The Interview

Chapter 19

It was two o'clock exactly when Patty pulled up outside the cottage, having phoned through ten minutes previously to confirm her arrival time. At least that's what my watch said, but the old wooden clock with the tarnished brass work on the mantlepiece said three minutes after.

"A couple of minutes fast," my host said, noting my glance. "Not bad considering its age. I keep meaning to change it, but I never seem to get around to doing it. I worry about the mechanism, so I tend to leave it be. It's very old, and I must wind it every three days now. It used to last a week, but it's like me, old and rather fragile on the inside, although it still looks fairly good on the outside, unlike me!" she chuckled. "Both still going but not quite as good as we used to be. Nowhere near good enough, if I'm honest! The clock was a sort of impromptu leaving present from Celine when I was departing her place after my first visit. She said something to mark the occasion, and it wasn't new even then. That's why I'm fond of it.

"It's a nice clock," I said politely.

"Nothing special" She shrugged and then chuckled. Of course, she gave me the clock but not the key. That came by post two weeks later. Typical Celine. Her planning when necessary was immaculate and precise, but at other times even a simple shopping list could stump the girl!"

A horn sounded from outside, one of those old-fashioned ones with that old-fashioned hunting horn stirring musical quality rather than the harsh electronic blast modern ones emitted.

"Impatient little brat!" my host muttered, bending forward and using her age-spotted hands on the armrests to propel herself out of her seat. "Come on. Patience is one family gene that went AWOL when that one popped out between her mother's legs. I grinned as she waved away my offer of a helping hand away and followed her to the front door. 

"Hey, girl, cut that out! Don't you dare honk at me!"

Patty laughed and waved at us from her seat on the two-wheeled cart as we emerged into the early afternoon sunlight. I noted that she used her left hand, the one that was loosely holding a set of reins. The fingers of her right hand were still curled around the large black rubber bulb of an old-fashioned horn mounted on the rail in front of her.

"Just testing Auntie, dear!" the girl laughed, squeezing the bulb again. "Loud, isn't it?"

"Yes," I nodded, for the question had been directed at me. "Very!" I replied, rubbing one ear, grinning back, and wondering why it was needed. I mean, there wasn't a lot of traffic around, nor likely to be.

Patty laughed again and blew a kiss towards her scowling aunt, then patted the cushioned seat beside her. "C’mon, up here alongside me. I know it’s only a short walk up to the stable, but I thought you might as well travel in style as I was out and about, letting Hussy stretch her legs. Come on,” she patted the seat again. “We’ll head up to the house afterwards, I’ll give you a call, Auntie, and we’ll probably eat early. I think Maria has Lasagne and salad on the menu, A reheat job out of the freezer, I expect, so no big deal about timing” She smiled at her departing aunt as I walked around behind the cart or whatever it was called, found a convenient step and cautiously hauled myself up and onto the seat. It seemed to wobble alarmingly, causing me to immediately grip the aluminium rail in front of me with both hands.

“Don’t worry; it’s far stronger than it seems,” Patty assured me. “It has to be super light, of course, but it won’t fall apart on us. Think bicycle, one of those ultra-modern ones, not the old black sit-up and beg type. You could lift this entire equipage with one finger, well maybe ten fingers, she extemporised,” tapping the rail. “Maria does an excellent Lasagne, by the way; delicious, ready?”

She’d shifted her position as she half-turned to ask the question making the damn thing lurch as she did so. Lightweight, make that featherweight, I thought, still gripping the rail tightly. A few years back, while employed by another organisation, I participated in the office summer charity lottery as one does. Well, why not? It was a large company with a lot of employees, and it was my immediate supervisor who was flogging the tickets. I hadn’t even taken note of the prizes, well you often don’t, under those circumstances, do you and if you’re lucky, very lucky, a box of chocolates or a bottle of cheap wine may come your way. I should have known better, for the company didn’t do ‘cheap’ at any level!

