Eleventh Hour: (Pony Jumpers #11)

  Pony Jumpers

  #11

  ELEVENTH HOUR

  Kate Lattey

  1st Edition

  Copyright 2020 © Hōiho Books NZ

  Cover image from iStock. Cover design by Kate Lattey.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Glossary of Māori Terms

  Guide to Māori Pronunciation

  Chapter 1 - A Life Worth Living

  Chapter 2 - Nothing Breaks Like a Heart

  Chapter 3 - Adventures in Solitude

  Chapter 4 - My My, Hay Hay

  Chapter 5 - Kahurangi, Blue

  Chapter 6 - Just Another Day

  Chapter 7 - Sixteen Candles

  Chapter 8 - Hear Me Out

  Chapter 9 - Tough Love

  Chapter 10 - Meadowlark

  Chapter 11 - The Harm in Asking

  Chapter 12 - The Menu, The Venue, The Seating

  Chapter 13 - Out of the Blue, Into the Black

  Chapter 14 - On the Road

  Chapter 15 - Feels Like Home

  Chapter 16 - Lost & Found

  Chapter 17 - A Cloak Made of Stars

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  More Books by Kate Lattey

  Find & Follow

  GLOSSARY OF MĀORI TERMS

  This book contains a selection of words and phrases in te reo Māori, the indigenous language of New Zealand. Most of these should be self-explanatory in context, but I’ve provided a direct translation below in order of appearance, as well as some notes on pronunciation. For spoken examples and more in-depth definitions, maoridictionary.co.nz is an excellent resource.

  Māori – indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand

  Ngatai – pronounced ngah-tai, with ng as in the end of ‘sing’ as the first syllable

  Kahurangi – blue; precious, treasured possession; someone distinguished or of high rank

  Whānau – family group, extended family; sometimes used to include close friends who may not have any kinship ties to other members

  Pēpi – baby

  E ara ahau – I’m awake

  Kaua e ngenge? – Can’t sleep?

  Kōiti – little (pinky) finger

  Kia ora – hello, good day, welcome

  E tama – boy

  Kai – food

  Tiakarete, panana rānei? – Chocolate, or banana?

  Kaua e whakarongo – Don’t listen

  Waiata – song

  Tūtira mai ngā iwi – a well-known Māori folk song, encouraging all people to come together as one

  Keke – cake

  Taihoa – wait

  Ka pai - good

  Iwi – tribe

  E noho – sit down

  GUIDE TO MĀORI PRONUNCIATION

  The accent is usually on the first syllable.

  The vowel sounds are similar to Spanish – a as in car, e as in egg, i as in eat, o as in for, u as in to.

  Ng is pronounced as in singer, not as in anger.

  Wh is typically pronounced as f.

  * * *

  “The cool thing about horses is they don’t have prejudice.

  They don’t care if you’re tall or thin,

  dark or light, or if you’re rich or poor.

  They don’t care about that.

  They care about how you make them feel.”

  – Buck Brannaman

  * * *

  CHAPTER 1

  A LIFE WORTH LIVING

  A cold wind whipped across the winter-bare paddocks, tangling my hair around my face. I shivered, snugging my scarf up around my neck, and continued the short walk to the barn. I could hear Forbes banging his hoof against his stable door, impatiently demanding his breakfast.

  As I unlatched the sliding doors and slipped inside, my dark bay pony laid his ears back at me and snarled up his nostrils, making his opinion of my lateness well and truly known. His bright chestnut stablemate Skip greeted me with a hopeful whinny and much friendlier expression. I smiled at them both, feeling my heart lift. I always felt at home in the barn, much more so than the large, glass-plated house that I’d just left behind. The barn was a comfort, drawing me in like an old friend, giving me a place where I felt like I always belonged. The combined smell of horses and hay and shavings and leather was the best perfume I could ever imagine, and I greeted the ponies warmly.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Forbes banged on his door again, louder this time. “All right, all right. You’re not going to die from starvation in the time it takes me to mix your feed.”

  The look he gave me made it clear that he didn’t believe me, and he continued to bang on about his hunger as I added soaked beet pulp to the feeds I’d prepared the night before. Forbes shoved his head into his bucket as soon as it was in his stable and started munching like a dying thing, while Skip politely stepped back and waited for me to walk away before delicately lipping up his feed.

  I was stuffing a couple of slabs of hay into the steamer when I heard another whinny from outside, followed by an ear-splitting heehaw. Through the windows I could see my retired show jumping pony Buck and his best friend, Emily the miniature donkey, at their paddock gate with ears pricked and eyes bright. The wind whistled past the barn as I carried their feeds out to them.

  “Vet’s coming today,” I told Buck as he tucked into his breakfast. “Don’t worry, just for a check up. Just to make sure you’re in the best of health.”

  I slid a hand under his cover and across his dark coat, thick and fluffy in this winter weather. The lung condition that had cut his competition career short was under control now, and he was looking and feeling well. He would likely never come back into work – it wasn’t worth the risk to his health, and he owed me nothing. He had earned his cushy retirement.

