For Sale Or Swap (3 page)

'Want to give me a hand with this?' he asked,
sliding out from under the bonnet on his little trolley.

'Not really,' Shelby replied.

'Well, I hope Blue's pulling-trained. We might have
to hitch him up to the front of the Spydey.'

'You mean harness-trained, and I don't think
he is, so you'll just have to figure it out for yourself,'
Shelby said.

'Oh, I don't know. He might be good in front
of one of those sulky thingos. You kids could take
him to school when you miss the bus, or Mum could
take him to the supermarket. It's about time he earned
his keep.'

'Oh, hardy, ha, ha,' Shelby said.

'I didn't expect you back so soon,' said her mother
as she folded washing on the dining room table.

'Yeah. I went riding with a couple of pikers,'
she grumbled.

'Didn't you go with Erin?'

Shelby grunted. 'She's under piker-power now.'

'Well, it's nice to have you home, anyway.' Her
mother handed her a pile of clean clothes.

'Chores!'

'I'm only asking you to put your clothes away.
It will take you two minutes.'

Shelby snorted and made her way up the hall,
dragging her feet. She dropped the clothes on the end
of her bed and sat down on the floor flicking through
Erin's magazine. She had folded down the corner of
the page with the
for sale or swap
ad and turned to it,
spreading the magazine flat with the heel of her hand.

It couldn't hurt just to inquire.

The man picked up the phone more quickly than
Shelby anticipated, with a brusque, 'Yep.'

'I'm inquiring about the ad,' said Shelby. She was
nervous and her voice faltered, like when she had to do
a speech at school.

'Yep,' said the man again.

'The one that says
for sale or swap
.'

'Do you want to buy or swap?'

'Swap.'

'What have you got?'

Shelby cleared her throat before she replied. 'A
paint gelding. He's about thirteen hands.'

'How old?' asked the man.

Shelby paused. 'Sixteen.'

'Getting on then. Is he sound?'

'Yes, he's fine.' She bit on her knuckle and, looking
down, saw the white arcs it had made in her flesh.

'Temperament?' asked the man.

'Oh, he's lovely. A real angel. I learned on him.'

'Why are you giving him up then?' asked the man.

Shelby hesitated. 'Well, I'm getting a bit better now
and I'm looking for a horse that I can compete on.
Something that's educated – that I can show.'

She wasn't really going to show. To do that you had
to have a squillion dollars. You needed to have all the
right gear, and a float too, but the ad said 'royal quality'
and she wanted the man to think she was serious.

'Hmm,' said the man. 'I'll come and have a look at
him. How's tomorrow morning – first thing?'

Shelby was surprised that it would be so soon.
'Tomorrow? Yes, I suppose that will be OK.' She gave
him the address for Blue's paddock, then hung up the
phone. It was just an inquiry. Nobody had made any
decisions yet. The man mightn't even like Blue. Still,
she should probably tell her parents.

During her first attempt her mum was in the kitchen
starting dinner. Shelby leaned against the counter. 'I was
talking to Erin yesterday and she said that sometimes
people do let you ride their horses. It's called leasing.'

Her mother opened the fridge door and disappeared
out of Shelby's view.

'She showed me this magazine,' Shelby continued.

'Honey, is this a long story?' her mother asked.

Shelby hesitated. 'Yes.'

'It's just that I need you to run down to the
corner shop and get some milk. Can you tell me about
it after?'

When she came back from the shop her mother was
in a flurry – mashing potatoes, straining peas and
turning sausages on the grill. The kitchen was hot with
steam and noisy from the clattering pots and pans.

'Erin showed me an ad in a horse magazine,'
Shelby said, picking up where she'd left off.

Her mother interrupted. 'Can you call the boys in
for tea? It'll be on the table in a minute.'

She tried again during dinner, but her little
brothers, Connor and Blake, disrupted things.

'In Erin's magazine there was a section on horses
for lease,' said Shelby.

'Use your fork, Blake,' said her father.

'Connor's not using his,' complained her youngest
brother.

'Why don't you both use a fork? Look, you've
got mashed potato all up your arm,' her father said,
plucking at his son's sleeve.

'I was reading about horses for lease,' Shelby
continued. 'Some of them were from out of the state
but there was one –'

'Can I have some more sauce?' said Connor.

His mother reached across the table and passed it
to him. 'Can I have some sauce
please
,' she corrected.

'OK,' Connor said, handing it back to her.

Blake laughed with his mouth open, and a mushy
pea slid down his chin.

'Blake!' warned her father.

'There was one . . .' said Shelby, trying again.

Connor twisted the lid from the sauce bottle and
tipped it upside down. The sauce flooded out onto his
plate. Blake started to laugh again. Connor's face
screwed up and he began to cry. He dropped the bottle
and it hit the table with a thump, rolling across and
leaving a trail of sauce and pink mashed potato over
the tablecloth.

