Secret Pony Society (2 page)

I dismounted outside Drummer's stable, noticing that the stalls on either side of Drum's were empty. Drum's neighbors, Moth and Bambi, were either out in the field or being ridden—and I didn't want to think about their owners riding out together. That was why I'd gone riding in the first place.

“It's quiet around here,” mused Drummer.

“Mmmm,” I agreed, looking around. Dee Dee's dappled gray mare Dolly was dozing in her stable opposite, her head—covered in a stretchy hood to keep her coat flat—nodding gently over the half door, but the rest of the place was deserted. It only needed some blown tumbleweed to complete the ghost town look. I was desperate to tell someone my news. Where was everyone?

Then Bean answered my prayer by walking out of the tack room accompanied by Mrs. Collins's laid-back brindle greyhound, Squish. (Her name's Charlotte Beanie, but everyone calls her Bean.)

“Oh, you're back. Good,” she said vacantly. “What's the more common name for the Asiatic wild horse?”

“Przewalski's horse,” I replied, my arms full of Drum's tack. I couldn't imagine why Bean wanted to know, but you never know what wavelength Bean is on half the time. Planet Bean is way out there, nowhere near Earth.

“How do you know that?” asked Bean, frowning.

“Some wildlife program. He discovered them. Actually, I think he was a colonel or a major or something. At least,” I added, after thinking about it, “he rediscovered them. I mean, they were always there. But now they're not. They're only in zoos. They're extinct in the wild. But never mind that, you'll never guess what…”

“How do you spell it?”

“What?”

“No, not
what
, I know how to spell
what
,” said Bean, sighing. “Prz-what-sit.”

“Er, haven't a clue,” I said, thoroughly confused. “You'll have to look it up, but I have to tell you about…”

“I can't look it up if I can't spell it, can I?” reasoned Bean.

Having heaved Drummer's saddle onto the rack, I turned and gave Bean a look—wasted, of course. Her long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, and she was wearing her pale blue sweatshirt inside out. My mom would never let me leave the house like that. And, that reminds me, about my mom…

“You don't look your usual cheery self, Miss Pony Whisperer.” Bean grinned, scratching behind Squish's ear. Squish thumped his tail against her legs.

“You'll never guess what I've just seen on the Sloping Field,” I said.

“Er…Oh, I know, that TV actor who's just moved into that big house on the edge of the park. What's his name?” said Bean, closing her eyes in her effort to remember.

I didn't have time for this.

“No, something really awful…” I interrupted.

“Dead body?” offered Bean.

I couldn't begin to guess how her mind worked. “No, shut up and listen—travelers!”

That got her attention. Bean gulped. “Oh. Oh, that's not good. James will go ballistic.”

“I know. Where is he?”

“Riding with you-know-who.”

I'd guessed as much.

“Well, I'll have to tell him when he gets back,” I said. “He'll want to know.”

So we waited. I put down Drummer's bed. He was out in the field during the day and stabled at night, now that the nights were getting colder, and I was planning on getting him clipped for the winter. Tiffany already had a trace high—a strip taken off all around the lower half of her neck and body. Bean said that her palomino mare would buck her off if she didn't leave the hair on her back alone. I had that trouble with Drum. There was nothing Drum liked better on a frosty morning than to liven up proceedings with a bucking session. He thinks it's funny. I had decided a blanket clip might at least give me a fighting chance of staying on.

Just as the light was beginning to fade, with swirls of low-lying mist starting to drift across the fields Halloween style, and the birds were winding up their songs before turning in for the night, I heard two sets of hooves clip-clopping along the drive. James and Catriona were back. In the chilled air, I could see James's mare Moth's breath puffing out of her nostrils as she rattled along in her usual hurried fashion, her neck high, her hooves pounding the ground in a permanent hurry.

Grudgingly, I had to admit that the ponies made a good pair—James's bright chestnut with her white face and long white legs blending with Bambi's chestnut and white skewbald coat. Bambi was clipped, too, so her clipped chestnut parts were a lighter brown than the unclipped parts, giving her a three-tone—instead of the usual two-tone—effect. For some reason I can't fathom, Drummer thinks Bambi's just gorgeous. Bambi, on the other hand, always ignores Drum completely—when she's not giving him the evil eye, that is. Flashing me a grin, James pulled up outside Moth's stable, but Cat made a point of ignoring me, as usual. As Cat got busy untacking Bambi, I leaned over Moth's half door and beckoned to James.

