Storm and the Silver Bridle

by Stacy Gregg

  “They have finished. I must go down to the arena now to discuss their training. They have much that they need to improve on,” Roberto told her. “I am sorry our conversation must end here. But we will talk again, I am sure. With the race coming, there is much to be decided.”

  “Yes,” Issie agreed. “There really is.”

  At dinner that night, Issie was surprised when Roberto poured her a glass of fino sherry, just like the adults had, and then raised his glass.

  “I would like to propose a toast,” Roberto said. “We are lucky to have friends here with us from across the world, friends who love and value their horses as much as we do. Tomorrow my son Alfie and Isadora will have their match race to see which of them will ride for the Silver Bridle and the glory of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. I wish them both luck. Viva El Caballo!”

  “Viva El Caballo!” everyone cried, raising their glasses. Avery, though, did not raise his glass. It was clear he was not happy with Roberto’s decision, but he said nothing.

  Issie, who was sitting next to Alfie, took a sip of her sherry. It was dry and almost bitter. “It doesn’t taste anything like the stuff that Granny has in her sideboard at home,” she said to Alfie.

  “That depends on who your grandma is,” Alfie smiled. He began to eat his paella.

  “Umm, Alfie?” Issie said. “I know that the Silver Bridle is, like, a really big thing for you. I just want to say that I’m not trying to take your place. If there was any way that you could ride Angel instead of me…”

  Alfie smiled at her. “Yes, the race is a big deal for me. I have been training for it my whole life. Ever since I was a young boy I knew I wanted to ride in the Silver Bridle and bring honour to El Caballo.”

  “I’m really sorry—” Issie began, but he cut her off.

  “My ego will be bruised if you beat me, Issie, but the most important thing is for El Caballo to win against Vega, so that we can get your colt back and our horses too. If you and Angel are faster than me and Marius, then I will accept that.”

  “Thank you.” Issie smiled.

  “Hey!” Alfie said. “Don’t thank me yet — you still haven’t won. Don’t get me wrong, I plan to beat you tomorrow, Isadora. Once we are lined up on that race course we will no longer be friends, we will be adversaries. My dad has given me instructions to treat you like any other rival for the Silver Bridle. Kicking, pushing, even biting the other riders, nothing is outlawed in this race. You must be prepared for anything.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Issie couldn’t believe it.

  “We will see tomorrow, won’t we?” Alfie replied.

  Avery, who had been listening to their conversation, didn’t say anything, but after dinner as they were all heading for their rooms he pulled Issie aside.

  “I heard what Alfie was saying to you at dinner,” Avery said. “Issie, I cannot believe you’re going through with this. I never thought for a moment that Roberto would agree to it, or I would have put my foot down earlier.” Avery looked serious. “This match race could get rough. I think you need to reconsider.”

  Issie shook her head. “I can handle it, Tom. I’m not scared.”

  “That’s the problem. You should be,” Avery replied. “Issie, I don’t want to risk you getting hurt—”

  “Please, Tom,” Issie said. “Don’t try and talk me out of it. I’ve been feeling so helpless ever since we got here and everyone keeps treating me like I’m just this little girl. Now I’ve managed to convince Roberto to let me race, and if you force me to back out again then he’ll think I’m just a silly kid.”

  Avery shook his head. “I’m not happy about this. I wish you’d reconsider. At least promise me you’ll play it safe?”

  Issie smiled. “You’ve got my word on it.”

  The match race was planned for early the next morning. Issie had woken up with her tummy in a tight ball of nerves and so she decided to skip breakfast. She pulled on her jodhpurs and boots and headed down to the stables. When she arrived, she found Alfie, Roberto and Avery already there waiting for her.

  “Francoise has saddled up Angel for you. She’s just getting Marius ready now,” Avery told Issie. “We’ll all be riding together up to the village.”

  Alfie smiled at Issie as he adjusted his helmet. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. “Are you ready to race?”

