Stormchaser and the Silver Mist

by Belinda Rapley

  “They heard a motorbike at Long Lane as well,” Alice pointed out, leaning over Mia’s shoulder to look at the paper, “it says in here.”

  “Ooh, what if those horses in the field next door belong to Mrs Maplethorp?” Rosie suggested. “They might have been wandering about and someone passing could have shepherded them onto the common land. Maybe whoever was driving that trailer just spotted the loose horses and stopped to save them. They might not have been dumped after all!”

  “Maybe,” Charlie said doubtfully. “But I can’t see Mrs Maplethorp letting her horses get as thin as those ones looked this morning.”

  “It’s worth checking with her, though, just in case,” Mia suggested. “We can ride there this morning.”

  “It’s quite a long way,” Mr Honeycott pointed out.

  “We’d better leave now then,” Rosie said, clearing away her plate. “Otherwise we’ll be late for lunch…”

  Alice nudged her. “We’ve only just finished breakfast, I’m stuffed! How can you even think about lunch already?”

  “You always have to plan ahead where food’s concerned, Alice,” Rosie said, deadly serious.

  Everyone thanked Mrs Honeycott for breakfast and dragged on their coats, ready to leave. But before they did, Mia asked if she could keep that page of the paper. Mr Honeycott agreed, and Mia carefully tore out the small article, slipping it into her pocket.

  Forty five minutes later, the girls were mounted on their ponies and riding along Duck Lane. Everywhere around them looked like it had been dusted with glitter. Huge cobwebs sparkled in the hedges and a robin flitted in and out of the frosted rosehips.

  Wish and Phantom both had exercise rugs on to keep their hindquarters warm as they clopped along smartly, side by side. Behind them, Alice sat in Scout’s saddle, hardly able to move under all the layers she was wearing. Dancer plodded next to Scout, curling her head towards the grey pony to keep warm. As they rode, the girls speculated about the new horses’ backgrounds.

  “Well, if those horses aren’t Mrs Maplethorp’s, it sounds like we might have two mysteries on our hands,” Charlie said, turning slightly in the saddle so she could see her friends behind her. “The horses dumped on the common land, and ponies being let out of their fields.”

  “We’re never going to get a chance to squeeze in any Christmas shopping at this rate,” Rosie grinned. “Mind you, I’ve got Dancer’s presents already, and they’re the most important ones.”

  “Excuse me?” Alice joked. “What about your three best friends?”

  Rosie giggled as they turned up onto an iron-hard, rutted path beside a ploughed field.

  “It’s too frozen even to trot,” Charlie groaned, as Phantom stepped gingerly over the lumpy ground. Phantom was on his toes, and Charlie knew that he could do with a really good gallop. But instead, they had to stick to a steady plod.

  After another half an hour of riding around the edges of ice-tinged fields and along the verges of slippy lanes, they reached a grey flint cottage. Ponies dotted the fields surrounding it, rugged up warmly and grazing on hay piles. But the gate opening onto the lane had heavy-duty padlocks wrapped around both posts. The first field stood empty.

  “Mrs Maplethorp’s ponies must have been let out of that gate,” Mia said.

  Suddenly, a woman wrapped in a head scarf and wearing a thick tweed coat that was almost bursting at the buttons strode out from behind a hedge. She was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with fresh, steaming manure, with a scoop balancing precariously on top. She glared at the girls.

  “You’re right, this is where my ponies were let out,” she barked, her pale-blue eyes small in her plump face. “Why, do you know anything about it?”

  Mia moved Wish a step closer, and introduced herself and rest of the Pony Detectives. Mrs Maplethorp dabbed her dripping nose with a huge hanky, nodding for Mia to continue.

  “Two horses appeared last night in the field next to Blackberry Farm, where we keep our ponies,” Mia explained. “We read about your ponies being let out, and wondered if these two might belong to you?”

  Mrs Maplethorp stared at Mia during her speech. As she realised that Mia was being helpful, her grumpy features softened. She shook her head. “Got all mine back a couple of hours after they escaped, thankfully. The news spread like wildfire – I had friends all around here phoning to let me know they’d just seen my ponies race past their cottages. Three of the ponies took longer to catch, managed to get themselves onto the main road in the village. Luckily someone grabbed them and got headcollars on them before they came to any harm. Now then, tell me, what do your two horses look like? If they have escaped from somewhere local I might know them.”

