Issie and the Christmas Pony. Stacy Gregg
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in the whole school, but even Miss Willis sometimes lost her patience with the whole horsey business. All the girls ever wanted to do was write stories about horses or draw horse pictures for their art projects. The three of them had been warned loads of times that they would be made to sit at separate desks if Miss Willis caught them chatting about ponies again when they were supposed to be working.
Looking up at their teacher now to check that she wasn’t watching them, Kate lowered her voice to a whisper. “It might take you ages to find a pony!” she said. “We looked at loads before we finally bought Toby. It took months! There’s no way you’ll have a pony in time for camp.”
Issie’s smile evaporated. Kate was always so sensible, which could be really annoying sometimes. But she was right. It could take ages to find the perfect pony.
“Mum says we’re going to start looking this weekend so you never know. It’s only the first of December-that gives us a whole month,” Issie said, trying not to sound deflated.
“You’ll find one straightaway!” Stella said breezily. “And then we can all go to pony camp together!”
The Chevalier Point Pony Club camp was coming up in the first week of the Christmas holidays and it was all Stella and Kate could talk about. They were going on a trek for three days, carrying their lunch in their backpacks and having picnics by streams. They would ride all day and then set up camp at night. Their parents would meet them at the camp grounds with their sleeping bags and stuff so that they didn’t have to carry it all on their horses.
Stella and Kate had both joined the Chevalier Point Pony Club earlier in the term. They both had their own horses, a fact that made Issie insanely jealous, even though her friends tried not to rub it in.
“You can’t be jealous of Coco!” Stella would giggle. “She’s a total hand-me-down!” Coco used to belong to Stella’s big sister Penny, but Penny had lost interest in riding lately. “All she cares about is her stupid boyfriend!” scoffed Stella. And so Stella had been given Coco. The thirteen-two chocolate brown mare could be a bit lazy sometimes, but she was great at games and jumping and Stella loved her to pieces.
It hadn’t been so bad when it was just Stella who had her own horse, but then last month Kate got Toby, a big bay Thoroughbred, and now all the two girls ever talked about was pony club, and how much fun it was. Issie felt left out. It wasn’t Stella and Kate’s fault. They were really nice about it. They let Issie have rides on Coco and Toby and help groom them and stuff. But it wasn’t the same as having her own pony.
Issie was desperate to go to the camp. But she knew Kate was right. The chances of finding a pony to buy in time were pretty slim. Issie’s Aunty Hess, who had just bought her own horse farm and knew loads about ponies, had told her that good learner’s ponies were as scarce as hen’s teeth. Issie wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but apparently it had something to do with being hard to find.
“Maybe you’ll get a pony for Christmas!” Stella whispered far too loudly. She had never really mastered the whole whispering thing.
“Yeah,” said Kate. “It’ll be gift-wrapped under the tree with a big bow tied around its tummy!”
Stella glared at Kate. “It might happen!” she insisted. “You never know. Like Issie said, she might find the perfect pony this weekend.”
“I hope so,” Issie said. “How cool would that be?”
“Muummm, I’m home!” Issie came into the kitchen to find her mother at the table with a cup of tea and the paper.
“Look at this!” Mrs Brown said, passing Issie the newspaper which was folded over neatly to the Horse and Ponies for Sale section. She must have already been through the ads because one of them was circled in blue pen. The ad was headed up in bold black type:
For sale-genuine learner’s pony
14 hh grey gelding. Six years old. Loves to jump and has no vices. Sadly for sale as owner overcommitted. A great pony for a beginner. $1000. Hurry! At this price he will be sold quickly!
Issie read the ad back to herself twice. “What does ‘no vices’ mean?” she asked.
“I asked your aunt about that,” said Mrs Brown. “It means they don’t do anything naughty like buck or kick or bite.”
Issie nodded. She looked back at the ad again. Fourteen hands was quite a big pony, but Issie was tall for a ten-year-old. And a grey? She didn’t want to jinx it by telling her mum that grey was her absolutely favourite horse colour right now.
“Mum!” Issie was so excited the newspaper was trembling in her hand. “He sounds perfect!”
“He does, doesn’t he?” Mrs Brown smiled. “Hen’s teeth? My foot! It looks like we just found you a pony.”
It took ages for the weekend to come. Well, actually, it took the same amount of time that it always did, but it felt like forever to Issie.
After they saw the ad for the pony in the paper her mum had phoned up and made an appointment to go and see him on Saturday morning, and ever since then Issie had spent the week feeling sick with excitement.
In the car that morning, Issie had to resist the urge to ask if they were there yet. Her mum hated it when she did that. Instead, she sat in the passenger seat positively twitching with expectation and, just when she didn’t think she could stand it any more, her mum said, “Ah! Here we are!” and turned the car down a narrow gravel driveway.
Issie could see a paddock ahead of them. There was a corrugated iron shed with a hitching rail next to it and a little grey pony tied up with his saddle and bridle already on. Issie’s heart skipped a beat as she realised that this must be him. Her new pony.
Mrs Brown parked the car and turned to Issie. “Well, what do you think?”
Issie wasn’t sure what to say. She realised now that she had been expecting it to be love at first sight. But the pony didn’t look at all the way he had sounded in the advertisement. He was really skinny and bony. Issie could actually see his ribs sticking out. His head was hanging down in a miserable kind of way and, despite being saddled up, he hadn’t been brushed and his coarse, dull coat was covered with caked-on mud.
“Well,” said Mrs Brown uncertainly, “he’s not in very good nick, is he? He needs a good brushing for a start. Still, he looks very sweet, don’t you think?”
Actually, Issie thought the pony didn’t look the least bit sweet. He looked sulky and mean. His dark eyes glowered at her and his ears were permanently pinned flat back against his head-which Issie recognised as a sure sign that a pony is angry or upset.
Issie’s mum didn’t seem to notice these things. She knew nothing about ponies. Mrs Brown didn’t even like horses. It was Issie’s Aunty Hess who was the horsey one in the family. The only problem was, Hester was so busy getting the stables ready for her new horse-training business, she didn’t have time to come and help Issie buy a pony.
When Mrs Brown had phoned her sister last night to get some advice on how to go about buying a horse, Hester was adamant. “First of all,” she said, “I don’t think you should be buying one at all, Amanda. You know nothing about horses!”
“I’m sure I can manage,” Mrs Brown had replied huffily.
“Not without a professional there to help you,” Hester insisted. “It’s a tricky business buying horses. A dishonest business too.”
“But, Hess, the pony in the paper sounds lovely!” Mrs Brown had argued.
“They all sound lovely, Amanda!” Hester had snapped. “But I think you’ll find that those