For Sale Or Swap (15 page)

'Well, he was here before,' Monica said.

Shelby put her hands over her face.

'Don't panic. The float's still here, so that means
that Blue's here somewhere. We've just got to find
him,' Erin said.

Shelby nodded, trying hard to stop herself from
crying again.

'Let's try the exercise arena,' Monica suggested.
They moved off again, all four of them scanning the
jumble of floats, trucks and horses around them.

Shelby's heart was hammering in her chest. Blue
was here, somewhere. She couldn't explain it, but she
could
feel
it. As they walked past a tall maroon ute,
Shelby caught sight of a paint hide and her heart leapt
into her throat, but as she took another step she could
see it was a much taller horse. They walked around
the last parked truck and the exercise arena was
directly in front of them.

There were so many horses of all shapes and sizes
that they almost blended into each other. Some were
going over jumps. Some were standing together in
loose circles, with their riders by their sides chatting,
while others were practising workouts, or warming up
for the sporting events.

Erin grabbed her shoulder and let out a little
squeak. She waggled her finger, and Shelby whipped
around, trying to focus on where Erin's finger was
pointing. Erin jumped up and down on the spot.

'It's him, Shel, it's really him!'

Shelby frowned and shaded her eyes with her
hand. There were so many horses, all she could see
was a mishmash of rumps and legs and faces and
then. . .

There was Blue standing patiently near the fence at
the very edge of the exercise arena. He had his neck
flat, horizontal, and his eyes closed – his donkey
dozing pose. He stamped his leg to shake off a fly.

There was a little girl, maybe five or six years old,
standing in front of him and clutching onto his reins.
She reached towards him and he opened his eyes,
stretched his head down towards the little hand, and
nibbled on her fingers.

Shelby walked across the arena. A huge warmblood
thundered in front of her, barely missing her.

'Watch it!' said the rider.

She was ten metres away. 'Blue,' she called out in a
singsong voice.

Blue's head shot up and whipped around. His blue
eyes were wide. He took two steps around to the side,
facing Shelby. The little girl wasn't expecting it and
the reins ripped out of her hands. She scrabbled for
them but missed.

Blue licked his lips and walked towards Shelby,
dragging his reins along the ground. The little girl
made another grab at the reins, and this time she
caught them. She shook at them hard, making Blue's
bit rattle. He stopped, regarded the little girl for a
moment, and then turned around again and whickered
to Shelby in his deep voice.

Shelby ran towards him and threw her arms
around his neck.

'Oh, Blue,' she said into his mane. 'You're safe.'

Blue nosed into her pockets looking for something
to eat. She took a deep breath, smelling his mane, and
then she stood back again. The other three girls
crowded around him, patting his neck and face and
crooning to him.

The little girl looked at them with wide eyes, and
tugged at Blue's reins, trying to drag him away, but Blue
wasn't budging. Tears started to spill over her cheeks.

'What's going on here?' There was a tall man in a
check shirt and moleskins standing behind the little
girl. He was frowning and there were two rosy circles
on his cheeks.

'This is her horse,' started Erin, pointing to Shelby.
'He was stolen.'

'Shut up, Erin,' said Shelby.

'Stolen?' said the man.

'Daddy?' asked the girl, looking up at him.

'It's OK, sweetie. Daddy's here.' He reached
forward and took the reins, forcing Blue to move backwards,
away from Shelby and the other girls. 'I think
not. This is our horse. We bought him fair and square.
We've got receipts. We've got all the paperwork.'

'Where did you buy him?' asked Shelby.

'Yeah, and when?' added Erin.

'That's not your business,' said the man. He leaned
down and lifted the little girl up onto his hip.
He tugged at Blue's reins again and they began to
move away.

'Daddy, who are they talking about?' said the
little girl.

'Excuse me, sir,' said Shelby, walking to catch up
with him. 'I'm sure we can talk this through. I really
do think this is the horse that I used to own. Can't
you see that he knows me?'

The man looked over his shoulder. 'Prove it.' He
kept walking. He had reached the gate to the exercise
arena by now.

'She
can
prove it. They went to the Gully Pony
Club. We have photos. This is Shelby's horse. You can't
just walk away. He's stolen,' Erin shouted after him.

'So call the police,' the man said.

'We will!' said Kim.

'Good for you,' said the man.

The four girls followed the man and his daughter
all the way back to the float.

The man put the girl down and started to take
Blue's saddle and bridle off. 'Get in the car, sweetie,'
he instructed. The little girl turned and climbed into
the car, locking the door behind her.

