Anna Wells and the Case of the Caterwaul

Chapter One

Polly gallops smoothly toward the last jump on course when my blond ponytail escapes the hastily placed bobby pins and starts bouncing against my back.

So much for having my hair up in a bun.

No time for distractions. I have to pay attention if I want to win!

I focus my eyes and mind on the last jump; a vertical plank set at the full height of .9 metre2s balanced on flat cups. One tip of Polly’s hooves and the whole thing will come crashing down.

So far, Polly Pocket, my 14.2 hand high palomino mare, and I have no penalty points. This is not a time to get sloppy. I think about what we learned this past week at Pony Club camp: rhythm, balance, and straightness.

I sit up and signal Polly with the reins to balance. Next, I count down while steering her towards the middle of the fence.

“Five, four, three, two, one….”

The mare plants her back feet about a metre from the fence, lifts her shoulders toward my chest, and explodes off the ground.

We’re flying!

A smile breaks across my face, and I hear myself yelling, “Wheeeeeeeeee!”

Before the embarrassment of such a childish reaction reaches my cheeks, we’re through the finish line and trot toward the out-gate.

“Anna Wells riding Polly Pocket has a time is 32.3 seconds, putting her in first place,” crackles the PA system.

Beth Oakley, the 27-year-old A level Pony Club instructor from camp, meets us as we exit the gate.

“Great job, Anna!” She scratches Polly’s sweaty shoulder, her brown eyes shining. “You rode the last fence perfectly!”

I jump off my pony and lead her away from the gate. Polly pulls at the reins as she reaches down for the summer grass. I disregard the Pony Club guidelines, which frown upon eating while wearing a bridle. Polly deserves a treat.

“Thanks, Beth,” I puff. Short of breath, and feeling a little wobbly from all the adrenaline running through my veins, I now wish I had eaten something for breakfast.

“Rhythm, balance, and straightness. That’s what you emphasized all week.” As I hug Polly’s golden neck, my heart rate slows down.

Ellen, my six-year-old baby sister, is calling me.

“Anna! My Anna banana!”

I turn quickly to see who is around to hear such a mortifying thing.

Melanie.

Oh, great! Now she has more ammunition with which to tease me.

Melanie Young rides with Beth down here in the Comox Valley Pony Club. She was part of the group that travelled to Patrick, my hometown, this past spring for our Pony Club Camp. We didn’t exactly hit it off.

The small town of Patrick is about 200 kilometres north on Vancouver Island. My dad dropped my friend Kelly, her horse Solo, Polly and me off to attend the week-long Pony Club camp held at Beth’s facility. The timing was perfect as the Summer Classic Horse Show was the following weekend at the Comox Valley Exhibition grounds.

Unfortunately, one of my best friends, Ginger Howard, and her horse, Flora, couldn’t make it because her aunt from Toronto is visiting. They’re in Victoria sightseeing and shopping. I’m beginning to suspect Ginger enjoys shopping more than horses.

Melanie smirks as she saunters over, leading her Connemara pony, Montego Bay. “Oh how sweet, my Anna banana,” Melanie mimics Ellen. “If only I had known your nickname sooner.”

I stare at her, fuming, as she walks by, laughing. If Ginger were here, she wouldn’t let her get away with that.

I spin on my heel away from Melanie. I don’t want to waste energy on her, so I close my eyes and count to three.

When I open them, I spy Mom and Ellen walking toward me. At least Mom is walking. Ellen, brown curls bouncing, is running ahead and straining to get out of Mom’s grip.

“Ellen,” Mom laughs, “you’re pulling my arm out!”

“But I want to hug Anna.” Ellen squeals, “You won!”

Mom lets her youngest child’s hand go, and Ellen catapults into me, encircling my hips with her tiny arms.

“You won!” She jumps up and down trying to lift me off the ground.

“No,” I correct her. “I’m only in first place for now.”

“Uh uh.” She stops jumping and announces. “The last two riders knocked fences down! So you won, right?” Her brown eyes flash and her long eyelashes blink with excitement.

What? I won!

I was so caught up with Melanie I didn’t pay attention. I scoop Ellen up in my arms, spinning her around, cheering.