I had been lucky, but I hadn’t anticipated collecting my prize on a damp grey Saturday morning at a World War II-era airfield host to a small aviation museum, a few light aircraft, a flying school, and a heritage flight Experience. My prize was one of three chosen to receive a fifteen-minute flight in something that looked like it might have graced the skies in the first world war. The fact that it dated from twenty years later and trained thousands of Royal Air Force pilots for round two of the same contest cut no ice with me. It was still old, sported two sets of wings joined together with assorted bits of wood and wire, the only significant visible metal on the fuselage being around the engine and no roof over the driver’s seat nor the one behind that I was invited to sit in!

Had it not been for the fact that half the office had turned out on that blustery day to see us off into the wild blue yonder from the safety of a surprisingly decent café, I’d never have used the damn prize voucher. I hadn’t anyway because it had all been swiftly arranged without any input from me, bar the odd supposedly eager smile of anticipation. At least I could console myself that the luck of the draw had spared me, a person with a fear of heights, the parachute jump!

There was a moment when I actually began to enjoy the experience. Still, the fact that by then, we were throttled back and gracefully sinking slowly downwards towards the oncoming runway might have had something to do with it. Anyway, from the moment I hesitantly lowered my bottom onto what appeared to be an inadequate seat, words like flimsy, wobbly and primitive came immediately and unbidden to mind. Others, such as old, vintage and damn antique, I tried not to think about. That string and canvas thing also had only two main wheels, but at least I would be nearer the ground for this trip!

“Ready?” Patty repeated the question with an enquiring look, seemingly oblivious to my nervousness.

The question focused my mind as I put that other experience aside. “Is she all right, the girl... the pony, I mean, pulling both of us?” I nodded forward, relaxing my hold a fraction on the rail and trying to sound both nonchalant and technically interested as I tentatively shifted around upon the seat. I mean, I’d been aware of the girl harnessed between the shafts of the convenience from the moment I’d exited the front door, but somehow, she’d taken a back seat till now.

“Hussy, Patty laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s stronger than she looks, and this gig is super light. Besides, neither of us is in the heavyweight class. It’s uphill, but we’re not going far; but hey, I’ll tell you what. If I take a right up there,” she reached for the long carriage whip in its socket and used it to point. “We can loop around the track up there and then come back and head down past my house for the stables the other way. A bit longer, but you’ll  get a better idea of what it’s like!”.

“Hussy”, I murmured, eyeing the captive girl in front of what I could see of her. I was no heavyweight, nor was Patty, but that still meant two of us, plus the thing I was seated upon. Lightweight, it may be, but I looked up the slope, and it was something of a slope, as I recalled from the walk to breakfast earlier and back to the girl, the pony. I recalled young Chloé bowling past the window at a fast pace, but she’d had three ponies, and although her carriage had been substantially bigger, Chloé barely qualified even for the lightweight class from what I’d seen of her.

Patty raised her whip and made as though to shake the reins but stopped dead and turned to look at me. “Want to take a closer look at the engine first?” she smiled, correctly interpreting my expression or the part of it that was focused forward rather than on what my buttocks were resting upon. “Jump down and take a peek at Hussy; we’re not in a rush, are we? Come on, jump down”.

The cart swayed alarmingly again as she gracefully exited her seat and beckoned me to join her. I did so but somewhat slower and with far less poise, for the damn thing was decidedly wobbly. I walked around and joined her to eye the girl, the engine she was referring to so blithely. I was no expert, but the poor thing looked decidedly more racehorse than carthorse to me at first glance.

“Only one horsepower on this particular model”, Patty laughed, tapping the nearest shaft the girl, the pony rather, was secured to by leather harness straps. “Nor is that a very reliable indicator of power output. It can vary significantly from animal to animal depending on a whole heap of things!” she laughed, reaching out and tweaking the girl’s sizeable right nipple.

“Such as? “I asked automatically, my eyes on that tempting nipple. It was long, thick, almost out of proportion to the smaller sweet, uplifted breast behind it. My fingers twitched, but Patty was monopolising it seemingly subconsciously, rolling and tweaking it between her fingers, much to the evident discomfort of its restrained owner.

Patty shrugged. “Stamina, length of stride, physical condition, general health, all those sorts of things and, of course, rigorous training plays a big part. I’ve seen a fair few ponies whose potential has been ruined by inadequate or amateur training!”.

“Health!” I exclaimed. “You surely don’t run them when they are ill!” 

