Hopes (5 page)

“Try some circles now,” encouraged Ellie. “But leg yield out so they gradually get bigger rather than just going around and around.”

The two of them were utterly focused on the horse, and by the time they had finished, Gabriel was moving beautifully. Luke brought him to a halt, patting him. “That was so much better. Thanks.” He dismounted. “I don’t know how you worked out what was wrong but it’s made a massive difference. I can’t believe it was as simple as him being bored.”

Ellie smiled. “And not liking your cell phone!”

“Maybe a change in ring tone?” Luke said, his eyes teasing. “I could try out different ones and see if there’s one he likes—”

“No cell phone!” Ellie laughed. However much she disliked his behavior to Sasha, it was difficult to be angry with Luke for long.

They led Gabriel out of the school and down to the courtyard, but just as they reached it, Sasha came marching out of the tackroom. “What’s this?” she demanded, thrusting Luke’s cell phone angrily at him. “You’re planning on meeting Anna again, tomorrow night? So were you going to tell me?”

Luke looked outraged. “You’ve been reading my texts!”

“Yeah. And lucky I did. It’s over, Luke. Totally over. You’re dumped!” Sasha threw the phone down on the ground and stormed off.

For a moment, there was silence.

“Here, I’ll take Gabriel. You go after her,” Ellie said.

“Go after her? No way.” Luke chucked the reins at Ellie and went to pick up his phone, checking it for damage.

“Luke, she’s upset and so she should be! You’ve been arranging to meet Anna behind her back!”

Luke shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It was fun while it lasted but it’s been two months now.” He took Gabriel from Ellie and led him to his stable.

Ellie went after him. “And that’s a long time, is it?”

“For me!” he called over his shoulder.

Exasperation surged up inside her. She marched to the stable door. Luke was untacking Gabriel, patting him. As Ellie looked at him, caring for the horse, she felt herself falter, her anger fading a notch.

Luke saw her face. “Ellie,” he half pleaded. “Don’t be mad with me. It’s not as if Sasha and I were engaged. I’m not the type to settle down with one girl. I’ve never pretended otherwise.”

Ellie paused. “Don’t you ever want to have a serious girlfriend?”

“I don’t do serious.” Luke shrugged again. “If someone wants serious, they should go out with someone else.”

His gaze flicked to the farmhouse, to Joe’s bedroom window. “So what about you? I thought for a while…you and Joe?”

“No!” Ellie said quickly. “No, no! Not me and Joe. We’re just friends.”

Luke didn’t speak for a few moments, taking off the brushing boots that Gabriel wore to protect his legs when he was being worked. “Has Len said anything about it?”

“No.” Ellie stared at him. “Why?”

“It’s just I have a feeling he thinks there might be something going on.”

“Going on!” Ellie frowned. “But that’s stupid! That’s—”

Luke held up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you’d better know.”

“What’s he said?” Ellie demanded.

“A few things in the last day or so, about watching you two carefully. Yesterday, he asked me if I thought there was anything between you.”

“Oh, great,” Ellie groaned, pushing a hand through her long hair.

“If there’s nothing happening, then you haven’t got a problem,” Luke pointed out, heaving the saddle off Gabriel’s back and plonking it in her arms. “Right, all done. Thanks for helping.”

“No problem. And, Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the warning about Uncle Len.”

“Any time.”

Ellie took the saddle to the tackroom, her thoughts going over what Luke had just said.

She decided to forget it; if her uncle wanted to be suspicious that was his problem. There were too many other things for her to think about—like Spirit not eating—without worrying about her uncle too.
He’ll forget about it soon
, she thought.

BY THE TIME ELLIE
had ridden Gem and Picasso, Joe had come out of the house. She met him in the pony barn, tacking Wisp up. “Luke’s just told me about you helping him with Gabriel. How did you work out what was wrong with him?”

“I just guessed.”

“But how?” Joe insisted. “You’re amazing. You just do these things—you got Picasso to load when no one else could, you worked out Troy had hurt his back, realized Lucifer needed to be ridden really gently, and now you’ve sorted Gabriel out too. How
do
you work these things out?”

Ellie remembered her decision to tell him the truth. Maybe now was the right time. “Well,” she said carefully, watching his reaction. “It is a bit weird, but I talk to them and they talk back. I can hear them in my head.”

