The Riverdale Pony Stories Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Amanda Wills

  Woken by the sound of voices, the two geldings stood by the gate watching them, their grey ears pricked. Their breath was warm in the chill of the night and they nibbled at the girls' pockets for treats as they were checked over.

  ‘They're OK, too,’ said Scarlett. She paused. ‘Are you sure it was a man you saw Poppy?’

  ‘Yes!’ Poppy replied hotly, though she was actually beginning to doubt herself. Her eyes couldn't have been playing tricks on her in the moonlight, could they? But no, she had definitely seen the figure and heard the car engine splutter into life.

  ‘Don't get your knickers in a twist, I was only asking,’ said Scarlett mildly.

  ‘I know it sounds far-fetched. But I definitely saw someone, Scar.’

  In the distance they heard the rumble of a motorbike.

  ‘Sounds like Scott's back at last,’ said Poppy. She climbed the gate into Treacle's paddock and shone the torch in front of her, zigzagging the beam to and fro as though she was waving a sparkler on Bonfire night.

  ‘I can't see him, can you?’ said Scarlett, who was searching the other side of the paddock.

  ‘Perhaps he's in his field shelter,’ Poppy said. She directed the torch into the wooden shelter. It was empty. ‘Perhaps not,’ she said, half to herself.

  ‘I've checked the rest of the field. He's not here,’ said Scarlett, her voice rising a level. ‘Do you think he could have got out?’

  Poppy pictured the solid post and rail fences that bordered the Redhall paddocks. Bella was meticulous about maintenance and they were kept in perfect condition. She doubted that even the wayward Treacle could stage an escape. Even so, it was worth checking.

  ‘You check the fences and I'll look behind the shelter. Poppy remembered there was a gap of about a metre between the back wall of the weather-boarded shelter and the fence. Bella used it to store wheelbarrows and the skip and rake for poo-picking. She shone her torch down the gap. The light settled on a perfectly round chestnut rump.

  ‘There you are, you little monkey.’

  ‘Any luck?’ Scarlett called.

  ‘I've found him!’ Poppy shouted. She walked over to him. ‘Come on little man, let's get you back in the field.’ She gave him a gentle push. Treacle took a step forward and squealed in pain. ‘What's wrong?’ Poppy cried, shining the torch down. Her blood began pounding in her ears. Rusty barbed wire clung to the pony's back legs like ivy strangling a sapling.

  Chapter Nine

  Poppy could see beads of blood where the barbs had pierced Treacle's skin. He tried to free his legs but as he struggled the wire twisted tighter.

  ‘Steady boy,’ Poppy murmured. ‘You're making it worse.’

  Another beam of light appeared around the far end of the shelter. Behind it was Scarlett's familiar silhouette.

  ‘He's caught in barbed wire, Scar. You need to get Sam to call the vet. And see if Bella has any wire cutters. I'll stay with Treacle.’

  Scarlett shone her torch at the little chestnut gelding's back legs and gasped. ‘How did it happen?’

  ‘That's not important right now. We need the vet Scar. Just go!’

  Scarlett turned on her heels and began running towards the house. Poppy moved carefully up to Treacle's head and stroked his neck, talking to him quietly. Every now and then the gelding tugged at the wires and Poppy pictured the barbs sinking their rusty teeth even deeper into the thin skin around his cannon bones.

  ‘Hurry up,’ she whispered into the dark, willing Scarlett to arrive with help. What seemed like hours later she heard voices crossing the field.

  ‘Where is he?’ Scott asked urgently. Poppy was sure she could detect a catch in his voice.

  ‘Behind the shelter,’ panted Scarlett.

  Scott appeared with Sam at his shoulder. When he saw Treacle he dropped to his knees and ran his hand along the gelding's back. Poppy could sense Treacle relaxing to his touch.

  ‘Shine your torch on his back legs Poppy,’ Scott said.

  Poppy did as she was told. Scott swore under his breath as he took in the torn skin on Treacle's poor legs. He looked up at Sam, his face ashen. ‘Pass me the wire cutters. We need to cut the wire before it does any more damage.’

