Storm and the Silver Bridle

by Stacy Gregg

  “Protect him? Protect him from who?” Issie was confused.

  “When I told my riders at El Caballo Danza Magnifico that Blaze was having Marius’s foal, they were so excited,” Francoise said. “In fact, soon the news of Nightstorm’s birth was the talk of the local village.” She shook her head ruefully. “Harmless gossip—or so I thought at the time. I didn’t see the danger in it. I was stupid. I should have known that once certain men found out, they would do anything to get their hands on a colt born with such a bloodline.”

  “Do you mean one of the staff at El Caballo has taken him?” Issie asked.

  “No, no!” Francoise seemed frustrated that no one grasped what she was saying. “Not from our farm. It is our rivals who have taken the colt! El Caballo Danza Magnifico is not the only great stud farm in Andalusia. There are others that also breed horses. These horsemen know only too well how valuable the progeny of a stallion as great as Marius can be. Especially now, with the race so near, and so much to lose…

  “Race? What are you talking about?” Avery shook his head in bewilderment. “Listen, Francoise, I know you say time is running out, but if these men already have Nightstorm on a plane to Europe then there’s no way we can catch them now. Let’s all take a deep breath. I think you’d better tell us everything, and start at the beginning this time.”

  Francoise looked as if she was about to argue with Avery, but then let out a heavy sigh, as if admitting defeat. “You are right. It is too late anyway to stop them. We might as well speak about this now.” She shook her head sorrowfully. “I intended to tell you everything when I came here this morning, but not under these circumstances. This development is most unfortunate.”

  “You could put it that way,” Avery said darkly. Then he softened. “I was making coffee just now. Would you like some?”

  “Oui, yes please.” Francoise managed a weak smile as she pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. Issie sat beside her while Avery poured them all a cup of coffee, and Francoise began her story.

  “In Andalusia, where El Caballo Danza Magnifico has its stables, there are many famous horse estates, or haciendas as we know them in Spain. Each hacienda, of course, believes that they breed the best horses in the world.” Francoise took a sip of her coffee and continued. “Over the centuries there have been many arguments over whose stable had the very best horses of all. And then one day, many decades ago, the haciendas joined together and decided to find out once and for all.”

  “And so they held a race?” Issie said.

  “Oui, exactly,” Francoise continued, “but not just any race, Isadora. This race was held in the middle of the village square, near the Sierra de Grazalema mountains. Twelve stables were invited to enter a horse in the race. One horse and one rider from each of the twelve, representing the most prominent and prestigious stud farms in Andalusia. The winning stable would be proven to have the best horses in all of Spain.” Francoise paused. “There was much at stake in this race. To win meant great honour. To lose, to fail in this race meant great misfortune for your stable. You see, the winner would be allowed to handpick five of the very best horses from each of the other eleven haciendas. Imagine that! If you lost the race you would lose your greatest treasure—the best five horses in your herd!”

  Francoise saw the look on Issie’s face as she realised what this meant.

  “You see how important this race is,” she continued. “The winning hacienda would strengthen their bloodlines with the best horses from each of their rivals’ stables.”

  Avery interrupted, “I’ve heard of this race, Francoise. They call it the race for the Silver Bridle. But I thought it was just a legend, something the vaqueros, the Spanish cowboys, took part in a long time ago.”

  Francoise shook her head. “The race is not dead. It has continued throughout the generations—it happens every ten years. Even now, in modern times, the race is as important as it ever was. Each stable wants desperately to win.”

  “And now the race is here again?” Issie asked.

  “Oui,” Francoise said. “Yes, Isadora. It is here again. El Caballo Danza Magnifico have selected the best horse in our stables, the stallion Marius, to run for us. If he wins, then we may take our pick of all the best bloodlines from the best stables in Andalusia. If he loses, then we lose our best horses too, just like the rest.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Issie said. “What does this have to do with Nightstorm? He’s only a colt. He’s far too young to race.”

