Winter Pony Read online

  “Gosh, it’s pretty,” said Ginny. There was awe in her voice. She ran her hand over the curve of the shaft. “It looks just like a Christmas card.”

  Mokey blew softly down the back of Ginny’s neck. The two girls and the pony stood admiring the little sleigh in silence.

  “Well,” said Pam finally, “it’s going to be great. But I’m really glad you started breaking Mokey today. Otherwise, with the way Michael does things, it would have been the middle of next summer before Michael said she was ready!”

  The next day, and every chance she had after school and on weekends, Ginny worked with Mokey. She was a little puzzled but willing. Michael watched over them. The long driving reins were run through the rings on the harness and buckled to the bit. Ginny learned how to hold them. She also learned how to manage the light driving whip at the same time.

  At first it was hard for Mokey to understand why Ginny was walking so far behind her. She was used to Ginny being up on her back. The pony walked ahead of Ginny as though she were lost. But as the days went by, both Ginny and Mokey began to feel more sure of themselves.

  Ginny groaned one evening after dinner as she got to her feet. “You wouldn’t believe how stiff I am!” she said. “I’ve walked miles today!”

  “I thought you were teaching that Moke of yours to drive,” said her father. “Why all the walking? No wheels?”

  “No wheels,” said Ginny. “Just me on my legs and Mokey on hers. Even if we had any wheels, which we don’t, we still wouldn’t be using them. Michael says Mokey and I don’t know enough.”

  At the next practice session, Michael fastened the traces of the harness to a log. It had a sturdy ring bolted onto each end.

  “Watch your pony,” he said to Ginny. He stepped back out of the way. “She may not like the sound of the log dragging behind her.”

  Ginny nodded and clucked to Mokey. Mokey took a step and then stopped. She was puzzled by the feeling of the traces getting tighter. Ginny clucked gently again. She touched the pony lightly with the whip. Michael came to lead the pony forward. The log moved with a grating sound over the ground.

  Mokey raised her head. She clamped her tail between her legs. But Michael and Ginny both calmed her. Ginny’s hands were gentle and steady on the reins. The brief moment of worry was soon over.

  “I don’t know who has the most patience,” said Pam to Ginny. “You or Michael or Mokey.” She jumped down from the stable-yard wall where she’d been watching. “I’d be bored to death by now.”

  Ginny just smiled without speaking. It took a lot of focus, but the pony was walking steadily now. She paid no attention at all to the bumping drag of the log behind her. With a tiny flourish of the tip of her whip, Ginny drove Mokey out through the gates and down the lane between the paddocks.

  Relaxed and obedient, Mokey walked and jogged ahead of Ginny. She stopped and started smoothly whenever she was asked. She made circles and turns evenly and without hesitation.

  Everything had gone well.

  By the end of that afternoon, Ginny rode Mokey home through the gathering dusk. She knew that both she and Mokey were ready.

  Chapter Four

  Michael thought so, too. The sleigh was brought up from the barn. Michael replaced a loop of cracked leather. He rubbed leather polish into another loop. He oiled the bolts that fastened the shafts to the sleigh. Ginny and Pam dusted and polished the old, chipped paint as well as they could. Then they helped to push the sleigh into a small shed near the stable. They waited anxiously for snow.

  Ginny had to be content with riding Mokey alone. The cut on Firefly’s leg had healed perfectly. But he celebrated by bucking Pam off the first day he was ridden. Racing back to the stable, he slipped and fell as he turned through the gates. Then he slid on the rough gravel. Now he was back in bandages again.

  The weather grew colder. Ice formed in lacy patterns at the edges of the streams. The blacksmith welded rough metal on Mokey’s shoes the next time she was shod.

  “Just a touch of borium on the toes and heels to keep her from slipping on the ice or packed snow,” the blacksmith told Ginny. “Got to keep at least one of these ponies on its feet!” He went to pull the shoes off Firefly. He didn’t need to wear them while he was being kept in his stall.

  But still there was no snow. Ginny took Mokey out in harness at least once a week to keep in practice. But even she and Mokey were starting to get bored. It wasn’t as much fun anymore.