  Sam handed the solid metal wire cutters to Scott and joined Scarlett and Poppy. He slipped a headcollar onto the gelding. Treacle offered no resistance. His head was low and his normally mischievous eyes were dull with exhaustion. Poppy kept her torch trained on Treacle and they talked in low whispers as Scott snipped away at the barbed wire.

  ‘The vet's on his way. Mum'll bring him straight over the minute he gets here. It's the same one who came out to put Merry down.’

  Scarlett gave a small cry. Poppy put her arm around her.

  ‘He'll be OK Scar. Though he's going to need a lot of stitches.’

  ‘Good job Gran keeps up to date with all their injections,’ said Sam, looking at the lengths of rusty wire.

  Scott stood up and stretched his back. ‘That's the wire cut,’ he said.

  ‘Should we walk him back to the yard?’ asked Poppy.

  ‘Let's see what the vet says,’ said Scott.

  They all breathed a sigh of relief when they saw the beams of two torches approaching from the direction of the house. Sarah had pulled on some leggings and a fleecy jumper, though she hadn't realised in her haste that she was wearing it back to front. The vet also looked bleary-eyed and his dark auburn hair was dishevelled. But he'd probably been dragged from his bed by the emergency call too, Poppy realised.

  ‘Bella's not having a very good week, is she?’ he said, dropping his medicine bag on the floor and stooping to look at Treacle's legs. They watched in silence as he examined the cuts, one by one, under the beam of Poppy's torch.

  ‘He's going to need a few stitches, but it's not as bad as it looks,’ he said finally, sitting back on his heels. ‘I'll wash out the wounds with a saline solution and give him a course of antibiotics to prevent an infection. I'll also give him something to ease the pain. But I think he's probably had a lucky escape. If those cuts had been deep enough to damage his joints or tendons it could have been a whole different story.’

  Poppy felt a wave of relief wash over her.

  ‘Let's get him back to the yard. It'll be easier to do the stitches there.’ The vet closed his medicine bag and set off with Sarah towards the stables. Scott took Treacle's lead rope from Sam and the gelding hobbled slowly back.

  ‘Let's pick up those bits of barbed wire. The last thing we need is for another of the horses to cut themselves,’ Poppy said.

  They picked up as many pieces as they could see.

  ‘That'll do for now. We'll have another look in the morning,’ said Sam.

  By the time they reached the yard the vet had washed out Treacle's cuts and was stitching the flaps of torn skin back together, a look of deep concentration on his face. After half an hour Treacle's two white socks resembled a jagged patchwork of black stiches. The vet peeled off his pair of blue surgical gloves and ran a hand through his rumpled hair.

  ‘That's him done. He's had a shot of antibiotics and I'll give you some painkillers to add to his feed for the next couple of days. Keep him stabled and I'll pop by in a couple of days' time to see how he's doing.’

  ‘We'll put him in Ariel's stable,’ said Scott, handing Treacle's leadrope to Scarlett. ‘I'll make it ready for him.’ He shook the vet's hand. ‘Thanks for coming so quickly. We really appreciate it.’

  The vet nodded, climbed into his Land Rover and gave them a brief wave as he drove away into the night. Scott disappeared into the barn, emerging with a bale of straw. He filled the hayrack with a couple of sections of meadow hay and filled two water buckets. Soon Treacle was settled in Ariel's stable, pulling wisps of hay from the rack. Satisfied the pony was comfortable Scott bolted the door and kicked over the bottom door latch.

  ‘Come on, let's go,’ he said.

  Poppy followed the others into the kitchen and accepted a mug of hot chocolate from Sarah with
a grateful smile. They sat at the kitchen table cradling the mugs in their hands, deep in their own thoughts.

  Sarah broke the silence. ‘I'll phone Mum in the morning to tell her what's happened.’ She glanced at the clock above the range cooker. It was a quarter to three. ‘Well, later this morning,’ she corrected herself. She drained the rest of her hot chocolate and stood up. ‘I'm going up. Don't be too late.’

  They shook their heads. Once they heard Sarah's footsteps on the landing Scott turned to Poppy and said, ‘Sam told me you saw someone driving away. Tell me what happened.’

  Poppy described the shadowy figure, dredging up any details she could think of that might help identify their intruder.

  ‘He was wearing a coat with the hood up rather than a hoodie. It was dark grey or black. And he was wearing dark navy jeans,’ she said.