  Issie was about to reply when she was interrupted by shouts coming from the stables. The grooms in the stallions’ quarters were yelling about something. Issie couldn’t make out what they were saying. She could hear Francoise’s voice over all the others’ though, and she sounded really upset. She was speaking in Spanish so Issie didn’t have a clue what she was on about, but Roberto clearly understood her. His face fell as he heard Francoise’s cries and then he was running for the stables with Alfie right behind him.

  Avery and Issie instinctively followed after them, running across the cobbled courtyard. They had almost reached the stallions’ quarters when Francoise emerged in front of them. She was leading Marius and immediately Issie could see that something was very wrong with the grey stallion. Francoise was trying to make Marius walk forward, but the horse was refusing to move properly. As Issie and the others looked on in horror, Francoise coaxed him to take a few more tentative steps, and it became clear that Marius was favouring his near front leg. The stallion was placing his hoof gingerly on the ground, as if he were afraid to put his weight on it. He made one more noble effort and tried to hobble forward for another stride or so, then he gave up and lifted the leg up, holding it aloft pitifully in midair. Issie saw Francoise shaking her head, and the look of complete despair on Roberto’s face as the reality of the disaster they were witnessing sank in.

  There would be no match race today. Marius, the great hope for the Silver Bridle, the finest stallion of El Caballo Danza Magnifico, was lame.

  Chapter 13

  It was a tense wait back at El Caballo Danza Magnifico while the vet examined Marius. When he finally emerged from the stallion’s loose box, shaking his head as he spoke to Roberto, they all knew the news wasn’t good.

  “It’s a ripped tendon,” the vet confirmed as they gathered around. “My guess is that it was caused by the stress of galloping on hard, uneven ground. Has this horse been ridden fast across country recently?”

  Alfie and Issie both looked guiltily at each other, thinking about their escape from Vega’s hacienda.

  “How bad is it?” Alfie asked nervously. He was as white as a sheet as he asked the question they all wanted the answer to. “Will he still be able to race?”

  The vet nodded solemnly. “He’ll heal all right — but not in time to race on Saturday. An injury like this needs time, the leg has to mend. It’ll be at least a month before he can be ridden again.”

  “Thank you, Hector,” Roberto said quietly. “I appreciate your help, coming here so quickly to examine him.”

  “I’m very sorry it couldn’t be better news, Roberto,” the vet said. “I know how much this horse means to El Caballo Danza Magnifico. If it is any consolation, you should know that the injury could have happened at any time. Perhaps it is better for it to have happened now than for the horse to break down halfway through the race.”

  Roberto didn’t say anything. He walked on with the vet towards the wrought-iron gates of the hacienda and the vet continued to talk as he got into his car, telling Roberto about the medication he had prescribed for Marius, and advising him on strapping the leg until the tendons began to heal.

  As he drove off, Roberto walked back across the cobbled courtyard to join the others who had been standing watching in silence.

  “Dad,” Alfie began, “it’s all my fault. I should never have taken him out and galloped him this close to the race. It was—”

  Roberto raised his hand to stop him. “Alfonso, you heard the vet. There was a weakness in his tendon and this could have happened at any time. If he had not hurt his leg in this way, then perhaps he might have broken down in the Silver B
ridle and been beaten.”

  Roberto turned to Issie. “Isadora, you shall get your wish. You wanted to ride Angel in the Silver Bridle? You will get to do exactly that.”

  “You mean—” Issie started to say.

  “Without Marius, I have to race another horse,” Roberto said. “Angel is the fastest stallion in my possession. And I have no choice in the matter but to put you on his back. So it is decided. You will line up at the starting rope as our champion on Saturday. The fate of El Caballo Danza Magnifico, and of your colt, is now in your hands.”

  Back at the villa, Issie still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  “Roberto must hate me,” she said to Avery.

  “Why on earth would you think that?” he said.