  Thanksgiving came. Then the short vacation was over. Ginny and Pam listened eagerly to the weather reports. They looked hopefully at the sky every morning before they went to school. The ice skating was the best there had been in years. The ponds froze smoothly in deep, black ice without snow on the surface.

  The ground froze until it was as hard as concrete. Ginny’s rides became slow and dull. The footing was too hard and rough to do much more than walk or jog slowly. Mokey grew fatter and shaggier every day. But still there was no snow.

  “Let’s move to Canada! Or the Alps or the North Pole!” Ginny said with anger the next Saturday morning. The sun rose in a cold but cloudless sky. “There’s got to be snow for the sleigh somewhere in the world!”

  She stomped bitterly down the hill to feed Mokey. The pony was whinnying loudly for her breakfast. Ginny had forgotten to put her gloves on. Her hands hurt when she pulled back the metal bolts and swung open the doors that led from the stall to the paddock. Mokey came charging out with her tail in the air. She was whistling through her nostrils. She greeted the cold morning with a buck and a kick of delight. Ginny shook her head gloomily. Her cold hands were shoved into her pockets. She watched her pony prance cheerfully across the paddock.

  It was all very well for Mokey to be so bright and gay. But the stall needed a good cleaning. Ginny had skimped a little through the week because there had been exams almost every day. The wheels were probably frozen on the manure cart. A new bag of grain had split open and spilled. The hoofpick was lost. Ginny sighed and went to get Mokey’s grain. Firefly was still lame and Pam had gone skiing. It was going to be a long, dull weekend.

  The alarm clock buzzed. Ginny flung one hand out from under the warmth of the blankets. She slapped at the clock. It fell over and became silent.

  Ginny groaned. She opened her eyes. Monday morning. Yuck. She pulled the blankets up over her head. She tried to remember whether or not she’d corrected her math paper over the weekend.

  Even through the muffling blankets she could hear the clink of dishes and the sound of running water in the kitchen. She’d better get up and feed Mokey if she wanted to get it done before breakfast.

  She stumbled sleepily out of bed. She walked across the room. She was shivering. With a giant yawn, Ginny started to get dressed.

  Her arms and back were stiff. Ginny tried clearing her throat. There were a lot of colds and things going around school at this time of year. Maybe she was coming down with something. Maybe she was getting sick and wouldn’t have to go to school today, after all.

  She coughed hopefully and then sighed. She knew very well she was stiff because she’d ridden for long hours the day before. She also knew she had not done her math. Gloomily, she tugged a sweater over her head.

  Her mother tapped lightly on the door and opened it.

  “You might as well go back to bed,” she said. “No school today!”

  “No school?” Ginny’s head shot through the tight neck of her sweater. She stared at her mother.

  “Just look out the window.” Ginny’s mother smiled. Suddenly wide awake, Ginny flew over to the window and pushed back the curtains.

  It must have snowed all night. It was still snowing hard. Drifts rolled across the lawn. They buried the small bushes in the garden and rippled across the driveway.

  “Beautiful,” Ginny said out loud. “Beautiful!”

  She snatched up a sock and stood hopping on one foot. She looked out at the snow. From the kitchen she could hear the low sound of the local radio station report: “
All schools in the area are closed for the day due to the heavy storm.”

  “Hear you have a snow day today!” her father greeted her as Ginny came into the warm kitchen. “Why don’t you go back to bed?”

  “Bed!” Ginny said in horror. “But it’s snowing!”

  Her father smiled. He’d only been teasing. The radio was now giving the weather report: “Up to six inches of snow is expected to fall before stopping at noon. The sky should clear during the afternoon, with slowly rising temperatures.”

  “Perfect,” said Ginny with a shiver of excitement. She drank a glass of orange juice. Then she pulled on her snow boots and jacket. She ran outdoors into the snow.

  All the world smelled cold and clean. The snow swirled everywhere. It covered the tree branches. It filled the air with dancing patterns. With the flakes melting on her face, Ginny ran down to the stable to give Mokey her breakfast. Pam was on the phone when Ginny got back to the house. She was wild with excitement. Ginny promised she’d be over just as soon as she could.

