Goodbye, Chocolate Charlie. Marga Jonker

old nag with baggage!” teased André, getting the joke.

      “Ah, you can laugh all you want, but I think she’s special. A horse like this can only have such an intelligent look if she’s been loved and cared for properly,” Grandpa Solly insisted.

      “Yes, Grandpa, but what if she’ s like Aunty Esther’s horse – the one she hand-reared and treated like her dog?” Nicky sounded worried.

      “You mean the Shetland pony that slept in Aunty Esther’s kitchen?” asked Luke. “Now that was a dud! No one could ride it – it bit like a dog and kicked like a rodeo bull.”

      “My point is that that horse was also well looked after,” argued Nicky.

      “Well, yes, Ratu does have her strange ways – Doc and I have already discovered that.” Grandpa Solly grinned. “Doc looked her over a bit. She’s tame and healthy, but she’s not a riding horse. At least she doesn’t kick or bite. In fact, she has better manners than quite a few of the Solitaire horses.”

      “But what does she do? Does she buck?” Luke was really curious.

      “Just wait and see, old chap. It’s very odd,” Grandpa Solly said mysteriously. He passed the bridle to André. “Go on, André, you saw her tricks last night. Go and catch her for us.”

      André ducked through the fence, bridle in hand – the kind that had a soft bit. He walked up to Ratu, who didn’t shy away. She stayed calm while André carefully pulled the bridle over her head. Her nose band was fastened without protest, and then André tightened the throat latch, gently tugging out her long white mane from under the brow band. Ratu started chewing the bit, wriggling her nose.

      “She doesn’t seem too sensitive or touchy on her face,” remarked Luke. “In fact, she’s responding just like a trained riding horse.”

      “You’re right,” Nicky agreed. “Grandpa, this mare is as tame as anything. What on earth can the problem be?”

      André led Ratu a few laps around the paddock – she followed happily and energetically, with no trace of any quirk or bad habit. When he stopped next to the saddle, which was draped over the fence, Ratu sniffed the leather, the sheepskin numnah and the single girth.

      “Now you’ll see what happens,” Grandpa Solly smiled. He lifted the saddle from the fence and positioned himself on Ratu’s left, holding the saddle over his arm, while André stood in front of her, reins in hand.

      Curiously, Luke and Nicky watched Grandpa Solly’s every move.

      With his right hand he calmly stroked Ratu’s back a few times. She twitched her skin but stayed quite still as he put the saddle on her back, and she didn’t wriggle or try to back out from under it. Grandpa Solly fastened the girth around her. Luke was tense as he waited. Nicky bit the nail on her thumb.

      André slackened Ratu’s reins a bit. Knowing what was coming, he stepped away from the horse. As if he were about to mount, Grandpa Solly placed his hands on the saddle, whistling softly as he always did with an unfamiliar horse. Suddenly, Ratu’s knees buckled under her, as if she were a camel, and she collapsed flat onto her side. It was as if she had fainted.

      “And there you have it – our Ratu’s little trick! That is what she thinks she must do when someone puts a saddle on her back,” explained Grandpa Solly.

      “Wow!” exclaimed Luke. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He shook his head.

      “That’s flipping weird!” said Nicky, baffled.

      “Yup, and what’s more, you can’t budge her. Doc and I tried. She stays like that, flat on the ground, until you remove the saddle and bridle. Only then does she get up again.” Grandpa Solly stepped back to observe the pony, who was still lying completely motionless.

      Luke walked up to Ratu and prodded her in the side, but she lay there as if she’d been drugged. Her eyes were closed, legs stiffly stretched out, as if she were breathing her last breath, and grunted just like Big Boy did when he was fast asleep and dreaming.

      Grandpa Solly untied the girth and lifted off the saddle while André removed the bridle. And as sure as sausages, when they were finished, Ratu slowly and calmly got up to her feet, as if this was the most normal behaviour in the world.

      As she stood, Ratu pricked up her ears and turned away from them towards the sound of a large truck in the distance that was heading their way.

      “Ah, that must be Colette and her visitors,” said Grandpa Solly.

      They all looked in the direction of the farm gate as the truck came rumbling through it.

      What’s up with the palomino? Nicky wondered. She’s a strange little thing – she seems quite normal, but she’s definitely suffering from a bad case of weirdness. Just like me.

      5

      The Stellenbosch girls

      “Cool, Mom’s here!” Luke called out happily.

      The truck, a big horse truck that could transport up to eight horses, had already made its way through the tall white pillars of the farm gate and rattled over the cattle grid when the Land Rover came into view, driven by Luke’s mom. The truck came to a stop in front of a set of stables with blue doors. These stables, known as “the blue block”, were closest to the arena where the horses and riders practised and trained. It was where the riding horses were stabled, and each blue door had a sign with the horse’s name on it. The breeding mares were usually stabled in “the green block”, closest to the barn, where the doors had been painted a classic dark green.

      Grandpa Solly, André and Luke rushed over to where both the truck and the Land Rover had parked in front of the blue block. Three fashionably dressed girls were getting out of the Landy, along with Luke and Colette’s mom, Elinor.

      Nicky trailed behind the others, silently wishing she’d made more of an effort getting dressed that morning. Her mom had bought her some new clothes just recently – probably with the Stellenbosch girls in mind. Nicky usually wasn’t bothered about clothes. In fact, one of the things she’d loved most about her first term of homeschooling was that she could live in jeans, tackies and floppy jerseys. Sometimes a whole morning of lessons would go by with her still wearing her pyjamas and slippers.

      And here came Colette, in a black-and-white checked miniskirt with frills that bobbed up and down as she moved. She’d teamed it with red stockings, black ankle boots and a long-sleeved white shirt under a short black-leather jacket.

      Colette’s dress sense had changed after she’d hit grade 7. After that, she’d no longer gone around the farm in her riding gear or in the blue overalls and Wellington boots that Nicky and Luke always wore. Instead, she’d started changing outfits three times a day – a different look for every mood. None of her dad’s comments or teasing had done anything to stop that, and now that she was in grade 9 and her second year at boarding school, she always looked chic, even if it was in a slightly overdressed sort of way.

      Nicky tugged self-consciously at her baggy jeans, which were tucked into her big Wellies, regretting that she’d picked her oldest and floppiest jersey to wear that day.

      “Hi, Grandpa.” Colette gave her grandpa a hug and Nicky noticed that she was even wearing make-up.

      “And how is my too-big-for-his-boots brother?” Colette plopped a kiss on Luke’s head and didn’t wait for an answer before turning to André and giving him a big hug. “Hi, André. I hear you’re also taking part in the showjumping competition, on Wild Hero.” Colette managed to make this sound like both a question and a statement as she sidled up to him and hooked her arm through his. “You’re going to have to work hard! Is he even capable of jumping?”

      “Yes, you will be getting a very big shock.” André’s English had left him in the lurch again. “Luke and Jenny have been teaching Hero a thing or two. You’ll see; he’s going to give you a big surprise.”

      Colette