Even as I spoke, the pony gave a sort of shiver, instantly repeated twice more as her whole body twitched, and then she twisted from side to side with a kind of muted moan, her pretty blue eyes wide and horrified. The movement freed her captive nipple from Patty’s fingers as she squirmed and made it as though to squat.

Patty’s hand flashed up and down and smacked hard on that same firm breast. “No, stand!” she commanded angrily, grasping the pony’s bridle and shaking it. “Stand or I’ll flog your rump raw, stand!”

She’d hardly finished speaking when a stream of foul-smelling brown liquid shot out from under the pony’s blonde tail, soiling both that and its legs and puddling on the ground. I noticed that Patty had automatically taken half a pace sideways, just in case. She continued holding the bridle tightly, and a moment later, there was another brief spurt and then a long thin dribble of the revolting brown liquid. It stank horribly!

“To answer your question, we do, although it naturally depends on the illness. I certainly would not run an animal incapable of performing for me, but I would in milder cases, say a head cold or similar. I don’t tolerate shirking under any circumstances!”

I nodded downwards, wrinkling my nose. “What about severe bowel problems, diarrhoea, for instance?” I nodded at the revolting puddle slowly congealing in the open air.

Patty immediately laughed and released the bridle to pat Hussy on the head. “Oh, that! No, perfectly normal. No, that’s nothing to worry about, is it, pony? Perfectly natural. This is more what you might call an occupational hazard that occasionally happens to all these animals, especially if they are new to a stable life. Hussy here is taking a dump, same as any other equine. When it’s ready to come out, then out it comes and nothing the animal can do to prevent it owing to her anal tube. The beast is perfectly healthy, bar a mild tummy upset and now she’s had a little break, quite capable of conveying us both back to the stable”.

The pony’s face was a flaming colour beneath her bridle straps, told a different story, or so it seemed. Clearly, she found that revolting act far less normal than Patty did. Perhaps a substantial unsavoury cherry on top of what was already an impossible humiliating situation for her. A pang of sympathy coursed through me as I wondered how I would feel in a similar situation. Captive, naked, harnessed, beaten, dehumanised and now this in front of a stranger. How could anyone maintain their human dignity under such appalling circumstances?

The pony’s tearful eyes locked on mine in such a gut-wrenching beseeching manner that I had to make a determined effort to break that contact. I wasn’t here to interfere, was I and besides, given the blatant illegality of everything I’d seen, I doubted that there was anything I could or would be permitted to do on the poor girl’s behalf. There was also that other barrier to surmount, my growing excitement and interest in all that I’d seen and heard, effectively suppressing my conscience. I didn’t feel the least bit guilty about that!

Meanwhile, Patty had walked a little way up the track holding her cell phone to her right ear while covering her left with her other hand, so I took a pace backwards to survey the unfortunate creature in front of me. How long had she been a pony, I wondered, and what had she been before her life had taken such a cruel and abrupt turn? An irreversible turn, I presumed. Hard to tell her age from the portions of her face I could see between bit and bridle straps, but she looked young, early to mid-twenties, maybe. The knee-high hoof boots added considerably to her height the way they forced her to stand, but he must have been around five, eight or nine, no, taller, I judged in her bare feet. Maybe it was an optical illusion, but from our higher seated position on the cart, I’d thought Hussy to be somewhat more petite and less developed than she was up close.

Her legs were long and muscled but not in a knotty ugly way, and she was broader across the shoulders than I’d thought now I was closer. That armbinder behind her back and her harness forced her into a slightly bent forward position, like the three ponies I’d seen earlier attached to young Chloès carriage. The exposed bare flesh was evenly tanned all over, even her firm jutting breasts, naturally sun-bronzed, with no need for any fake orange spray tan.

“Not bad, is she?” Patty said, walking towards me and looking down at her phone before tucking it into a rear pocket. “Very leggy and easy on the eye. I wouldn’t mind adding this splendid creature to my stable full-time—a classic healthy specimen of the Antipodean breed. Aussie females always seem to make good fillies for some reason. I expect it’s all that sunshine, exercise and healthy outdoor living. This one looked after herself, college swimming champion, and beach lifeguard when she wasn’t doing her nursing course. She made the mistake of coming to Europe with her mother to do the grand tour but happened to catch the eye of the wrong people at the wrong time in the wrong place!”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather a lot of wrongs, isn’t it?”