Shelby turned to Monica. 'He's going to leave. We
can't let him. Go and get Mrs Crook. Maybe he'll
listen to an adult.'

Monica nodded and ran back between the floats.

The man led Blue around to the back of the float
and let down the gate.

'Please, sir,' said Shelby. 'Can't we at least talk
about it?'

'What's to talk about?' said the man. 'You're
accusing me of stealing your horse. I don't have to
listen to that.'

'No,' protested Shelby. 'I know you didn't steal
him. I saw the man who stole him. You must have
bought Blue from him.'

'His name is Patches.' The man pulled Blue onto
the float. Erin jumped up onto the gate and put her
arms across the front, blocking his path. Blue, who
had never liked floats, backed up startled, and the
man tugged sharply on his lead, holding him still. Blue
looked warily at Shelby, his nostrils flaring.

'Get off my property,' warned the man.

'Make me!' said Erin.

'Don't tempt me, young lady,' the man growled.

'Hop down, Erin,' said Shelby, reaching towards
Erin's arm.

'But he's getting away with it. We can't let him!'

'Yeah, I know, but this isn't the right way to do it.
You're making Blue upset. Mrs Crook will be here
soon. We can always take his number plate and call
the police when we get home.'

'You do that,' said the man. He led Blue on board
the float, and closed the tailgate behind him.

Shelby saw those frightened, trusting eyes again,
and it made her wince.

She looked around and saw Mrs Crook running
her roly-poly run up the road behind them.

'Oy!' Mrs Crook shouted. 'Stop!'

The man shook his head and walked around to the
front of his car. Shelby looked at the number plate,
memorising it. 'Kim, try to remember the letters,' she
said. 'Erin, you remember the numbers, OK?' The two
girls nodded.

The station wagon rumbled into life. The float
creaked as it began to back out into the road.

'Oy!' shouted Mrs Crook, her face starting to go
red. She ran around to the driver's side door and
hammered on the window. 'OY! I want to talk to you!'

The man ignored her, looking over his shoulder to
reverse the float onto the gravel driveway. Shelby
could see the little girl sitting in the passenger seat.
She looked frightened and Shelby felt sorry for her. It
wasn't her fault that all this was happening.

'Stop this car at once!' shouted Mrs Crook, throwing
herself onto the bonnet. 'Erin, get around the back
of the float! You too, Shelby. He'll have to run us over
if he wants to leave.'

She looked around and saw a crowd of spectators
gathering around them. Erin ran around to the back
of the float and jumped up onto the tailgate. Shelby
could hear the rumble of Blue's hooves on the metal
floor. He was frightened.

This is not the way to do it. This is not good
for anybody.

Shelby could see a Steward riding up on his tall
lanky grey horse. 'What's going on here?'

'This man is trying to get away with a stolen
horse!' shrieked Erin.

The man shunted the float back another few metres
and Erin screamed. Again, Shelby heard the drumming
of Blue's hooves. She saw his nose pressed against the
window of the black hole she knew he hated so much.
His nostrils flared, taking air in. He was distressed.

'Get down, Erin,' she said. 'Please, Mrs Crook. We
have his number plate. We can find him again. Please
just let him go.'

'Get off the car, madam,' the Steward said.

Mrs Crook slid off the bonnet. 'That man's bought
a stolen horse. He belongs to this girl. She's been
searching for weeks now. You can't let him get away.'

Erin stepped off the back of the float. Shelby
watched as the man spun the steering wheel around and
stepped on the accelerator. The float rumbled off down
the road.

'You've got to stop him!' Erin implored the
Steward.

He shook his head. 'That's a matter for the police,'
he said.

Shelby sat on the lounge between her mother and
Erin. Mrs Crook was in the chair and Hayley propped
herself on its arm, with one leg crossed over the other.
Shelby's father stood at the window, holding the
drapes back so that he could see when the police
arrived.

'I couldn't believe he just drove off with Blue in the
back – just like that. He wouldn't even talk about it,
or anything,' Mrs Crook finished. She had been giving
her opinion of the matter. 'And of course the Steward
did nothing. Next to useless, he was, but you step one
foot out of line in the ring and he's bellowing like a
branded steer. That's the last time I listen to one of
them. I remember one time at the Royal the Steward
kept Hayley and few of the other girls back after the
Grand Parade and gave them a dressing down, just
because they were talking!'

'It was because I threw some chewing gum over to
Kimmy, who was in the next circle, and she broke out
of formation to catch it,' corrected Hayley.

