For Sale Or Swap (13 page)

The trail bike rider's name was Chad. He only lived a
few blocks away from Shelby, but he went to the
Catholic college, while Shelby went to the local state
school. The bike belonged to his older brother, who
was grown up and had moved out of home.

Shelby thought it was weird that they were
sitting so close together, with her arms wrapped
around his waist, and her stomach pressed against his
back, and yet he had to yell all this over his shoulder
to be heard above the engine noise. She tried to ask
a question but her words were whipped away by
the wind.

Riding a bike was different from riding a horse.
The bike leaned from side to side, and Shelby was
worried that they were going to topple over. It had
hard suspension, and Chad put his feet on the ground
when they went over rocky parts, or around corners.
The main difference was that Chad had total control.
He and the bike were one unit, whereas working with
a horse was a partnership – ask and response.

It was the partnership part of horse riding that
Shelby liked the most. The horse was so much bigger
and stronger that it didn't have to do what she
asked, like a motorbike did – it
chose
to. No matter
how exhilarating riding a bike was, there could never
be any understanding or harmony between bike
and rider.

But then, bikes don't change their mind, either
.

They reached the bottom of the gully, crossed the
causeway and whizzed up the other side. Shelby
realised something else – a bike could never enjoy
being ridden. Blue loved this hill. He used to prick up
his ears and jog jauntily towards it, looking forward
to stretching out.

At the top of the hill, Chad stopped and Shelby
climbed off the bike.

'Thanks, and sorry for being a cry-baby back
there.'

'That's all right,' Chad replied.

'I promise I won't say rude things about trail bikes
any more,' she added, smiling.

Chad nodded. 'Well, I still think horses are dumb
and dangerous.'

They stared at each other.

'But the people on them can be OK, I suppose.
And they can be really pretty.' He blushed. 'The
horses, I mean. They are kind of majestic and noble
. . . when they're not being dumb and dangerous,
that is.'

He stared at his boots for a moment. 'Yeah, well, I'll
see you next time you fall off, or get lost, or whatever.'

Chad walked the bike around, and then let it roll
down the hill, waving to her over his shoulder.

Shelby trudged along the dirt road, and when she
reached the cul-de-sac she stopped at one of the empty
half-built houses to drink from the tap in the front
garden. The cold water tasted so good. She splashed
some of it over her face and washed her arms, and as
she walked home along the road she enjoyed the feel
of the sun and hot wind drying her skin.

The front door was open and, when she stepped
inside, she saw her father standing in the lounge room
holding the cordless phone to his chest. He stared at
her, his face turning completely white. He dropped the
phone on the floor, and as he rushed towards her, he
kicked it and it spun around on the carpet.

'Shelby!' he said, hugging her so hard that it hurt.
'Oh my God, oh my God.' He held her at arm's length
for a second, examined her face, and then squeezed
her again. 'Oh, Shelby. You gave me a fright – such
a fright.'

When he let go of her again she could see that his
eyes were bloodshot, and his face was wet.

'Are you crying?' she asked.

He frowned, and wiped his face. 'Yes, I think so.
Yes, I am.'

He picked up the phone and punched in numbers
with his thumb. 'Marie? She's here. She's come home.
She's . . . here.'

Shelby thought she could hear screaming from the
other end.

Shelby had never been inside a police station before. It
looked like the front office at her school, or like the
doctor's waiting room. There was a rotating brochure
stand near the front door, and a few vinyl armchairs
that faced a wooden reception desk.

Sergeant Everard – the policewoman who had
come to her house about Blue – appeared in the
doorway and asked Shelby to make her statement.
They went into a small room with timber panelling on
the wall and a table in the middle. Her mother sat
next to her, and Shelby started the story from the very
beginning. When she got to the part about the plan
the girls had made, she hesitated.

'. . . So we came up with a plan – more of an idea.
We thought if we could get him to come to the stables
we'd be able to get his number plate. But we forgot.'

Sergeant Everard frowned. 'Who's "we" ?'

