Blaze and the Dark Rider

by Stacy Gregg

  Even Natasha, who was now yawning melodramatically, seemed to have actually got up early to help her mother get Goldrush prepared. Goldrush was one of those palominos with a dark, sooty-coloured muzzle and Natasha had brought out her features by rubbing a damp cloth with a little Vaseline gently on her nose and around her dark eyes. Goldrush looked so pretty with her long eyelashes it was almost like she was wearing mascara.

  “Splendid!” Tom Avery said as he assessed them all, moving along the line of riders, checking their girths and nosebands.

  “Dan, I think you can take your stirrups down a hole please for rider on the flat,” Avery commanded as he cast an eye over everyone’s stirrup length and position.

  “Now,” Avery smiled, “I’ve got a couple of helpers today.” He turned to Araminta and Morgan, who had been standing back by the Range Rover watching all this time. “Come on, ladies, front and centre!” Avery instructed, beckoning Araminta and Morgan to come over and stand next to him.

  “Right,” he said, “Minty is going to be giving you all some last-minute coaching with the rider on the flat class, and Morgan is going to help with setting up practice jumps and the games. I’ll be wandering around and keeping an eye on you all throughout the day and helping out where and when I’m needed.”

  As Avery talked on, Morgan, who was standing shyly next to her mother gave Issie a little wave and Issie smiled and waved back.

  “Right, then, let’s get all these ponies moving on a twenty-metre circle and start warming up so that Araminta can give you a bit of advice on the rider classes,” Avery said. “Find yourself a space and work them on a loose rein at a medium walk.”

  He turned to Araminta. “They’re all yours, Minty.”

  “Thanks, Tom,” she said, “for everything. I’m so sorry about what I said to you the other day.”

  Avery shook his head. “You’ve already apologised, Minty—no need to say any more about it. It’s great to have you back at Chevalier Point.”

  Araminta smiled at him. “Well, I’d best get out there and give them some pointers then. We want our team to win!” She laughed and strode off to the centre of the ring, instructing the riders as she went: “Come on then, let’s take up the reins and get them collected, everyone. We have work to do!”

  Issie was about to join the other riders, but first she trotted Blaze up to say hi to Morgan, who was arranging some painted rails into a practice jump. “How are things?” she asked.

  “Good. Really good, actually, thanks,” Morgan said. “Mum has been great. Can you believe that she even suggested I should take the rest of the summer off and decide if I really want to ride, because she felt so bad about pressuring me?”

  Issie was shocked. “Are you going to do that?”

  “No way!” Morgan grinned. “I still love riding more than anything. I guess I didn’t realise that before now. It’s weird but, well, once Mum told me I didn’t have to do it to make her happy, everything changed. It was like the weight lifted off my shoulders. Jack has been going really well since then too. He’s jumping brilliantly and I’m going to start doing some extra training sessions with Annabel soon—the doctor says her leg will be fine to ride in a couple of weeks. And guess what? Jack and Eddie really like each other! They’re best friends. Whenever I go down to the paddock they’re always hanging out together!”

  Issie laughed.

  “You’d better get going. You’ve only got a little while before the first event and you need to warm up,” Morgan said. She looked wistfully across at where her mother stood, instructing the riders as they trotted in a circle around her.

  “Do you wish you were riding today?” Issie asked.

  “Yeah, I do,” Morgan confessed. Then she brightened up and smiled. “Maybe next year I’ll make the team.” She saw a worried look pass over Issie’s face. “Don’t worry.” Morgan laughed. “I’m ready to earn it this time. I’ve got the whole year to get training.”

  Morgan gave Blaze a hearty pat on her neck. “Good luck, Issie,” she said. “I really want to see your name engraved on that gold shield.” She laughed. “But no pressure, right?”

  “Right!” Issie laughed too.

  “Canter on!” Araminta Chatswood-Smith commanded. Issie, who had just joined the others riding on the circle, gathered up her reins in preparation, sat heavy, put her legs on a little and pushed Blaze into a graceful canter.

