Secret Pony Society (12 page)

“Mmmm,” she said, coiling up the cord to the clippers. “He's a good color. Some bays go a sort of muddy gray underneath their coats, but your Drummer's a lovely red color. Very nice!”

“I heard that!” cried Drum indignantly. “Of course I'm good-looking!”

He was, too. His unclipped back was his usual winter coat, all fiery red and fluffy. His head, neck, and belly were all a deep reddish brown, running into fluffy red legs that tapered into black. With his black mane and tail, I had a three-tone pony, instead of the usual two-tones.

“You look gorgeous!” I told him.

“Yeah, I know, I'm perfection made equine,” Drummer replied, modesty not being his strong point.

“I need to do your mane now. It's letting you down.”

Drummer rolled his eyes. “Oh, go ahead!”

I lightly trimmed his mane, wrapping the longest hairs from underneath around a mane comb and tugging them out with one quick jerk. It not only shortens the mane, but thins it, too. By the time I'd finished, fistfuls of black mane had joined the short red hair on the ground.

I rugged Drummer up in his green stable rug and gave him a hug.

“There, you'll be able to go twice as fast now!” I whispered to him.

“And buck twice as high,” he threatened back.

“Don't you dare!” I told him, grabbing the broom and sweeping up all his surplus hair and throwing it on the trash heap.

As darkness fell, the yard became busy with everyone filling water buckets and hay nets, mixing feeds, and grooming their ponies. Mrs. Bradley and Henry went for a ride in the school—eventually. Henry must have made a dive for every blade of grass on the way. Leanne's boyfriend, Stuart, of dressage persuasion, arrived to see her, and they both disappeared into Mr. Higgins's stall, giggling. James stayed just long enough to pull Moth in from the field, change her rugs, give me a wave, and fly off again with his mom, and Bean made a big fuss of Drummer and admired his clip.

“Who would have thought it?” she said when I told her about Jazz. “Her dad obviously didn't realize how much he loved Jazz until he lost her. No wonder he was nuts.”

“Quite,” I said. “I can almost forgive him for behaving so bonkers—although it's easy for me, as I wasn't the one chased or terrorized.”

“Drum looks very classy,” continued Bean, leaning on Drummer's half door. “He was just a ball of fluff in his winter coat. The clip shows off his head. He looks all noble.”

Drum swung an ear in her direction, and I could tell he was pleased.

“I'm going now,” I told him, nudging the kick bolt at the bottom of his door over with my toe. “See you tomorrow.”

“OK. See ya,” Drummer mumbled.

“Are you warm enough in that rug?” I asked him.

“Toasty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you still here?”

“Oh, OK, I'm going. See you tomorrow.”

“Well, I'm not going anywhere, am I?” Drummer replied as I pedaled off.

Jerry was sitting on the sofa when I got in, waiting for Mom to come down. He was wearing his usual outfit of a dazzling, slightly too tight white T-shirt, displaying the result of his many workouts and a pair of tight jeans. It was his night off, and he and Mom were going out. It suddenly hit me that Jerry was Mom's equivalent of Skinny Lynny.

“Still playing with the horsies?” he said, grinning. He thinks it's funny. It so isn't.

I gave him one of my best “I'll indulge you” smiles and nodded. Fortunately, Mom came flying down the stairs at that point.
Unfortunately
, she hadn't heard me come in:

“I'm ready for my sexy personal trainer, and I can't wait to…oh, er, hello, Pia,” she said, looking sheepish as she saw me.
Not a moment too soon
, I thought.

They left me in peace, and I raided the freezer, discovering a long lost pizza at the back. What a find! Never had a freezer-burned, squashed, and forgotten pizza tasted so good!

My thoughts returned to Jazz. If she was on such good terms with her father now, maybe, just maybe, Jazz would be able to persuade him not to be so hard on the horses when they raced. Or even stop it altogether. I doubted it, but anything was possible.

I was looking forward to tomorrow. I was going on a long ride with Katy and Bean. With Drum now clipped, he wouldn't sweat, and he'd be up for a good gallop when we got there. I couldn't wait. It was about time we had some fun! I started planning the next few days in earnest. I had to book Drum in for a set of shoes, and I wanted to go to the tack shop in the next town and buy one of those gorgeous jeweled brow bands for Drum, even though I knew he'd hate it. Plus, it was Halloween soon, and James had mentioned a spooky ride around the woods in the dark before we went back to school. That promised to be spooky. I couldn't wait to get back to normality!

