Charlotte and the Starlet

BOOK: Charlotte and the Starlet
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CHARLOTTE
AND THE Starlet

DAVE WARNER

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the
Australian Copyright Act 1968
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Charlotte and the Starlet
ePub ISBN 9781864715569
Kindle ISBN 9781864716689

Random House Australia Pty Ltd
100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060
www.randomhouse.com.au

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First published by Random House Australia in 2007

Copyright © Dave Warner 2007

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of
the publisher.

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

Warner, Dave, 1953–.
Charlotte and the starlet.

For primary school aged children.

ISBN 978 1 74166 124 8 (pbk.).

1. Games on horseback – Juvenile fiction. 2. Junior riders
(Horsemanship) – Juvenile fiction. 3. Horses – Juvenile
fiction. I. Title.

A823.2

Cover photograph by Getty Images
Cover design by SASO content & design
Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Printed and bound by Griffin Press, South Australia

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

For Violet and Venice, who showed me the way to a
girl's heart is a pony.

Chapter 1

The sun bore down from cloudless blue sky onto the
red earth. Intense heat bounced in waves against
the soles of Charlotte's boots as she strode past the
expectant faces. She had spent almost every day of
her thirteen years, ten months and six days in Snake
Hills and today's furnace was nothing out of the
ordinary. What was out of the ordinary was
the throng of people, the noise and excitement. The
Show came only once a year and nobody who lived
within three hundred kilometres was going to miss
it for the world. The crowd on the football oval
was nothing like rush hour in the city but, compared
to what was normal in this vast expanse of harsh
country, the area could be described as jam-packed.
Little kids jumped on plastic air-castles, parents and
children fed ping-pong balls into the gaping mouths
of plastic clowns and screamed with delight at
winning a plastic water pistol, while in the
background, the police band from Banebago
Crossing played tunes that made old people smile.

In the mounting area, though, nobody was
paying attention to anything except the other riders
and their horses. Charlotte's new saddle gleamed
on Stormy's back. When her father had led
Charlotte into the lounge room last night while
giving her yet another lecture on how to win the
Golden Buckle, she'd been spellbound at the sight
of the beautiful leather saddle. She had assumed
he'd made it for himself.

'Wow, it's amazing. Can I hold it?'

'Of course. It's yours.'

She was too shocked to speak. Her dad picked it up
and placed it over her arms. It was heavy and smelled
divine.

'Well? D'you like it?'

She had put it carefully down on the couch and
then thrown her arms around his waist, hugging him
as tight as the nuts on his ute's wheel.

'It's really, really beautiful.'

She had felt so happy holding her dad. If only her
mum had been there too, things would have been
perfect.

The starter's command to take their mounts returned
Charlotte to the present. The other riders couldn't
help looking enviously at her saddle, which made her
feel good. Dangling from it now was a small plush-velvet
horse, a very special toy that Charlotte hoped
would bring luck. She was the youngest rider in the
race, but she knew she would receive no special
treatment. Charlotte had ridden against these men
and women informally many times while out on a
muster and, at one point or another, had beaten them
all. The cross-country was different though. This
wasn't some quick, fun gallop from the hill to the gum
tree. This was a prestigious event, and the winner was
awarded the prized Golden Buckle. Her dad had won
the race five times and she'd been dreaming of the day
she'd be the one to bring it home.

She looked over her main competitors. Doug Evans
would be tough. He'd been runner up to her father
three times, including last year, and he would see this
as his chance to finally break through. Sam Risto was
only nineteen but he was probably the most naturally
gifted horseman in the race. If he had a weakness, it
was his tendency to take his mount over unneces-sarily
high jumps along the way. Becky Unly was the
only other female in serious contention. She was a
strong and smart rider with a wonderful mount.

Charlotte's father's voice broke in on her musings.

'Coming up that last straight the wind is very
strong. You want another horse or two in front of you
to shelter you a little, otherwise Stormy will tire.'

Charlotte couldn't imagine Stormy ever getting
tired. But she nodded anyway to keep her dad happy.
It was a shame she wouldn't be riding against him. His
mount, Rocket, had injured a tendon and, for the first
time in ten years, he would be a mere bystander. Mr
Thomas, the official starter, called out in a loud voice.
'Riders to the start.'

Charlotte was excited, ready to win. Only one
woman had ever won the race. That was her mum, the
year before she got sick. Charlotte pulled herself up
onto Stormy and moved into the line. Mr Thomas and
her father went to either end and picked up a paper
tape designed to keep the line of horses in some kind
of shape.

