Chapter 2

The Mountain Stallion

A MONTH AFTER SHE’D HAD to say goodbye to Cardiff, Vicki was still without a pony. Every day she would search the newspaper for ponies advertised for sale, but her family had been able to scrape together only a couple of hundred dollars, and there was nothing in their price range. With each day that passed Vicki felt more disheartened.

One day after school, her parents told her they had a surprise trip planned. “We’re going to see some wild ponies!” her mum said with a huge smile.

“Real wild horses?” squealed Kelly.

“Where?” Vicki asked in confusion. “I didn’t know there were wild ponies around here.”

“Neither did we,” her dad said, “but there’s a herd that runs wild on a mountain, just fifteen minutes from here. Look what I saw in today’s paper!”

Vicki reached for the newspaper, unable to believe what she was hearing. Right there, in black and white, her dad had circled the following words: Wild mountain ponies, $50 each.

With shaking hands, she re-read the words, then looked up at her parents. “My favourite books are about taming wild horses,” she whispered.

Mum leant over and ruffled Vicki’s long brown hair. “I know they are. Maybe you’ll find your own one to tame. We’ve already phoned the people and they’re expecting us to look at the ponies this afternoon.”

“Hurry up, let’s go!” Amanda cried, with a stamp of her foot. “I’ve been waiting all day for you and Kelly to come home from school.”

Excited, Vicki, Kelly and Amanda pulled on their boots and piled into the family’s old car. As their dad drove, the chatter of the three sisters filled the air, their excitement contagious as they neared the old volcano, which loomed above the Hikurangi Swamp.

Their car rattled to a stop at the end of a steep gravel driveway. A lady met them and led the family higher up the mountain, walking up a winding bush track that weaved between trees and volcanic rocks.

“How long have the wild ponies lived up here?” Vicki asked.

“Our family has been breeding Welsh ponies on this mountain for generations,” the lady said. “It’s only in recent years we haven’t been able to keep up with training them. Now the herd roams wild — some of them have never been touched.”

“How many are there?” Vicki said, eager to learn as much as possible about the ponies.

“There must be about twenty or thirty now — I’ve lost track of all the foals that have been born over the years. Whoever takes them will have a hard time catching them, let alone taming them.”

After they’d been walking for ten minutes, the trees thinned out and the track opened out into a volcanic crater. The grass was sparse from over-grazing, and dozens of ponies dotted the landscape.

The family paused at the edge of the trees. As they watched, a beautiful chestnut pony pranced down the hill, his glistening red coat rippling like lava and his long mane flowing in the wind. With a shrill cry he screamed a challenge to a palomino stallion who stood grazing with his mares.

Coming to a halt, the chestnut rose on his hind legs, his forelegs striking the air. Vicki gasped as the palomino rushed forward with teeth bared and chased the younger stallion away. With a loud snort the chestnut leapt to safety and darted up into the trees, disappearing from sight.

“Why were they fighting?” asked Amanda. “Won’t they hurt each other?”

“It’s the way of wild horses,” the lady replied. “The young chestnut stallion wants a herd of his own, and the palomino has to fight to protect his mares from being stolen.”

Turning, she pointed to the palomino and his small herd. “Everything in this herd is available if you’re interested. The stallion is six years old, the grey mare with the foal is about eight and …”

Vicki listened distractedly as the lady pointed out more ponies for sale, her eyes fixed on the trees, hoping the chestnut stallion would reappear. Quietly, she asked, “What about the chestnut?”

The lady looked down at her with a cautious expression on her face and said, “They’re brothers, you know. But they are nothing alike. The palomino is curious and sensible, but the chestnut is a troublemaker. He’s only four years old, but he’s going to be a hard one to tame.”

“But we could choose him, if he was our favourite?”

“I certainly wouldn’t recommend him, but yes, he also has to go, one way or another.”

“Can we please go closer to the horses?” Amanda asked, tugging on the lady’s arm.

“Follow me,” she replied, striding ahead.

Vicki’s gaze returned to the tree-line, but the elusive chestnut was nowhere to be seen.

As they drew closer, the palomino raised his head, his flowing white mane contrasting with the golden hues of his coat. A white blaze ran down his nose. “He’s the most beautiful pony I’ve ever seen,” Kelly said, jumping up and down and clapping her hands in excitement. Startled, the palomino leapt back, circling his herd to put more distance between them.

“Don’t you know anything about wild horses?” Vicki said, furious that her sister had spooked the curious stallion. “You have to stay quiet and move slowly so you don’t scare them.”

Kelly dropped her gaze and slowly shuffled back behind her mum. “I’ve never seen a wild horse before — how was I supposed to know?”

As they watched the herd, the grey mare stepped forward. Every rib was showing, and her hip bones were jutting through her taut hide. Her foal bunted her playfully, trying to suckle.

“It’s been a hard year,” the lady sighed. “They’ll starve this winter if I don’t reduce numbers.”

Finally, sensing movement in the trees, Vicki turned and saw a flash of red. “Mum, Dad,” she said urgently. “He’s watching us.”

They saw the young chestnut stallion, standing alert and peering out from the shadow of the trees.

“Everyone else wait here while Vicki and I get a closer look at him,” her mum said.

Slowly, they made their way up the hill towards the chestnut. With each of their steps Vicki could see the stallion tense, his neck arched as he snorted in fear.

“I’ve never seen a pony like him,” Vicki whispered, her eyes wide.

“He sure is something,” her mum agreed, as the stallion tossed his head and galloped past them down the hillside, the pounding of his hooves echoing around the crater.

As they made their way back to the others, Vicki kept her eyes on the fleeing pony. None of the others were as beautiful, strong or splendid as the chestnut stallion, and already her heart was set on taming him.

As they hiked back down the mountain to their car, Vicki dreamed of everything she’d be able to do with him once she won his trust. Taming a wild, untouched stallion was everything she’d ever dreamed of. Now she just had to convince her parents she could do it.