But when I got to the yard the next morning, everything was far from normal. A police car was parked outside Mrs. Collins's front door, a policewoman and a policeman were talking to Catriona—a Catriona who was in floods of tears—and everyone was standing around looking shocked and pale.

“Oh, Pia.” Katy gasped, running across to me as I leaned my bike against the wall. “You'll never guess what's happened.”

“What? What's going on?” I asked, utterly bewildered.

“It's Bambi,” cried Katy, with a gulp. “She's been stolen!”

I felt my jaw drop open, and instinctively, I looked across to Drummer's stable. There he was, his head over the door, ears pricked and looking agitated, gazing at the chaos before him.

“No one can understand how—she's stabled virtually in front of Mrs. Collins's front door,” continued Katy, close to tears. “And how come the thief only took Bambi? Sophie's totally upset thinking her valuable Lester and Dolly—not to mention the palace on wheels she calls a horse trailer—could be next. And what if the thief comes back and takes Bluey and Drummer and Tiff—and Moth? I mean, it's just so awful! I've texted Bean and James. They'll be here soon.”

“Has Cat contacted her freeze branding company, told them Bambi's gone?”

“Of course. They're on it. But she's beside herself, poor Cat. I mean, I can totally understand how she feels. She keeps saying the travelers have taken Bambi. I bet they have, too!”

“I'll ask Drummer who it was,” I said. “He'll know whether the travelers did it.” I felt indignant on Jazz's behalf. Everyone was bound to jump to conclusions about the travelers, and I was sure Drummer would set the record straight.

Only he didn't. Drummer confirmed that Jazz had been the one who had taken Cat's skewbald mare.

I felt sick. I'd trusted Jazz, helped her, risked my friendships for her. How could she possibly have stolen Bambi after all I'd done for her? I felt totally betrayed—all that garbage she'd spoken about helping me. I couldn't understand it. “Are you sure?” I asked, knowing it was hopeless. Drummer wouldn't lie.

I got the answer I deserved. “Of course I'm sure! She led her along the grass verge by the path so her hooves wouldn't make a noise on the gravel. I neighed and whinnied, but that crazy old lady with the slipper fetish must have been sound asleep because she didn't stir. And that useless dog of hers ignored me, too.”

Squish wasn't much of a guard dog, I had to agree.

“We have to find her!” Drum said. “We just
have
to!” Poor Drum. He so loved Bambi. At that moment, Bean arrived, throwing first her bike onto the gravel, then herself at Tiffany's half door. The palomino mare freaked and practically sat down in shock.

“Thank goodness you're still here!” she said dramatically. Then she turned to Catriona. “Oh, Cat, I'm so sorry. I'm sure the police will find Bambi.”

Catriona was in no mood for sympathy. “It's all your fault!” she yelled. “You and Mia had to get friendly with the traveler girl, didn't you? Only it's my pony that gets stolen, not hers!”

Bean took a step backward, shocked. “But—but—” she stammered.

“What are you talking about?” asked Katy.

“So don't pretend you care now, Charlotte Beanie,” continued Cat, “because I don't believe you. I told all of you that this would happen, but you didn't listen.”

“Oh, Cat, I know Jazz wouldn't have taken Bambi. Honest, she wouldn't,” said Bean.

“Have you been friendly with Jazz?” Katy asked.

“Now, now, let's all calm down, shall we?” said the policeman. “Who's Jazz?”

“Actually,” I said, “I think Jazz did steal Bambi.”

Catriona turned her tearstained face toward me and practically screamed that it was all my fault and that I was that witch Jazz's friend and that I'd helped her run away.

“It should be your pony that's missing!” she shouted. “He was supposed to take Drummer!”

“What?” I cried. “What are you talking about?”

The policewoman interrupted, wanting to know how I knew about Jazz.

Oh, pooh.

Katy got it, and because she was the only one making any sense, the police asked her to explain. Katy told them about my pony whispering title. The policewoman and the policeman exchanged skeptical glances. Katy showed them the newspaper clipping (it was still stuck on the notice board in the tack room, which Cat pretended to ignore every time she went in there) that had announced me to the world. The policeman lifted one eyebrow, and the policewoman sucked in her cheeks in a
now I've heard
it all
kind of way.

“So you expect us to believe that your pony”—the policeman gestured toward Drummer who looked him in the eye and stared him out—“the brown one over there, is our only witness.”

“And according to him,” the policewoman continued, “one of the traveler kids took off with the missing pony.”