“What's the matter?” he said, coming over. “You look serious.”

“She is,” interrupted Bean, joining me and blocking all daylight from the stable. James flicked on the light, and Moth blinked dramatically as the electric bulb instantly transformed the interior from gloom to dazzling brightness, spotlighting the cobwebs and making the spiders scuttle back into the shadows.

“The travelers are back,” I hissed. “Masses of them, camped at the Sloping Field.” Travelers are this nomadic group of people who camp in open fields.

James jerked his head toward me, his blond, slightly-too-long hair flicking over his eyes. “Are you sure?” Instinctively, he put a comforting arm over Moth's neck. “Don't worry, Moth,” he murmured. “You're safe now. No one's ever going to hurt you again.”

“You don't think they'll try to get her back, do you?” asked Bean.

“Of course not, she's mine,” replied James earnestly. “Anyway,
they
weren't horrible to Moth, it was those local boys who hung out at the abandoned factory who rode and beat her. All because she was tethered and unable to get away.”

James and Cat's brother had caught them. It had happened before I'd moved to the area, but I had heard how they had given the boys concerned a taste of their own medicine before James had untied Moth and taken her away, buying her from the travelers afterward. He'd only recently told everyone else at the yard, and the only thing that had spoiled this heroic story (for me!) was that Cat had shared his secret.

Her story explained why Moth never talked to me, as she trusted only James, and why she was so terribly nervous—even though she was getting better day by day. This could set her back—I could see her ears twitching.

“But I saw them racing three horses along the road,” I said, the images dancing in my mind as I told them. “Trotting as fast as they could. I mean,
really
forcing them. It was heartbreaking. Drum was badly shaken by seeing them. I'm going to call the authorities and report them.”

“It won't do any good,” said James, looking serious. “They can't stop them. They did the same thing last time they were here. The animal protection people can't do anything about the tethering either. As long as the ponies have enough food and water, they're not breaking the law.”

“What are you all whispering about?” Cat stood by Bambi's door, ruffling her hand through her hair.

It pains me to say it, but Catriona is very pretty. Small, elfin features, short, dark hair, green eyes. And she knows it, too. She wears some peculiar colors together, though, a bit of a jumble, but because she is pretty, she gets away with it. If I wore what she wore, I'd just look as though I'd got dressed in the dark. In a hurry.

“Oh, tell me later, James,” she said, giving him a special smile that was more for my benefit than his. She headed for the tack room with Bambi's tack—and even from the back she managed to convey her disdain for me. What a talent!

I looked back at James. He looked troubled. Was that simply because of the travelers? Or could his relationship with Cat be less than perfect?

Because Cat was James's girlfriend. And it was all my fault.

Is that you, Pia?” Mom shouted as I shut the front door behind me. I don't know who else it could have been, I'm the only other person who lives there with her. There's no room for anyone else in the tiny cottage we moved to when my dad left us to live with his snotty girlfriend, Lyn. I wanted to shout, “
No,
it's Santa Claus
,” but instead I meekly replied that yes, it was me.

Mom came bounding down the stairs with her blonde hair tied back and wearing her sweats.

“I'm off,” she announced, grabbing her car keys. “There's a salad in the fridge and lots of fruit in the bowl. Try to eat the apples; they're starting to go a bit soft. Don't put those muddy boots on the carpet, OK? See you later, I won't be long.”

She kissed me on the cheek, leaving a lip gloss smear, and was out the door.

My mom's latest craze is the gym. Her friend Carol, who's man crazy and always leading her astray, suggested it, and, as my mom is constantly on the lookout for a new man in her life, she agreed that getting toned was a good idea. She's like Dee's show pony, Dolly Daydream. Dee and her mom, Sophie, are constantly trying to hone Dolly's shape—a bit more topline, a bit less crest, strapping her backside to make it just so for the show ring. My mom's doing the same thing—without strapping her backside, obviously. And her goal isn't silver trophies for the mantelpiece—it's a trophy boyfriend.