“Depends on your point of view”, she immediately shot back with a wicked chuckle. “Two wrongs might not make a right, but in this case, three wrongs make an excellent right or a couple of rights for her new owners!”

I threw her a baleful look that hadn’t the slightest effect as she smirked at me, and then a thought struck me. “What happened to her mother? Do you have her as well?

“Of course,” This time, the girl’s chuckle was positively evil as she nodded and made that same expansive wave with her right hand, indicating her estate. “You’ll see her shortly, but Harlot is…shall we say otherwise occupied right now owing to a previous engagement with yours truly! That is one of the well-known downsides to the ‘Antipodean breed. They can be rather troublesome, initially!’” Patty emphasised that last slightly as she approached her pony once more to fondle one naked breast casually. “Initially”, she repeated.

The pony tensed visibly and tried to turn her head towards her tormentor, but Patty was too quick and pushed the girl’s head back into position and rapped her on the nose with two fingers. “Now, don’t be a naughty pony; you know better than that. Whatever happens around you is none of your business, no matter what these cute little things might hear. Try that again, and I might twist these things right off!

The pony squealed into its bit and stamped one foot, one hoof, partly perhaps in pain and also in frustration, maybe as Patty viciously twisted its right ear and then used the same hand to deliver another heavy slap to its right breast, ordering it to “Stand, stay, be still. Piss me off, and you’ll join your mother when we return for round two of her latest little obedience lesson!”

“Join?” I asked as the pony instantly froze at its Mistress’s words and added, “Isn’t that being a tad hypocritical…I mean, you expect it to obey your commands instantly, yet....”! I trailed off as Patty laughed at me as she climbed back onto her driving seat, beckoning for me to join her.

“Hardly matters, does it under the circumstances? I can do and say whatever I want after all, and there is nothing that filly up front can do about it!” she screwed her face up for a moment. “Well, almost do what I want, and anyway, I have a reputation as a first-class trainer of human equines to maintain. I didn’t just inherit Aunty's little empire but also the reputation she acquired over the years, which I fully intend to build upon!”.

Patty reached for her whip again, and a moment later, the cart lurched into motion, Hussy squealing mutely as Patty simultaneously shook the reins and curled the end of her whip across both of the girl's breasts. I saw the end of it, the last couple of inches and a small knotted tip bite into her left side, drawing blood.”

“That must take practice”, I noted absently as Hussy obediently picked up the pace and settled into a steady rhythm as the whip flew out once more but only to crack in the air over the girl's head.

“What, whip cracking or whipping udders?” Patty laughed and cracked the whip again. “Well, I’ve been involved here long enough to learn both skills and several others! This is a trot, by the way, the mode we mostly use for travelling about the estate. They also learn to walk and the faster modes, canter and gallop. Getting a pony to the point when they can sustain a decent canter or a lengthy gallop takes time, patience, a good health and training regime, plus a lot of this, of course,” she laughed, cracking the whip into empty air again.

I was growing more relaxed and let go of that rail as my body adjusted to the cart's motion, which wasn’t moving all that fast yet fast enough to provide a sense of exhilaration given the situation and the motive power just to my front. I nodded agreement, slightly mesmerised by those bronzed whip-marked juicy thighs and buttocks pumping up and down rhythmically before me. I turned as I heard Patty giggle.

“Kind of eye-catching, isn’t it?” she nodded to where I’d been looking. “I remember my first time sitting up here alongside Auntie when she invited me over a few weeks in the long summer holidays.   After lunch, having spent a brilliant morning helping in the stable, we harnessed up Sunbeam; she was a great mare. A little on the old side, well quite a lot on the senior side, early fifties, and she’d been in harness for years and trained initially as a racer before dropping down the pecking order till she ended on a farm pulling a cart or a plough for a couple of elderly sisters. When they decided to sell up and retire, Auntie bought her as part of a job lot along with two younger fillies.

That sparked an earlier question in my mind. “Her mother as well, and what was that bit you mentioned about costing her owners a lot?”

