“Here! What do you lot think you’re up to?”
Alice almost leapt out of her skin, and Phantom plunged forward, his ears back.
“That’s Mr Pyke, the estate manager!” Rosie hissed. “Quick, let’s get out of here!”
But Rosie confused Dancer as she tried to turn her in a tight circle between the trees. The stubborn mare planted herself with her nose in the air, refusing to budge another step. The others had already turned their ponies and were hastily making their way back to the lane, when Alice realised that Rosie wasn’t behind them. She pulled Scout up. Ahead of her, she saw Charlie and Mia do the same.
“Rosie!” Alice squeaked. “Hurry up!”
But it was too late. Mr Pyke had already stormed over the undergrowth toward Rosie and was standing by Dancer’s head, blocking her escape route. He was wearing a long green waxed coat, his red hair curled out from under his flat cap and his camouflage trousers mushroomed over the top of his green wellies. He blended in completely with his surroundings. His face was stony, and he had a double barrelled shotgun, cocked open, in the crook of his arm. Behind Mr Pyke stood his son, Archie, looking awkward.
“This is private property!” Mr Pyke spluttered. “There’s to be no riding on this land at any time. Is that clear?”
“Well, we always used to be able to ride all over this estate,” Rosie said, flushed and indignant. She was trying her best to look like she was standing there because she was seriously brave, rather than because Dancer wouldn’t budge.
Mr Pyke looked furious. “That was then, this is now. Things have changed. Now shove off, all of you.”
“Mr Pyke, where are you?” Another voice suddenly called over. The girls peered through the trees, and saw a man they recognised from the Abbey open day. It was Nick Webb. He was standing, almost hidden, at the edge of the woods. His expression changed as he noticed the girls and their ponies. A deep frown etched itself on his forehead, between his eyes.
“I’m over here,” Mr Pyke shouted back clearly, not breaking Rosie’s gaze while he spoke. Alice was transfixed by Mr Pyke’s left hand, which was resting on his gun. Mrs Maplethorp’s words echoed in her head.
“Well, you’re needed up by the Monastery Woods. There’s been another… incident,” Nick Webb sounded like he was choosing his words carefully.
Mr Pyke glanced towards Nick, his eyes glinting. “On my way,” he replied. But before he left, he briefly turned his attention back to the girls, speaking gruffly and staring at each of them in turn. “Do yourselves a favour – keep off this estate if you know what’s good for you. And you can tell all your horsey friends the same, got it?”
With that, Mr Pyke turned on his heel, and half walked, half jogged towards Nick.
“Come on,” Mia said shakily, “let’s get out of here.”
By the time Rosie finally got Dancer going, Mr Pyke and Nick had almost disappeared from view. She was about to trot after her friends when she noticed Archie. He had hung behind, and was now standing stiffly against a broad tree. Archie had his own pony, a small grey native called Rascal, and the girls occasionally talked to him about riding, on the school bus. Rosie could tell that he wanted to say something. He turned to look into the woods, hesitating until his dad was out of earshot.
“Um, sorry about Dad,” Archie said, nervously. “He…he’s not normally that grumpy.”
“Grumpy?” Rosie frowned. “Stark raving mad, more like.”
At that moment, Mr Pyke’s voice boomed out again. “Archie!”
“I’ve got to go,” Archie said, looking panicked and lowering his voice. “But you really can’t ride in here, it’s not safe.” Then he turned and raced after his dad.
Rosie watched the figure retreat through the trees, feeling a tingle of fear. “Not safe?” she called after him. “Because of your dad, you mean?”
But Archie didn’t stop. Rosie sighed, then rode out to the others, and told them about Archie’s strange warning.
“I get the feeling there’s something odd going on inside this estate,” Mia said, chewing her lip in deep thought as the four girls began to head off with their ponies. “First of all Nick wants everyone to be involved with his new Polo Club, then suddenly he stops any rider going near the place. Now Archie’s saying it’s not safe to ride in here.”
“Well, it looks like Mrs Maplethorp’s Pony Clubber was right about the paths being out of bounds,” Charlie pointed out. “But why would Nick change his mind about allowing riders in so suddenly?”
