Monday May

Ro Collingborn

Description

"Not for nothing have I learnt to do eleven, whole, mind-shattering bucks."Monday May is a spirited, chestnut mare, born to be a racehorse. Having taught herself how to kick, rear and bite, she is determined not to be broken in, and do everything herself without the help of humans, preferring to win a race without a jockey.She is soon sent off for "re-training" but never loses her high opinion of herself and her wonderful abilities. As the book progresses, she gets nearer and nearer to the "meat man" until there is an unexpected rescue.This book is suitable for adults as well as children. Written in a humorous fashion, it tells how in today's world, there is still much ill-treatment of horses, often through ignorance, not intent."Monday May is an addictive novel and a must-read for anyone who loves horses. I wouldn't want to ride her, but I couldn't put it down." Charlie Deutsch - Jockey.

Informations

• Publié par: Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
• Date de parution: 30 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781398481916
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Monday May

Ro Collingborn
Austin Macauley Publishers
2022-11-30
Monday May About the Author Dedication Copyright Information © Chapter One: A Pleasant Meadow Chapter Two: “I Can Train Myself” Chapter Three: Miss Pretty Withers Chapter Four: Too Many Oats Chapter Five: Born to Be a Racehorse Chapter Six: On the Gallops Chapter Seven: “Awesome!” Chapter Eight: The Racecourse At Last Chapter Nine: The First (and last) Race Chapter Ten: In Disgrace Chapter Eleven : Re-Training Chapter Twelve: Monday May Goes to The Sales Chapter Thirteen : A Bad Place Chapter Fourteen: “I Can Jump by Myself!” Chapter Fifteen: Deborah Loses Enthusiasm Chapter Sixteen: The Red Rosette Chapter Seventeen: The First (and last) Hunt Chapter Eighteen: The Engagement Present Chapter Nineteen: Friends Chapter Twenty: The Sales
About the Author

A person with blonde hair Description automatically generated with low confidence
Ro Collingborn is a dairy farmer, producing milk for the well-known Brinkworth Cheeses, in Wiltshire.
She has written many children’s stories to date and also writes regularly for the farming press.
Illustrations by Elizabeth Parry-Williams.
Dedication
For three wonderful daughters, and horses I have known.
Copyright Information ©
Ro Collingborn 2022
The right of Ro Collingborn to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
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 permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398481909 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398481916 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2022
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Chapter One A Pleasant Meadow

T

he first place that Monday May remembered was a large, pleasant meadow ringed by trees. There were two gates, one of which led up to the smart drive of her owner’s house, while the other stood beside a little stream at the bottom of the meadow.
Monday May’s mother was a fine black mare with a white star. Monday May was a bright chestnut filly with four white socks and a white blaze.
“I’m so beautiful,” she whickered, as one of the other foals timidly approached her, “and so much better looking than you.” She gazed thoughtfully at the foal, before adding, “Maybe you taste nice though,” taking a quick nip at the foal’s shoulder as he trotted fearfully away.
“Monday, Monday, Monday May!” admonished her mother. “How many times have I told you? You are very well-bred. Your father won three good races, and I, well I too have an illustrious past, but you have never seen me kick or bite – anyone or anything. I hope you will grow into a well-mannered young lady.”
But the wise advice was lost in the wind as Monday May reared experimentally and galloped away. Later that night, as Monday May lay quietly at her side snoring gently and the other colts dozed quietly too (taking care though to keep their distance from the chestnut filly, just in case she should happen to wake up), Monday May’s mother tried again; nuzzling at Monday May’s neck she said, “Our owner is a good man and we must always try to please him. Not all men are so kind, but we horses will have an easier time if we try to please.”
Monday May snored a little louder.
The next morning Mr James came to the gate as he always did, with a carrot and a kind word. The foals had come to trust him and trotted up at their mother’s sides, their wispy, little noses snuffling at his hand, smelling the reward.
All that was except one, the flighty chestnut filly who galloped up quickly, knocking the other foals flying and grabbed the carrot in her greedy, little teeth and, with a toss of her mane, galloped away just as quickly in a tangle of flying, kicking hooves.
Mr James sighed. That filly’s mother was his favourite mare with the sweetest nature, bred to an excellent and expensive stallion. Where could such a temperament have come from? And, how was he going to break her in.
Chapter Two “I Can Train Myself”

