Greener Pastures - Alyssa Brugman [13]
She tried to think of something that might distract them. 'How's Smarty?' she asked.
Almost a year ago now Shelby and her friends had secretly sold a pony to Hayley. Quicksmart, or 'Hotty' as she was previously known, had some behavioural problems, but she was nicely put together, so the Crooks had sent her to Wanada Park Pony Stud to have a foal.
The owner was a friend of Mrs Crook's, having sold her a few show ponies. One of them was Wanada Park Echo – a favourite of Shelby's that the Crooks had recently sold.
'Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're going up there tomorrow. Mum can't decide which stallion she likes so we're going to have at look at their foals,' Hayley replied, as keen to change the subject as Shelby was.
'After your riding lesson,' Mrs Crook reminded her.
'Do you want to come with us, Shel?' Hayley asked.
'I'd love to!' she replied. 'If that's OK with you.'
If they left after Hayley's lesson, Shelby would still be able to lead the trail ride in the morning. She was mindful of what Erin had said about Mrs Edel the day before.
'It would be a pleasure having you, darling!' Mrs Crook replied, pinching Shelby's cheek. 'And I have to say it's nice to see you around here, Shelby, we've missed you.'
'Yeah, I've missed this place too.' Shelby smiled.
Just then a car tooted and Shelby peered out the door. It was her father.
'Gotta go. Thanks for the chicken!'
7 Birthday Party
It was a few weeks before daylight savings and so it was quite bright very early in the morning. Shelby woke up with the dawn, had her breakfast and managed to arrive at the stables at around half past six. None of the clients had appeared yet. She propped her bike against the wall in the feed shed and stood with her hands on her hips while she read the noticeboard.
The noticeboard had been her own idea and she was quite proud of it. In the old days people would leave scraps of paper in their tack rooms, or scrawled notes in the letterbox. 'Please don't feed Blaze in the morning as I have my lesson at 8,' or 'No rug on Captain today'.
So many times Shelby had found a note after she had already fed the horse and put it out in the paddock for the day. Sometimes she didn't get the message at all and the clients would get angry, as though that was her fault. With the new system clients had to leave messages on the board about their horse the day before, and that way any changes to the schedule could be factored in before work began. It seemed to be working, as no one had yelled at her or left her cranky notes for ages.
Shelby filled the feed buckets and hauled a bale of hay onto the trolley. As she rounded the corner most of the horses were standing in their yards, ears pricked and expectant. An old chestnut ex-racehorse named Charlie lived in a stable on the corner. He was always the first to greet her at breakfast time.
'Morning all,' she said, and the horses called out to her, turning circles and stamping.
One at a time she dumped the feed into the bins, the hay in the racks, and then changed their rugs from their heavier night rugs to cotton day rugs, or fly sheets.
There were a few horses that she skipped, because their owners had written on the board that they wanted to feed them themselves. Those horses spun and whinnied to her, as if saying, 'What about me!'
She reached the end of the laneway, and then she turned around to attend to the horses on the opposite side.
By the time she reached the beginning again, Charlie and his next-door neighbour Griswold had both finished their breakfast and were ready to go out for the day.
She slipped a halter over Charlie's ears and led him down the path, stopping to collect Griswold. The two geldings walked calmly to the paddock side by side like a pair of old gentlemen, but as soon as she let them go, they leaped and bucked and rolled as if they were a pair of two-year-olds.
Even though she was busy, Shelby stayed, leaning on the