Pony Tales

Pony Tales

Peta Carr

Copyright Peta Carr 2014

Published by Breedles Publishing at Smashwords

http://www.breedlespublishing.com

Cover by Padraig Designs

Artwork by Claire Harris

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from my memories of them. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances I have changed the names of individuals and places, I may have changed some identifying characteristics and details such as physical properties, occupations and places of residence.

To my children and family for putting up with me and to my friends for all their love

and support during difficult times.

Pony Tales

Contents

Chapter 1—Rob

Chapter 2 —A Stable of My Own

Chapter 3—The Dragon and the Frog

Chapter 4 —The Party

Chapter 5— ... And the Party Line

Chapter 6 —Old Dr Bidder

Chapter 7 —Jefferson

Chapter 8 —Percival Pup

Chapter 9 —Camping

Chapter 10 —Sven and Johanna

Chapter 11—The Restaurant and the Scouts

Chapter 12 —Cows and Bulls

Chapter 13 —The Moneygrabbers

Chapter 14 —Xmas

Chapter 15 —Nanny and Billy

Chapter 16 —Pigs and Things?

Chapter 17 —... And things

Chapter 18 —Petunia

Chapter 19 —Jinny

Chapter 20 —Transport

Chapter 21 —Horse Shows and Mr Stevens

Chapter 22 —Tristan

Chapter 23 —Mrs Fletcher

Chapter 24 —Mrs Ainsworth

Chapter 25 —Frances

Chapter 26 —Mr Patterson

Chapter 27 —Mothers!

Chapter 28— ... Whining and dining

Chapter 29 —Mrs Laflamme

About the Author

More Books...

Chapter 1—Rob

We galloped across the open field with the ominous roll of thunder in our ears. The rain, blown by the wind, stung unpleasantly on my unprotected cheeks. A moment later a bolt of lightning struck the earth and the crack of thunder was terrifying.

The steady drumming of the horses' hooves continued against the background of the storm as we rode onto the embankment at the far end of the field. Down the slope a half mile away I could see the outline of the barn and safety.

At the next sudden peal of thunder my horse trembled and slipped on the muddy slope. All at once I was beneath him and two heavy iron shoes hit my chest with force as in his struggle to regain his footing he kicked out in fear at an object in his path—me!

I gasped and tried to take a breath. 'I think it's my ribs,' I cried out feebly to my companion. 'I can't get up.'

I lay on my side peering into the gloom, the landscape further blurred by the loss of my glasses. Ahead of me was the track to the farmhouse which my companion had taken in his quest to get help, behind me and to the left were the fields we had just traversed. Rising sharply to the right was a ridge dotted with the Eucalypts which so dominate the Australian bush.

As the rain seeped down my collar I wondered if the jagged edge of a rib could pierce anything vital. My mind drifted back into the past and the cause of my present predicament, then a wave of pain shot through my side.

I had been interviewed at the onset of winter and as a result we, that is my husband Ralph, my eldest daughter Pippa a solid determined child of seven, my son Tristan a mischievous prankster of five, daughter Jinny a cheerful dainty child of four, and myself Peta, had moved to the nearby countryside, renting a small cottage in anticipation of my first job working with horses. I was to start in early spring.

I was overjoyed to leave the city environs which I hated, for the pleasant hills and valleys not far from where the Ontario Quebec border meets New York State. Though the winter could be long and bitter in the country, with huge drifts of powdery snow making outside chores a difficulty, the spring and summer always made up for it with a profusion of abundant growth and warmth.

In those early days we were like two children, young and impetuous, indeed we were little more. Ralph, with dark curly hair and flashing brown eyes—to my mind handsome and charming, was everything I thought a husband should be. That we had little in common bothered me not at all. Nor was I concerned by his rather impulsive behavior. Ralph was employed by the Civil Service, which paid a notoriously low wage and we were having a hard time making ends meet. With me earning as well it would make things a lot easier. I arrived at the stable that first morning ready to take up my duties and walked over to greet a short stocky individual, my new boss.

'I'm ready for work,' I said, a little self-conscious and not quite sure how to act.

'Err ... I didn't expect you,' said Rob, his watery blue eyes contrasting sharply with his florid complexion. I felt a stab of anxiety as he continued. 'During the winter I was approached by three families from another stable who promised to keep their horses with me provided I employ their teacher.'

I was taken aback at this piece of news but being very young and shy was not about to argue over the loss of my potential job or the fact that we were relying on my income to help augment our meagre finances. I did wonder why he had not telephoned much earlier to let me know of the change in plans but later, on getting to know him, I realized it probably never would have occurred to him to do so.

'Look, there will still be more work than Carol can handle,' he said. 'You probably could pick up a bit of money here and there exercising some of the client's horses.' This was certainly not what I had anticipated but since there seemed to be no choice I grabbed these small crumbs with both hands.