Alice scratched Scout’s withers for a moment, as the Pony Detectives thought in silence.
“Oooh, he could be worried about his polo ponies being let out?” Rosie suggested. “I mean, the police have suspected there’s something dodgy behind the horses escaping from their fields recently. He may just be keeping security really tight before the Winter Cup?”
“Maybe,” Alice said, uncertainly. “Although why close it all down? And allowing Mr Pyke to shoot at trespassers is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“It’s not the best way to promote the Abbey Polo Club,” Charlie agreed.
“We’ll have to ask Archie what he meant when we see him on the school bus,” Mia said. The others nodded, riding along in silence. Knowing that perfect rides were just tantalisingly out of reach made them even more determined to uncover what was going on inside the ancient Abbey grounds.
THE four ponies puffed to the brow of the hill, their breath escaping in great plumes. They began to pick their way downwards towards the lane below, beyond which nestled Hope Farm, the ramshackle rescue yard that offered a home to every abandoned and unwanted animal in the area. As the girls and their ponies crossed the lane, a loud, urgent whinny from the nearest field greeted them. At the same moment, a small, scruffy bay pony, with a huge bushy forelock, galloped towards the fence and into view.
“Pirate!” Charlie grinned. Pirate was Charlie’s old pony. When she’d outgrown him, she’d put him on loan to Neve McCuthers, who lived in the annex at Hope Farm with her grandparents. Charlie had taken ages trying to find the right rider for her mischievous but fun-loving pony. In the end, Pirate and Neve had found each other, because no one else could put up with his antics. Neve was a natural in the saddle, and a really brave rider. She was the only person Charlie trusted to look after Pirate and give him the home he deserved.
As the cheeky bay pony scuffed to an untidy halt in the field next to them, his fluffy forelock almost covered his bright eyes. Charlie leaned down from Phantom’s back to ruffle her old pony’s neck over the fence. Pirate stood for a second, breathing a greeting as he touched one nostril first to Scout, then to Wish and Dancer. The girls moved off, and he trotted alongside them as they made their way through the wooden gate and up the track to the yard.
They bumped into Neve as she was coming out of the feed room, crunching on a carrot. After they’d climbed out of their saddles and enjoyed a catch up with their friend, Neve jumped on Pirate bareback and rode over to Fran, who was busy dishing out bales of hay in one of the far fields. Fran finished up and then walked briskly back to the yard, surrounded by her pack of faithful dogs. She crushed each of the girls in a bear hug. Then Mia gave her an update on the previous night’s activities.
Fran shook her head, and sighed heavily. “It sounds like a classic case of abandonment, I’m sorry to say. When irresponsible people don’t want their horses any more, or can’t afford them, they just dump them on land anywhere they can. No longer their responsibility. These ones are thoroughbreds, you think?”
Charlie nodded. “They look like it. They’re nice – a bit flighty, but then that’s not surprising for this time of year.”
“Well, I suggest you put up twenty-one day notices. That makes it clear to everyone passing that the horses have been abandoned, and gives the owner a chance to claim them.”
“What happens if no one comes forward?” Alice asked.
“After twenty-one days, the horses can be rehomed legally,” Fran sig
hed. “I’ve got a stash of those notices, so I’ll give you some before you go. I’ll bring over a supply of hay and some basic feed, too. In the meantime I’ll ring round and see if I can find out any more information.”
The girls couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that putting up notices was all Fran suggested they do. It didn’t involve much detective work. Fran noticed their faces and gave Mia a consoling pat on her shoulder, almost sending her flying.
“One thing I’ve learned from my time here,” Fran explained, “is that you can’t always uncover an abandoned horse’s background, as much as you four might wish to. All too often the old owners just don’t want to be found.”
As Fran went inside her cottage to fetch the notices, the Pony Detectives gave each other looks. Without saying a word, they knew they weren’t prepared to give up that easily. And something being hard to solve wasn’t enough to put them off trying. As Alice and Rosie said goodbye to Neve, and Charlie gave Pirate one last hug, Fran gave the notices to Mia, who tucked them inside her thick, waterproof coat.
“Will we see you all on the Christmas Charity Ride?” Fran asked as she helped check girths. She held each saddle’s stirrup while the Pony Detectives jumped back onto their ponies.