  “But I have to wait an hour after Mokey’s had her grain. I just fed her,” Ginny said. “Do you think Michael will remember to put the bells on the harness?”

  “I’ll remind him,” said Pam, “just in case. See you soon!”

  Ginny was as impatient as Pam. The hour passed slowly. She had a quick breakfast. She brushed and rebraided her hair. Then she shoveled snow away from the garage door with her father. He drove away with the tire chains jangling on the rear wheels of the car.

  At last it was time to get Mokey. The eager pony danced through the snowy woods. She followed the slight tracing of the familiar path through the trees. The woods were full of mystery and a gentle, hushed silence. There was no sound of hoofbeats. There was nothing but the whispering of the snow sifting through the trees and Mokey’s soft breathing.

  The snowflakes fell like powdered sugar on Mokey’s black forelock and over the hood of Ginny’s jacket. The snow swirled around them in the close silence of the woods. Ginny thought dreamily that this must be what it would be like to be a tiny figure inside a snow globe.

  She was almost sorry when the ride was over. But her heart jumped with excitement as Pam slid the stable door back to welcome Ginny and her snowy pony inside.

  No one said very much. Pam was sparkling with hidden excitement. Ginny focused on fitting the harness in place. And Michael had not forgotten the bells. They rang lightly as Ginny finished. Mokey started to paw the ground eagerly.

  Ginny hesitated. “Are you sure it’s all right for the harness to get all wet in the snow?” she finally asked Michael. He had been watching without comment. “Maybe we should wait until it stops.”

  “Silly,” said Pam with a giggle before Michael could answer. “In the olden days, do you think people stayed home if it snowed? Horses and carriages went out in all kinds of weather!”

  “The pony’s going to be all right,” Michael said briefly. Ginny felt a little better. Michael understood. Now that the moment had finally come, Ginny was nervous. Mokey suddenly looked big and strange in the black and silver harness. The snowy fields and lanes outside no longer looked soft and inviting. They looked scary and full of hidden dangers. Maybe they hadn’t practiced enough. Maybe the bells would scare the pony.

  Ginny knew if she waited one more moment, she’d never be able to take the important step of actually fastening Mokey’s traces to the sleigh. She barely gave herself time to put on her gloves. Then she nodded quickly to Pam and led Mokey outside.

  Pam had pulled the sleigh from the shed. It was waiting in the stable yard. Pam held the pony. Ginny helped Michael ease the curved red shafts through the loops of the harness. Ginny was shivering so hard that her teeth chattered. She tried to follow Michael’s quick hands. He fastened the traces and buckled the harness to the sleigh. But she was much too nervous. There were too many things to remember.

  “I’ll teach you to do this another time,” said Michael. “But this is the first time out. We don’t want to keep the pony standing any longer than we must.”

  He stood up. He checked one last buckle. Then he stepped back. He and Ginny looked at the waiting pony and the pretty red sleigh in a moment of silence.

  “Oh, come on!” said Pam. Mokey tossed her head and made the silver bells ring. “Aren’t you ready yet?”

  Chapter Five

  Ginny’s throat was so dry she could hardly swallow.

  “In you go,” Michael said to her. “Gently, now.” He went to Mokey’s head and held her. Ginny stepped quietly into the sleigh. She took the reins and the whip in her hands.

  It felt very strange to be sitting so high and so far away from Mokey. Ginny gulped again. Michael spoke softly to Mokey. He turned to see if Ginny was ready. Ginny nodded stiffly. Pam stepped back. Michael clucked to the pony.

  Mokey took one step. The traces got tighter from the weight of the standing sleigh. Mokey stopped. She was unsure.

  “Come on, Mokey!” Ginny said. Her voice was hoarse. Michael patted the pony and clucked again. The pony lowered her head and moved forward.

  Once it was started, the sleigh slipped silently and easily through the snow. The bells on the harness chimed softly. They were safely through the stable-yard gates. Michael stepped away from Mokey’s head. The reins came alive in Ginny’s hands. She felt Mokey’s mouth with the reins through the bit. The pony responded. She turned down the lane leading between the paddocks.

  Mokey was walking more freely now and with more sureness.

