by Stacy Gregg
All of this time her mother had sat quietly in Avery’s Range Rover waiting for her. But Issie knew that eventually her mum’s patience would run out and it would be time to answer a few questions.
“Ah, excellent! Tea!” Avery stepped through the door, shedding his heavy jacket and boots in the corner of the kitchen. “Well done, Mrs B.”
“I don’t mind making the tea, Tom,” Mrs Brown said, “as long as you don’t mind explaining what you and my daughter were doing at that horse paddock in the middle of the night.”
“Well,” Avery began, “I’ve been talking to the police and it turns out that those two chaps they’ve caught are in fact Blaze’s owners. That is, the ones that were mistreating her when the horse protection society found her. They must have seen Issie out riding on her and realised it was their horse and tried to steal her back again. Of course they’ve got no legal right to her. A complaint has already been lodged against them for what they did to Blaze and by rights they’ll never be allowed to own any horse ever again. Although I’m still not completely convinced that they ever really owned one in the first place,” he added.
“Blaze’s bloodlines seem to be Anglo-Arab and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s worth a lot of money…” Avery mused “…a lot of money. In fact, she’s such a valuable mare, I suspect those men had already stolen her from someone else before we found her and saved her. I got the police to check their records to see if there had been a report of a horse theft that fits Blaze’s description, but there was nothing on file.
“Naturally I told the officer that we’ll be pressing charges over this whole matter. Horse thieves are bad enough, but people who abuse their horses are even worse,” Avery growled.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs Brown looked puzzled, “I still don’t understand. What does all this have to do with Isadora?”
“Well,” Avery said, failing to notice Issie making frantic gestures at him, “Blaze is her horse of course! She’s done a fantastic job nursing her back to health after we recovered her from those criminals.”
“Is that true, Isadora?” Mrs Brown looked at her daughter.
“I was going to tell you, Mum, honest,” Issie pleaded, “only you were still angry at me for getting my belly button pierced. And then after that the time never seemed quite right. And then after I’d left it for a while, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I mean, what could I say? I’ve owned a horse for three months now without mentioning it to you?”
“What?” Avery sputtered. “You mean you never told your mother about Blaze? Mrs B! I’m so sorry. I never bothered to tell you myself because I assumed that Issie had asked you and it was all OK…”
“Of course you did, Tom. Don’t worry. It’s not your fault. You, on the other hand,” she exclaimed, turning to Issie, “I can’t believe you! What if something had happened to you while you were out riding? Horses are dangerous, Isadora. You don’t just charge off by yourself to go riding without telling me!
“And speaking of charging off…” Mrs Brown looked suspicious. “How did you get here in the middle of the night anyway? And how did you know those men would choose tonight to try to steal the horse?”
A chill passed over Issie. Mystic! Where was he? She had left him outside in the driveway just next to the stables when she came to find Avery. The horse must have trotted off across the courtyard into the shadows by the stable block as Issie ran for the front door. And she hadn’t seen him since. Now, sitting here in a brightly-lit living room, sipping tea and talking to her mum, she knew how ridiculous it would sound if she told the truth. The truth. That her horse, the horse that was supposed to be dead, had come to her bedroom window and warned her of danger. That she had ridden him bareback in pitch blackness halfway across town to catch the thieves, and that she now had no idea where he was, that he had disappeared.
“I rode, umm…I rode my bike here,” Issie replied weakly, looking down into her tea cup.
“In the middle of the night? All the way across town? Issie, you could have been hit by a car!” Mrs Brown let out an exasperated gasp. “Look, I’m too tired to even begin discussing this here and now. We’ll get to the bottom of it all tomorrow. Right now I think we should be getting home to try and get some sleep before it starts getting light.” She stood up and passed her half-finished tea back to Avery.
“Thanks for the tea, Tom. We’ll come back in the morning to pick up Isadora’s bike, and I’ll talk to you then about what is to be done with this horse that you’ve given my daughter.” She paused. “Not too early in the morning, though; I imagine we’ll all want a bit of a sleep-in after this. It isn’t every night I get a wake-up call from the police dragging me out of bed at three a.m. and hopefully,” she turned and frowned at Isadora, “I won’t be getting any more calls in future.”
Thankfully, Mrs Brown seemed content to let the whole Blaze affair drop during the car ride home. And after the evening’s excitement Issie was grateful to slink off to her bedroom. She found herself falling asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. But instead of sleeping in, she was up again just a couple of hours later as soon as the dawn light came flooding in her window. In the dark last night it had been hard to tell just how serious Blaze’s injuries really were. And with the one-day event now just a few days away she had to find out whether her horse was still fit enough to compete.
Of course there was another reason for getting up early. Last night Issie had lied to her mum, telling her that she rode her bike around to Avery’s house. She could hardly tell her mother the truth, that she had galloped there bareback on a ghost horse in the middle of the night. In fact, she didn’t even know if she believed the truth herself.