  “Because this is all my fault. I was the one who decided to go to Vega’s to get Storm back. If Alfie hadn’t come with me then Marius would never have got injured…

  “… or he might have broken down during the race itself and it could have been much worse,” Avery finished her sentence. “Issie, you heard what the vet said. That stallion’s tendon could have ripped at any time. I know that Roberto doesn’t blame you.”

  “He’ll blame me if I lose the race on Saturday, though, won’t he?”

  Avery looked worried. “Issie, this is too much pressure for Roberto or anyone to put on you, making you responsible for the future of El Caballo. Listen, Roberto is my friend. I’ll talk to him, tell him that I will race instead. I can ride Sorcerer — he’s fast enough.”

  “No, Tom!” Issie said. “Angel is the fastest horse and you know it.”

  “Issie,” Avery said, “I’m your guardian here and I’m putting my foot down. I’m going to ride in your place.”

  “Tom, you can’t. I have to do this. Sorcerer isn’t ready. You’ll lose and then Roberto will lose his five best horses to Vega. He’s already got Storm and he’s bound to choose Marius — maybe Angel too!”

  “Maybe,” Avery said, “but I’d rather lose the horses than risk your life.”

  “There are always risks! What about riding at Badminton?” Issie shot back. “I bet that was a risk when you did it the first time. And how about when you rode at the Olympics? Did you know the risks then, Tom? Riders make their own choices. Now I’m making mine. I know it’s hard, but you have to let me grow up. Let me do this. Angel can win this race, but he can’t do it without me — please, let me ride.”

  “There are other ways, Issie,” Avery said. “I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s too dangerous. You heard what Alfie said about the other riders. They’ll fight you and you’re too small to fight them back.”

  “No, they won’t.” Issie shook her head. “They won’t fight me. Not if I get away fast enough at the break. Tom, what if I could get Angel out in the lead right from the start and stay there the whole way? If we were out in front and Angel could hold the lead ahead of the other riders then they’d never get the chance to push me around.”

  Avery considered this for a moment. “It could work, I suppose,” he said, “but you’d have to be lightning-quick at the break to make sure you got out in front straight away.”

  “I’ve already thought about that,” Issie said. “Angel has the speed to do it, he just needs the training, so that he’d be certain to take off from the start line before all the other horses.”

  “So you’re going to teach him to break?” Avery said. “No,” Issie replied hopefully, “you are.” She looked at Avery. “Please, Tom, I can’t do this without your help. I need you to be my trainer.”

  The next day was Tuesday — which meant that Avery and Issie had just four days to train Angel before they faced Vega in the village square.

  Avery had told Issie to meet him at the stables bright and early on Tuesday morning, and when she got there she found her instructor in the tack room.

  “I’ve been making some modifications to Angel’s saddle,” he said. The traditional vaquero stirrups, cast from black iron and clunky as a suit of armour, had been removed. Avery had replaced them with lightweight stainless-steel stirrups. “I found these in an old box stacked under the saddle blankets — they’re just what you need,” Avery said. “Those other stirrups are fine for vaqueros, who ride with their legs hanging long, but for racing you need smaller stirrups so that you can balance up high in the saddle.”

  Avery took the saddle out into the courtyard, and Issie followed behind him.

  “Umm, Tom?” she said. “Where are you going? Angel is in the other direction.”

  “I know,” Avery said, “but in case you’ve forgotten, Angel is not very fond of men and I happen to be one. Once you get on his back it will be almost impossible for me to handle him. So if you want me to teach you how to ride a racehorse we’re going to have to do it before you get on his back.”

  “How?” Issie didn’t understand.

  Avery took the saddle now and slung it over a hay bale in the corner of the courtyard.

  “Climb up on that,” he said.

  “You want me to ride a hay bale?” Issie frowned.

  “Why not? Are you worried it’s going to buck you off?” Avery grinned. Then he explained. “The idea is to get your position right in the saddle before you mount up on Angel. Racehorse jockeys have a different centre of gravity. They ride with very short stirrups. Hop up on the saddle here and I’ll show you.”