  “Miss Pam,” Michael said quietly, “you walk by the pony’s shoulder for a bit. If there’s any trouble, be ready to take hold of her head. Otherwise, leave her alone.”

  In one quick and silent movement, he was in the sleigh beside Ginny. Ginny handed the reins to Michael. The snow fell and stung her face. The harness bells rang softly. But Ginny didn’t notice. She was too busy watching Michael’s hands on the reins and listening to what he said.

  They drove at a quiet walk down the lane. They made a wide sweep around the old storage barn. Then they started back toward the stable. They passed the gates. They went around the wide sweep of driveway in front of the Jennings house. Once they passed the stable yard again, Michael let Mokey move on into a jogging trot.

  By now Pam was completely out of breath. At Michael’s nod, she flung herself down on a snowbank. She waved as the sleigh went on. Mokey was moving evenly. She was more sure of herself. Michael nodded. He was pleased.

  “Good,” he said. Ginny glowed.

  Michael drew Mokey back to a walk.

  “Here you go,” he said to Ginny. He handed her the reins.

  Mokey felt different hands on the reins. She threw her head up and stopped. Michael got out of the sleigh. He was at the pony’s head before Ginny even saw him start to move.

  “Gently, little lady,” he said to the pony. He led Mokey for a few minutes. Then he swung silently back into the sleigh.

  Ginny’s hands grew stiff with cold and tension. Her head spun. She tried to remember everything Michael had taught her. The tracks of the sleigh runners had run so straight when Michael drove. Now they snaked and wobbled behind them as she drove her pony down the lane. Mokey felt the nervousness in Ginny’s hands. She kept stopping. Once she tried to back up. But Michael was always quick to move to her head to get the pony moving forward again.

  Slowly the marks of the sleigh runners in the snow started to straighten out. Michael was in the sleigh now more than he was out of it. Once or twice, he even nodded his approval as Ginny made a wide turn. The pony moved evenly between the shafts.

  The moment finally came when Michael stepped out of the sleigh and waved to Pam. Her dark eyes were shining with excitement. Pam slipped silently onto the red leather seat beside Ginny.

  Mokey broke into an easy jog. The silver bells rang. Ginny heard the gentle sound of the bells and the hushed hiss of the runners through the snow. The reins began to feel comfortable in her hands. Strong and cheerful, Mokey trotted along
the drifted lane. Her breath made twin puffs of steam in the cold air.

  They started to sweep past the stable yard again. Michael shook his head and raised his hand. Ginny was reluctant, but she drew Mokey back to a walk and then to a stop. Michael went to the pony’s head. He gave her a lump of sugar.

  “Very good, Miss Ginny. Very nice indeed. But your pony’s had enough for one day.”

  Ginny felt guilty. She saw the clouds of steam rising from Mokey’s sweating sides. She noticed how heavily the pony was breathing. She jumped quickly out of the sleigh. Then she helped to lead Mokey into the stable yard. Pam ran to get a cooler. She threw it over Mokey’s back. Together the girls covered the hot pony with the wide blanket. It would keep her from getting chilled. Michael unharnessed her from the sleigh.

  Ginny felt tired when she had gotten out of the sleigh. Then Mokey had been unharnessed. She was taken into the stable to be rubbed and walked and then rubbed again. After that, Ginny felt as though she could never take another step again.

  Pam helped by taking over Mokey’s cooling out. Then they carried the heavy harness into the tack room. Every salty sweat mark had to be saddle-soaped clean under Michael’s watchful eye. Even the bit and all the buckles had to be dried. They were polished back to their original shine. Then Michael finally let her hang the harness in its place in the tack room.

  Ginny fell onto a hay bale in the stable aisle. She sighed wearily. Michael ran his hand over Mokey’s chest. He shook his head in disapproval.

  “The pony is still warm,” he said.

  “But, Michael!” Pam said with a wail. “Her coat’s so long! It’s never going to dry out!”

  “This is always a problem with an un-clipped pony,” said Michael. “And that’s why she tired so quickly. I’d be happy to clip her for you, Miss Ginny. But you won’t be able to turn her out in the paddock for very long during the day. She won’t have her winter coat to protect her. While you’re in school, you can’t be there to let her in or out of her stall as the weather changes.”