Mystic and the Midnight Ride

by Stacy Gregg

  “Thanks.” Issie felt her cheeks flush pink for the second time.

  “I suppose you’re too busy training for the one-day event to take time out and go to Summer in the Park this weekend?” Dan asked.

  Issie’s heartbeat quickened. Was Dan asking her out on a date?

  Summer in the Park was a series of gigs that local bands put on every year at Chevalier Point Park. Her mum had always said she was too young to go, but this year maybe she’d be allowed…

  “Because if you are going,” Dan continued, “we could always meet you there. Natasha and me are getting a whole group together. You should come along.”

  Natasha? Issie couldn’t believe it. Suddenly Dan’s invitation sounded less like a date and more like her tagging along while he hung out with Natasha.

  “I didn’t know you knew Natasha…” Issie was trying to sound casual, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  “She’s in my class at school,” Dan said, “and my mum knows her mum so we kind of made friends.”

  Dan was a year ahead of Issie, and didn’t go to Chevalier Point High. He went to Kingswood, a school on the other side of town.

  “We met at pony club the other day,” Dan continued. “She told me she liked Smoothy, this really cool band who are playing this Sunday, so I said I’d take her along.”

  Issie couldn’t believe it. How could Dan like Natasha? OK, she was sort of pretty in a boring girly blonde sort of way, but she was also stuck up and rude and mean-tempered. She couldn’t believe Dan would fall for all that flirting Natasha did. It was so shallow and obvious.

  “Typical! Boys are so, so…stupid!” Issie huffed under her breath.

  “What’s that?” Dan said.

  “Umm, I said, I don’t think I can make it. Sorry. I’m going to be really busy with Blaze this weekend. We still have a lot of work to do.”

  “Your turn Dan!” Avery shouted out. Ben had just completed his round and it must have gone well because he looked pleased with himself, riding back towards them wearing a grin from ear to ear.

  “Dan, come on!” Avery yelled again.

  “Ohmygod!” Dan groaned. “I was so busy talking, I haven’t even warmed Kismit up yet.”

  He gathered up the reins and trotted off towards Avery, leaving Issie sitting by herself in the worst mood she had been in for weeks.

  Issie was still in a sulk two days later, when she met up with Kate and Stella down at the River Paddock: “So then he tells me that he’s going to Summer In The Park with Natasha!” Issie whined. “I don’t know why he even asked me to come along at all!”

  Kate and Stella both shook their heads in amazement as they listened to Issie’s story of the whole stupid misunderstanding and how she thought Dan was asking her out when in fact he was going to the gig with Natasha.

  “I can’t believe he really likes her,” Stella said. “That Natasha is just so pushy. I bet she’s behind this.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” Issie said icily “I’ve got too much to do getting Blaze ready for the one-day event to worry about a dumb concert.”

  Stella gave Kate a knowing glance. The two friends could tell Issie was really upset about Dan and Natasha, but she obviously didn’t want to talk about it. The best thing to do was go for a good gallop and let the wind whip through her hair and blow the whole thing away.

  For the past six weeks the girls had been riding to a strict training schedule that Avery had prepared for them in preparation for the one-day event. On Mondays and Wednesdays they practised their dressage tests. On Thursday and Sunday they practised jumps—showjumping and cross-country. And on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays they did “interval training,” trotting and cantering back and forth around the paddock until they were exhausted and the horses were wet with sweat. It was dull work and hard on a rider’s bottom too. But today, instead of riding endlessly around the paddock, the three girls were taking the horses out for some road work, riding all the way to Winterflood Farm.

  Winterflood Farm sat on a jut of green land right at the edge of Chevalier Point where the river met the sea. It wasn’t a big farm, just ten acres divided into neat square paddocks fenced with posts and rails. A slender, tree-lined driveway ran down the middle of the fields leading to a gravel courtyard, which joined a stable complex to a small wooden cottage. The stables had been deserted for years until Tom Avery took over the farm. Now he kept his three young sport horses that he was training in the stables—although most of the time they grazed outdoors in the paddocks that surrounded the farm.