'I meant "I" . I came up with an idea.' Shelby glanced
at her mother's face and saw embarrassment there.

'Can you go through this plan for me?' asked the
sergeant.

Shelby squirmed in her seat. 'Well, the Mulligans
said that they didn't want to swap, but Mr Morgan
came back and took Poppy anyway, and we . . . I
thought if I could lure him to the stables, he might try
to steal a horse, and if I had his number plate, you
could find him, and it wouldn't be civil. You would
arrest him, and he would have to tell you where Blue
was. Then everyone could get their horses back, and he
would go to jail, so he could never do it to anyone else.'

The sergeant scribbled on her notepad for a
moment. She put down her pen and laced her fingers
together on the desk.

'Shelby, you do know that your plan was very
foolish, don't you? It was the wrong thing to do.'
Sergeant Everard looked at her severely.

Shelby nodded, biting her lip. She took a deep
breath. 'Can . . . can you tell me what the right thing
would have been?'

'It was a civil matter, as I told you at the time.
Your solicitor would have requested that the horse be
returned, and if your Mr Morgan didn't agree, it
would be decided in the courts. Most likely, he would
have had to provide you with a sum equal to the value
of the property in question.'

'But we didn't know who he was!' Shelby paused.
'You're saying that he wouldn't have to give back Blue
anyway, only the value of him? Not go to jail?'

'That's right.'

'But that's not fair!' she blurted.

Sergeant Everard blinked.

'What will happen to this man now?' Shelby's
mother asked.

'As it turns out, there were a number of horses on
the property which this fellow can't account for, and
unless he can, he will be facing prosecution. We'll also
investigate a few other leads that turned up when we
searched the place looking for you.'

'So he might go to jail?' Shelby asked.

'It depends on his record, and a few other things.
It's complicated,' the Sergeant replied. 'It's possible
that he will.'

'But my way was the dumb way?' Shelby said.

Sergeant Everard sighed. 'Shelby, we thought you
had been abducted. You put yourself and your friends
at considerable risk. You worried your parents half to
death, and you jeopardised Lindsey's mother's business.
You also put in danger all the horses at the stables. Not
to mention that you have broken several laws. I don't
think you realise how many police officers – how many
citizens, too – were involved in the search for you this
morning. Your little stunt wasted a great deal of our
time and resources – at the tax-payer's expense.'

'Yes, but –' Shelby interrupted.

'Time and resources that could have been better
used elsewhere on much more serious and, I might
add,
genuine
cases, where the victim did not deliberately
generate the hazard.'

'But I –'

'We have a very important job to do here, and I
don't appreciate – the
community
doesn't appreciate –
police time being wasted on frivolous young ladies
who decide to take the law into their own hands.
And
you still don't have your horse back.'

Shelby closed her mouth. The car she'd heard
before she ran, the helicopter. Now she understood.

Sergeant Everard continued. 'There is no way this
man is going to incriminate himself by telling us where
your horse is. So frankly, after all this kerfuffle, you're
no better off than you were before.'

Tears of anger and frustration welled in Shelby's eyes.

Her mother rubbed her shoulder. 'You're tired,
Shel. It will seem better after you've had a sleep.'

'It's not fair.' Shelby shook her head. 'This is a
stupid system.'

Sergeant Everard stood up and opened the door.
'We consider this matter closed. Fortunately for you, we
will not be laying any charges against you, nor attempting
to recoup any financial losses we have suffered. I
hope we don't have to see each other again.'

'So what am I supposed to do now?' Shelby said.
'What's the
right
thing to do?'

Sergeant Everard looked at her with cool eyes.
'The right thing is not to gamble with your horse in
the first place, unless you're willing to lose him.'

When the alarm first started beeping, rousing Shelby
from a deep sleep, she didn't know where she was. She
sat up, feeling a little bit panicked, but then she saw
two sleeping forms stirring nearby and she remembered.
She was in the Crooks' rumpus room and this
was the day of the show.