“Absolutely,” Rosie grinned. Then her eyes popped wide as she remembered what had happened on their ride to Hope Farm. “Although the ride normally goes through the Abbey, doesn’t it? You might have to change your route!”
Rosie quickly filled Fran in on what had happened on their ride.
Fran scowled. “Ah, well, you’re not the first to flag the problem up. Neve couldn’t get into the grounds, either, a couple of weeks ago. No warning, no discussion with the local riders. Nick Webb just closed off the paths overnight. I was fuming.”
The girls looked at each other. They hadn’t realised how much of an issue it was becoming for everyone in the area.
“We rely on the funds raised by the charity ride to keep going through the year,” Fran continued. “I’ve left messages for Nick, telling him that, but he keeps avoiding my calls. What makes it worse is that before he moved in, he’d agreed to the ride. He even wanted to spice it up with a few fences for the braver riders. Now this! It’s just not on. Lots of people have already started to drop out because of the safety concerns with riding on the roads. Anyway, I haven’t given up on getting into the Abbey grounds just yet.” Fran’s eyes blazed with determination. “I’ve signed the petition. It’s not really my style, but right now, I’m willing to do anything to make the event a success. The owner of Perryvale Polo Club, Mr Perryvale himself, mentioned it to me. Said it was pinned up in the village shop. If Nick realises the strength of public opposition, it might persuade him to reopen the rides. Anyway, I must crack on. See you girls later with that feed.”
The Pony Detectives squeezed their ponies’ sides to get them moving forward, then they all set off back to Blackberry Farm. They’d been out much longer than they’d planned, without a single canter to warm them up, so by the time they got home they were frozen stiff. Their ponies fell upon their hay as soon as they were led into their stables. Dancer didn’t even wait until Rosie had taken her bridle off, and most of the long strands got caught around her bit. Then she refused to let the bit go from her teeth, at the expense of losing the half munched mouthful of hay wound around it. The girls quickly groomed the ponies to get their circulation going. Then they put on their thickest rugs, with cosy fleeces underneath. Charlie even put stable bandages on Phantom’s legs, knowing how much he hated being cold.
Fran appeared in her old jeep just as they’d finished. The weak afternoon sun was low in the sky and the temperature was starting to drop even further. A fine mist was drifting in once more. Mia had sorted through her huge collection of rugs and identified a couple she thought might fit the abandoned horses. Fran had brought a selection too, along with hay, some feed and headcollars.
Fran walked quietly into the field with them. The bay approached first, spotting the feed buckets, and even gave a quiet flutter of his nostrils. The appaloosa stayed one step behind, but he poked out his nose, keen to have any meal that was on offer. While they ate hungrily they allowed the girls to pet them, and Fran expertly slipped headcollars on both. Between the five of them, they managed to put quilt under-rugs and thick over-rugs with necks on the two horses, to keep them warm. By the time the girls and Fran had finished, the horses already looked happier. The bay even walked up to them inquisitively, shoving at their pockets to see if anything extra was hidden in them, before turning to the large hay piles.
“You’ll have to think about names for them,” Fran suggested, looking at the horses fondly. “You cant keep calling them the bay and the appaloosa, can you?”
“Oh, we did that on the ride back earlier today,” Alice smiled, as Mia took Fran’s laminated notices from her pocket and began to tie them to the fence posts.
“We thought Cracker for the bay,” Charlie told Fran, “because he’s quite spirited.”
“And Frostie for the appaloosa,” Rosie added, “because of his markings.”
“Well, I think it’s pretty clear that Cracker and Frostie here have been abandoned,” Fran said, as she got back into her jeep, “so I doubt anyone will come forward for them. Because of that, I think it’s best we get them over to Hope Farm soon. They can get a once over from the vet and the farrier there. And if anyone does pipe up about them before the notice runs out, all you need to do is point them in my direction, and they can collect them from the Farm.”
The girls’ faces dropped. Fran noticed, and paused for a moment.
“I know you’ve grown attached to them, but this fencing isn’t safe – it’ll either cut them to pieces, or they’ll end up escaping,” she explained. “And you’ll thank me when you’ve got school, your own ponies and the dark evenings to contend with.”