  “Very good, Isadora,” Araminta said. “Now, I’m going to let you in on an old show-riding trick. It’s not cheating, exactly, but it will make the judge think you are a marvellous rider. Now, remember, the judge is going to be standing in the middle of the ring, so he can only see your inside leg. You need to keep that inside leg completely still. I mean completely. If you need to kick your horse on then use your outside leg. That way the judge cannot see you and you will look like you are doing absolutely nothing to make your horse perform perfectly!”

  “Excellent, Stella, excellent,” Araminta said. “Hands up a little and totally still please, and don’t drop your shoulder in, stay nice and upright. Imagine there is a thread running through the centre of your body and up and out through the top of your helmet, pulling you up from above so that you are sitting upright and perfectly straight. Lovely! You all look marvellous!”

  Araminta’s lesson came to an abrupt halt a few moments later as the riders were called into the ring by the judge. Issie tried to remember Araminta’s advice as she warmed Blaze up, finding a clear space among the other riders.

  In each event riders were competing for first, second and third place ribbons—with team points to match. Riders got three points for first, two for second and one point for third. The results would then be tallied on the scoreboard and at the end of the day the team with the most points would take home the Interclub Gold Shield. Every single point mattered. If one of the Chevalier Point riders could win rider on the flat today then the team would be off to a flying start.

  “Prepare to trot and…trot on!” ordered the judge. Issie gave Blaze a wee nudge with her outside leg and tried to keep her position completely still. Blaze had been going beautifully since Francoise had given her back. Issie figured her mare must have had some extra schooling during her stay at El Caballo Danza Magnifico.

  Now, as Issie asked gently with her hands, Blaze flexed her neck gracefully, dropping neatly on to the bit. She lifted her legs gaily as she trotted around the ring, her paces as precise as a prima ballerina. “Good girl,” Issie murmured under her breath.

  It was one of those days when Blaze could do no wrong. When Issie asked her for a canter, she responded perfectly. When the judge called them into the centre of the ring and asked Issie to do a figure of eight for him, Blaze was a dream. She even did the rein-back at the end and stood at a perfectly square halt as Issie nodded her salute to the judge.

  When the winners were called into the ring to accept their sashes, Blaze and Issie were first—followed by two riders wearing the emerald green vests of Marsh Fields.

  As they cantered the ring for a victory lap with their ribbons tied around the horses’ necks Issie looked over to see Morgan and Annabel standing together, both of them grinning and clapping like mad. Her mum was standing next to them, chatting happily to Araminta Chatswood-Smith and absolutely beaming with pride.

  The scoreboard at the end of the showgrounds was chalked up with the first points of the day. “Three for us, and three for Marsh Fields. I get the feeling this is going to be close,” Dan muttered.

  He was right. For the rest of the morning the teams were neck and neck on the leader board. Chevalier Point got another two points for rider over hurdles—Dan and Kismit came second in this event with a beautiful clear round.

  There was fierce competition in the jump-off against the clock, and the best of the Chevalier Point riders in this event was Kate who came third on Toby, putting another point on the board.

  By the time they stopped for lunch the scores really couldn’t have been closer. Chevalier Point wa
s in the lead—but only just. The team had seven points on the board while Marsh Fields were uncomfortably close with six.

  After everyone had eaten lunch, Avery gathered the team around to talk about their strategy for the afternoon’s competition. “We’ve only got two events to go,” he said. “The team flag race and the team bending relay. I’ve figured out the running order for the team races,” Avery continued. “Stella, you’ll go first. Coco is a whiz at games and you’ll get us off to a flying start.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Kate, I want you to follow Stella and Coco. Then can we have Dan, please, and then Ben, and then Natasha. And finally…Issie, I’d like you to be the last rider in the team.”

  Issie nodded. The butterflies that had suddenly begun to flutter in her stomach made her wish she had never eaten that second helping of her mum’s chicken pie at lunch.

  As the teams lined up, she surveyed the competition. The Marsh Fields team looked particularly lethal, all of them on compact, perfectly groomed ponies who looked like they meant business. Surely they would be the team to beat.

