broke, ricocheting fast towards Shelby's face. Shelby shut her eyes and the loose wire whipped her cheek. Shelby put her hand to it. It stung so much that she was sure it had slashed her face open, but when she looked down, there was nothing on her palm but perspiration.
Brat lifted her tail and fled at a gallop down to the other end of the paddock. Shelby watched as she approached the sliprail.
She's not stopping. She's going to sail right over the top of it and onto the street.
Shelby started to run. Maybe she could stop her. But how?
Brat galloped closer and closer and then tucked her back legs underneath her.
She's going to jump.
Less than a metre before the sliprail, Brat skidded to a stop, her hooves churning up the soil into four long channels. She stood still, snorted, and then limped over to the feed bin, where she buried her face in the chaff.
Shelby bent over, leaning her hands on her knees, and exhaled. She stayed that way until her heartbeat, hammering against her ribs, slowed down to normal. Shelby put her hand to her stinging face and felt a long line of raised flesh, like Braille, on her cheek.
That was close, she thought. The paddock had been fine for Blue, who had never shown any desire to escape, but the wobbly pickets and loose strands would not hold Brat if she was bent on breaking out. The fences had always been ugly, but now they were dangerous too.
Shelby watched as Brat picked up her injured leg and put it down again. As she walked over to where the pony was standing, Brat skipped away, snorting, and Shelby's heart started beating again.
'It's OK,' Shelby said, holding out her hand. 'I won't hurt you.'
Brat sidled away from her and then nosed at the feed bin from the opposite side, eyeing Shelby.
'It's not my fault you hurt yourself,' she said. 'I was only trying to help.'
She edged closer and squatted down to have a closer look at Brat's leg. It wasn't marked at all. The hair was scruffy around the top of her hoof, but there was no blood.
If it had been Blue she would have left him at home and gone to the Pony Club to learn what she could from the sidelines, but since it really was her last chance to ride a horse with a three-barrelled name, even if it was only a pretend one, and especially to be instructed by the Calvin Protheroe, Shelby decided to go anyway. Brat would have ample chance to rest when she got home. After today Shelby was never going to ride her again. After today Shelby would report her to the police.
Shelby saddled the pony and they set off across the gully. Brat was the most subdued she had ever been and Shelby enjoyed it, relaxing into the saddle and letting the reins loosen.
On the way Shelby amused herself with a little daydream. Everyone at Pony Club would ride around in circles and Calvin Protheroe would call her into the centre. He would reveal to her that his real purpose for coming was to scout out very special riders who had the talent to make it to the top.
'Have you considered going professional?' he would ask her. Shelby would smile self-consciously. 'Not really.' All the parents would be watching at the fence, hearing what he was saying. The