“Naturally”, Patty laughed. “Ponies of this calibre don’t come cheap, and then throw in the matched pair element, and you’re talking big money. I thought about it quite seriously when I saw them advertised, but even this one as a single would have been pricey. Affordable but decidedly pricey,” Patty mused. “Then add in her mother, and it’s not so much a case of doubling but more like trebling. I won’t say I wasn’t tempted, but I’d probably have to sell some of my other stock to balance things, and I wasn’t willing to do that yet”.

“Matched pair?”

Patty nodded. “Lookie-likies or similar usually. A pair of similar-looking ponies or, in some cases, a racing duo of similar physiques and matching racing abilities. Sometimes a pony is bought or acquired to match an existing owned animal. Other pairs may be matched or grouped not by appearance but by something else: family, for instance. You don’t come across them very often, so they tend to be expensive especially fresh-caught wild ones. I know of one couple who own a coach and four. The four being an entire family, mum, dad, son and daughter. They are a top-rated show and racing circuit display team simply because of their unique origin. It’s true; I kid you not! Don’t look at me like that. You can ask Auntie at dinner about them if you don’t believe me!”

There wasn’t the faintest trace of a grim or a smile on her face. She was being serious, wasn’t she? After staring at her momentarily, my eyes slowly swivelled to the bronzed whip-marked figure in front, doing her very best to avoid any more flicks from that whip Patty held so casually. No, she wasn’t kidding me at all, was she?

“That one”, Patty pointed forward with her whip. “plus, her mother is doubly valuable” she paused and considered for a moment before continuing. “Double double value if that makes sense. I mean, first off, you get the family connection, and then second, they’re not far off being a matched pair appearance-wise. Just on her own, Hussy has all the makings of a top-class all-around filly with her looks and those long shapely muscular legs, and we’re already into serious money. Add Harlot to the mix, and the cake becomes very rich indeed. Harlot is almost a mirror image of her daughter or will be once I’ve relieved her of a few more surplus pounds. A different hairstyle, but altering that was no big deal,” she gestured forward.

Hussy was sporting a high blonde ponytail sprouting upwards from a tube affixed to the top of her harness. Apart from that fountain of hair, the rest of her head was shaved and…I turned a questioning eye to Patty, who chuckled, realising what I meant.

“Yes, we did cheat a bit up there to hide all that horrible fresh white scalp—a little artificial tanning lotion to tide them over till the sun does its work. Also, to protect them,” she added. “Not bad the way it blends in!”

“I can’t see the join, not at this distance anyway.”

I hadn’t intended my response to be funny, but Patty seemed to find it so and laughed before continuing. Her right hand raised the whip, but she hesitated and changed her mind as Hussy smoothly negotiated a shallow bend in repose to the reins.

“Mummy is about the same height and build. As you'd expect, she is a bit more developed and slacker in the udder department, given her age and a tad broader in the beam, but otherwise, not a lot of difference. Chiefly in the face, but then that’s covered by her bridle. Legs are similar lengthwise but not quite as muscular, but she was a regular jogger and did the occasional half-marathon with this creature, so she’s not that far behind. You’ll meet her in a few minutes, and you can see the mare and judge yourself. Pretty darn good, I think, considering the twenty or so years between them. You were asking about her owners, though, weren’t you?”

I nodded. “Just curious…the entire concept is a little….”

“Boggling of the mind?” Patty supplied with another laugh.

I nodded again. “Exactly. Did you feel that way when your aunt brought you here that first time?”

“Not really” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Auntie always tells people that I’m a good judge of character. Well, if so, I must have inherited it from her. She’d made her mind up about me, and so I already knew what kind of animals she was keeping and training before we got here, so it wasn’t much of a shock.” Patty paused and looked thoughtful before continuing. “Well, in a sense, it was, but shock is not quite the right word. Well, it kind of is, and it isn’t if you know what I mean!”

I nodded, thinking back a few hours. “I do. When I saw Gunner earlier, and then the other three young Chloè had harnessed to her carriage, it was something I’d expected, yet seeing it in the flesh…..” I trailed off as Patty laughed.

“Yup, that’s how I felt the first time she took me into her stable and strangely, I still get that same feeling, although to a lesser extent, every time I walk in. Funny how I never seem to take them for granted, even after several years,” she commented thoughtfully.