  Mia showed her the photos on her phone and described them both.

  Mrs Maplethorp shook her head. “Can’t say I recognise them, sorry. Fran Hope might be able to give you some advice about what to do next.”

  The girls smiled. “Good idea, we know Fran,” Mia replied.

  “We could go to Hope Farm now,” Alice suggested. Scout craned his neck forward, trying to sniff Mrs Maplethorp’s barrow of muck through the gate.

  “You’re some way from there in this direction,” Mrs Maplethorp frowned. “And you’ve hardly picked a good day to go trekking on these icy lanes, you know.”

  “Oh, but we could cut through the Abbey grounds,” Charlie piped up. “And then we could finally give our ponies a good canter on the paths.”

  Mrs Maplethorp scoffed, and the hardness returned to her heavily-lined features. “You’ll be lucky.” The girls looked at each other, surprised. “Haven’t you heard? The new owner, Nick Webb, has blocked off all the entrances to the Abbey rides. Horrid man. Did it not long after the stables were rebuilt and he moved his polo ponies in. You can’t get to a single one of the old rides now.”

  “But some of the best rides around here are on the Abbey land!” Charlie gasped indignantly, startling Phantom. He hopped forward straight into a dozing Dancer, who squealed with surprise. “He can’t do that!”

  “Ah, but he can. They aren’t bridleways, you see, and that’s the problem,” Mrs Maplethorp gazed towards the old ruins of the Abbey, which were just visible before the woods. “The old owner, a major in the Army he was, just used to let everyone ride through the estate land without any problems for years. He used to train Olympic show jumpers from those stables years ago, you know. His son owns the place now, though, he’s the one that rented it out to Nick Webb. Nick promised that he’d keep all the rides open when he took over. He wanted his polo yard to be completely different from that other snooty place, the Perryvale Polo Club. But no, he’s gone all exclusive now, too. The major would be turning in his grave if he knew. Rides around here are less safe for all my Pony Clubbers. Everyone has to stay on roads and face the traffic.”

  Mrs Maplethorp pursed her lips, looking seriously unimpressed.

  “Not only that,” she continued, indignantly, “but one of my Pony Club girls tried to ride through the Abbey the other day and came back crying. She said Nick Webb’s new estate manager, Mr Pyke, shot his gun in her direction!”

  The Pony Detectives looked at each other, shocked. Archie Pyke, Mr Pyke’s son, was at the same school as them, in the year below. He’d only just started that term, and he was really quiet. The loudest thing about him was his hair, which was bright red. His older brother, Billy, who was one of the Abbey’s top team riders, was just as quiet as Archie. The girls had heard all about him from listening to India on the bus. They couldn’t imagine Mr Pyke being so different from both his sons, and so scary.

  “My Pony Clubber was convinced Mr Pyke was trying to scare her off the land,” Mrs Maplethorp tutted, disapprovingly. “Luckily, she had an experienced, sensible old pony who didn’t spook. But it’s disgraceful, if you ask me – I certainly won’t be supporting Nick Webb’s opening tournament, the Winter Cup, on New Year’s Eve. And I’m encouraging everyone I know to boycott it too. This man needs to be taught a lesson. I hope I can cou
nt on you four to support me, now you know about the rides?”

  Mrs Maplethorp gave the girls a formidable stare.

  “There’s a petition in the village shop to get the rides reopened,” she concluded, before striding off with her wheelbarrow, towards the next pile of droppings. “I’d suggest you all sign it!”

  With that she disappeared from view, huffing and puffing to herself.

  “I was really looking forward to the Winter Cup,” Alice whispered as they turned in the direction of Hope Farm. Their ponies were glad to be moving again, and stepped out purposefully.

  “Me too,” Rosie said quietly, “but we don’t have to obey Mrs Maplethorp, do we? I’m still going, no matter what she says.”

  “Maybe her Pony Clubber just caught Mr Pyke on a bad day,” Mia shrugged. There was no way she was going to miss out on all the glamour and thrill of her very first polo match.