  “You are right, of course,” Francoise said. “He is too young to run. But he is the son of Marius—his bloodlines are beyond value. If we do lose the race then the winning stable will choose our best five horses to take. I do not doubt that they will choose Marius. We have only one other foal by him and he will get chosen also. And then where will that leave us? That is why I was sent here. At least if we had your colt then we would have a son of Marius and the bloodline could continue.” Francoise looked worried. “Unfortunately I was not the only one who realised this. Another rival hacienda had the same idea. Only they did not come here to buy your colt. They came to steal him.”

  “What will they do with him?” Issie asked.

  “They will take him back to Spain, where they will hide him at their stud farm until the race is over,” Francoise said. “You are right, Tom—I hate to admit it, but there is no point in trying to stop them now. These men will have been watching, planning and anticipating us, and will already have him on a plane. They have much money and great resources. They know the value of the son of Marius and they will stop at nothing to get him.”

  “But they can’t just steal my horse and get away with it!” Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Even if they get Nightstorm back to Spain, the police there must be able to arrest them!”

  Avery agreed. “We should call Interpol. The international police. They must be able to act, force these men to give Nightstorm back.”

  Francoise shook her head. “And how will you prove to them that he is your colt? He has no brand, no microchipping, no papers. It seems unlikely, does it not, that a young girl in New Zealand would own one of the best Spanish colts with the finest bloodlines in Andalusia? No. Without proof that the colt is yours, the police will never believe you.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” Avery asked.

  “I suggest that you leave it to me,” Francoise said. “El Caballo Danza Magnifico will get Nightstorm back. We too have great resources—and we also have much to lose.”

  Much to lose? Issie couldn’t believe it. Surely no one had more to lose than she did? Storm was her colt. She thought about how he must be feeling right now, all alone in a horse box, being loaded on to a plane, wondering where Issie was, feeling scared.

  Issie was scared too, but at that moment she realised she had to put her fears aside. She had to be brave. Storm needed her.

  “I want to come!” The words came as a shock to her even as she blurted them out.

  “What?” Francoise was confused.

  “Take me with you to Spain. If this rival stable, whoever they are, has my colt, then I’m coming with you to get him back.”

  “Impossible,” Francoise stated firmly. “It is too dangerous. It is best that you leave this to us.”

  “Storm is the one who’s in danger! He’s never even been away from home without me before. He must be terrified!” Issie was shaking, not with the cold this time, but with anger. “I can’t stay here and do nothing while they have him. I have to try and get him back. Please, Francoise.”

  Francoise turned to Avery for support. “Tell her that she is being ridiculous, Tom.”

  “I wish I could, Francoise,” Avery replied, “but I’m afraid I’m on Issie’s side. We can’t be expected to wait here, not knowing what has happened to Nightstorm. If we come with you, surely there is a chance that we can negotiate directly with these men. We can make them see sense. I certainly think it’s better than sitting here and doing nothing.
”

  “We?” Francoise looked at him. “So now you are coming too?”

  “It looks that way, doesn’t it?”

  Francoise sighed and shook her head. “You are both impossible, I think. But you are also right. I would do the same if I were you. I will book the air tickets. El Caballo Danza Magnifico will pay your fares. There is a plane leaving tomorrow night. We should be on it. Pack your bags, and organise your passports. I will call you with details later and meet you at the airport.”

  And with that, Francoise disappeared out the door. There was the sound of her car squealing on the gravel driveway outside and she was gone.

  “Well,” Avery said, looking at Issie. “Looks like we’re off to Spain then.” His face dropped suddenly and Issie could tell from his expression that he had just remembered something. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

  Issie did have school tomorrow. In fact she had another whole week of school to go before the winter-term break. However, this was the least of her problems. She might have been able to convince Francoise to let her come to Spain, but convincing her mum to let her go halfway around the world to track down the horse thieves who had taken her colt? That would be flat-out impossible.

