Secret Pony Society Read Online Free PDF Page A

demanded, leaning forward. Falling Snow looked more shocked than her rider.
    â€œIt’s as though your person can hear me,” she said to Drummer.
    â€œEr, well, technically she can. You have no idea how awkward it can be,” I heard Drum explain.
    I bit my lip. What a total mess.
    The girl sat up, her face expressionless again.
    â€œDon’t come here again, you don’t know what trouble you’ll cause,” she said sourly, and she turned her pony in one swift movement, cantering off through the trees, the dog bounding after her, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth like a slice of pink ham.
    â€œOh, nicely handled!” said Drummer sarcastically.
    All I could think about was how well the girl sat on her pony—relaxed and as one with Falling Snow. She had held her on the spot effortlessly, even though the pony had wanted to flee. I wished I could get Drummer to respond to me like that instead of our usual undignified wrestling. I hadn’t seen the girl move a muscle, yet her pony pirouetted for her—and she’d sat there, without the security of a saddle, making like a centaur. Not only had I messed up big-time, but I felt a wave of jealousy about the girl’s skill with her pony. That she had a way with horses was obvious.
    I might be known as the Pony Whisperer, I might be able to talk to Drummer and the other ponies, I might be the person my friends came to in order to find out about their own ponies, but I was a fake. The girl on Falling Snow had a real talent, and it was all her own, not thanks to a little statue as mine was. I felt my heart sink—I’d have done anything to have that girl’s natural affinity with ponies. She was more than a pony whisperer, she was a real horsewoman.

Chapter 6
    I don’t understand why you’re so interested in her,” Katy said, peeling off Bluey’s purple stable rug. Her blue roan gelding nuzzled her pockets, and Katy produced the treat he knew was there. The stable soon smelled of chewed carrot as Bluey made short, crunchy work of it.
    â€œShe’s just a traveling girl with a pony. I mean, she’s not Ellen Whitaker or anything, is she? And Cat’s really got it in for the travelers—she’s even more anti than James,” continued Katy, flicking a tendril of red hair behind her ear. “She’s certain they’ll steal all the ponies.”
    â€œWell, you can see why she’s so worried. After all, Bambi’s just the sort of pony travelers take to, what with her being skewbald and all,” said Bean.
    â€œYou’d better not let her hear you say that,” I mumbled. Telling Cat her pony looked like one of the traveler’s horses wasn’t something I’d volunteer for.
    Our meeting room was Bluey’s stable. Bean had jammed herself into his old wooden corner trough, sitting with her knees high, her legs dangling, and I sat on an upturned water bucket by the door. Only Katy—wearing shades of purple as usual—was upright, adjusting Bluey’s rug and running her fingers through his tail, picking out bits of straw.
    It was Saturday morning, and I’d got to the yard early and had already groomed and mucked out Drum. Usually, Bean, Katy, and I meet up and discuss where we can ride or what local events we can take the ponies to. This morning, I had made the mistake of babbling on about the mysterious girl I’d met in the woods. I just couldn’t get her out of my mind.
    â€œYou should see her ride. And she’s just got such a way with horses, a great, natural way,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. It sounded lame, now I was saying it out loud. It was difficult to describe the girl’s presence to my friends. They hadn’t met her , I thought. They’d understand if they had.
    â€œOh, come on, Pia,” snorted Bean, swinging her legs. “It isn’t like you haven’t got a way with horses. I mean, you’re