  “And I bet we can still find a way into the Abbey grounds,” Charlie said defiantly. “Mrs Maplethorp and her riders just don’t know where to look.”

  The girls grinned at each other, and began to feel their optimism building once more as they rode towards the Abbey ruins. If anything, getting inside the grounds sounded like a challenge. And with the perfect rides that were waiting inside, it was one challenge they were definitely up for.

  THE Pony Detectives finally reached a T-junction, leading onto Abbey Lane. The lane ran in both directions and, in front of them sat a metal sign, tucked into an evergreen bush. To the right it pointed towards the Abbey. Perryvale Polo Club was to the left. The girls turned down the lane in the direction of the Abbey, starting to get excited about what they might see.

  The girls’ journey on the school bus took them to the site of the new polo club each day, where the bus would stop by the entrance to the estate to pick up India Webb and Archie Pyke. Smart new post and rail fences separated the edge of the lane from the estate. The posts curved inwards, leading up into the pebbly drive.

  An all-weather arena had been constructed alongside the lane, in the same position as the original sand school. Narrow, young hedges had been planted, obscuring the view of the arena from the road, except at the corner by the entrance where the bus stopped each morning. When the windows were steamed up, the four friends would rub patches clear to watch the riders exercising the flashy, silken-coated thoroughbred ponies on the all-weather surface.

  Sometimes the bus would be held up as the Abbey riders and grooms led the ponies in from the fields, allowing the girls a longer look. Each day, they had become increasingly obsessed with one particular polo pony, and as they rode along now they hoped to catch a glimpse of him in the arena.

  As they neared the Abbey, Phantom pricked his ears and picked up the pace. Charlie sat quietly, her reins still loose. She smiled, knowing that it must mean he could hear polo ponies being exercised. They rode up to the estate entrance, and stopped at the one corner where they had a bird’s eye view of the ponies practising in the arena under their riders. As long as there was no traffic along the lane, they could stay for a few moments to watch.

  The polo ponies’ legs were heavily protected, with bandages beneath tough leather boots. The bridles had a double noseband, and a cheekpiece made of rope, which threaded through the bit and connected to the lower of two reins. One pony was a pale chestnut without any markings. They recognised his rider, India, at once, her blonde hair flowing from underneath her helmet. The other pony was a bright bay. A white blaze stretched out over both his eyes at the top of his head, and covered his muzzle at the bottom. He moved like a cantankerous bull around the large arena.

  “Stormchaser!” Alice breathed as she, Mia and Rosie caught up with Charlie. Without saying anything, the four friends stood, captivated. Stormchaser wasn’t a handsome horse, he was brutish and heavily built. But something about him was mesmerising. Stormchaser’s rider appeared to sit motionless, as his pony turned on a sixpence and wove around the arena in response to feather touches from the saddle. The rider swung the stick over the top of Stormchaser’s neck and leant perilously far to the left, attacking the ball from the near side. There was a ‘tock’ as the polo stick caught the ball broadside, and almost without asking, the pony took chase, as if he understood instinctively that it was his job to pursue it. India’s chestnut couldn’t match him, a split second slower to start after the ball. The girls held their breath as Stormchaser picked up speed along one long side of the arena.

  “He’ll never be able to stop,” Rosie squeaked, leaning down along Dancer’s neck and almost closing her eyes, waiting for a crash into the arena boards.

  The rider reached down and the pony seemed to lean in towards the ball. The rider swept the ball sideways. At once, the pony sat back on his haunches and swung to the left effortlessly. Once more the chestnut was slower to respond, overshooting the change of direction.

  “Estoni!” India called out to the other rider, cantering her pony more slowly to the far end of the arena after Stormchaser. “We’re meant to be on the same team, remember?”

  “So keep up, then,” Estoni laughed back cheekily as he cantered towards the end wall, with India behind him. Estoni reached the edge of the arena. He looked over his shoulder and knocked the ball behind him, past India, into the middle of the arena. In an instant, Stormchaser had spun round and was giving chase. India pressed the reins against her horse’s neck and sat tight as she also spun round. For a few strides the two ponies held their line, and were galloping side by side, necks outstretched. Just as both riders reached down with their sticks, Stormchaser, a ball of fury and taught muscle, leaned into Rumour, using his bulk to shift the other horse. As brave as a lion, Stormchaser was prepared to barge into any opponent, and he held his own line without flinching. At once the pale chestnut baulked sideways. Stormchaser’s ears immediately flickered forward.