  The girls would be able to ride across pasture land most of the way—the hunt club had a special route to Winterflood Farm that was open to all local riders.

  “But we’ll have to stick to a trot along the grass verges on the roadside until we get down to the bend in the river,” Stella explained. “Then we’ll be able to go cross-country so that we can get some good galloping practice in.”

  Issie felt a tingle of nerves. She had never galloped Blaze in the open countryside before, and after that ride in The Pines she was a little nervous about the hotheaded Arab bolting again.

  “Are we ready to go?” Kate was dead keen to get Toby out on the open roads and start riding. So keen that the pair of them were pacing impatiently at the gate.

  “Let’s do it!” Issie clucked Blaze into a trot, but instead of rising up and down in her stirrups she stood up in them and practised her two-point cross-country position, balancing easily in midair with space to spare between her and the saddle.

  Blaze jogged along, letting out snuffly snorts of excitement as if she knew they were leaving the paddock and going somewhere new.

  “Remember to keep to single file near the roads,” Stella shouted out. “I’ll go up front with Coco since she’s not likely to charge off. Issie, you can go in the middle with Blaze and Toby can bring up the rear.”

  The three of them set off at a brisk trot. A bit too brisk for Issie’s liking—Blaze’s trot was still bouncy enough to throw her about in the saddle, and she couldn’t wait to reach open land so they could canter.

  By the time they’d reached the open fields of the hunt-club land, the horses were in a sweat from the trot work. Tiny Coco was flecked with white froth on her neck and had green foam oozing out of her mouth from working the bit.

  “Everyone ready to canter?” Stella yelled back over her shoulder. Issie and Kate both gave a silent nod and the three of them loosened the reins and let Coco, Toby and Blaze have their heads.

  Issie looked down at the ground and watched as it became a blur of green and brown as Blaze cantered on. The chestnut mare was fast, Issie knew that much already. But it seemed that with each week, as her fitness improved, her speed increased.

  “Steady, girl, easy now,” Issie breathed to her horse, but the wind pushed her words back down her throat. Blaze had opened up and had started to gallop. She was wild with the thrill of running, and even with a firm hand on the reins Issie knew it would be hard to stop her now.

  This time, though, instead of trying to hold the mare back, she gave Blaze her head and sat high in the saddle. Let her run, Issie thought. Let’s see what this horse can do.

  To the left of her, Kate was on Toby, urging the long-limbed Thoroughbred on. Toby was an exracehorse, and yet, even at full gallop, Blaze could match him stride for stride. As the two horses ran on, Blaze’s stride lengthened until she began to edge ahead of the big bay. By the time they reached the road leading to Winterflood Farm Blaze was ahead by a length. The mare’s chestnut neck glistened with sweat and her breath was coming hard and raspy with the effort of the run.

  “Easy, girl, slow down now.” Issie tightened her grip on the reins and Blaze responded to the pressure, slowing her pace. Kate pulled Toby up next to her and the two girls and their horses came to a stop next to the farm gate to catch their breath.

  “That was amazing!” Kate panted. “Toby was really stretching out back there and Blaze still beat him! I had no idea she
was so fast!”

  “Neither did I!” Issie said. She reached down and gave the mare a solid pat on her sweaty neck.

  The sound of pounding hooves behind them made the two girls turn around. Stella and Coco were bearing down on them as fast as they could canter

  “Thank God I’ve finally caught up with you two!” Stella pulled Coco up to a halt. “I’ve been trying to get your attention ever since we started cantering.” Stella looked concerned.

  “Have you noticed it? Over there. That white van? Careful, don’t let them see you looking!” Stella tried to gesture over her shoulder without actually turning around. Behind her a white van was parked on the grass verge that led to the hunt-club fields.

  “Yeah, what about it?” Kate snapped. She was distracted, still having trouble hanging on to Toby as the Thoroughbred stomped about, all overexcited from his run.

  “I’m sure it’s the same one we saw the other day at the River Paddock,” Stella whispered. “I know it sounds stupid, but I think it’s following us.”