  Back in the barn, I removed Skip’s stable rug and standing wraps, replacing them with a warm waterproof cover and turnout boots. I fastened the last strip of velcro around his neck as he rubbed his grain-encrusted muzzle on my neck.

  “Ugh, no need to share,” I told him, pushing him away as I wiped at the smeared feed on my bare skin.

  Skip swung his head aside, looking worried, so I gave him a quick cuddle in case his feelings were hurt. He’d always been a sensitive soul, and even a raised voice or light smack on the neck could upset him for days.

  Forbes, on the other side of the aisle, was his polar opposite. He was snarky and opinionated – if he were human, he’d spend large portions of his day trolling people on Twitter just to get a rise out of them. He didn’t much care what I did to him, as long as I did it quickly and with minimal fuss.

  “I know you don’t like the cotton wool treatment, but you have to deal with it,” I told him, dodging his attempts to nip me as I buckled the front of his cover. “It’s par for the course around here, and you know it. If you want things to change, you’ll have to take it up with Dad.”

  Forbes wrinkled his nostrils at me as I slipped his halter on, then led the ponies out together into the wintry morning.

  I was halfway through mucking out when our vet Lesley arrived. She breezed into the barn with veterinary kit in hand, her thick auburn ponytail hanging down her back and swinging as she walked.

  “Morning! Sorry I’m late, but my vet student called in sick this morning, so I’ve barely started and already I’m way behind schedule.”

  I set down the pitchfork and stepped out into the aisle. “I hope she’s okay.”

  “Probably just hung over,” Lesley said dismissively. “How that girl made it through four years of vet school is beyond me. Speaking of school, shouldn’t you be there by now?”

  I shook my head. “Teacher’s only day.”

  “Ah. Lucky you. Now, where’s my victim?”

  I grabbed Buck’s halter and we went out together to see him. I held the dark bay pony while Lesley listened to his heart and lungs, took his temperature and checked him over thoroughly. We both knew that this check was simply a routine measure — I knew enough to be able to spot anything untoward — but it made Dad feel better to have Buck regularly looked at, and Lesley was always meticulous.

  “He’s doing well,” she declared after recording his temperature in her notes. “Keeping him out of the barn is clearly working, and he’s coping well with the colder weather.”

  “He’s loving it,” I said, rubbing Buck’s forehead. “I’d wondered if he’d mind being retired, since he always seemed to love being ridden, but he’s happy as.”

  “They usually are.” Lesley put her pen back in her pocket and smiled at me. “Horses are a lot less ambitious than their riders.”

  I blushed as I took Buck’s halter off, releasing him, and he returned to his pile of freshly steamed hay.

  “So do you have a busy day today?” I asked Lesley as we headed back to the barn.

  “Frantic. And now I have to do it alone. Unless…” She looked at me, eyebrows quirked. “You got any plans?”

  “Um, no. Well, I have to exercise the ponies, but other than that…”

  “Wanna come along and help me out? It won’t be anything complic
ated, just holding horses, handing me bandages, that sort of thing. Since you’re mad enough to want a career in this, you might as well tag along.”

  We’d seen our first case of the day, a horse with a cut heel that needed its wound dressed, and were on our way to the second when Lesley abruptly slowed her ute and swung into a driveway almost completely obscured by trees.

  “Sorry,” she said lightly as I was flung sideways in my seat by her sudden change of direction. “I just remembered that I promised I’d drop in on Faye this week, and since we’re going past…”

  We bumped along a narrow, pot-holed driveway, and I gritted my teeth against the ute’s lack of suspension. Tall trees on both sides created a dark tunnel, and overhead branches scraped against the top of the ute until we turned a corner and arrived in the middle of a dilapidated farmyard. A long, low concrete building with barred windows and a small door at one end sat opposite a shabby cottage with weed-filled flowerbeds. Lesley parked the ute as a cacophony of barking started up from the concrete bunker.

  “What is this pl—” I started to ask, then broke off as I saw the thinnest, most miserable horse I’d ever seen in my life standing in a nearby paddock. Her hips and ribs protruded starkly through her dappled grey coat, her spine was clearly visible along the ridge of her back, and her dark mane couldn’t hide the painful thinness of her neck. Her tiny, muddy paddock contained more weeds than grass, and she nibbled slowly at the meagre rations. “Oh my god, that poor horse!”

  “Bit of mess, isn’t she?” Lesley agreed, opening her door and jumping out of the ute. I followed suit, and walked around to the front of the vehicle to stare at the unhappy mare. She lifted her head and watched us, pieces of grass falling from her lips as she chewed.

  “Where are we?”

  “Helping Hands animal rescue. Faye has dogs mostly, but she’s somehow ended up with this mare, too.” Lesley gave a rueful smile as she slammed her door behind her. “She’s obviously not set up for horses, but this is what comes of an utter inability to say no to people. Her heart’s in the right place, though, and she does her best. I do what I can to help her.”

  I walked closer to the fence and the mare raised her head warily. Her chewing stopped.

  “Where did the horse come from?”

