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      Brigadier and the Spirit Pony

      Marga Jonker

      Tafelberg

      To my son, Hardus.

      1

      Holiday with Bio-Daddy

      “Step on it, Bio-Daddy, let’s go! I’ll go insane if I have to spend another second in this place,” Alexandra hissed at her dad, Ben, yanking closed the Land Rover’s front passenger door.

      “Buckle up! Be safe!” her mom, Claudia, shouted anxiously from the front steps. Marcus’s arm was draped over Claudia’s shoulders, a sight that never failed to irritate Alex.

      “Seatbelts on?” asked Ben. He looked over his shoulder towards the back seat, where his other daughter, Gabi, had already clicked hers into place.

      Then the Land Rover pulled away, the double horsebox creaking along behind it.

      “Jeez, I think Mom seriously needs to chill out,” said Alexandra. “Oh, I’m so worried about you girls,” she raised the pitch of her voice by an octave to mimic her mom. “You’d think we were toddlers!”

      “Er, is Marcus always that … um, sheepish-looking?” asked Ben. “On second thoughts, no, don’t answer that.”

      Gabi looked back at the scene they were leaving behind: and there were her mom and Marcus, still side by side, her mom still waving and watching them go.

      The night before their trip, Gabi had tried to change her sister’s mind about their mom and her partner. “They’re actually okay, you know – Mom and Marcus. They just get a bit uptight when things aren’t all perfect. But maybe you should try to be a bit more organised, Alex.”

      “Are you serious?” Her sixteen-year-old sister had rolled her eyes dramatically. “Snap out of it, girl – you’re fourteen, not forty! Mom and Marcus are, like, straight from TCM!”

      “Come on, Alex. Marcus can be pretty funny … sometimes,” Gabi had tried to stand up for him. “Plus he arranges free movie tickets for us. That’s kind of him.”

      “Oh, please, Gabi. Those movie tickets buy them an evening without us. Time alone, dinner in a fancy restaurant. It’s a good deal, and he should know – he’s a freakin’ accountant, and he counts every cent he spends. Neither he nor Mom has any idea of what’s important to us!” Alex punched her right hand in its red fingerless glove into the palm of her left hand, which sported a black fingerless glove with a spider’s web pattern on it.

      Now that they were actually on their way, Gabi checked to make sure her iPod earphones were in her backpack on the seat next to her – she was sure she would be needing them. She ran her fingers over her new Monty Roberts book, Ask Monty: The 170 most common horse problems solved.

      They drove along the Melkbosstrand coastal road for a few kilometres. Beside them, the sea was a grey expanse, with unimpressive waves flopping listlessly onto the sand. Then Ben turned onto a gravel road with a signpost that read:“Milkwood Farm Stables”.

      “Do me a favour, Bio-Daddy, and don’t take all year to load that horse,” growled Alex. She sighed and untied her jet-black dyed hair, shaking it out, wild and messy.

      Ben seemed relaxed as he drove the Land Rover up the road, unfazed by his eldest daughter’s impatience.

      They parked in front of the office. The stables and surrounds were quiet – most of the riders had already left on a beach outride. Gabi jumped out the Land Rover and Ben followed to help open the horsebox. Tilting the Land Rover’s side mirror towards her, Alex redid her eyeliner.

      “So, how do we do this?” Ben asked Gabi.

      “Don’t you know how to load a horse?”

      “Gabi, I seriously know nothing about horses. I even had to get a friend of mine to arrange this trailer for us. She said it was solid and safe. Er – she’s the same friend who found us the guest house in Plettenberg Bay.”

      Ben was of average height, and he had to stretch to reach the clip on the left-hand door of the horsebox. His arms were muscular and he had long hair, which curled down his back in a ponytail. There was a silver-and-black earring in one ear and his black T-shirt was loose on his lean frame, as were his black Levi’s jeans. A tattoo wrapped around his arm, from his wrist to his elbow, like one of those multicoloured designs you see on a surfboard. Something about him had always made Gabi think of a pirate, but in real life he was a photographer – and had a totally different image from that of her mother, who’d brought them up.

      “Okay, well, the horsebox looks good. We’ll just have to stop every now and then to make sure Briggs is okay.” Gabi’s tummy fluttered at the thought of spending two weeks with her crazy sister and this stranger who happened to be their dad.

      Ben was still struggling to open the right-hand clip, so Gabi reached over, opening it easily for him. Just then, the stable manager emerged from the stable to greet them.

      “Good morning, Uncle Jimmy,” said Gabi, smiling warmly.

      “Morning, morning, Gabi. And good morning to you.” Uncle Jimmy smiled curiously at Ben and held out his hand.

      “Ben Turner, Gabi’s dad,” said Ben, as if saying it was an everyday occurrence. “Nice to meet you.” He shook Uncle Jimmy’s outstretched hand.

      Uncle Jimmy gave Gabi a puzzled look. She just nodded and shrugged – this was no time for long explanations.

      “So, where are you hauling Brigadier off to? Not too far, I hope. Though he has been vaccinated and he’s a toughie, that’s for sure.” Uncle Jimmy looked at Ben. “Do you ride?”

      “We’re off to Plett. And no, I’m no horse rider,” Ben answered in his laidback way. “Motorbikes are more my thing.”

      “Well, let me help you get the show on the road. You go and get Briggs, Gabi, while I prepare the box,” said Uncle Jimmy.

      Gabi headed for the stable. Even from a distance she could see Brigadier peering inquisitively over his stable door, ears pricked in anticipation. When she got to him, Gabi felt her stress levels drop as she stroked the warmblood’s dark-brown neck. The big horse nuzzled her, blowing his warmth through her hair. She loved the sweet smell of lucerne on his breath – so familiar and comforting.

      “You must have some water before we go, my boy. Come, walk on.” Gabi led Brigadier to the water trough, where he dipped his velvety nose into the water.

      He blew a few big bubbles, spraying cold droplets over Gabi’s hands.

      “I’m sorry for taking you so far away from Scarlett and Chardonnay. I still can’t believe Alex is dragging us along, but you know Alex – she could move Table Mountain if she wanted to.”

      2

      Uncle Jimmy’s numnah

      The big horse calmly followed Gabi to the horsebox.

      “Oh dear, Gabi, I completely forgot,” said Uncle Jimmy. “Carla borrowed your numnah this morning. Hers was sopping wet for some reason.” He pointed at her friend’s pink saddle blanket, drying in the sun. “I don’t know what happened – one of Chris’s practical jokes, I think. But don’t worry – you can borrow my favourite one.” Uncle Jimmy passed her a woven red numnah, which was meant to be used with the cowboy saddle he normally rode with.

      Gabi suppressed a sigh. She didn’t like borrowing gear.

      “Thanks, Uncle Jimmy. Please tell Chris he owes me,” she said.

      Together they loaded her saddle, bridle, riding boots and hat into the left-hand compartment of the horsebox. Gabi liked having her stuff neat and organized – she took after her mom in that way.

      “What about food, Gabi? Should we load some?” asked Uncle Jimmy. “Or does the stabling in Plett include food?”

      Gabi looked at Ben, who shrugged.

      “I don’t have a clue. Our guest house is

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