Joe grinned. “Yeah, right.”

“No, it happens.”

“Come on, Els. Tell me the truth! How do you work it out?”

Ellie gave up. She didn’t blame Joe for not believing it; if she hadn’t experienced it herself she’d have found it hard to accept. She sighed, falling back on her old story. “It’s like I told you before—I’m just good at guessing.”

“So it’s all about intuition?”

“Yeah.”

Joe nodded. Intuition was something he could understand. “Well, I think it’s really cool. Could you help me, do you think? Wisp’s been coming off the track when I’m riding him. Will you come and watch him? Maybe you can work out why he’s doing it.”

“It doesn’t quite work like that,” Ellie answered. “But I’ll come and watch.” She wondered whether to tell him what Luke had said about Len but decided not to. She and Joe hadn’t talked like that since they’d decided nothing would happen between them, and she didn’t want to start an awkward conversation.

Luke was working Lucifer in the main ménage now, so Ellie and Joe took Wisp to the small schooling ring by the car park.

Wisp was a beautiful 14.3 hands-high dun pony, with a coat the color of pale sand and a jet-black mane and tail. Joe competed him in the 15 hands-high show hunter pony classes. It was only Wisp’s second season of showing. He was very handsome but not an easy ride, being stubborn and sometimes lazy, but Joe always stayed patient and Wisp usually worked well for him. Now Joe worked him on a loose rein, encouraging his head to come down as he moved forward, his back and neck rounding softly. Gradually, Joe shortened Wisp’s reins, so he went into more of an outline, all the time moving him forwards, encouraging him to stay relaxed and obedient.

Ellie leant against the gate. She loved watching Joe ride. He was so quiet in the saddle, so sensitive to how the horse was moving. Luke was a brilliant rider too, but a totally different type, naturally stronger and more forceful, he was particularly good with the bolder, stronger horses on the yard.

“Do you see what he’s doing?” Joe called to Ellie as he rode Wisp down one of the long sides of the school and Wisp drifted in off the track instead of trotting perfectly straight. “I can stop him if I use my inside leg really hard, but I have to do that every single time.” He drew the dun pony to a halt. “I’m not sure why he’s doing it. Any ideas?”

But Ellie couldn’t help. She knew if she’d been alone with Wisp and able to talk to him, she could ask him why he was coming off the track, but she couldn’t answer Joe’s question there and then. “Sorry. I haven’t a clue.”

“He doesn’t feel tense or upset,” mused Joe. “He’s not spooking at anything or scared of something by the fence. It’s almost as if he simply doesn’t feel like going on the track so he’s not—”

He broke off as his dad drove into the car park.

“Here’s Dad and Ray.”

The car stopped and the two men got out. Ray was a tall slim man in his fifties, with deeply tanned skin, wearing jeans and a Stetson hat over his gray hair. He lifted his hand in greeting. “Hey there, Joe!”

“Hi!” Joe called back.

Ray walked over with Len. As he came closer, Ellie saw that his eyes were sky-blue and friendly. He smiled at her. “You’re Len’s niece, right?” His voice was a strange mix—a hint of Derbyshire but with a Canadian twang, his words lifting up slightly at the end of each sentence. “I’m Ray Jones. Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand.

“I’m Ellie. Hi.”

“That sure is a nice-looking pony,” Ray commented, giving Wisp an appreciative look.

“That’s Wisp,” said Len, joining them. “Qualified for HOYS last year in his first season but behaved like a bugger in the ring. Nice to look at but not easy. We’ll get there with him, though. He just needs time to grow up.” He glanced at Joe. “Show Ray what he can do then.”

Joe rode off, moving Wisp into a trot and then a canter. He circled in a figure of eight, then around the school, lengthening the pony’s stride.

Ray watched. “Moves like a dream, but he’s coming off the track a bit,” he commented.

Len nodded. “Get that inside leg on properly, Joe.”

Joe trotted around again and this time used his inside leg even harder against the pony’s side to keep him on the track. Wisp’s ears immediately went back and his head came up in complaint.

“Damn hell!” Len muttered.

“I’ve got an idea.” Ray glanced at Len. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” said Len, to Ellie’s surprise. He usually hated anyone interfering with his horses.

Letting himself into the ring, Ray went up to the pony and patted him. He studied him for a few moments and then spoke to Joe. “Is he stiff? Do you think he could be hurting anywhere?”