  “No idea, to be honest. You’d have to ask Faye.” She looked around, then her expression brightened. “And now’s your chance, ‘cause here she is.”

  I turned to see a stoutly-built woman with wispy grey hair and mud-encrusted gumboots trudging towards us.

  “Morning!”

  She clasped Lesley’s hand warmly, then turned to me with a smile. Her face was weather-worn, with prominent crow’s feet around her brown eyes, but the warmth in her expression was genuine, and I found myself smiling back as I shook her hand.

  “This is Susannah, my helper for today,” Lesley introduced me. “We were coming past, so I thought I’d pop in. How’s the mare doing?”

  “A little better, I think,” Faye said uncertainly. “She’s still terribly thin, of course, but you said not to feed her too much right away.”

  “Slow and steady is the key with rehabs,” Lesley confirmed. “In her condition, if she gets too much feed at once, she’s at high risk of colic or refeeding syndrome, which is the last thing we want. She’s at the stage now when you can start giving her as much hay as she’ll reasonably eat, still in small doses spread out through the day.”

  Faye looked perplexed. “I meant to ask you about that. I’ve got one or two bales left, and I’ve been trying to buy more but everyone I’ve talked to wants an obscene amount of money for it.” She opened her hands in a helpless shrug. “Fifteen dollars a bale can’t be right, can it?”

  “We had a drought over summer,” Lesley reminded her. “Good hay is pricey this year, but whatever you can get is better than nothing, as long as it’s not mouldy or stale.” She patted Faye’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll see if I can track some more down for you. Have you had any luck catching her?”

  Faye shook her head. “I’ve tried, but she won’t come near me. Not even for carrots. I ended up throwing them out into the paddock, but she seemed to have trouble eating them.”

  “Probably needs her teeth done,” I said, and Lesley nodded.

  “And her hooves trimmed,” she added, and I looked at the mare’s feet and winced. They were overgrown and badly flared. “They’re starting to split, and they’ll cause her some serious issues if those cracks get too wide. But someone needs to be able to get near her first.”

  “I’ll keep trying,” Faye promised. “I really appreciate you taking such an interest, Les. I wouldn’t know what to do without your help.”

  “You need to find someone else to take her on,” Lesley said matter-of-factly. “You’re not set up for horses here, and you’ve already got your hands full with the dogs.”

  “I know, but how would I know that whoever took her would take proper care of her?” Faye sighed, rubbing her hands on her dirty trousers. “Well, I suppose I’ll keep trying, and keep you posted if I have any luck. Do you have time to come in and see Cassius? He’s due to have his stitches out next week.”

  Lesley glanced at her watch. “Sure. While I’m doing that, why doesn’t Susannah have a go at catching the horse?”

  They both looked at me, one challenging, the other hopeful.

  “Uh...I guess I could try.”

  Lesley followed Faye back into her cottage while I unbuckled a tattered halter and rope from the paddock gate. The grey mare watched me suspiciously as I walked through the gluggy mud towards her, waiting until I was a few metres away before retreating to the far corner of the small paddock.

  “Hey, girl. Come on, now. Let us help you,” I urged her softly. “We both know you could use a little help.”

  Or a lot, I thought as I slowly got closer to her. How could someone have let a horse end up in this condition? I approached on an angle, knowing better than to walk straight up to a skittish horse, but she still stepped away as soon as I breached the large personal bubble she had established around herself.

  When she moved, I stopped.

  So did she.

  I stepped forward, and after a moment, she stepped backwards.

  I stopped again, and we looked at each other.

  Please let me help you.

  We moved in a slow dance. Time stood still around us. Slowly, gradually, the space between us decreased until I was close enough to reach out and touch her. I moved carefully, extending my arm to brush my fingertips against the mare’s pale coat. She flinched away from my touch, and I lowered my hand and waited for her to relax a little before raising my arm again. This time she stood still, and I was able to run a hand down her thin neck.

  We were making progress, and I was feeling pleased with myself as I lifted a hand to the halter over my shoulder. But as soon as she noticed it, the mare shot forward, almost knocking me down in her desperate panic to escape. I watched her trip across the uneven ground, filled with worry.

  “You have to let someone help you,” I said sadly. “You can’t do this by yourself.”

  Once she’d stopped moving, I began the process all over again. This time, when I reached her side, I moved more slowly, and managed to slip the rope over her thin neck and grab the other end to hold her still. But when I tried to put the halter on, she spun aside and pulled away from me. I held tight onto the lead rope around her neck, determined not to let her go. For a second or two I thought she was going to win the battle, but then she swung around again, facing me with all four feet braced. Her eyes were wide and nostrils flared, and it took me a couple of minutes to calm her down enough to let me touch her again. Eventually she relented, and after gently stroking her neck, I lifted my hand to her face and stroked her cheek. She watched me warily, but didn’t move away.

  “You poor, poor girl,” I said sympathetically. “How could anyone let this happen to you?”

  I looked up to see Lesley and Faye exiting the cottage, deep in conversation. I tried to lead the grey mare towards them, but as soon as she felt pressure on the rope around her neck, she baulked and refused to move.