For Sale Or Swap Page 3

  '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.

  4 The Inquiry

  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.

  5 Brat

  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 pa
st 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.

  6 A Civil Matter

  'Let me get this straight,' said Shelby's father. 'You swapped your horse.'

  Shelby nodded, putting her hands over her face. 'I'm not sure that it was the right thing to do.'

  'Let's call the police,' said Shelby's mother.

  Her father put his hand up. 'Not just yet, Marie. We still
might be able to resolve this. Tell me again from the beginning.'

  After the man had driven Blue away in his big truck, Shelby had spent a little while getting Brat settled in. She made sure she had fresh water and that everything was neat and tidy in the shed. Then she sat on the ground for half an hour, watching Brat graze.

  As she was sitting there, a couple of questions occurred to her. When was the last time Brat had been wormed? Had the man been rugging her? What was Brat used to eating, and how much? When had he last had her teeth looked at? She should have asked all these questions, and answered them about Blue too.

  Brat seemed fine, so Shelby left her to graze. Back in her room she looked up the man's number in the magazine. The man answered after one or two rings, just as he had before. Yes, Blue was fine. He had arrived safely and was relaxed and happy. Indeed, they were good questions, but he couldn't answer them right now because he was expecting another call. Could she ring back in an hour or so? Shelby said she could and hung up.

  Exactly an hour later she had rung, but there was no answer – just a computerised voice mailbox. Your call cannot be answered at present. Please leave your name and number after the tone.

  Shelby had left her name and number – not once, but three times at fifteen-minute intervals. The man hadn't rung back. That's when she had decided to talk to her mum and dad.

  Shelby's dad was sitting next to her on the lounge. 'I'll try again,' he said. Shelby handed him the phone and he dialled the number, pausing to refer to the ad in the magazine.

  He listened for a moment and then his face blanched. He handed the phone to Shelby, and she pressed it to her ear.

  The number you have dialled is not connected. Please check the number and try again.

  Shelby dropped the phone and wailed. 'I've changed my mind! I just want to know where he is.'

  Shelby's mum picked the handset up from the floor and punched in some numbers. 'Hello? My name is Marie Shaw and I'd like to report a stolen horse.'

  Two police officers arrived at Shelby's house an hour later. Constable Bidgood was a stocky middle-aged man with a moustache, and the other was Sergeant Everard – an athletic-looking young woman with her hair in a tight bun. Shelby sat on the couch, squeezing her hands together in her lap while she told them the story from the beginning.