I stop when I hear the announcer: “Riders to the ring for presentations of ribbons for class 12, .9 metre Jumper. In 6th place Lucas Irwin on Little Caesar, in 5th place Hailey Wong on Mimi, in 4th place Kelly Meyers on Solo, in 3rd place Hannah Collorros on Big Blue, in 2nd place Carter Jefferson on Jackson and in 1st place Anna Wells on Polly Pocket.”

Kelly trots by, smiling widely. “Yeah! Anna!”

“Thanks and congratulations on fourth place!” I yell back as I quickly mount Polly and follow her into the centre of the arena.

We line up in order. I can’t believe we won the .9-metre jumper class! Polly and I just moved up to this division.

My throat tightens, and I try to hold back tears. I recall the recent challenges I’ve overcome, like finding out who starved Duchess, our new pony, and all the spilled-over consequences.

Mrs. Erickson, the judge, walks toward us. I snap out of my daze.

“Congratulations, Anna, on a well-ridden round.” She pins a large red ribbon on Polly’s bridle. “Keep this up, and you’ll be champion of the division tomorrow.” She pats Polly’s neck and is gone as quickly as she appeared.

“Anna, please lead the others in the victory round,” the announcer orders over the PA.

I gather up the reins in one hand, turn Polly left onto the rail and canter away as the others follow.

The wind blows my loose ponytail behind me just like Polly’s cream-coloured silky tail trails us like a comet. I pump my fist in the air triumphantly.

“Wahoo, Anna Banana!” Ellen cheers.

Even my baby sister’s embarrassing nickname can’t dampen the joy I’m feeling.

After our gallop around the arena, I pull Polly back to a walk and lead the rest of the riders out of the arena.

Melanie, mounted on her pony, is waiting for the 1 metre Jumper Classic to begin. She dominated the .9 division last year but, like me, moved up for this show season.

“Between the childish squeal and your juvenile nickname, I can’t see what Zane sees in you.”

Zane Gordon, our Pony Club instructor’s fifteen-year-old son, is a fellow Pony Club member and my friend. He didn’t come to this show because his brother Ben is moving away and he wanted to spend time with him.

I ignore her, but Kelly doesn’t.

“You’re just jealous, Melanie. And besides, Anna and Zane are only friends.”

“Good! That means he’ll be my boyfriend soon,” Melanie bellows before harshly kicking her pony to cajole him into the arena.

“Anna!” A voice calls out.

I turn to see Coraline KenKelen. She runs a shelter for abandoned, abused and at-risk horses. She goes to every auction and buys up unwanted horses before the meat man can.

I jump off Polly and lead her over to Coraline. Her chestnut hair is shining in the summer sun, and her hazel eyes are sparkling.

“Congratulations on your win! I got here just in time to see your round.”

“Thanks,” I run the stirrups up and loosen the girth before I give Coraline a hug. Polly pulls the reins and once again starts munching on grass.

“So this is Polly.” Coraline runs her right hand along the pony’s shining mane, scratching her shoulder. Polly stops eating and leans in to the massage.Mom and Ellen join us, and I introduce them to Coraline. 

A few weeks ago my parents talked with Coraline on the phone to thank her for helping us with Duchess, but they haven’t met yet.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” Mom extends her hand. Coraline shakes it, smiling.

“And you must be Ellen, Duchess’s owner.” Coraline kneels down to look my sister in the eye.

“I am,” Ellen says, beaming with pride. “And tomorrow, Duchess and I are going to win a ribbon too!”

“Oh!” Coraline exclaims, “Is Duchess here?”

“Uh, huh,” Ellen boasts. “Wanna see her?”

“I’d love to!” Coraline takes Ellen’s hand and they walk away to the show stables.

Last night Mom picked Kelly, Solo, Polly and me up from Beth’s with Duchess and Ellen tagging along for their first horse show. We stayed the night in a hotel and got here early this morning to feed the ponies and to get ready for my first class.

Mom puts her arm around my shoulder as we follow Ellen and Coraline. I have to pull Polly to get her to abandon the grass and follow me.