“Why are you all talking to Pia?” screamed Cat, thoroughly losing it. “It isn't about her for once, it isn't about her stupid, dumb, lying, pony whispering crap. It's about
my
pony. Why are you all still here asking questions? Why aren't you raiding the travelers' camp and getting Bambi back? They've taken
the wrong pony
. All this talk, talk, talk. DO SOMETHING for goodness sake!”

“What do you mean,” I said, “‘the wrong pony'?”

“Cat's right,” said Katy to the police. “You're just wasting time.”

“We'll be the judge of that, young lady,” growled the policeman.

I looked at Catriona. “Cat, I didn't mean for this to happen…” I trailed off helplessly. Cat just dropped her head into her hands and howled.

I feel awful, but it is nothing to how Cat must be feeling
, I thought. How could Jazz do such a terrible, terrible thing? She of all people ought to know how Cat would feel. Jazz had run away to keep Falling Snow. Didn't she realize that Cat felt the same way about Bambi? Even given the circumstances, it was unforgivable.

After a discussion, the police decided to report back to the police station, and Cat went with them.

“Well, I'm not staying here!” snorted Katy, running toward the tack room for Bluey's saddle and bridle.

“Where are you going?” I shouted, even though I already knew.

“To the Sloping Field!” Katy replied. “I don't know what you two have been up to, but we have to see whether Bambi's with the travelers.”

“At last!” yelled Drummer.

“Wait for me!” shouted Bean.

I fled to the tack room for Drummer's tack, and in just a few moments, Katy, Bean, and I were all mounted in the yard. Drummer had straw in his mane and tail, and Tiffany sported a huge stable stain down her hind, but there was no time to worry about standards. Bigger things were at stake.

Then James arrived.

“We're going to the travelers' camp,” explained Katy, reining in Bluey by the tack room as James ran for Moth's tack. “Jazz has taken Bambi, and we're going to get her back.”

This is news
, I thought.
How exactly are we going to do that?

Breaking the world speed record for tacking up, James jammed his helmet on his head and vaulted into Moth's saddle as the chestnut half reared, half cantered up the drive behind us. Drummer felt sturdy and determined under me. He was going to rescue his beloved Bambi.

We raced into the woods and along the bridle path. Tiffany, sensing that this was a serious mission, for once didn't shy at every little thing. I could hear Bluey being all indignant at Bambi's abduction, could hear Drummer vowing to rescue his skewbald heroine, and could make out Tiffany saying she was sorry she'd ever been nice to Falling Snow if her human was such a nasty piece of work. And as we urged on the ponies, my head churned with thoughts, about Jazz and loyalty, and wasted words and friendship, of betrayal and revenge. The wrong pony, Cat had said. What had she meant?

At last we approached the Sloping Field and, in the shade of the trees, pulled up and calmed down.

“What's the plan?” whispered Bean.

“We'd better not confront Jazz,” said Katy. “After all, the travelers could get violent.”

“Well, if Bambi's there, we'll just ride in and take her!” said James.

“No, James, we need the police to deal with it. We'll call them and tell them she's here,” Katy replied.

That sounded good to me.

We crept forward and came out in a line at the top of the hill, looking down at the Sloping Field, expecting to see Bambi.

Instead, we saw an empty field with bare, grazed rings of grass where horses had been tethered, trash that had been left behind, a van with no wheels, dumped and forgotten.

The travelers had gone. And they'd taken Bambi with them.

No one spoke. Then I heard Drummer groan. His darling Bambi had been taken, goodness-knows-where.

“Oh, no, poor Bambi,” whispered Bean.

“They couldn't have gone far,” James said.

“I don't understand why they'd steal only one pony,” said Katy, shaking her head. “Why steal just Bambi? What's the point when all our ponies were there?”

“And Bambi's so distinctively marked,” I added. “They can't hope to get away with it.”

“Not to mention her freeze brand,” Katy pointed out. “I just don't get it.”

I did. Suddenly, I got it big-time. Suddenly, everything Cat had said at the yard became dazzlingly clear. I got it, all right.

“I don't think Jazz ever intended to take Bambi
with her
,” I said, my mind working overtime.

“What?” said Drummer, his ears swiveling around to hear me.

“No, I think she took Bambi to teach Cat a lesson.” Bean, Katy, and James all turned to look at me. “She wanted Cat to understand how she felt about Falling Snow…” I explained. “And what it was like to lose a pony. A pony you love! I don't think Bambi's with Jazz at all.”

“Now you're talking nonsense,” said Bean. “First Bambi's with Jazz, then she isn't. Then she took her, then she didn't. Make up your mind.”