  “You know, they’re parked miles away, Stella, they can’t hear you, you don’t need to whisper,” Kate groaned.

  “Look, I’m serious!” Stella insisted. “They’ve been driving along watching us. I’m sure of it. It’s really creeping me out. I think we should turn around and go home.”

  “Nonsense!” Kate was in no mood for this now.

  “You and your stories, Stella! I’m going over there to ask them what they want.”

  Without any more discussion on the matter she wheeled Toby around and cantered the big bay off towards the parked van.

  In the distance the figures of two men suddenly sprang into motion. The driver, a short stocky type with a thick black bushy beard, jumped behind the wheel of the van while the other man, much skinnier and taller than the driver, ran around the van, quickly leaping into the passenger seat. The engine revved and, by the time Kate reached the grass verge, the van was gone.

  “You were right,” Kate had to admit as she trotted back to join the group. “They must have been watching us. At least they tore off in an awful hurry for some reason. This is creepy.”

  “I’ll tell you what else is weird,” Stella said. “You know how the spare paddock keys went missing the other day? Well I found them again! They were back on the hook in the shed as if they were there all along!” Stella narrowed her eyes. “I bet it’s got something to do with those guys in the van.”

  Kate shook her head and sighed at Stella’s latest revelation. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Stella, now you’ve got me falling for your crazy mystery stories! Those keys probably just got lost under that big mess of horse blankets you were chucking around.”

  “No, they didn’t!” Stella was red-faced. “I looked everywhere for them! Someone took them and then they must have put them back again!”

  “Anyway,” Kate wheeled her horse around impatiently, “let’s head for home.” She looked across at Issie. “But no galloping this time, eh? I’m too exhausted. Let’s just trot the rest of the way.”

  Issie nodded in agreement. But she wasn’t really listening to Kate. She was looking up the road where the white van had disappeared. Stella was right. It was the same van they had seen parked down by the paddock the other day. And now the question was beginning to puzzle her. Just who were they following? And why?

  CHAPTER 12

  The dream started as it always did—with the sound of hoofbeats. Issie stared into the pitch-blackness, the thunder of hooves seemed to be surrounding her. This time, though, the grey horse didn’t appear from the dark. Instead, the hoofbeats stopped and she could hear a soft whinny, calling to her, calling her out of sleep.

  Issie woke with a start. Her dreams about Mystic had always seemed vivid, but never as real as this. She could have sworn she heard the neigh of a horse outside her bedroom window. She held her breath—there it was again! Only she was awake now, and still she heard it!

  Issie crept up to the window as if she were stepping on broken glass, slowly, carefully. Through the lace of the curtain she could make out a shape moving on the lawn. She pulled the curtain back and peered out into the dark. It looked like a horse all right, but it was impossible to see properly. She would have to get dressed and go outside.

  Quickly pulling on an old pair of jeans, a polar fleece and boots she ran for the back door that led to the lawn. Her mind was racing. How could a horse end up in her garden? She had an idea, but it was silly, impossible. She opened the back door and stepped out into the yard.

  At first, she thought the horse must have vanished. In the dark it seemed like the green expanse of the lawn was empty. But then, in the corner of the garden underneath some tall birch trees she saw him. A dapple-grey, she could tell that much, even at this distance. But she needed to get closer. Silently she took one step, then another and then another, edging her way towards the horse. When she was a few metres away the little grey let out a low nicker, and stepped forward out from under the trees to meet her.

  Tears filled Issie’s eyes as she buried her head in the grey mane. It was Mystic. And he felt real and warm to her touch, not like a ghost horse, but like her own pony. She could even smell his sweet horsy smell as she kept her head pressed hard against his neck and tried to stop the tears from coming.

  “Easy, boy, easy, Mystic,” Issie cooed gently to him.

  But Mystic would not stand still. He pulled away from her, shaking his head to free her hands from the tangle of his mane, and began to paw the ground in a frantic state. Then he let out a wild snort and wheeled about, racing all the way to the far end of the garden where the gate led to the street, then galloping back to stand in front of Issie. Again and again he repeated his frenzied run, charging up and down the lawn.