'Ready.' Mr Thomas' voice was firm and clear.

Charlotte felt her heart begin to beat faster. She
tried to fight the excitement. Her father had warned
her not to worry about getting away quickly. So long
as she didn't race too wide during the first lap around
the oval before heading out to the bush, she would be
fine. Charlotte was aware of the crowd becoming
hushed. She sensed all eyes were on the riders and
their mounts. The tape suddenly dropped and
instinctively she drove Stormy forward as the crowd
let out a big, whooping cheer.

There were twelve riders all up and it was likely
that, at the end of the thirty minutes of hard cross-country
riding, at least a couple would have retired.
Charlotte was determined she would not be one of
them.

The first lap was a blur, as if somebody else was on
Stormy and she was hiding in her brain, looking
through a keyhole at herself. She settled in the middle
of the field, just behind Doug Evans. The next thing she
knew they had left the oval and were heading out along
the red soil track towards the bush. Stormy felt strong
beneath her and she was dimly aware that a couple of
horses were already falling off the pace, but she was
determined not to look back. She noted a black horse
up in front and guessed that would be Jamie Howard.
Jamie always liked to lead, even in school running
races. They turned into the bush, which was not much
more than low scrub. Occasionally a fallen tree
necessitated jumping, but it was nearly always a low
obstacle. Doug Evans had edged away from her a little
bit and she decided to hunt Stormy up by digging just a
little harder with her heels. She was pleased that he
responded effortlessly.

Tony Richards checked his watch nervously. The
riders had disappeared into the bush twenty-four
minutes ago and by his reckoning the leading horses
should soon emerge, ready to sprint for the oval,
where they would complete one final lap. He wished
he were riding. Then at least he'd have something
else to concentrate on apart from being worried for
Charlotte. She was a natural horseperson but that
was no guarantee against an accident, especially in a
race like this. He imagined Julie giving him a stern
lecture about letting Charlotte ride but then the
thought vanished. Julie would never have forbidden
Charlotte to do the thing she most loved, the thing
she was best at.

A cheer went up from those people closest to the
bush to signal the arrival of the leading horses and
Tony's heart skipped a beat. His eyes scanned the lineup.
Sam Risto was leading, Becky Unly was a length
back and then ... yes, there was Charlotte on Stormy,
tracking Becky. About two lengths back came Doug
Evans.

Charlotte felt confident. She was so focused she barely
heard the cheering crowd greeting their return. About
ten minutes earlier Sam Risto had gone to the front
and quickened the pace. The horses had split into two
groups. Stormy had responded well and Charlotte had
found herself one of five leading horses. The leading
group remained intact and now here they were back
onto the oval for the last lap. One of these five would
win.

Sam was about three lengths in front when Becky
made her move to overtake him. Charlotte edged
Stormy up behind. She sensed Doug Evans had not
come with her and threw a quick look over her
shoulder. Doug was dropping back a little, struggling.
Coming up to the last turn, Becky sent her horse
alongside Sam and then Sam's horse was drifting back
towards Charlotte and Stormy, his race run. Charlotte
moved around him swiftly. Becky had turned for the
finish post, nearly two lengths in front. Charlotte
panicked. Had she left it too late? She called on
Stormy to give it everything.

Tony Richards watched as his daughter sent Stormy
up on the outside of Becky Unly. 'She's gone too early,'
he muttered, hoping he was wrong. Charlotte and
Becky didn't look at one another as they called for
their horses to give one last effort. Charlotte felt
Stormy edge ahead of Becky's pretty chestnut. Just a
little, and then a little more again. Yes! Becky's horse
was beaten, just a hundred metres to win the Buckle.

Now that she was clearly in front, Charlotte could
feel the strong breeze her father had warned her
about. It was like an invisible arm pushing against her
and Stormy. She could feel Stormy tiring. Not that it
mattered. Becky's horse would be even more tired.
And then she heard the crowd's shouting suddenly get
louder and sensed something to her outside. She
managed to turn her head just in time to see Doug
Evans urging his mount on. He seemed to be flying.
The winning post was so close she could even see
where the paint was chipped.

'Come on, Stormy!' she urged. Poor Stormy tried
hard but he was just that little bit too tired. Like a
panther, Doug's horse reached Stormy a split second
before the line. It was close, very close, when they
crossed but she knew in that split second that she
should have listened to her father. She'd been
impatient and it had cost her the race.

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