“I guess,” Rosie sighed, stroking one of Frostie’s long, floppy ears.
“And I suppose it’d be easy for someone to let them loose from here,” Charlie frowned, remembering the ponies that escaped from Mrs Maplethorp’s field and from Long Lane Livery. “There’s no lock on this gate, so they could be targeted next.”
“Even more reason to move them sooner rather than later,” Fran said, as she buckled in and started up the Jeep’s engine. “They’re nice horses, it’d be terrible if pranksters let them out and something happened to them.”
As Fran bumped off down the road, the girls walked back through the sheep field in the gathering gloom. Charlie checked her watch. “If we hurry, we’ll have just enough time to go through the clues we’ve got for our two mysteries before my dad turns up to collect us. We’ll have to be quick, though!”
“And we can thaw out,” Alice shivered, feeling like even her bones were numb with cold.
They jogged the rest of the way back in the thickening mist and called out to their ponies in their warm stables. Alice half wished they could sit in the kitchen and enjoy the heat of the Aga, but they all agreed they should go to the hay barn, where it was more private. Once they’d slid shut the big door and they had all their torches on, it felt cosy in the barn, and, snuggling down under duvets and blankets, the girls began to think about what clues they had. It didn’t take long to realise they didn’t have much.
“All we’ve got so far for Cracker and Frostie’s case,” Mia said, opening her notebook, “is half a footprint, a tyre track and a time for them being dumped.”
“And all we have for the case of the ponies being let loose from their fields,” Charlie added, “is the sound of a motorbike when horses’ field gates were opened.”
“There has to be a connection between the ponies escaping from Long Lane Livery one week, and then from Mrs Maplethorp’s fields the next, doesn’t there?” Alice said. The others thought about it for a second.
“Well, they’re either side of the village,” Rosie reasoned, “so they’re not near each other. And a different number of ponies were let out each tim
e.”
“They’re completely different set ups, too,” Mia added. “Long Lane’s a livery yard, and Mrs Maplethorp’s is her own home, with ponies in the paddocks next to her. It doesn’t seem like there is a connection, other than the motorbike.”
“I bet it’s some bored idiot, racing round and letting out the ponies for a laugh,” Rosie said with a shake of her head.
“I guess it might be,” Alice agreed with a sigh, although she couldn’t imagine why anyone would think that letting ponies out and scaring them was fun. “But if Rosie’s right, it’s going to be pretty impossible to track the culprit down.”
Charlie grinned. “Although it might be fun trying.” She imagined galloping along the grass verges on Phantom, chasing after some terrified biker until he fell off and gave himself up.
“Then there’s the weird stuff going on at the Abbey,” Rosie reminded the others. “Everyone’s talking about Nick Webb closing off the Abbey rides, when he’d originally said he’d keep them all open. Then Archie warns us not to sneak in because it’s not safe.”
“But he didn’t say why,” Charlie pointed out.
Alice let out another tiny sigh. They’d never had so many problems to solve at once. She didn’t want to say anything to the others, but it was feeling a tiny bit impossible, especially with so few clues.
Just then they heard a car pull up, scrunching on the gravel behind the hay barn. It tooted, signalling the arrival of Charlie’s dad, who was collecting Charlie, Mia and Alice.
The girls jumped up, and slid open the huge barn door. With a promise that they’d all think about the clues before school the next day, the Pony Detectives ventured out into the black, icy evening.
On Monday morning, the four friends only just made it onto the school bus. Alice, Charlie and Mia had reached the yard extra early. Rosie had been waiting for them, and came out of the back door, yawning. They’d opened the yard gate, and sorted out their own ponies – feeding, mucking out, turning out – then they had turned their attention to Cracker and Frostie. They’d broken the ice on the water buckets, scooping out the sheets of ice with their frozen fingers, and had just shaken out the piles of hay, when the school bus had turned the corner of Duck Lane. The girls had grabbed their bags and sprinted from the horses’ field to the pick up point. For half a second Rosie had thought the bus was going to sail past them, but to her disappointment it had braked at the last moment. Its engine throbbed loudly until they jumped on, out of breath.
Stormchaser and the Silver Mist Page 4