'Yes, well, it's hardly a capital offence, is it?' Mrs
Crook added.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Mrs Crook had driven the girls back to the stables,
settled the horses, and then brought Shelby home.
Shelby's parents had called the police to report the man,
and the police had promised to drive to the house as
soon as they had any news. It had been several hours
now. Shelby could see that her mother was getting
anxious because it was close to dinnertime. The boys
were hungry, but she didn't have enough to extend an
invitation to the three extra guests.

'Can I make anyone some coffee?' asked Shelby's
mother, leaning forward.

'They're here,' said Shelby's dad, dropping the
drape and heading to the front door.

Shelby was relieved to see that it was the same
constable who came the first time, and not Sergeant
Everard. He took off his hat when he walked in the
door, and shook Shelby's father's hand. Shelby's
mother brought some chairs in from the dining room
so that everyone could sit down.

Mrs Crook didn't waste any time.

'So did you check him out?'

'Yes, I've just been to see Mr Olsen.' The policeman
shook his head. 'This is such a terrible business,'
he said.

'So?' asked Mrs Crook.

'Mr Olsen bought the horse through a broker. He
has all the documentation. There was a veterinary
inspection and a valid receipt. He bought the horse
fair and square.'

'But it's our horse!' protested Shelby's father.

'Yes, but can you prove it? Does he have a brand?
Do you have registration papers? A receipt from your
original purchase? Even photographs?'

Shelby stood up. She ran to her room and got the
handful of photographs of Blue from her bedside table.

The policeman looked through them and shook his
head. 'These could have been taken anywhere. There's
not even a date on them. There is no evidence that you
ever owned this horse. It's your word against Mr
Olsen's and he has all the proof.'

'This is outrageous!' said Mrs Crook. 'What about
our
word? There has to be thirty people at the Pony
Club who will tell you that the horse was Shelby's.'

'Yes, but none of you can testify that Shelby didn't
sell the horse. We know that she did enter into a transaction
– she said so herself.' The policeman turned his
hat over and over in his hands. 'Was he insured? You
might be able to recoup your losses that way.'

'But will I get Blue back?' Shelby asked.

'It doesn't matter,' muttered Shelby's mother. 'He
wasn't insured anyway.'

Mrs Crook leaned forward and put her hand on
Shelby's mother's knee. 'You need a good lawyer. We
have some friends who might be able to help. When I
get home I'll give them a call.'

Constable Bidgood shook his head. 'I'm sorry, but
there's no case here. It's just bad luck. These things
happen. At least you will know for next time.'

He stood up to leave and Mrs Crook followed
close behind him.

'This is not the end of it,' she told Shelby at the
door. 'Something will be done, don't you worry.'

'Thanks, Mrs C. And thanks for a great day. Some
parts of it were really fun.' Shelby ran to catch up
with Constable Bidgood before he drove away.

'Can you please just tell me one thing?' she asked.

The policeman stopped. 'What's that?'

'The place where the Olsens keep him – was
it nice?'

The policeman put his hat on his head. 'Yes, it was
all right.'

'I mean . . . did he have room to move around?
Was there grass? Can you tell me what it looked like?'

The constable leaned his back against the side of
the patrol car, and tilted his head to the side. 'Well,
there was a paddock and it would have been around
fifty metres by, say, twenty-five. There was plenty of
grass in it – about up to my ankle, except it was bare
under a few trees here and there. The fences had
wooden poles into the ground, and wooden poles
along the top, and under that was a wire.'

'Post and rail,' said Shelby, smiling.

'Yes. And in the corner there was a shed – quite
tall, around the size of a single car garage. It was
enclosed on three sides, but the front was open.'

'What about water?' asked Shelby.

'I'm pretty sure there was an old bath tub half in
and half out of the shed.'

'And what about the people? What about the little
girl?' Shelby asked.

Constable Bidgood scratched the back of his head.
'She's a sweet little thing – polite, quiet, but with a
lovely big smile. Her parents love her to pieces.'

Shelby bit her lip.

'Let me tell you something,' said the constable.
'I don't know anything about horses, but I know
cats. The Olsens had two of them. They were two
sleek, shiny, healthy-looking critters. The pair of them
strutted around like they owned the place. Maybe the
Olsens don't know anything about horses either, but if
they look after Patches the way they look after their
other animals, he'll do all right.'

Shelby nodded and took a step backwards. He was
the Olsens' pony now and his name was Patches. She
didn't trust herself to speak, but she did manage a
whisper. 'Thank you.'