  “On your marks…get set…go!”

  The starter’s gun sounded and there was a whoop of excitement as the first six riders charged out and broke into a mad gallop. Stella hauled Coco up at the first pole and snatched at the flag. The rubber band holding the cotton handkerchief to the pole gave away easily in her hands and she gripped it triumphantly spinning Coco around and kicking her on. She rode back hard towards the oil drum with the wooden box on top that stood at the end of the row of poles at the finish line.

  “Come on, Stella!” The Chevalier Point team were screaming their lungs out.

  Stella deftly threw the first flag into the wooden box and there was a soft “clunk” as the flag landed in the box.

  With the first flag away Stella raced back to grab the flag from pole number two. She was in the lead—but only just.

  “That girl from Garnet Ridge is really fast,” Issie said, pointing out the rider on the row of poles at the far end on a zippy little bay.

  By the time Stella had grabbed the flag off the last pole and was racing back to the finish line, the girl from Garnet Ridge had gained on her and passed her. Garnet Ridge had taken the lead and their second rider was already up and racing.

  The Marsh Fields team was also very quick, and as Stella crossed the line and Kate set off, the second rider from Marsh Fields also kicked his horse on and set off too.

  “Go, Kate! Go!” Issie yelled. The butterflies in her stomach had been replaced by a sick feeling of dread. Kate wasn’t the fastest rider on the team and everyone knew it. They were already a length behind Garnet Ridge. They couldn’t afford to lose any more ground.

  “Come on, Toby,” Issie muttered under her breath. To her amazement and everyone else’s, Toby seemed to be holding his own so far. Kate had wisely decided to go for the nearest flag first—riders were allowed to collect the flags in any order they liked. Kate’s decision to begin with the closest pole meant that Toby’s lanky Thoroughbred stride was kept to a canter at first and Kate managed to turn him easily around the poles. As she moved on from flag one to two, three, four, five and six Kate kicked Toby on to lengthen his frame.

  Now the big bay was in full gallop, his stride swallowing up the ground.

  “Go, Kate! Go, Toby!” the team screamed. Kate galloped back hard with the last flag and threw it wildly at the box on top of the barrel. Miraculously, it went in!

  “Go!” she instructed Dan as Toby raced past him. “Go!”

  Kate heaved on Toby’s reins but she was halfway down the field before she could pull him to a stop and come back to join the rest of the group.

  “That was amazing!” Stella beamed at her.

  “I know!” Kate beamed back. She gave Toby a big slappy pat on the neck. “We’ve been doing extra practice. Wasn’t he brilliant?”

  Toby’s quick pace had put the Chevalier Point team into the lead and now Dan and Ben both managed to maintain it. Incredibly, none of the riders from Garnet Ridge, Marsh Fields or Chevalier Point had dropped a flag so far. Riders from the three other teams had dropped their flags. Sometimes when they missed the box the flag still landed safely on the barrel top. Then, all the rider had to do to save the day was ride back to the barrel, snatch up the flag and deposit it in the box. But if they missed the barrel entirely and the flag fell on the ground it was a disaster. The rider would have to dismount and pick it up, then get back on again before throwing the flag in the box. By the time they were back in the saddle the rider would have lost valuable time and the other teams would be in front.

  Marsh Fields, Garnet Ridge and Chevalier Point were clearly out in the lead by the time Natasha and Goldrush set off from the starting line.

  “Go, Natasha! Go, Goldrush!” the Chevalier Point team yelled. Natasha, her face set in stony concentration, kicked Goldrush on, galloping the full length of the field to grab her first flag.

  The palomino was quick on the turns and Natasha grimly hung on to the lead as she raced across the line a whole length ahead of the Garnet Ridge and Marsh Fields riders. As she threw the last flag in the box and pushed Goldrush on for the final strides over the finish line, she yelled out to Issie, “Go! Now!”

  The screams of her team mates rang in her ears as Issie crossed the line and galloped her way to the far end of the field to take her first flag.