  As Issie watched him gallop once more for the gate, she finally realised what Mystic was trying to tell her. He wanted her to ride him. Each time he ran down to the far end of the garden, Mystic came to a halt right in front of the five-barred gate that led to the street. Now Issie could see that the gate was the perfect height for her to climb up and mount the grey horse.

  As he headed back down the lawn for the fourth time, Issie ran after him. This time, when Mystic reached the gate he paused and waited for her to catch up to him. Then he stood still, snorting and quivering with anticipation as she clambered quickly up the gate rails and, hesitating just for a moment, threw herself lightly on to his back.

  If this is a dream, Issie decided, I must surely wake up now. Instead she felt the sleek coat of her horse warm underneath her, and the ropey fibres of horsehair between her fingers as she buried her hands in Mystic’s mane. The little grey leapt forward as he felt her weight on his back but Issie quickly calmed him, making him stand still so she could lean over to unlock the latch on the gate.

  There was a slice of moon in the sky that provided just enough light so that Issie could make out the blurry outline of a horse beneath her. In the moonlight, Mystic’s dappled coat seemed to melt into the night. It was almost as if she was riding a vapour, a wisp of grey smoke.

  For a moment she wondered again whether she was dreaming. Then the clatter of hooves on tarmac jarred her back to reality as Mystic stepped through the gate and out on to the road. Now the streetlights were there to illuminate their path and Issie could clearly see her horse’s grey ears pricked forward in front of her, swivelling occasionally to listen to the sound of her voice.

  Issie clucked Mystic gently on, and without a bridle to steer with, she used her legs to guide the horse to the grass verge on the side of the road. With the soft grass underfoot she let the little grey break into a canter and felt a thrill tingle through her. She had forgotten how wonderful it was to ride this horse. The weeks of riding Blaze without a saddle had paid off, and Mystic’s paces were so smooth and gentle, Issie felt as if she were riding a rocking horse. The summer breeze whipped her hair across her face. Blinded for a moment, she let her hands slip through Mystic’s mane and had to scramble to grab another
handful of horse hair.

  “Even if this is a dream, I’d better hang on,” she reminded herself. She realised now that there was no use steering. Mystic seemed to know where he was going. Instead of trying to guide the grey pony, Issie let him take her along for the ride.

  The cold nip of the evening air made her eyes stream tears, and the chill of the wind in her face froze a rosy pink glow on her cheeks. “Just hold tight,” she told herself out loud. And at that moment she realised just what a strange picture the pair of them must make. A young girl, her black hair caught in the wind, her pyjamas sticking out from underneath the polar fleece jumper, riding bareback without a bridle in the middle of the night on a grey ghost, a horse whose dappled coat was hardly visible against the trees in the moonlight. No one would believe this. She didn’t know whether to believe it herself. All she could do was hang on.

  Away from the streetlights now, in the darkness, it was impossible to tell where they were. Now and then she would pass a house with the porch lights on and she’d be able to make out a familiar shadow or a street sign, but she was far too busy trying to stay on Mystic’s back to look too hard at anything else around her. So at first, when Mystic came to a halt, she felt completely confused, directionless. Then she heard the sound of the river flowing fast and strong beside them and could make out the shapes of horses grazing in the field in front of them.

  Of course! They were here, at the River Paddock. But why? Why had Mystic brought her here tonight?

  She was about to dismount and stretch her legs, try to figure out what was going on, when she heard the sound of a car engine cruising up the street behind her. Car headlights caught her in their beam, momentarily blinding her.

  The drivers of the car couldn’t have seen her because they kept driving straight past her towards the paddock gate. As they drove past, Issie’s eyes adjusted back to the darkness. And then she saw who it was. Not a car at all, but a white van. The white van. The same one that had been parked outside the paddock watching them. The same one that had followed them on the ride to Winterflood Farm. The bearded man and the skinny one were sitting in the van just like before. But this time they were towing a red horse float behind them.