B

reak me in! Break me in! I should think not! I’m not going to be broken in!”
Monday May was three years old now and very full of her own importance. She had sandy lashes and a sleek chestnut coat that glistened in the sun, with four dazzling white socks, and four neat, quick, little chestnut hooves.
In her own eyes she was the most desirable creature on earth and so talented – she could bite and kick and rear, turn a complete circle in half a second, and do ten enormous bucks in a row! And now, one of those most horrible humans was daring to suggest that she, Monday May, should be broken in!
She wasn’t like those other stupid horses that let humans get on top of them and make them go where they wanted; she was a special horse, bred to be beautiful and admired, but never, never to be ridden.
“Please Monday,” begged her mother, “we all have to be broken in. Mr James is the most kind of owners. Many other humans would not be so patient with you. He has been trying for two months now and so far all you have let him do is put a head collar on!”
“I don’t mind him putting a head collar on,” replied her daughter indignantly, “but he put it on me. It’s a horrible, flappy thing and it hides the beauty of my face. When I saw my reflection in the stream I could have cried and however hard I try, I can’t get it off!”
“You aren’t supposed to be able to get it off,” sighed her mother, “you are wearing it so that you can be caught and tied up.”
“Caught and tied up! Me? Who lives free and wild in this very pleasant meadow? I have no intention of being caught and tied up, no intention at all!” And with that Monday May turned and galloped away, bucking furiously – eight, nine, ten, eleven…“I can train myself,” she panted to Samson, the three year old colt who had been her reluctant companion for the last three years, and was now eying her warily.
“But what use is that? Humans don’t want horses that buck.”
“It would be very useful if I were to meet a lion,” shrieked Monday May in reply. Really horses were sometimes just as stupid as humans!
The next morning Mr James came down to the gate with a special treat, a big bucket of oats, and before Monday May realised what was happening, all the colts had been caught and led away. Even her mother had gone.
“Help! Help! I’m all alone, I’m not used to that,” squealed Monday May, galloping round in small, panicky circles. “Who will listen to me now? Who can I bite or kick? Where are my oats?”
And so it happened that when Mr James rattled his bucket and called her name, he was able to cautiously slip a lead rein onto her head collar. Monday May pranced along beside him, neighing anxiously, “Mummy, Samson, where are you?”
Suddenly she saw her mother’s head looking anxiously over a stable door and lunged forward, knocking Mr James sideways as she skidded up to the door.
“Monday May!” admonished her mother. “You must never do that!”
“Me, I haven’t done anything,” neighed Monday May indignantly. “It wasn’t me who moved all my friends away.”
“But it was you who jerked the lead rope out of Mr James’ hand, nearly knocking him over, and I heard him say that if he can’t break you in, you will have to be sold and sent away.”
“S-s-sold and sent away from my old, pleasant meadow? Can he do that to me?”
“Humans can do anything that they want to us horses,” said her mother sadly.
“I will try.”
Monday May stood shivering at her mother’s side. She didn’t like being in a stable, all shut in, and at first she had kicked out in all directions until her mother laid back her ears and nipped her on the neck.
“Ow! That really hurt! Why did you do that?”

“To teach you that you can’t go on behaving like that. If you don’t behave and let your Master break you in, you will be sent away and never see me or our pleasant, green meadow again!”
Monday May shook her head, but she didn’t bite Mr James when he brought her a handful of oats and slipped the hard, horrid, cold bit into her mouth. She even let Mr James lead her round the stable yard. Mr James patted the glossy chestnut neck.
“That’s the way my little filly. We’ll make a racehorse of you yet.”
“Mr James says I’m going to be a racehorse!” Monday May neighed loudly, “and I know I’ll be the best racehorse ever. Everyone will clap and cheer and say how wonderful I am!”
Monday May’s mother sighed. She had done her best, she really had. She had tried so hard to teach Monday May, to warn her about the ways of the world.
As Monday May leapt into the trailer after Samson, much too excited about the beautiful new blue rug and elegant travelling bandages, to remember to say goodbye to her mother, or remember the pleasant green meadow, her mother could only hang her head sadly and wonder what was to become of her beautiful daughter?
Chapter Three Miss Pretty Withers

I

feel sick, I feel sick!” shrieked Monday May, swaying from side to side. “I don’t like this. I want to look out and see where we are.”
“Horses can’t be sick,” neighed Samson, “and I’m just as nervous as you, but I’m being brave.”
“I’m brave too,” said Monday May, “my mother said so.”
“I bet she did,” said Samson, “she was too scared to say anything else.”
“Where are we? When will we get to the racing stables? When will I run my first race?”
“You have to be broken in first. I’ve already been broken, so I am nearly ready to race.”
“I have been broken in,” said Monday May crossly. “I didn’t like it and I was very brave when I let Mr James put that horrible, cold metal thing into my mouth, and