“Are you saying,” said James, “that Jazz took Bambi, but she doesn't have her now? And Jazz did it to get Cat back for telling her father where she was hiding?”

“What?” shouted Bean.

“Oh, yes, Cat told Jazz's father about the icehouse,” James said, like it was all so simple.

“Don't just hit and run like that James,” said Katy, exasperated. “Explain!”

“It was something Cat said after Jazz's father yelled at us that day out riding,” explained James. “She said if she knew where Jazz was hiding, she'd tell him. Then she said Bean knew something.”

“No way!” exclaimed Bean, all defensive.

“Well, that's what I said,” added James.

“She was right,” I said miserably. The game was up.

“What?” said Katy. “Both of you?”

“You're a dark horse, Bean,” said James, “but not dark enough. Cat must have followed you and discovered where you and Pia were hiding Jazz.”

Suddenly, I breathed in sharply as I realized something else. Cat had traded the knowledge of Jazz's hiding place to her father for his promise to take Drummer. That was what Cat had meant—Drummer was supposed to be the missing pony. What a horrible, horrible thing to do. How could she? When Jazz had said she was going to help me, she must have persuaded her father not to do it. Jazz hadn't betrayed me at all—at least, not if we could find where she'd hidden Bambi.

“Cat must have told Jazz's dad and got him to promise to steal Drummer,” I said.

“Drummer?” asked James.

“I think that was Cat's plan. To teach me a lesson, to hit back because—” I stopped, suddenly aware my thoughts had hijacked my mouth. I couldn't say out loud that Cat was upset about not going out with James anymore. I couldn't be that mean.

“OK, OK, but where is Bambi, if you're right?” Katy asked, cutting to the chase, as always.

“Shhhh!” said Drummer, his head up, his ears twitching.

“What is it?” I asked, stroking his clipped neck.

“I hear something.”

“What's going on?” asked Katy.

“It's Drum,” I explained. “He says he can hear something.”

Everyone held their breath—which wasn't very helpful as the wind whistled through the trees, changing direction, hindering, helping.

“It's Bambi!” exclaimed Drum, snorting.

“I can hear her neighing!” I told the others.

“So let's go!” shouted Bean. It wasn't that simple. The other ponies pricked their ears, and an equine argument broke out.

“It's coming from over there…”

“Where?”

“Over there!”

“No, no, this way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive! Oh, no wait a minute…”

“Is it me, or can anyone else hear what sounds like lions roaring?”

“Not now, Tiff!”

“I thought it was from that direction. But now I'm not so sure.”

“Definitely this way, come on!”

Drummer turned and set off purposefully, the other ponies following, their riders sitting quietly. Everyone was silent now, enabling the ponies to hear any sounds Bambi might be throwing out for us to hear.

We rode down to the lake. Then up, up the hill. Then we stopped.

“Oh, I can hear her!” exclaimed Katy, and we cantered on in through the trees, bursting through holly trees and rhododendrons to a hidden clearing and the icehouse—of course!

And there, in her stable rug, tied to a tree with a length of rope was Bambi, neighing with relief that she'd been found.

“Thank goodness!” she cried, as we all came to a halt. James leaped out of the saddle, throwing Moth's reins to Bean so he could untie Cat's skewbald mare from the tree.

“I've been here half the night, all alone!”

“Oh, how awful,” sympathized Tiffany. “You must have been terrified. Are you all right? Have you seen any lions?”

“Yes, yes, fine, thanks. A bit shaky, that's all. And I'm thirsty. What do you mean,
lions?
”

“We'll get you home soon,” said Bluey.

“What kept you?” said Bambi, rubbing her nose on James's sleeve. James stroked her wide, white blaze. “I've been neighing for ages!”

“Drummer heard you,” Tiffany told her. “It's all thanks to him we're here.”

Drummer said nothing. He just gazed at Bambi, lost for words. Bambi gazed back, and I held my breath. Would she be her usual, grumpy, frowning self?

Bambi took a step toward Drummer. She pricked her ears forward and shyly leaned forward, gently nuzzling Drum's bay nose.

“Thanks, Drummer,” she whispered.

I felt quite choked up. My pony was a hero. But then, I knew that.

Katy broke the spell.

“What's that on Bambi's rug?” she asked, pointing.

We all turned to look. Something had been chalked onto Bambi's rug. Scrawled across the shoulder was some writing.

“Six words,” James said, grimly.

“What do they say?” asked Bean. I knew what they were going to be. I didn't have to see the writing.

“
‘Now you know what it's like'
,” read James.