Well, it's paid off. Her latest boyfriend is Jerry, one of the gym's fitness instructors, and he's younger than my mom. By
four years!
What are the two of them on? Don't go there!

Carol had virtually exploded with overexcitement when she found out. “Oh, Suze,” she'd exclaimed, her eyes like saucers. “Sue and Jerry. It's got a ring to it, don't you think?”

“It's a bit early to be talking about rings!” my mom had replied, and they'd both collapsed into peals of laughter like a couple of airheads. Honestly, I know six-year-olds who are more mature. Mom starts off every new relationship full of enthusiasm, yammering on and on about how this one is different—so mature, so full of fun, so considerate, so cultured, so something or the other that makes him perfect, and then, when the novelty wears off, the knives come out. He's boring, he's rude, he's selfish, he picks his nose—there's always something, thank goodness! I mean, if she was to fall in love, who knows what would happen. I don't want to move again, and I definitely don't want some new guy in Mom's life trying to play happy families. I've got a dad, thanks.

The plated salad looked unappetizing. It was the condensation bubbles under the cling wrap—looking like fish eyes staring up at me—that did it. Yuck! Gym membership had included a fitness assessment, training program, and a diet regimen, and unfortunately, because my mom has no self-control, all the delicious stuff we used to eat—Indian takeout, fast food, burgers, pizzas—you know, normal stuff—has been replaced by salad, vegetables, and cuts of chicken and fish so thin you could use them as coffee filters. I spend every spare moment at the stables in the fresh air, riding, mucking out, and grooming Drum. I don't have to watch what I eat!

I stuffed a couple of the apples in my bag—I knew of a certain bay pony that would gobble them up, soft or not—and whipped up some pancakes. At least we still had ingredients for those in the house—although I couldn't guarantee how long that would last.

I couldn't get my mind cleared of all the thoughts rushing around it. As I scraped the eggshells into the trash can, I thought my head was just like it. Me and Mom are always shoving stuff in the trash can and jamming it down until we can't get the bags out without splitting them, putting off the inevitable trip to the garbage can outside until the last possible moment. I didn't think I could force any more thoughts into my brain, it was completely muddled. So I tried to put them into some sort of order.

Which was:

1. The travelers were back. Were they a danger?

When James had filled Catriona in on the traveler news, she had flipped and started raving about them stealing stuff, ranting that we'd have to lock up everything and put a guard on the place. Bean and I had gone a bit pale, but then James pointed out that Mrs. Collins, who runs the yard, actually lives there, and nothing went missing last time the travelers were in the area. And I added that Cat was being prejudiced (which went down beautifully, you can imagine). But there was still a nagging doubt in my mind now Catriona had put it there. But I couldn't think about that because I had number two and the rest of my list to consider.

Which started with:

2. How could we stop the racing?

I had called the authorities, explaining about what I had seen, and they'd promised to look into my complaint, although they'd warned me that there wasn't much they could do.

“Unless they are racing a horse that is sick or lame, our hands are pretty much tied. And it's incredibly difficult to catch them actually racing,” the woman on the phone had told me.

And then there was number:

3. What about the strange girl in the woods?

Even though I put two and two together and realized she had to be one of the travelers, I felt strangely drawn to the girl and wanted to find out more about her—talk to her, even. I hadn't mentioned her to the others yet—they'd so flipped out at the travelers' return, they wouldn't be in any state to welcome news that I intended to have a chat with one of them.

And let's not forget number:

4. My original worry: James and Cat were going out together. Why?

When Cat had threatened to get me (and therefore the whole team) disqualified from the Sublime Equine Challenge on the basis of me being able to communicate with the ponies, and therefore, technically, cheating (see, Epona again!), James had persuaded her not to do it by asking her out. Cat had liked James forever (not difficult, he's pretty gorgeous. OK, OK, so you've guessed that Cat's not the only one who has the hots for him!), but until then, he hadn't been interested. So the thoughts I had racing around ever since the two of them started going out were these: Did James ask Cat out just to save the team from disqualification or was that just a convenient excuse? Had he really wanted to ask Cat out anyway? If he had done it just to save the team, then why was he still going out with her?