  At the furthest pole, Issie pulled Blaze up and reached out to grab the flag. She felt the soft cotton fabric with the hard pebble sewn into its hem. Her hand tightened around it and pulled hard and the flag came loose. They raced back down the field, Issie leaning low over the barrel as they turned at the end, chucking the flag smartly into the box.

  As they did the same on poles five, four and three, Issie felt her nerves vanish. She looked across at the riders from Garnet Ridge and Marsh Fields. She was about a length in front of both of them. All she had to do was keep her lead and her team would win. She snatched the flag off the second-to-last pole and kicked Blaze on, circling around and throwing the flag at the box on top of the barrel. But there was no “clunk” as the flag hit the bin.

  “Issie!” the cry went up from her team mates. “Issie! You’ve missed it!”

  Issie pulled Blaze up hard. She had totally missed the box and the barrel—the flag was on the ground!

  She spun the chestnut mare around and flung herself out of the saddle, scrabbling around in the grass, snatching up the flag off the ground. Without hesitating she vaulted back up on to her horse, taking a moment to find her stirrups as Blaze danced nervously. Then she pulled the mare right up close to the barrel and dropped the flag carefully into the box. One more flag to go!

  The mistake had been costly though. By now the other two teams had taken the lead. Marsh Fields was clearly in front by at least a length and the other rider from Garnet Ridge only had one flag to go as well. Issie kicked Blaze on. She had to make up time on the last flag!

  She reached the last pole in just two strides and spun Blaze around with one hand on the reins as she reached out to grab the flag with the other. She felt the flag come away in her hand. And then she was racing back as hard as she could for the finish line. She gripped the pebble inside the soft cotton in her hand. Must get my timing right this time, Issie thought as she galloped down on the oil drum. She pulled Blaze up and threw the flag precisely at the box. This time it went in and Issie waited until she heard the “clunk” and then galloped home across the finish line.

  She had made up some ground on the last flag but it wasn’t enough. Her mistake with the second-to-last flag had cost her team dearly. They had lost.

  Chapter 17

  They had lost. And it was all Issie’s fault. “Oh don’t be a drama queen!” Stella snapped at Issie when she told her this. “We haven’t lost at all! We still came second. That’s two points!”

  Kate agreed, “That’s right. Marsh Fields won so they got three and we got two. Which means that now both teams have nine points. We h
aven’t lost yet.”

  “All the same,” Issie groaned, “if it wasn’t for me…maybe you should go last in the bending race, Stella?”

  “No way!” Stella said. “I like going first. Last is way too much pressure!” She smiled at Issie. “You just had some bad luck in the flag race. The bending relay will be different.”

  “I hope so,” Issie said ruefully.

  If the butterflies in her stomach had been churning before, now they had formed a tight, fluttery knot that seemed to be making it impossible to breathe. Issie felt her hands clammy and damp on the reins. She wiped them on her jodhpurs. The team was lining up now for the bending relay. The final event of the day. If Chevalier Point won this, they would take the shield home. If they lost, Marsh Fields would be taking it home again for the third time in a row.

  Behind the starting line, Tom Avery lined his riders up, working his way along the queue with last-minute advice for each of them. When he saw the look on Issie’s face his smile faded. “Something up?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I can do it, Tom. I think Stella should go last,” Issie ventured.

  “Coco and Stella are quick,” Avery said. “But Blaze is the fastest horse on the team.”

  “But if we lose the bending relay, we lose the shield,” Issie protested.

  Avery smiled. “Isadora, you need to start having a little faith in your horse—and in yourself.”

  He leaned in closer and whispered to her now, “You are one of the most talented riders I’ve ever taught, Issie. Don’t let fear make you underestimate your abilities. You don’t even know your true potential. But I do. I can see the rider that you will become…” Avery paused “…Anyway, I don’t think your mysterious benefactor would be very pleased to find out that he moved heaven and earth to get your horse back, only to have you lose your nerve over a silly bending game.”