Shelby's mother and father pushed their chairs
back at the same time. 'I'll get it,' said her father,
standing to get the cloth from the sink.

Shelby's mother picked up the sauce bottle. 'Here,
you can scrape most of it to the side,' she said, using
a fork to try to rescue Connor's dinner.

'I'm not eating that!' protested Connor.

'Anyway, there was a horse for sale or swap advertised
in the magazine,' Shelby said, raising her voice
over Connor's crying and Blake's laughing.

Shelby's father wiped up most of the mess from
the table.

'Here, Connor, you can eat the sausage,' said her
mother. 'That hasn't got too much sauce on it.'

'Has too,' he whined.

'When I came home this afternoon I thought I
would inquire about it.'

Just when she thought it was hopeless, it seemed
her mum was listening after all.

'I've already told you that you can't have another
horse,' her mother said. 'You have to think about
selling Blue if you want another one.'

'That's what I'm saying,' replied Shelby. 'The ad
said for sale or
swap
.'

Shelby's mother moved sideways and the back of
her arm knocked the sauce bottle over. It rolled off the
side of the table and smashed on the floor, spreading
red blobs over the tiles.

'Oooh,' said Blake.

'Stay where you are, boys,' said her mother.

'I decided to ring the number in the ad – just to
inquire,' Shelby continued.

Connor slid down from his chair onto the tiles.

'Didn't your mother just tell you to stay in your
chair?' her dad said, lifting Connor by his underarms.
'You'll cut your feet.'

'So I talked to the man about it, and he said
that . . .'

Her mother looked up for a moment. 'Honey, this
isn't the best time.'

Shelby tried to tell them, but something else kept
getting in the way.

Shelby wasn't quite sure what time the man thought
was 'first thing', so she arrived at Blue's paddock at
around six, which was her 'first thing'. Before she left
the house she took a whole loaf of bread, eating it
fresh and giving the leftovers to Blue.

While she was waiting she decided to teach Blue
some tricks. She would teach him to count by getting
him to paw at the ground when she gave a signal. At
first he looked at her blankly – not understanding why
she wasn't just giving him a treat like she normally did
– and then he got bored and grumpy. She gave up and
sat on the ground, where she could watch the street,
passing Blue slices of bread over her shoulder.

The man arrived in a big white horse truck at half
past six. He hopped down from the cab, looking left
and right as he strode over to where she was standing.
He was a thickset man with dark hair, and bushy
eyebrows set wide apart. He grinned at her, and
straight away she knew he wasn't going to be one of
those adults who would talk to her as though she was
a little kid.

'This is your little fellow, is it?' he asked.

Shelby nodded.

'Hello there,' he said, scratching Blue behind the
ears. 'Where are your mum and dad?'

'They're at home, round the corner,' she explained,
pointing.

'Well, I'd like to see you on him, if you don't
mind.'

Shelby vaulted onto Blue's back. She grabbed a
handful of mane and drummed his sides with her
heels. Blue cantered to the end of the paddock and
back again, stopping square in front of the man.

The man blinked. 'Fair enough,' he said. He bent
down to lift up Blue's lip, peering into his mouth.
'How old did you say?'

'Sixteen,' said Shelby. 'I think.'

'Hmm.'

Shelby couldn't tell whether his 'hmm' was good
or bad. The man stood up straight and wiped his hand
on his jeans. 'Do you want to have a look at this little
pony then?' he asked.

'You mean you brought it here? Today?'

The man nodded. 'She's on the truck. Shall I get
her out for you? You can have a ride if you like. You
might need some gear though, she's not as quiet as
your little fellow.'

Shelby went to her tin shed in the corner of the
paddock to get her saddle and bridle while the man
unloaded the pony from the truck. As she hauled the
saddle over her arm she was embarrassed about
the state it was in. It wasn't exactly 'royal quality'
equipment.

Back outside the shed she stopped and stared. The
pony that the man was holding was perfect. She was
slighter than Blue, with a small neat head and large
doe eyes. Shelby's gaze followed the curve of her neck
and across her back to a rounded rump. Her legs were
delicate and straight. She looked like something out of
one of Erin's magazines.

As Shelby drew closer she frowned. The pony was
an odd colour. She was brown all over – no facial
markings or socks, but she did have striking white
eyelashes and a fawn nose.

'Is she very old?' she asked.

The man shook his head. 'Nine. That's not
too old.'

'Her . . .' Shelby didn't want to sound rude. 'Her
nose is a funny colour, and her eyelashes.'

'She's had her face in a bucket of bran all the way
up here,' he explained, giving her nose a stroke. Some
of the powdery bran came off in his hand. 'It's just a bit
of dust, that's all. Do you want to hop on?'