And then there was the biggest question of all. If James and Catriona got really close, would he tell her about Epona? He's the only other person who knows about her, and we had both sworn to keep her a secret. I lend James the tiny stone effigy from time to time so he can speak to Moth—she refuses to speak to me. I couldn't bear the thought of Cat knowing that my pony-whispering talents were simply down to the luck of having Epona with me. It would make her day—her year, her life!

What if James fell in love with Cat?

What if they went out
forever?

My imagination ran wild as the questions flew around my brain like popcorn in the microwave.

Ahhhhh!
I could never find out the answers without asking James. And that was never going to happen. Can you imagine? I'd die first.

I had to stop thinking about James and Cat. I decided the traveler girl would be my distraction. I was determined to find out more about her. I went to bed worried but feeling better for having a plan. Well, sort of a plan, anyway.

The next day, I saddled Drummer and headed straight to the Sloping Field.

“Why are we skulking around here again?” asked Drummer.

“Shhhh,” I hissed, dismounting and parting the branches so I could get a better look at the field's inhabitants.

“What do you mean,
shhhh?
You're the only one who can hear me!” exclaimed Drummer, snatching at the reins and munching on a branch. “Look at these yummy leaves. You should try some!”

“You'd make a terrible spy,” I told him, yanking the branch out of his mouth and glaring at him. “James Bond's got nothing to worry about.”

“James who?” muttered Drum, yawning.

“I thought you knew everything—he's a famous spy, been in tons of movies.”

“And exactly how many ponies have you seen at the movies, wolfing down popcorn and Goobers?” asked Drum, pulling the reins taut as he reached for a tasty tuft of grass.

“You see what I mean? You know about that!” I replied. “Don't be so greedy!”

“Oh, come on, I'll be quiet if I can munch a bit,” Drum suggested sneakily.

Sighing, I slackened the reins, and Drum dropped his head like a pony starved as I returned my attention to the travelers' camp.

There were about eight trailers and more trucks and cars, all gleaming. As well as the piebald, chestnut, and tricolored ponies I had seen racing, there was a light bay youngster, a very fat black mare with a mane and tail that looked like they could be contenders for the Guinness record of “longest in the world,” two more piebalds, and a gray, all eating circles of grass as far as their tethers would allow. Cropped circles where they had previously grazed dotted the field—they were obviously moved around regularly. I couldn't see any sign of the dark gray pony I'd seen in the woods, or the raven-haired girl—only women and children sitting on their caravan steps or standing talking, and men around the vehicles smoking.

I had come out alone again. Katy and Bean had invited me to ride with them to the old mill, where there were some fabulous hills and dips among the bushes where we could spend a happy half hour riding the ponies up and down the steep slopes, but I was determined to try and see the mystery girl and her pony. I still wasn't one hundred percent sure they were real. Drum had been a bit miffed—he'd wanted to go with Katy and Bean's ponies, Bluey and Tiffany—but I had made up my mind to find out more, only my plan didn't seem to be working.

“I can't see her,” I told Drummer, “or her pony. Only their scruffy, tethered ponies, which all look like they could do with a good groom—including those ones we saw being forced to race. Honestly, it makes my blood boil when I think of those poor ponies being driven along the road. But there's no sign of the girl—maybe she really is a ghost.”

Drummer nudged me gently in the back with his muzzle.

“You might want to see this,” he said in a rather quiet voice.

“Shhh,” I replied, straining to see more.

“No, really, you need to see this,” continued Drummer annoyingly.

“See what? Stop it!” I said, turning around to face him. “I don't want to see any more leaves or grass, I have to see whether the girl we saw is with these horrible, cruel travelers…whether she's real…”

When I saw what Drummer was talking about, my mouth stopped making noises.

We weren't alone. Behind us was the girl on her dark gray pony, her dog at her side. The girl wore a sulky expression, and as the dog curled back its lips exposing its teeth, I heard a low, menacing growl.

They were real all right.