trust between them. Shelby knew this was
true. She knew something else too. If she didn't get
this day right, it was Blue's last day of freedom.
Shelby squeezed his sides and he bounded into a
canter. 'Come on!'
12 The Race
Cracker was faster than Blue, and Shelby didn't want
to gallop because, with so many horses in the Gully,
she could come across one unexpectedly, and somebody
could get hurt. She had to find a place where she
was at an advantage – a place where Cracker would
slow down and Blue wouldn't. I know , she thought. The Cross-Country Course.
Shelby turned Blue along a narrow looping path
that was a shortcut to that trail. It was sandy and
straight. She didn't see any other riders and she urged
Blue along, tucking her head low and leaning forward.
Blue sprang onward with his ears flat and his tail
swishing. A cloud of dust billowed out behind her.
They drew up behind a group of riders and slowed
to trot past them. 'Hello, are you having a good day?'
Shelby asked, grinning, and then she pushed Blue into
a canter again, without waiting for an answer.
Over the little hill was the first abandoned car. It
was tilted on its side so all she could see was its rusty
undercarriage. Blue didn't even blink. His hooves
drummed a beat along the dirt path.
Next there were four fallen branches. The first
three were only small, each about forty centimetres off
the ground, but the last one was twice that height. She
popped over the first and second, but at the third,
Blue had misjudged his stride. He slowed down, off
balance, hesitating. His front hoof grazed the top of
the branch. He stumbled. Shelby was thrown forward.
She squeezed with her knees. He needed to get himself
together or they would crash through the fourth. It
was stuck between other branches and stumps on both
ends and Shelby wasn't sure how much it would give.
Blue took two enormous strides and leapt over the
final branch. Shelby was thrust back in the saddle.
They were over it, heading downhill and around a
turn.
Shelby risked a glimpse over her shoulder. Lindsey
was still behind them. Cracker shied at the old car,
and Lindsey tipped slightly to the side. She was
frowning, her face steely with purpose.
Up ahead were the forty-four-gallon drums. There
were five of them scattered over the trail. Two of them
were upright, but the other three lay on their sides.
Some days Blue snorted at them with suspicion, not
wanting to pass close to them, but today he skipped
between them, like when they played Flags at pony
club, changing his leading leg as he wove through
them. She leaned forward and patted him on the
shoulder. 'Good boy!'
Next there was the whistling tree stump, but the
wind was low today. Blue cantered on without a
glance. One more obstacle to go – the knocking cable
spool. It was at the top of a steep incline and around
a bend. Blue's hooves scattered the gravel as he
bounded up the slope. Shelby looked back again.
Lindsey was nowhere in sight.
She turned back to the trail. Suddenly Blue planted
his feet. Shelby was thrown forward. She sailed over the
side, legs akimbo. She had enough time to think, Hmm,
big orange bulldozer. That's new , before she hit the dirt.
Shelby lay on the trail on her back, looking up at
the sky. Sometimes when she fell it felt like no time
had passed at all – one minute she was in the saddle
and the next she was lying on the ground – but other
times it seemed to take forever. This had been a fall of
the second type. Her whole body felt shaky and numb,
but nothing seemed to hurt. I might just lie here for a
second. Sometimes big pain took a little while to
happen.
Blue's face loomed over hers and he snorted,
blowing her fringe up from her forehead. Shelby could
feel his whiskers on her cheek. She had to get up.
Lindsey would come around the corner any second.
She scrambled to her feet. Blue backed up, eyes wide.
'It's OK. You didn't mean it. It's my fault. I wasn't
paying attention,' she told him.
She could hear
true. She knew something else too. If she didn't get
this day right, it was Blue's last day of freedom.
Shelby squeezed his sides and he bounded into a
canter. 'Come on!'
12 The Race
Cracker was faster than Blue, and Shelby didn't want
to gallop because, with so many horses in the Gully,
she could come across one unexpectedly, and somebody
could get hurt. She had to find a place where she
was at an advantage – a place where Cracker would
slow down and Blue wouldn't. I know , she thought. The Cross-Country Course.
Shelby turned Blue along a narrow looping path
that was a shortcut to that trail. It was sandy and
straight. She didn't see any other riders and she urged
Blue along, tucking her head low and leaning forward.
Blue sprang onward with his ears flat and his tail
swishing. A cloud of dust billowed out behind her.
They drew up behind a group of riders and slowed
to trot past them. 'Hello, are you having a good day?'
Shelby asked, grinning, and then she pushed Blue into
a canter again, without waiting for an answer.
Over the little hill was the first abandoned car. It
was tilted on its side so all she could see was its rusty
undercarriage. Blue didn't even blink. His hooves
drummed a beat along the dirt path.
Next there were four fallen branches. The first
three were only small, each about forty centimetres off
the ground, but the last one was twice that height. She
popped over the first and second, but at the third,
Blue had misjudged his stride. He slowed down, off
balance, hesitating. His front hoof grazed the top of
the branch. He stumbled. Shelby was thrown forward.
She squeezed with her knees. He needed to get himself
together or they would crash through the fourth. It
was stuck between other branches and stumps on both
ends and Shelby wasn't sure how much it would give.
Blue took two enormous strides and leapt over the
final branch. Shelby was thrust back in the saddle.
They were over it, heading downhill and around a
turn.
Shelby risked a glimpse over her shoulder. Lindsey
was still behind them. Cracker shied at the old car,
and Lindsey tipped slightly to the side. She was
frowning, her face steely with purpose.
Up ahead were the forty-four-gallon drums. There
were five of them scattered over the trail. Two of them
were upright, but the other three lay on their sides.
Some days Blue snorted at them with suspicion, not
wanting to pass close to them, but today he skipped
between them, like when they played Flags at pony
club, changing his leading leg as he wove through
them. She leaned forward and patted him on the
shoulder. 'Good boy!'
Next there was the whistling tree stump, but the
wind was low today. Blue cantered on without a
glance. One more obstacle to go – the knocking cable
spool. It was at the top of a steep incline and around
a bend. Blue's hooves scattered the gravel as he
bounded up the slope. Shelby looked back again.
Lindsey was nowhere in sight.
She turned back to the trail. Suddenly Blue planted
his feet. Shelby was thrown forward. She sailed over the
side, legs akimbo. She had enough time to think, Hmm,
big orange bulldozer. That's new , before she hit the dirt.
Shelby lay on the trail on her back, looking up at
the sky. Sometimes when she fell it felt like no time
had passed at all – one minute she was in the saddle
and the next she was lying on the ground – but other
times it seemed to take forever. This had been a fall of
the second type. Her whole body felt shaky and numb,
but nothing seemed to hurt. I might just lie here for a
second. Sometimes big pain took a little while to
happen.
Blue's face loomed over hers and he snorted,
blowing her fringe up from her forehead. Shelby could
feel his whiskers on her cheek. She had to get up.
Lindsey would come around the corner any second.
She scrambled to her feet. Blue backed up, eyes wide.
'It's OK. You didn't mean it. It's my fault. I wasn't
paying attention,' she told him.
She could hear
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