  “Let me speak to your mother,” Avery suggested. “I’m sure if I explain she’ll listen to me.”

  “You must be kidding!”

  It turned out that Avery was being a little optimistic when he said that Mrs Brown would listen to him. They had woken her at 6 a.m. and tried to put her in a good mood before they popped the question by making her breakfast. But it soon became clear that it would take more than bacon and eggs to bring her round.

  “You expect me to let Isadora go to Spain with you to hunt down horse thieves?” Mrs Brown shook her head in disbelief. “Tom! This is crazy and you know it!”

  “Mrs B,” Avery began, “it’s perfectly safe. We’ll go over there and prove the colt is ours, talk to the authorities if necessary…” He locked eyes with Issie’s mum. “Amanda, you must trust me. You know I would never put Isadora in any danger. But this is the best chance we have of getting the colt back.”

  “Why don’t you just call the authorities and let them handle it?” Mrs Brown said.

  “Call who exactly? Interpol aren’t going to chase around Andalusia to get a girl’s horse back for her!” Avery said. “Believe me, Amanda, if I thought there was any other way…”

  Mrs Brown shook her head. “Then maybe we have no choice, Tom. Maybe we’ll just have to let Nightstorm go.”

  Issie felt the blood freeze in her veins. “Mum? You can’t mean that!”

  “Issie, I can’t let you go over there by yourself!”

  “But I won’t be going by myself!” Issie said. “Tom will be there, and Francoise too! They’ll look after me. And I’ll call you every day.”

  “This is madness, Issie. Apart from anything else you’ll be missing school.”

  “Last week of term is just a muck-about week, Mum—everyone knows that. I’ve finished all my work.” Issie looked at her mother with pleading eyes. “I’m fourteen years old. I’m old enough to do this.”

  “You’re still my baby,” Mrs Brown objected.

  “And Storm is my baby,” Issie countered, “and he’s out there right now on his own and he’s probably terrified. He needs me.” She paused. “Mum, I can’t leave him with those men. I can’t just pretend that Nightstorm doesn’t exist and go on with life. He belongs here, with me and with Blaze. I have to get him back. And you have to let me go.”

  Mrs Brown looked at her daughter’s face, the strong determined set of her jaw, and the fierce wilfulness that burned in her. They were so alike, mother and daughter—both with their long, dark hair, willowy limbs and olive skin. But there were differences between them too Issie was so headstrong, and so independent, just like her Aunty Hester. Mrs Brown was always amazed by the ferocity of the passion that her daughter possessed. Her love for her horses was beyond anything she had ever seen before. At that moment Mrs Brown realised that if she prevented Issie from doing this, she would be destroying that passion, crushing the spirit out of her daughter. No matter how painful, how terrifying it was, she had to make a choice.

  “Issie,” she said softly. “I hope I’m not going to regret this…”

  “Mum! Please—” Issie began to argue, but her mother raised a hand.

  “Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t fight me, Isadora. Just listen…because I’m telling you that I’m going to let you go.”

  Chapter 5

  The man behind the glass wall gave Issie a stern look as she approached him, dragging her suitcase. “Documents!” he snapped as she fumbled in her pockets and pulled out her airline ticket and her papers. His expression softened when he opened her passport.

  “You are from New Zealand?” He raised an eyebrow. “It is a long way to come to Madrid—halfway around the world!” His strict face broke into a kindly smile.

  It had been a long way. Twenty-four hours in the plane without a proper stop. Over that time Issie had watched five movies and eaten three dinners—the plane never seemed to serve lunch or breakfast, it was nothing but never-ending dinnertime.

  Issie’s inner body clock felt completely mixed up by the time they landed in Madrid. It was midday in Spain, which meant that right now, back home in New Zealand, it was midnight. Even weirder, she suddenly found herself baking hot. It was summer! Issie couldn’t believe it. Yesterday she had been freezing in the cold and rain of winter, and now here she was on the other side of the world and it was a glorious, sunny day.