  ‘He?’ asked Scarlett sharply.

  Poppy shrugged. ‘I wouldn't swear on it. But I just got the feeling it was a man by the way he walked.’

  ‘And you checked the other horses and the rest of the yard?’

  ‘Everything else was OK,’ said Sam.

  Scott pushed his mug away, as if he suddenly didn't have the appetite for it. ‘And you think this was deliberate?’

  Sam nodded. ‘Gran hates barbed wire. That's why all the fences are post and rail. You know how careful she is, Scott. I bet there wasn't a single strand of barbed wire in the whole place.’

  ‘And yet Treacle was trapped in coils of the stuff. Why would someone want to hurt him? It doesn't make sense.’

  ‘They weren't trying to hurt Treacle,’ said Poppy. ‘They were targeting Redhall. They want to hurt Bella.’

  Chapter Ten

  Poppy felt as though she'd been asleep for a nanosecond when the unwelcome buzz of the alarm on her mobile phone dragged her from her dreams. They'd agreed to put morning stables back until half past seven, an hour later than usual, because they'd been so late the night before. Scarlett groaned and pulled her duvet over her head but Poppy climbed stiffly out of bed, picked up her towel and headed for the bathroom.

  By the time she'd showered Scarlett had at least got out of bed and was staring out of the window.

  ‘It's too dry for footprints and tyre marks,’ she said glumly.

  ‘Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?’ Poppy teased.

  ‘I wonder what car Angela Snell drives,’ said Scarlett, ignoring her.

  Poppy raised her eyes to the ceiling and headed downstairs. To her surprise Scott was already at the table, working his way through a mountain of scrambled eggs on toast.

  ‘Scrambled or poached?’ said Sarah, waving a wooden spoon at Poppy. She realised she was starving.

  ‘Poached please,’ she said, pouring a glass of orange juice. ‘Did you manage to get through to Bella?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘I couldn't work out why her mobile wasn't working. And then I found this.’ She pulled a mobile phone charger from a kitchen drawer. ‘She's only forgotten to take her charger.’

  ‘If her phone's dead, how did she phone the farrier?’ Poppy pondered.

  ‘Have you tried Great Auntie Margaret's home phone?’ asked Sam from the doorway.

  ‘Yes. It just rings and rings and there's no answerphone so I can't leave a message. I suppose Mum's spending each day at the hospital with her. I'll try again tonight.’

  Scott wiped his last piece of toast around his plate.

  ‘I'll change Treacle's dressings and then give you a hand with the liveries,’ he said.

  He must have caught the look of surprise that flashed across Poppy's face because he added sheepishly, ‘I know I haven't been much help since I arrived, but that's going to change, I promise.’

  Scott was as good as his word and once he'd seen to Treacle he began mucking out Cherry and Otto's stables. Poppy had to hand it to him, once he'd made up his mind to help he worked like a demon, finishing both stables before Poppy was even halfway through Paint's. Little beads of perspiration dotted his forehead like raindrops on a car windscreen. He wiped them off with the back of his hand and grinned at Scarlett, who had wandered across the yard with a broom, still looking half asleep.

  ‘Afternoon,’ he teased. Scarlett yawned and grinned back.

  ‘I just can't wake up,’ she said. ‘I reckon we only had about three hours' sleep last night.’ She glanced over to the drive. ‘Oh, I wonder who that is.’

  Poppy pushed the laden wheelbarrow out of Paint's stable and joined her. A red people carrier was crawling up the drive. The sun was glinting off the windscreen making it impossible to see who was driving. The car came to a stop and a slight figure in jeans and a teeshirt flung open the door and jumped out.

  ‘Tia!’ cried Scarlett, dropping the broom she was carrying and running over to give her a hug. ‘It's great to see you, but what are you doing here? There aren't any lessons this week.’

  ‘I know. I was going mad at home on my own. I persuaded Mum to give me a lift up,’ she said. She looked over to the car. Her mum wound down the window, tapped her watch and called out, ‘I'll see you in an hour.’

  Tia nodded and turned back to Poppy and Scarlett, her face suddenly serious. ‘I just wanted to be with people who were there when it happened. Mum and Dad have been trying to talk to me about it but they don't really understand.’