The air in the room smelled strongly of freshly
oiled leather. The three girls had sat up late the night
before pulling all of Hayley's equipment – tan for Ditto
and black for Echo – into pieces, carefully washing and
oiling each part until it was soft and supple. Hayley
apologised to Shelby about having to do it, but Shelby
had never minded cleaning tack.

The previous week Shelby had cleared out the shed
at Blue's paddock, crying the whole time. She left the
feed there because her parents said that it would just
attract rats if she put it in the garage, but she couldn't
bear to throw it all away. She brought her tack home
and cleaned it with her Christmas polish. She wondered
if she should try to sell her saddle, and that made her
cry some more.

'Just ten more minutes,' Hayley grumbled sleepily.

Shelby was wide awake. A little buzz ran through
her stomach, but it was different from the feeling she
had when she took Blue to a show. The pressure of
riding was not there for starters but, better than that,
this time she would be with horses that actually had a
chance of winning something.

As soon as she had the thought, Shelby felt guilty.

Hayley and Erin dressed in their best jodhpurs,
pulling a pair of light tracksuit pants over the top to
stop them from getting dirty. Shelby had her Christmas
jodhpurs on – not because she was really going to
ride but because, secretly, she wanted the other competitors
to
think
she was. She hated the idea of all the
riders looking at her as though she was just some
curious onlooker.

Mrs Crook made a thermos of coffee and filled an
esky for lunch. Shelby watched her reaching into the
cupboards for packets of chips, biscuits and chocolate
bars. The pantry cupboard was full of them. Shelby
looked inside it with wonder. Shelby's mum's idea of a
sweet snack was jam on toast.

Outside, Mr Crook was in his gown and slippers
hitching the float to the back of the Crooks' four-wheel
drive. His hair was scruffy and a thick salt and pepper
stubble ranged over his face. Shelby had never seen
him looking so rumpled. He always looked smart, with
crisp creases down the front of his pants and shiny
shoes. When he gave her a warm smile with his eyes
still puffy from sleep, Shelby felt special, as though he
was sharing a secret with her – as though she were one
of the family.

The girls piled into the back of the car and they
drove to the stables. The morning sun spilled over
the horizon, but Mrs Crook drove with her lights on
for safety. Hayley was quiet in the front seat, rubbing
her eyes and yawning, but in the back Erin and Shelby
grinned at each other with excitement.

Once they arrived at the stables Erin left to give
Bandit his breakfast and get him ready. Shelby and
Hayley peeled back Echo and Ditto's rugs and brushed
them down while Mrs Crook dumped their breakfast
into the black rubber bins.

Shelby started on Echo's mane, carefully dividing it
up into equal parts and tying them off with small
rubber bands. Then she started plaiting. It didn't take
long for her hands to become stiff and sore.

Mrs Crook came out of the equipment room brandishing
a pair of clippers and tidied up the hair
around the horses' hooves and legs. 'Those plaits are
good,' she commented and Shelby felt proud. Once all
the plaits were complete, Shelby looped them through
and around to make a row of neat rosettes.

Hayley was having a harder time. Ditto was going
in the Turnout class and so his mane had to be secured
with thread. To make it that little bit more difficult,
Ditto was vigorously enjoying his breakfast, sifting
through the feed with his nose to search out the
sweet grain. 'Hold still, you stupid horse!' Hayley
shouted.

'And so you see,' said Mrs Crook, giving Shelby a
wink, 'our Hales is not exactly a morning person.'

With all three horses plaited and bandaged, the
rugs were put back on again and the girls led them
onto the float. Mrs Crook told Shelby that she was in
charge of Echo for the day, and Shelby beamed. 'No
problem, Mrs C.'

As they were pulling out of the driveway Kim
and her mother were driving in the other way. The
girls waved to each other from inside the cars. Shelby
couldn't help grinning. She was part of a gang now.

Hayley seemed to have perked up a little bit. As
they drove along she turned up the CD player and they
all sang together. Mrs Crook sang along too. Shelby
thought it would be cool to have a mum who knew
the words to the latest songs and didn't just listen to
fuddy-duddy talkback radio.