  Francoise had warned Issie to pack for the summer heat with T-shirts and shorts, but she had still boarded the plane in her winter clothes. As she emerged from the air-conditioned airport on to the street outside she began to swelter instantly in her sweatshirt and jeans. The long flight had left her feeling sticky and exhausted. Her brain was swimming, and she was finding it hard to think straight.

  “You’ve got jetlag,” Avery told her. “Did you sleep at all on the plane?”

  Issie had tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes all she could think about was Storm. Where was the colt now? Was he already here in Spain? Did horses get jetlag too? Did Storm feel just like she did? She wished she could be there with him, to let him know it was going to be OK, that she was coming for him and that she was going to bring him home again.

  “We’d better get moving,” Francoise said as they wheeled their suitcases through customs. “The next train from Madrid to Seville leaves in less than an hour.”

  The train station in Madrid turned out to be a giant tropical glasshouse. In the centre of it, enormous palm trees sprouted out of the ground, their thick, green leaves creating a jungle canopy. It wasn’t like any train station Issie had ever seen. And the train wasn’t like anything she had ever seen either. It was shaped like a space rocket.

  “It goes like a rocket too!” Francoise laughed when Issie told her this. “Three hundred kilometres an hour. We’ll be in Seville in a couple of hours from now and from there we drive on to El Caballo Danza Magnifico.”

  Tiredness finally overwhelmed Issie as they settled into their seats and she curled up, using her bag as a pillow, to be rocked asleep by the steady rhythm of the train.

  It felt like she had only just drifted off when she was being woken up again, Avery’s hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. “Issie, we’re here.”

  Groggy from her nap, Issie followed Francoise out to the street.

  “Alfie is supposed to be meeting us with the car,” Francoise said as she scanned the parking lot. Her face broke into a broad smile as she spied a beaten-up old Land Rover heading towards them. “There he is!”

  The Land Rover pulled up and the boy behind the wheel gave a cheery wave before opening the door and leaping out to join them on the pavement. “Alfie!” Francoise gave the boy a kiss on both cheeks. “These are my friends, Isadora and Tom.”

  She turned to introduce
the boy to them. “This is Alfonso. He is head of the stables at El Caballo Danza Magnifico.” Issie’s first thought when she’d seen Alfonso pull up in the Land Rover was that he looked a little bit like Aidan. He was about Aidan’s age, with the same mop of dark hair. Now that he was standing right in front of her, Issie realised that Alfonso didn’t really look like Aidan at all. He was much more tanned, and he had dark brown eyes that smiled readily whenever he did. His features were different from Aidan’s too. Aidan’s face was delicate and fine-boned, while this boy had the broad, rugged looks of a Spanish film star.

  If he was good-looking though, Issie didn’t really notice. It was sad but true that she was pretty much too lovesick over Aidan to look at any other boy. This wouldn’t have been so sad if it weren’t for the fact that she hadn’t even seen him since he’d kissed her goodbye that day on the cherry tree lawn at Blackthorn Farm. It was so unfair, Issie thought, to finally, officially have a boyfriend, and never get to actually be near him. She longed to gaze once more into those pale blue eyes that Aidan kept half hidden under that long, dark fringe…

  “Issie?” She was shaken out of her Aidan daydream by the sound of Avery’s voice intruding sharply into her thoughts.

  “Issie!” The voice prodded a second time. “Wake up! I said to give your bag to Alfonso so he can load it into the car.”

  “Sorry.” Issie shook herself back to reality and reached out to hand Alfonso her bag. “I guess I’m a bit jetlagged.”

  Alfonso gave Issie a broad grin and took her bag.

  “That’s OK,” he said. “How was your trip? Was the food on the plane actually, like, food, or was it totally gross?”

  “You speak English!” Issie exclaimed with relief. She didn’t know any Spanish and had been terribly worried that she wouldn’t be able to understand a word that anyone said.