“No, I don’t have that feeling at all. Apart from that one spot on the track, he’s working really well.”

“In that case, it’s my guess he’s just deciding he’ll do what he wants, not what you want him to do. I think you can learn a lot from a horse’s face and his tells me he’s a stubborn guy. You see the way his face dishes in here.” Ray ran his hand down Wisp’s nose. “And comes out in a slight bump between the eyes, then out again here in a moose nose. I’ve often found that horses with faces like this have a difficult nature; I’d say Wisp likes to call the shots. His long mouth and a long, narrow flat chin also suggest to me he’s a horse who likes doing what he wants—and not what the rider wants.”

“You’ve just described him perfectly!” said Joe, glancing at Ellie. It was Wisp down to a tee.

“I’ve worked with quite a few horses like this,” said Ray, stepping back and looking Wisp all over. “Sure, you can bully them into doing what you want, but if you do that you’ll never be able to trust them because sure as hell they’ll get back at you one day—usually when you’re in the ring for the big performance. What you need to do is persuade them to work with you.”

“How do you do that?” Ellie was intrigued.

Ray’s blue eyes met hers. “By giving them a choice—not forcing them, make it easy for them to do what you want, hard but not impossible for them to do what they want. There’s almost no horse so stubborn he’ll choose to work twice as hard just to have his own way.”

“I know that kind of stuff!” Joe burst out. “I’ve been reading about it in books.”

Len snorted. “He fancies himself as some kind of horse-whisperer. Been doing that joining-up nonsense.”

Ray shook his head. “It’s not nonsense, Len. You’re behind the times. I use it to start all my youngsters off.” He turned to Joe. “Good on you, son,” he said approvingly.

Ellie shot a look at her uncle; for once he looked as if he didn’t know quite what to say.

“So, you’ve been reading about this, apply what you know to the situation,” Ray focused on Joe. “You want this pony to go along the track, he wants to come off. What are you going to do about it?”

Joe thought for a second. “Let him come off the track?” he said at last. “But make it harder work for him if he does?”

Ray smiled. “Got it in one. Every time he tries to come off, let him do that but circle him around, a nice tight ten-meter circle, and don’t let him stop until he’s been around five times, then he can come back on the track. The second he steps off, you let him, but if he’s coming off he’s gonna circle. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Joe eagerly. He clicked his tongue and rode off.

Ray walked back to the gate and smiled at Len. “There are more ways to get horses to do what you want than just by forcing them,” he said. “I’ve been learning that a lot these last few years.”

Len shook his head. “Maybe with the eventers you’re dealing with now. But show horses—they need to be a hundred percent obedient, do what they’re told when they’re told.”

“Get a partnership with a horse, so it feels it’s working with you not for you, and it doesn’t matter what area you’re competing in—jumping, eventing, showing. You’ll see the difference,” Ray said, adjusting his hat.

Ellie was fascinated to watch the relationship between the two men. She’d never seen her uncle with someone he clearly respected before.

Joe was turning Wisp down the long side of the school. This time, as the pony came off the track, instead of clamping his inside leg against the pony’s side, Joe let him come off the track but rode him into a small fast circle as Ray had suggested. He went around five times and then came back to the track. Wisp looked decidedly surprised. He went on a few more paces and then tried creeping in again. Joe did exactly as he had done before. It took three times around the ring, but suddenly Wisp seemed to understand the rules—if he trotted on the track, he could go straight and it was nice and easy for him; if he tried to come off, Joe would make him circle, which was difficult and uncomfortable. On the fourth time around, Wisp stayed beautifully on the track all the time, his neck arched, his strides loose and free.

“And bring him to a stop!” Ray said as Joe patted the pony. “You did it!”

“It worked!” Joe’s face was glowing.

“You did great. Stayed calm and patient. That’s the key. Don’t get angry or het up—just give a horse the choice and wait for it to realize it’s better to do what
you
want.”

Joe looked delighted.

“Joe’s really patient,” Ellie couldn’t resist saying, pleased that at last someone was telling him how good he was. “He’s brilliant with the young horses.”

Ray looked at Joe. “I’d give you a job any day, son. Stick with the natural horsemanship and don’t let your dad talk you out of it. It works.” He turned to Len. “You’ll see that in the end.”