Shelby watched out the window as they drove into
the showgrounds. She could see the skeletal curve of
the Ferris wheel above the tents and caravans.
Dodgem cars were lined up in a tidy row along one
side of their rubber arena, and the carriages of the
Tilt-a-Whirl and Rock-and-Roll stood still and empty.
Shelby watched as a young boy stocked the back wall
of a caravan with plush toys, colourful tinsel wigs and
other trinkets. In front of him, a row of clown faces
stared out with their mouths open.

Beside the clowns was an empty patch of grass. A
man was staking pickets into the ground with a large
mallet, swinging it rhythmically behind his back and
then over his head. Shelby could hear the heavy
clink
sound as the head of the mallet connected with the
rounded top of the picket. Behind him she could see a
rusty cattle truck.
Pete's Pony Rides
was written along
the side in faded red paint.

On the other side of the grounds there were
already several trucks and floats lined up in raggle-taggle
rows. Mrs Crook sought out a little patch of
ground that they could call home for the day and
stopped, pulling up the handbrake.

'Here we go, girls,' she said, turning around to
look at Erin and Shelby in the back.

'Thanks for driving us,' Shelby said.

'Pleasure, treasure,' she replied.

They tied the horses to rings along the float's side
and then gave them another brush down, a coat of
black polish on their hooves and a rub of baby oil to
their faces. Mrs Crook tidied up a few of the rosettes
that had come loose along the way.

The air was quiet and still except for the steady
hum of all the carnival caravan generators. Suddenly
the tooting, nasal sound of an organ started up and
the Ferris wheel rolled around in a slow, lazy loop.
Then the music cut out and the Ferris Wheel stopped,
its metal carriages swaying.

'Thank heavens for that,' said Mrs Crook, opening
the back of the four-wheel drive to give the equipment
one last rub-down ready for the first class.

The girls wandered across the centre ring of the
showground to find the Steward's stand to collect a
program for the day and buy tickets.

Hayley looked over the program thoroughly,
frowning. She shook her head.

'What is it?' asked Erin.

'The Pony and Galloway classes are on at the same
time. That's OK in the led class, because Mum can take
Echo, but she can't take him under saddle. We should
have left him at home if he's only going to go in led.'

Shelby was glad that they'd brought him along. At
least she could pretend to have a horse.

Back at the float they all had sandwiches for
breakfast washed down with fruit cordial. Hayley
complained that she wanted chips, but Shelby
was enjoying squishing the fresh bread down with
her fingers.

Mrs Crook examined the program and flung it
over her shoulder into the back of the car. 'This is not
good for us, girls,' she commented.

A few more floats and trucks rumbled down the
gravel driveway. Hayley recognised Monica's float,
and also waved to a few other girls who Shelby had
never seen before.

After they had finished eating, Mrs Crook reached
into the back of the four-wheel drive for Hayley's coat
bag. She unzipped it. 'Blue or brown today, Hales?'

Hayley tilted her head to the side. 'Brown. The
blue one is getting a bit tight across the shoulders.'

Mrs Crook held up the blue material and rubbed
it in her hands. 'I think we've already let it out
as much as it's going to go. We'll have to get you
another one.'

Shelby watched for a response from Hayley. There
was none. She simply threaded her arms through the
brown jacket and shrugged it into place. If Shelby's
mother said she could have a new show jacket she'd
jump around for a whole day. Hayley hardly even
noticed.

It was nine o'clock and Mrs Crook, Hayley and
Erin led their horses into the ring. Shelby walked with
them as far as the fence line, and then she leaned
against it to watch.

There was a sharp echoing click as the showground
loudspeakers switched on. A few of the horses jumped
at the sound, but they soon settled down. On the other
side of the ground the Ferris wheel music started again
and this time it stayed on. The Tilt-a-Whirl and Rock-and-Roll
started up too, each with their own loud
music blaring out. Shelby saw a few of the early show-goers
walking along the aisles between the marquees
and caravans, clutching show bags and fairy floss.