“As you said, it is rather mind-boggling and definitely unusual, unique even,” I said, thinking about it. “Have you asked your aunt, does she feel the same way?”

“Patty pulled hard on the left rein as we approached a junction, and Hussy smoothly took the left-hand fork earning a grunt of approval from her driver. “Never asked. I hadn’t thought about it till now, but it would be interesting to do so. Not sure about the unique bit; we’re not the only game in town, so to speak, you know”.

“So, I’ve gathered. What’s the deal with Hussy and her mother? How come you have them?”

“Stable reputation. Mostly due to Auntie, but a little bit, perhaps mine as well now. The pair of them certainly cost their new owners a fair old packet, but they were determined to have the beasts and probably could afford them out of their small change. Well, maybe not.” She laughed, holding a finger to her lips. “No, don’t bother asking. You don’t need to know, but let’s say quite a few zeroes were involved before the decimal point!” Patty chuckled, stressing that last part.

“I bet your aunt will tell me if I ask nicely.”

Patty threw a nasty look at me and then laughed. “Very probably, whether you ask nicely or not. Auntie has become rather garrulous of late, I’ve noted. Then again,” she smiled, removing her long carriage whip from its socket by the driving seat and gesturing forward with her other arm. “Not that I’ve anything to complain about. It’s sort of a win-win situation for me! Watch out; this stretch is a bit bumpy!”.

I grabbed the rail again, for she wasn’t wrong, and a moment later, that whip flicked out once more with cruel deliberate accuracy as we bumped and swayed over the various undulations in the track. I counted a half dozen blows delivered in pairs every few seconds, but I sensed my companion on the swaying seat was holding back a little as she encouraged our hapless ‘engine’.

“Bit of a bad stretch along here”, Patty commented conversationally, seemingly indifferent to the fact she had just viciously tortured that helpless girl. “I’m half-minded to get it levelled, but it does serve as a useful training aid for the newer livestock. They all instinctively slow down along here, which isn’t permitted. That’s not their decision to make, of course”. She grinned at me, then took aim and swung her whip again. I couldn’t see the result, but I heard it as the end kissed two bobbing mounds of flesh, making Hussy stagger as she repeated her muted song of agony.

 All mine for now,” Patty chuckled, flicking her whip up again and then catching the loose tip in the same hand, holding the shaft with apparent ease as she smiled at me. “With very entertaining and amusing benefits!”

I glanced quickly sideways again, simultaneously tightening my hold on the front rail as we became momentarily airborne, or so it felt, courtesy of a large bump. Patty smiled reassuringly before returning her attention to the track ahead. She looked supremely confident and sat there with reins in one hand and whip in the other, contrasting to the woman at the other end of those long controlling leather strips. I doubted if the sweating Hussy was smiling. 

“Steady girl, steady”, Patty shouted as she transferred the right rein to her whip hand and skilfully guided the pony through a series of sharper S turns. I wondered how much it was those controlling reins and how much came from the pony itself. A question answered almost immediately as the pony veered left into the next bend producing an instant snarl of outrage from the pretty girl seated by my side as she thrust that rein between her teeth, allowing her whip arm extra movement to send the lash flicking out three times in quick succession and this time there was no holding back. Our ‘engine’ immediately bucked and shrieked in muted agony. The cart swayed back and forth alarmingly as Hussy faltered, losing her rhythm, but she quickly regained it as Patty applied another couple of incentives to her hide. Three more stripes across the girl's rump and presumable two more decorating her breasts!

“My fault”, Patty admitted spitting the rein from her mouth and catching it in her whip hand. “I normally take that first turn we passed just before the house and head back to the stables. Hussy’s been up this way before but always in very restrictive blinkers and at a walk. That was a classic example of a pony thinking for itself rather than following my commands via the reins! Two in a row, in fact, so this one still has a long way to go!”

“Your fault”, I echoed, my eyes straying to that bouncing, abused bottom.