  “OK, but I feel pretty silly,” Issie grumbled as she clambered up and threw herself into the saddle. She let her feet dangle down because the stirrups seemed to be adjusted so that the leathers were really short.

  “Put your feet in the irons and tell me how they feel,” Avery instructed her.

  “I feel like a bird on a perch!” Issie giggled. “Look how high my knees are! It feels weird.”

  Avery eyed her up carefully, and shook his head. “They’re the perfect length, you just need to get used to them — you’re riding like a jockey now.”

  “Well, I don’t know how they do it,” Issie said.

  Avery climbed up next to her on the hay bales, crouching down as if he were the jockey on his horse. “You need to tilt forward like me. It’s a bit like two-point jumping position. You keep your weight over his wither and stay low. Your aim is to stay off his back and let him run. It will make you twice as fast around the track.”

  “I don’t get it,” Issie said. “My legs are up so high, how do I make him go?”

  “Urge him on with your arms,” Avery replied, “and give him little taps with your ankles and increase these as you want to go faster. It’s easy, really.”

  Issie looked at him quizzically. “How do you know all this?”

  “I rode trackwork for a few years,” Avery said. “I had big plans to be a jockey.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I grew two feet too tall!” Avery grinned. “So you never raced?”

  Avery shook his head. “Afraid not, but I rode the training sessions like a demon. I even had a nickname.

  They used to call me ‘The Spaceman’ because I had a knack of finding the smallest space on the inside rail and slipping through it. I’d sit back and wait at the back of the field until we were right down to the wire and then I’d kick on and make my move. Always go for the inside rail, Issie, that’s the fastest way. No matter how small the space may look, if you’re a smart rider you can make it.”

  Avery paused. “Not that you’ll be riding with tactics like that. You need to get out in front of the other riders right from the start. It’ll surprise them when you take an early lead. They won’t be expecting it. Once you’re out in front, Angel must hold that lead. He’s got the stamina to maintain the gallop the whole two kilometres, for three laps of the track. If you ride the race like I show you, they’ll be left in your dust.” Avery smiled. “Anyway, are you ready to get off the hay bales and start training a real horse?”

  Issie felt the butterflies surging in her tummy. “I guess so.”

  “Then let’s go saddle up.”


  With Avery riding by her side on Sorcerer, Issie headed out of the gates of El Caballo. She was practising her new jockey position, standing up in her short stirrups, keeping her weight centred over Angel’s wither, but she nearly lost her balance when Avery turned Sorcerer to the left and headed up the dirt road in the opposite direction from the village.

  Issie was confused. “Aren’t we going to the village to train in the square?”

  Avery shook his head. “I talked to Roberto about it last night. We both decided that training Angel in the village is too risky. It’s full of gossips and Vega probably already knows that Marius is lame and Angel is racing in his place. We don’t need Vega’s spies watching us while we train and telling him what we’re up to.”

  “So where are we going?” Issie asked.

  “Follow me, you’ll see,” Avery said.

  The two riders cantered up and around the winding roads that led to the peak of the olive hills behind El Caballo and a few minutes later they had reached the rise of a hill overlooking flat fields. The fields directly below them were planted with olives, but beyond the olive trees was a flat, barren plain, perfect for riding trackwork.

  “This is where we’ll train him,” Avery said. “Do you see those trees over there? They mark the edge of the course. Then you take him all the way to the old stone building there, and then back to me. That’s about two kilometres — the same distance as the Silver Bridle.”

  Avery pulled a stopwatch out of his pocket.

  “What’s that for?” Issie asked.

  “Timing you,” Avery said. “On a decent track, a fast racehorse can do two kilometres in a little under two minutes thirty. I want to get a sense of how fast Angel is.”

  Avery scratched a line in the dirt with his shoe right next to a tall olive tree.