  Poppy knew exactly what she meant. No matter how hard she tried not to think about it during the day, at night, when she finally succumbed to sleep, her dreams were filled with images of the accident. Merry somersaulting forwards. Rufus landing on Niamh's back. Scarlett's eyes wide with shock as she screamed. Sometimes Poppy wondered if her dreams would be haunted forever.

  Poppy stuck her head over Cherry's stable door. ‘Is it OK if we finish the stables after lunch, Scott?’

  He nodded. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Sam's in the barn,’ said Scarlett, linking arms with Tia. ‘Let's go and find him.’

  Poppy loved Bella's hay barn. From the outside the timber-framed weather-boarded building was nondescript, but inside the feeling of space and timelessness reminded her of a cathedral. Shafts of light danced from floor to ceiling like swirling sprites and although the intense smell of newly-cut hay made her sneeze, Poppy swore it captured the very essence of summer.

  As they walked through the big double doors there was a shout - ‘TIMBEERRR!!’ - and a bale of hay bounced down from the top of the stack and landed at their feet. They looked up to see Sam grinning at them from the small space between the tightly-stacked hay and the roof.

  Scarlett, who had been playing in hay barns since she could walk, scaled the bales as nimbly as a mountain goat. Tia and Poppy looked at the near vertical wall of hay and then at each other.

  ‘You go first,’ Tia said.

  ‘Thanks.’ Poppy stuck a toe between two bales as if she were mounting a horse and pulled herself up. Bale by bale she clambered up the hay, eventually reaching the top. She heaved herself over the last bale and sat down with relief. Seconds later Tia joined her.

  Poppy studied Tia's face as she caught her breath. A year older than her and Scarlett, Tia wasn't textbook pretty, but she had thick, wavy dark blonde hair which framed delicate features. Today her eyes were puffy, as if she'd been crying. Which, Poppy imagined, she probably had.

  Scarlett was the first to speak. ‘So, how's Niamh?’

  Tia shook her head and bit her bottom lip. ‘Not good. Mum spoke to her mum last night. She's bruised her spine. She can't move from the waist down.’

  ‘Bruised, not broken?’ said Poppy, hope flooding through her.

  Tia nodded. ‘At first they thought she might have fractured it but she had another scan yesterday morning and it's just bruised.’

  ‘So she'll be able to walk again, once the bruise has healed?’ said Scarlett.

  ‘That's the million dollar question, Mum says. She might, she might not.’ Tia took a deep breath. ‘It depends how much damage the swelling has done to her spinal cord and they might not know that for week
s. Even months.’

  ‘Poor Niamh,’ said Sam.

  A single tear ran down Tia's cheek. ‘And it's all my fault.’

  ‘No it isn't,’ cried Poppy.

  ‘Yes it is! If I'd reacted quicker I could have stopped Roof in time. If I'd pulled him left and not right he would have missed Niamh altogether. If I hadn't been there, she would have been fine. Maybe a bit winded, but that's all. Don't you see, I was to blame!’

  ‘You can't think like that, otherwise you'd spend your whole life thinking what if,’ said Poppy. ‘Anyway, what if we hadn't cantered? Merry would probably have missed the rabbit hole altogether. What if I'd been riding behind Niamh instead of you? It would have been Cloud's hoof in her back, not Rufus's.’

  ‘What if Claydon Manor had never opened a livery yard?’ spat Scarlett. ‘Bella wouldn't have lost any liveries, she wouldn't have had to start holding riding camps, we wouldn't have been her guinea pigs and Merry and Niamh would never have even been on that ride, that's what. I blame Angela Snell.’

  Tia looked at Scarlett in confusion. ‘Who's Angela Snell?’

  ‘Doesn't matter,’ said Sam.

  Poppy felt the beginnings of a sneeze fizzing up her nostrils. She pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘Do you know if Niamh's dad is still planning to sue Bella?’

  Tia looked shocked. ‘I didn't know he was going to. Mum didn't mention that. Anyway, he thinks it's my fault, too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Sam.

  ‘I wanted to go and see Niamh in hospital to say sorry. Her mum didn't mind but her dad said over his dead body. Mum said she could hear him yelling at Niamh's mum while they were on the phone. She reckons he's probably having some kind of breakdown.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Tia left just before lunch.