The man helped Shelby saddle the pony, adjusting
the straps of the bridle so that they fitted. Remembering
what Hayley had said about wanting her horse to
go to a show home, she said, 'This is just some old
gear I've got. All my good stuff is at home.'

'Is that so?' murmured the man. He grabbed
Shelby by the calf, hoisting her onto the pony's back.

Shelby walked her around in a large circle. The
little pony arched her neck over, the way the fancy
horses did at Pony Club. Shelby smiled, squeezing
with her calves, and the pony moved into a trot,
bending her body around Shelby's leg.

'Let's see what you've got,' whispered Shelby,
squeezing a little harder.

The mare tossed her head and lifted her back legs
in the air in a mighty kick. Shelby was thrown
forward, but managed to keep her seat.

The man cupped his hands around his mouth. 'You
might want to give her a minute before you get into it.
She's been cooped up in that truck all morning with a
belly full of breakfast.'

Shelby slowed to a walk and then asked the pony to
halt. She stopped, chewing at the bit.

'What do you think?' asked the man.

'She looks wonderful. I haven't really had a chance
to see what she can do yet.' Shelby patted the pony on
the shoulder. 'What's her name?'

'Maxshine Celtic Copper,' said the man. 'But I've
been calling her Brat.'

A three-barrelled name.
Ever since she first started
learning about horses she had dreamed of having one
with a three-barrelled name.

'Does she have papers?' she asked. She'd always
wanted to have a horse with papers. She had no idea
what was on the papers, but it sounded important.

'Yep,' said the man. 'Do you like her?'

Shelby didn't know how anyone could
not
like her.
'She's gorgeous. How can you give her up?'
The man stroked the pony gently on the neck. 'I'm
looking for a beginner's horse. I've got to tell you that
Brat can be a bit of a handful at times, which is fine if
you're capable.' He peered at Shelby from beneath his
bushy eyebrows. 'Do you think you're capable?'

Shelby nodded. 'I can try.'

'So do we have a deal?' said the man.

She tilted her head to the side. She hadn't talked it
through with her parents yet.

'You mean, right now?' she asked.

The man nodded. 'No time like the present.'

'I think I should talk to my mum about it first,'
she said.

The man bit his lip and frowned. 'I tell you what.
We'll have a trial. You keep Brat for two weeks and if
you're not happy with her, ring me and we'll swap
back. What do you say?'

'And you'll take Blue?'

The man nodded. 'If you're not satisfied with her,
you can call me. Does that sound fair?'

Shelby didn't like the idea of just sending
Blue off without seeing where he was going. 'Can I
visit him?'

'Of course,' said the man, smiling. 'You've got my
number. Give me a tinkle and we'll arrange it.'

'Can I come over tomorrow?'

'No problem,' said the man.

That sounded fair. Besides, he'd come all this way
with the truck, and Brat looked to be in good shape.
If he were a bad owner then she would look
unhealthy. Still, Shelby wasn't sure.

The man looked at his watch. 'I've actually got
someone else who wants to look at her this morning. I
can take her over to them, and when you make up
your mind, you can phone me. I have to say, though, if
you want her, you'd better be quick. I've had a lot
of calls.'

Shelby knew that if somebody else saw her, they'd
want her. At least if she took the trial she'd stop Brat
going to somebody else while she decided.

'OK,' said Shelby. 'We can have a trial.'

'Good,' said the man. 'Do you want to say goodbye
to your little fellow?'

Shelby threw her arms around Blue's neck. 'I love
you very much,' she whispered into his ear. 'I'll come
and visit tomorrow. I promise.'

Blue rubbed his face against Shelby's side and all
of a sudden she felt anxious. It was all happening
so quickly. She hadn't really had time to think it
through. Then again, she could visit him whenever
she wanted. The man had said so. In the meantime she
would need to settle Brat in.

'You can put him up on the truck for me,' said
the man.

Shelby took Blue's lead and walked him to the
bottom of the ramp.

Blue had always found a float to be a dark and
scary place. It was like walking into a small black
hole, and for horses, which survive by flight in wide
open spaces, walking into a black hole was a completely
unnatural thing to do. Blue sniffed at Shelby
suspiciously.

'It's OK, little man,' she said, stroking his nose.

Blue put one foot in front of the other all the way
up to the barrier at the top of the truck. He stood still
while Shelby tied him to the U-bolt in the wall. She
gave him another hug and kissed him on the end of his
nose. 'You're a good boy, Blue.'

She hopped out of the truck and moved out of the
way while the man lifted the tailgate up and, just
when he did, Shelby saw Blue's anxious face as he
strained against his lead, his blue eyes wide, trying to
catch one more glimpse of his mistress. The door
slammed shut with a hollow clang.