  The girls watched, transfixed, as Estoni leaned out of the saddle. He swung his stick and sent the ball crashing between the goal posts at the far end of the arena. He stood in his stirrups, and looked up at the Pony Detectives. He raised his stick to them, like a salute. They knew from what India had said on the bus that Estoni was the only professional polo player on Nick’s team. He was a magical rider to watch. He seemed to melt into Stormchaser’s saddle. The Pony Detectives were in total awe of him, and couldn’t help giggling and blushing among themselves when he waved over at them.

  “You’re such a showoff,” India puffed, pulling her pony up, although she couldn’t keep the grin off her face as she nodded towards the girls.

  “Storm is, you mean,” Estoni said in his strong Argentinean accent. “That’s why he’ll win us our very first Winter Cup. With him on our team, no others have a chance.”

  The girls exchanged an excited look. They didn’t care what Mrs Maplethorp said, there was no way they were going to boycott the Winter Cup. They had to see Stormchaser in action.

  Estoni turned Stormchaser and pulled him up next to India. But the bright bay wouldn’t stand still. He scuffled around the chestnut with his short little stride, his head dipped low, his back humped up. Estoni expertly slid from the saddle, bow legged and awkward in his chunky knee boots. If anything, the bay horse was even more temperamental when the rider was off his back. He fly bucked, hauling Estoni into the air as he gripped hold of the reins grimly. As Estoni led the ill-tempered Stormchaser from the arena, avoiding the horse’s swirling head, flashing teeth and striking front hooves, India followed, laughing.

  “I think I’d rather stick to old Rumour here,” she said, waving goodbye to the girls then giving Rumour an affectionate pat. Her voice trailed off as they disappeared towards the stables. “At least that way I’ll get to play in the Winter Cup. You’ll probably end up black and blue before New Year trying to control that beast!”

  The Pony Detectives continued to stare at the empty arena for a second, before Phantom scraped his hoof. His impatience to be moving again brought the girls out of their dream world.

  “St
ormchaser is seriously awesome,” Charlie sighed. “It’ll be worth coming to see the Winter Cup just to watch him compete.”

  “I wouldn’t fancy going anywhere near him, though, would you?” Alice said with a shiver. “He looks half crazy.”

  At that moment they heard a sharp cry from the stables just beyond the arena. They stood up in their stirrups, and craned their necks to get a glimpse of the yard. Estoni had managed to get Stormchaser into his stable, but the bay was plunging about in there. As he caused havoc, they caught a glimpse of a shock of red hair as Billy Pyke rushed past in Stormchaser and Estoni’s direction, followed by a few of the grooms.

  “Make that full crazy,” Rosie smiled.

  “Right! While everyone’s distracted we can sneak into the Abbey woods!” Charlie whispered. “Come on!”

  The others jogged their ponies after Charlie. The girls rode along the lane for a few minutes, leaving the commotion behind them, looking for an opening in the trees. A small cottage stood, almost hidden from view, in a clearing at the start of the woods. Its chimney smoked cosily. Unsure if anyone was in there, the girls rode clear of it. But just after Charlie turned onto a small path, she came across a huge tree trunk blocking the way.

  “Maybe there was some truth in what Mrs Maplethorp said after all,” Charlie muttered to herself.

  “Backout again,” she called over her shoulder to Alice. Scout raised his head and took careful backward steps. Phantom followed.

  “There’s another place a bit further on,” Mia pointed out, “we’ll just have to dodge through the trees. That’ll still lead onto the gallops.”

  All of the girls were looking forward to a good blast to warm themselves and the ponies up. Alice scrunched her frozen fingers, worried that she wouldn’t be able to grip the reins if Scout took off.

  They rode on, until they stumbled across the almost-hidden entrance. It wasn’t so much a path, more just a gap in the trees for them to slink through. The ponies picked their way carefully through the gap, towards the main woodland path, which ran along the edge of the estate before curving inwards. They’d nearly reached it when a shout suddenly rang out through the quietness of the wood.