For Sale or Swap - Alyssa Brugman [25]
The branch could have been swinging because something had recently brushed past it. She had either gained on Brat much more than she realised, or the trail bike that she could hear – more loudly now – had recently come this way.
Shelby leaned to the side to peer around the corner. She caught sight of something moving ahead. She started humming so as not to startle the horse, although she suspected that Brat would have already heard her running along the trail.
As she came around the bend she saw Brat standing in the middle of the trail facing her. She must have stepped over the reins, because they were now hooked around one of her legs. She held up the injured hoof. Shelby could see how swollen it had become. She discarded any idea of riding her home. Brat was lame.
It had started to sprinkle light feathery raindrops, like a mist. Shelby blinked as the droplets settled on her eyelashes.
'Settle down, little one,' Shelby said. She cupped her hand and held it out, rubbing her fingers together. 'You know what's in my hand, pretty girl? Molasses and oats and carrots – just about every yummy thing you can imagine. You just stay still and I'll let you have some.'
Brat stretched her neck forward, her nostrils dilating as she sniffed.
'That's right. Yummy scrummy. You must be tired and hungry from all that running.'
Brat hobbled towards her on three legs.
'Yes. Good girl.'
Suddenly Brat swivelled her head in the opposite direction. The trail bike was louder even than before. It was moving this way.
Please don't come any closer, she thought. Just give me one more minute.
'Brat,' she called out in a singsong voice. 'Come to me, little one.'
Brat swung her head towards Shelby again, her eyes wide with confusion, and then back to the source of the noise. She snorted. While she was distracted, Shelby took another step closer.
The trail bike was almost upon them. Shelby could hear its strident whine approaching just over the crest of the hill. She would have to grab Brat quickly before the horse panicked.
Brat hopped on three legs away from Shelby, backing into a prickly shrub, which shook and crackled under her weight. She wheeled around on her hind legs. Shelby made a lunge, landing awkwardly on her twisted ankle. The pain flared up her leg. She felt the very tips of her fingers brush against the reins.
Brat leapt forward, knocking Shelby over. Shelby stuck her hand out for support, but her wrist buckled beneath her, sending a new pain streaking up her arm. Her shoulder hit the ground. Looking up, she could see Brat's hind foot coming down towards her and she rolled to the side. Brat's hoof grazed her shoulder as it hit the ground. Shelby let the momentum roll her over, and she pushed herself off the ground, onto her feet.
Shelby pivoted on her uninjured ankle and watched as Brat vanished from view around the bend.
The trail bike was metres away now. She stepped into the middle of the trail and put her hands up.
'Stop!'
The rider squeezed the brakes and the back wheel spun around on the loose gravel. Shelby closed her eyes and braced herself, feeling the stones showering her legs. She opened her eyes and the trail bike rider flicked up the visor of his helmet with his gloved hand. He was not much older than Shelby, with honey-coloured skin and dark eyes.
'What?' he shouted over the engine noise.
'You can't go that way,' she said, cupping her hands to her mouth. 'My horse is loose.'
'Stupid bloody things,' he replied, shaking his head. 'Why would you have them?'
Shelby wasn't sure if he expected an answer so she stood in the middle of the trail with her hands on her hips.
'I have to go that way,' he said. 'It's my way home.'
'Can't you go by the road?' she asked.
'My bike's not registered for the road,' he replied. He twisted his