Several months later I was woken at dawn by the phone ringing and rubbing my eyes I picked up the receiver.

'This is Rob,' came the voice at the other end. 'Can you start in one hour'?'Carol who had taken over what I considered to be 'my' place had quit and was in disgrace with her three parents, the Mrs Rathbone, Jones and Humphreys.

She had gone away for a 'naughty weekend' as Rob put it and was expecting. On her doctor's advice she should forego working with horses till after the baby's birth. In the meantime she had managed to alienate some of Rob's long-time customers who felt she was only interested in her old clients, who were generally known as 'the three stooges'.

'There's a bit of unrest in the stable right now,' said Rob. 'I hope you can keep them all happy, at least you won't get pregnant?' he said hopefully, thinking of my three active youngsters. 'I really can't afford to lose my valued clients.'

'No I don't expect to,' I volunteered. And so was reinstated so to speak! Little did I realize what I was getting into ...

The feeding and watering all had to be done by hand in the early sixties. Heavy bales of hay were carted in the wheel-barrow and buckets of water were carried to each stall. On cold winter days water would slop over the edges of the metal buckets, soaking through one's gloves, freezing the fingers to the bone.

Thankfully I did not have to attend to the cleaning out of the stalls, these were taken care of by a wizened old farmer of ancient looking vintage and his rather simple son whom he treated as if he was still three years old despite the fact that he must have been all of forty.

Apart from the care of animals, I was expected to teach the lessons and clean the dirty saddles and bridles after use, but my most important task by far was to cater to the boarders ... those who were lucky enough to own horses and have their needs taken care of by the stable staff.

The boarders certainly had priority over any other duty and they knew it! No matter how occupied I might be, Rob ordered me to drop everything and attend to them first. They constituted the mainstay of the stable at that time and generated the largest ongoing portion of income. No wonder Rob had jumped at the chance to add three more to his stable, I realized afterwards!

The lessons came and went as the summer drifted by and the leaves began to fall. Then the frost and cold wind arrived. The riders became chilled and uncomfortable and the horses misbehaved, feeling frisky in the brisk weather, so the riders chose alternative recreation. When the snow really set in I knew they would hibernate, involving themselves in other activities until the warm days of spring returned.

The loss of lessons meant months ahead of horses to feed with little income. However the boarders had to pay year round to have their animals maintained with the cost of care increasing as the winter approached and hay instead of grass was fed.

The 'three stooges' were still upset at losing their protégé and it took quite a while for Mrs Rathbone to accept me. Mrs Jones did so some time later but Mrs Humphreys never did, forever pining the loss of her favorite instructor. She never so much as had a trial lesson. However she chose to remain at the stable with her two friends rather than move elsewhere on her own. As for the original boarders, I think they were happy enough and at least seemed content with my lessons, much to Rob's relief.

After a while things seemed to settle down and run fairly smoothly despite the jealousies and competitiveness that seemed to pervade the stable. Rob announced he was taking a week's vacation and I would be left in charge. His wife Celine insisted on it, he muttered and when she insisted that was that.

He was not at all enthusiastic about the prospect of a holiday. I suspect he rather liked to stop and have a drink at the pub on the way home from work and Celine, a bible-thumping teetotaller, did not approve. On holiday he would be under her thumb the whole time and unable to sneak off as he could at home. Celine had been nagging Rob for years to go to a certain fashionable resort, so the rumor had it, but strange to say this did not seem to conflict with her religious views of self-denial.

The first morning Rob was away I woke up with a great sense of being 'in charge' of everything. I must admit there was an exhilarating feeling of power attached to the ability to make all the decisions. I day-dreamed of proudly showing Rob on his return how well I had managed the stable, and of the magnificent progress and changes I made during his absence. Secretly, in my youthful mind, I did think I had many more innovative ideas than he and felt I could do things so much better if only I had a stable of my own.

I arrived at the barn early and surveyed my domain. The stable itself was a long low L shaped building made of concrete blocks. The inside was divided into twenty or so box stalls with solid looking timber planks and two small rooms at the end served as a feed room and tack room. Adjoining the barn were two paddocks where the horses could be let out for exercise in winter and a riding ring where the lessons were taught. Beyond the paddocks were several fields used for grazing.

I fed and watered the horses and made sure the stalls had been properly cleaned by the two stable hands. Then I relaxed while listening to the rhythmic munching of the horses and smelt the smells of hay, horse and leather that always seem to dominate barns.

As the morning wore on the first of the boarders arrived to see her horse; it was Mrs Rathbone. She was a large big boned woman with a forceful manner. A widow of many years of whom it was said, she had had her eye out for an eligible man for some time. Following in her wake was her daughter Felicity, a tall timid girl with a nervous tic and permanently runny nose.

Mrs Rathbone marched straight up to me without any preamble. 'I'm moving our pony Dimples to the