Pony Rebellion by Janet Rising Read Free Book Online

what?” I asked, eyeing up the boundary rails.
    â€œHe must have jumped in here. He can jump out again,” said James grimly. “Can you take one of my stirrup leathers off Moth’s saddle? It’ll have to do as a rein.”
    Dismounting, I wrestled one of James’s leathers from Moth’s saddle (which wasn’t easy as he hardly ever cleans his tack) and threw it over the rail.
    With the leather fastened to Henry’s head collar as makeshift, very short reins, James jumped onto Henry’s unclipped, fluffy black back.
    â€œCome on, you big lump,” said James, turning the Dales pony around to run up. “Let’s go!”
    But Henry didn’t want to go. Henry decided to adopt a slo-mo attitude and went at a snail’s pace, despite James urging him on with his legs.
    â€œThis pony is very badly trained!” his substitute rider grumbled. Mrs. Bradley was quite content to let her dear Henry wander the countryside at a mile a week, and Henry had become used to dictating the pace. He wasn’t about to relinquish control to James.
    â€œ Let’s go! ” James yelled angrily, flapping his elbows and kicking Henry’s sides. Unused to such positive riding, Henry bounded, surprised, into a canter. Unfortunately, it surprised Tiffany too, and she turned and fled back down the bridle path with Bean clinging on like a leech, having had plenty of practice sitting through her pony’s one-eighty turns. Luckily, this gave Henry the idea, and he sailed over the rail after Tiffany with James clinging to his mane. Unluckily, the idea petered out on the other side, and he came to an immediate and very abrupt halt the moment he touched down.
    There was a dull thud accompanied by several words I hadn’t heard since my dad was cut off on the highway by a maniac in a BMW.
    â€œAre you all right?” I asked, peering down at James. James peered back up at me from under Henry’s neck.
    â€œPhysically, yes,” he said. “Psychologically, no!” He grinned, hauling himself up and brushing leaves off his riding pants. “Where’s Bean?”
    â€œTiffany thought you were talking to her.”
    â€œI’m back,” said a voice as Bean steered a bug-eyed Tiffany through the trees.
    â€œWhere did you get out?” Drummer asked Henry.
    â€œBehind the field shelter—there’s a nice big hole there now. I’ll show you later,” he replied.
    â€œOh no, you won’t!” I said, pulling out my cell phone and speed-dialing Katy.
    â€œWhat did you say that for?” asked Drummer.
    â€œYou asked me!” replied Henry.
    â€œYeah, well sometimes I think I’ll wake up and discover this pony-whispering girl was just a bad dream,” I heard Drummer mumbling to himself.
    With Katy dispatched to fill in the escape tunnel, we turned for home, James leading Henry from Moth, his spare stirrup dangling from my hand. Henry still wasn’t playing ball. He snatched at the hedges, he dawdled, he shook his head trying to get James to drop the makeshift lead rein. In all, he was so annoying . Moth didn’t look too happy either, and Bean and I found ourselves trying to push the magnificent black horse along in front of us.
    â€œHow does Mrs. Bradley put up with this little punk?” James asked, tugging on the stirrup leather.
    â€œShe loves him,” sighed Bean as though that was all that mattered.
    â€œHummph!” snorted James, unimpressed.
    â€œI’ll take him for a while if you want,” I offered. “You’ll be better at coaxing him along than I am.”
    Steering Drummer around Henry, I took the stirrup leather from James, and we proceeded for a while with James successfully shoving Henry along so that he walked beside me.
    We reached the path—the quickest way back to the yard was to follow the road for several hundred feet. My plan was to keep Henry to my inside, his head up and level