She looked back at the ring and saw that all three
of the horses had been called in to the centre. Erin
gave her a big wave, throwing her hands in the air and
startling the horse next to Bandit. Shelby could see
Erin apologising to the girl and she grinned. It was
just like Erin to do something stupid with the very
best of intentions.

Shelby turned her attention back to the sideshow.
Pete had unloaded his ponies and they milled around
with their heads down in a makeshift yard – all wearing
oversized stock saddles, so big that they almost
wrapped around their bellies and met at the bottom.

Most of them were Shetlands, but there were paint
ponies amongst them. Shelby's heart started to race as
she made out the patchwork shapes of one after the
other.
Could it be Blue?
She couldn't tell from this
distance. This is exactly the sort of place she imagined
he would end up – tied up and hobbled, giving ride
after boring ride to beginners, and then shoved back
on some rusty old truck for a long, windy trip back to
a loveless home.

Shelby watched as a small girl tugged at her
mother's sleeve and pointed to the ponies. The mother
reached into her pocket and pulled out some coins.
The little girl skipped over to the rope barrier and
handed the money to the man.

Shelby shuddered to think that this was where her
interest in riding had begun. It was at a school fete
four years ago. She'd ridden a pony just like these
ones – small, shaggy and broken – and when the ride
was over she begged her mother to let her go again.
After three rides her mother stood with her while she
patted the ponies for the next hour.

Can I have a pony, Mum?

No, Shel. You can have a goldfish or a budgie.
Would you like that?

Shelby watched the man pull a tiny black Shetland
out of the little yard and lift the girl onto it by her
underarms. He led the pony around the front of the
barrier. The girl waved to her mother. Then they disappeared
from view behind the clown caravan.

Back in the ring the judge was looping prize
ribbons around the horses' necks. Ditto and Echo had
won their classes, while Bandit had come third in the
led Galloway class.

As they headed back, Shelby ran her eyes over
Pete's ponies again. There were two paints that were
tall enough to be Blue, but they were tucked in behind
the others and she couldn't see their faces or markings
from where she was standing. She decided to go and
investigate later.

Erin, Hayley and Mrs Crook had reached her by
this stage. Erin was grinning and giggling. 'I got a
ribbon!' she said, starting to walk back to the float.
'At least I won't go home empty-handed. There's
nothing worse than that, is there?' She tapped Hayley
on the forearm. 'Of course, you wouldn't know what
that's like, but Shelby does.'

'Erin!' admonished Mrs Crook.

'What?' she protested. Shelby could see in her face
that Erin was genuinely mystified.

'What's up next?' asked Hayley.

'Ridden ponies and Galloways,' replied Mrs Crook.
'We'd better go back and get those saddles on, girls.
You can ride Ditto today, Hales. He needs the points.'

'Why don't you get Shelby to ride Echo?' suggested
Erin.

Mrs Crook and Hayley looked at each other and
back at Shelby.

Shelby blushed. 'No, it's OK. It doesn't matter.'

'Could you?' asked Hayley.

'I . . . I don't know. I've never ridden him before.'

'Would you mind having a go?' asked Mrs Crook.
'It seems a shame to bring him all this way.'

Shelby felt a rush of excitement through her belly.
'I could try.'

'Well, Shel, we've got a better chance of him
winning with you on him than if he's tied up to the
float all day. Now, let's get this gear on you.'

Shelby stood still while Mrs Crook dressed her in
the blue jacket and tied back her hair. Hayley's spare
helmet was a bit loose, and flopped down over Shelby's
eyebrows, but she would have to make do.

'Your boots are a mess,' said Mrs Crook. 'Don't
you ever polish them?'

'I do!' said Shelby.

'You do, my eye,' grumbled Mrs Crook. She looked
at her watch. 'Shelby, this is Wanada Park Echo. Now
on you hop.' She gave Shelby a boost. 'You've got
about two minutes to get to know each other.'

Shelby looked down at the tangle of double reins.
'I've never used these before,' she said. Hayley showed
her how to hold them properly.