Patty laughed. “Unfair. But then, nothing is fair for these animals. They always pay the price, but it will learn; they always do!” she grinned as she cracked the whip, almost causing the poor creature in front to miss a step again. “Given time and the whip, they all learn and adjust! That’s why they are here. Once the final bid and payment were accepted, their new owners came straight over to me,” she chuckled again. “I was hoping they would. I knew once they showed keen interest in them how the price would go into orbit at the auction, so I’d had a little social chat over a glass of champers at the lunch buffet and made a few subtle subliminal suggestions regarding training” She paused to chuckle. “Well, I tried to be subtle. They were buying them mainly for their appearance and uniqueness rather than as a pair of wild, unbroken ponies plus a bit of one-upmanship. As you can imagine, there's a lot of that among pony owners, and women owners are the worst!”

“Were the buyers’ women then?”

Patty shook her head. “No, a middle-aged married couple”, she paused, “well maybe not quite that old thinking about them. I‘ve only seen them a couple of times in the past and never spoken to them before this livestock sale, but they seemed to have heard of me. They approached me rather than the other way around at the luncheon buffet. Many owners enjoy breaking and training new stock themselves whereas others regard it as an onerous chore, even a demeaning one in some Middle Eastern and Asian countries”.

“Do you?” I got in quickly.

Patty threw her head back and laughed loudly before replying. “Oh, I’m very much in the first camp. I mean, why let someone else have all the fun? Owning a well-trained human equine is such a delight, but all the more so if you are the one who’s brought it to that condition. There’s kind of a special bond between you and the animal, but probably only one way,” she laughed. “There’s a knack to breaking in a new pony, especially for someone else. They want them docile but not too docile!” she winked at me. “The best ponies for me are those with that little bit of steel left in them that you can never quite quench. Unfortunately, it is sometimes difficult to tell until you are well into the training regime if they will be like that. I’ve trained some animals that were incredibly hostile and rebellious initially but lost that trait completely along the way !”

“All the more a testament to you, surely?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s more a characteristic of the beast rather than any skills I may have acquired” Patty shrugged.

“So you got the job of training their new purchase, or purchases, I should say?”

“Whoa girl, whoa, walk, walk on!” Patty called, shaking the reins. “Not far now, she pointed to the buildings ahead, just coming into view as we rounded a patch of trees. I’ll let her walk the rest of the way, besides we’ve plenty of time to see everything and…what were you saying?”

“Training”, I repeated, “and breaking them in, I assume. You got the job?”

Patty laughed and pointed forward with her whip. “Obviously! As I said, a win-win for me. I get all the real fun for four months, plus I didn’t have to spend a single penny for the privilege. Better than that, I even get paid generously for doing it!

“Four months?”

Patty shrugged again. “That was the agreement, but if I need more time, it’s a flexible arrangement up to a point. I don’t anticipate needing it, though”. She smiled at me. “Professional pride, you understand! There is an ultimate deadline for delivery, but I’m ahead of my schedule as it is, so I don’t anticipate any problems”.

I thought about that. “Four months?” Yes, I suppose it was a long time in one sense, and yet thinking about what she was trying to do, four months perhaps was not that long at all.

“Oh, they’ll still be a spirited pair especially given where they come from. Always a potentially troublesome breed, as I told you,” Patty read the expression on my face. “That’s not going to bother their owners over much. They have their own sizeable livestock stable plus some experienced grooms.” Patty lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “They have a young daughter who shares the same birthday as her mother by coincidence rather than design. Mummy mare Harlot will be a self-bestowed present for the wife, while that stunning filly up front is destined to be their daughter's first pony. Kind of cute, don’t you think” Patty chuckled. “But keep that to yourself”, she nodded towards Hussy. “It’s not just their sweet little daughter that’s going to get a surprise on her big day, eh? Besides, I’ve heard that the brats not that sweet!” she laughed aloud.

I gaped at her amused expression as something she’d said earlier sprang into my mind. ‘Been in harness for years….it will learn, they always do’, her earlier words echoed in my head as we approached a final long straight stretch. Patty shook the reins twice and called out, “hup, hup, girl”, and the whip left another livid red stripe across Hussy’s right buttock cheek.

The wobbly cart lurched and accelerated towards the stable building. I instinctively grabbed for the rail with both hands, much to my companion's amusement, as it swayed alarmingly from side to side again, or so it seemed. That mild feeling of seasickness suddenly returned, making me swallow hard. ‘Given time, they adjust!’