“I’m so proud of you, Anna. What a great round.” Mom is a rider too. Her horse, Mrs. Biggs, is a Canadian Warmblood mare. Mom loves flatwork. Boring!

“Thanks, but I didn’t do it alone. Polly is the best!” Mom squeezes my shoulder in agreement.

At the end of Spring Camp Beth asked me when I was going to move up to a horse. She showed interest in buying Polly for one of her students. Mom and I talked about it briefly, but with everything that happened this spring with Ellen and Duchess, we haven’t revisited the conversation.

Do I need to move up to a horse, like Beth suggested? Or does she only want me to sell my pony so her student Erin can buy her?

Mom takes her arm from around me and stops walking. I pull Polly up and look at her. Mom’s deep brown eyes are staring into my blue ones. “Polly is a very special pony. Dad and I have talked about the idea of selling her and finding you a horse; however, we’re leaving any decision about Polly’s future up to you. She’s yours, and you get to decide.”

I let out an enormous sigh and hug my mom. “Thanks, Mom,” I say as I pull Polly off the grass and we continue to her stall.

I put my pony away as Mom goes to join Coraline and Ellen in Duchess’ stall.

After I remove Polly’s saddle and bridle, I pass the stall on my way to put the tack away. Coraline and Ellen are brushing Duchess. Mom is holding the lead rope. I smile as I think how far the pony has come from near death from starvation to being healthy and almost fat.

I stop on my way back from putting my things away to join the group admiring the buckskin pony.

“She’s beautiful and healthy,” Coraline says. I notice tears welling in her eyes, and her voice is husky.

“Course she’s bootiful,” Ellen boasts as she combs the thick, long black mane. “She’s a duchess!”

Coraline laughs and rubs the pony’s unique crescent moon white marking in the middle of her golden head. Duchess obviously recognizes Coraline. She leans in and blows air out of her nostrils.

Again, I think back to the skinny, frightened pony I first met ten months ago. Wow, she’s come a long way.

“What classes are you in, Ellen?” Coraline asks as she cleans out a back hoof.

Ellen places her hands on her hips and pouts. “Lead Line.”

“She doesn’t want to be led around.” I say, coming into the stall. “I’ve tried explaining that if she goes in Lead Line, it will be a great warm-up for the Walk/Trot class.”

“I’m not a baby!” Ellen stamps her foot. ”I don’t want to be led around! Neither does Duchess.”

“But,” I spit out, “all you have to do is sit there!”

Taking a deep breath, I shake my hands out to release the stress and kneel in front of my baby sister. “Don’t you want to be Lady Ellen riding Duchess?”

“Hmph,” she sticks her tongue out at me. “I am Lady Ellen and she is the Duchess!”

She looks so comical I can’t help but laugh. Then Ellen laughs. Soon Mom and Coraline join in. Duchess suddenly whinnies as if she doesn’t want to be left out.

I stand up and muss Ellen’s hair. “Hey,” I gently punch her in the arm. “If you smile and sit in your perfect position, like I know you can, I promise to hardly hold the lead line.”

“Seriously?” she queries. It’s our word.

“Seriously,” I hold out my pinky.

Ellen hooks her pinky with mine, and we shake.

“Did you know I’m sponsoring your class, Ellen?” Coraline says.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Coraline laughs. Turning to me, she asks, “What time is your next class, Anna?”

“I ride at 4:30.” I look at my watch. “In about 2 hours. Can you stay?”

“That’s why I came,” she says.

“And what about tomorrow?” Coraline scoots back down to Ellen’s level. “I hope to see Duchess and Lady Ellen in the ring.”

“You do?” Ellen beams.

“Of course,” Coraline stands up and hugs Duchess around the neck. “I love Duchess, and I’m so excited to see you ride her. Is that okay?”

“Yes! I bathed Duchess and cleaned all our tack. We’re ready!”

“I can tell.” Coraline steps back to inspect the pony. “She looks great.”

“And Anna’s going to braid her hair, right Anna?”

“Yes,” I sigh. I’ll be getting up early to do that even though I won’t be riding till the afternoon.

“Anyone else hungry?” Mom asks.

My stomach growls in response before anyone else answers.

“Okay,” Mom laughs, “let’s go find the food truck.”