No, in this case it was definitely better to tell a white lie. The problem was, Mrs Brown was expecting to go around to Avery’s later this morning and pick up the bike. The very same bike that was already parked exactly where it had been all along—right here at home in the corner of the garage.
The solution, Issie decided, was to leave her mum a note saying that she was walking over to Avery’s to pick the bike up by herself. Then, instead of going to Winterflood Farm, she would cycle straight down to the horse paddock, check on Blaze and cycle home again.
Issie was feeling smug about her plan as she walked down the stairs to the front door. Until she saw her mother nursing a cup of coffee and flicking through the paper at the kitchen table.
“Up already?” Mrs Brown spotted her daughter heading for the door. “I’ll put on some toast for you and make you a cup of tea and then we can go and pick up your bike.”
“Ummm, thanks, Mum.” Issie sat down reluctantly. Her plan was already falling apart and she hadn’t even left the house yet!
“Isadora,” her mother began, “I know I should be mad at you for what happened last night. God knows I should be furious that you’ve been riding this horse all this time and not telling me about it! But…” she paused to pour hot water into the teapot, “I guess in a way I can understand it. After the way I reacted to your belly-button thingamy-gig it’s no wonder you were too scared to tell me about Blaze.”
She sat down now and faced her daughter.
“I’m not saying that you were right to tear off and get your body pierced without telling me. Or worse yet, get a horse and fail to mention it for months! But maybe if I hadn’t overreacted about that ring in your tummy. Or maybe if your father was still here…” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s hand. “Issie, I know that since your dad left things have been tough, but we’re getting on OK, aren’t we? I’m on your side, remember that. I want you to feel that you can tell me anything, honey, OK?”
Issie nodded. Anything. Yeah right. She was sure “anything” didn’t include going for midnight gallops on ghost horses. Still, her mother had a point.
“I do, Mum. And I’m sorry.” Issie held her breath. Might as well ask now, she thought. “If you’re not mad at me does that mean I can keep Blaze?”
“Well, if you’ve really managed to do such
great things with her the way Tom says you have, I don’t see how we have any choice.” Mrs Brown smiled. “She must be a beautiful horse if those men wanted her so badly they were willing to steal her.”
“She’s perfect!” Issie glowed. And she started to tell her mother about how difficult Blaze had been to begin with, and how she had won her trust, and how the pair of them had been training for the one-day event.
“It’s this weekend, so I hope Blaze’s leg will heal in time. That’s why I want to go down to the horse paddock this morning and check on her,” Issie explained.
“What about your bike?” Mrs Brown said. “We can pick it up from Tom’s on the way to the paddock.”
“No!” Issie squawked. “I mean, if you drop me at the paddock I’ll walk up to Winterflood Farm after I’m finished with Blaze and then I can ride the bike home.”
“Well, OK. If that’s what you’d prefer,” Mrs Brown agreed.
And so, that afternoon Issie found herself walking the long roads back home from the horse paddock to her house, pretending to return a bike that was already safely locked up where it had always been, in the garage at her house.
At least, she thought to herself as she trudged along, at least Blazes wound seems to be healing well. In fact when she had checked on the chestnut mare she seemed to be in fine spirits and was hardly favouring her injured leg at all. The chances were she would be well enough to compete at the one-day event. But with just days left, and lameness ruining their chances of fitting in any more training sessions, the question remained—was Blaze ready to go out there and win?
CHAPTER 15
In front of the green canvas marquee a crowd was beginning to gather. The judges had posted the dressage scores on a large whiteboard on the side of the tent and the riders were jostling about, trying to see over one another’s heads, to check out how well they had done.
Stella, who had already pushed her way to the front of the crowd, peered hard at the board. “Let’s see,” she said, “novice dressage tests, group three…now where are we…” Her eyes scanned the board and then suddenly she let out a whoop of delight. “Issie, Issie,” she yelled, racing across the field towards the area where the horse trucks were parked.
Issie was busily bandaging Blaze’s tendons in preparation for the cross-country when she heard Stella hollering out her name.
“Issie! You’ll never believe it,” Stella panted with exhaustion as she reached her friend. “I’m coming fourth out of the whole novice class. Fourth place in dressage—can you believe it?”
Before Issie had a chance to answer Stella was off again, “And that’s not all. Guess what? You’re coming second! Isn’t that cool?”
“I don’t believe it!” Issie was stunned. “Do you hear that, girl?” she said to Blaze, who was busy making short work of her breakfast hay net. “We’re in second place.”
After all they had been through in the past week, Issie was amazed to be here at all. Yesterday the vet had arrived at the River Paddock, given Blaze’s hind leg a final checkup and pronounced her perfectly sound. And today, here they were—riding at their first one-day event.
This morning in the dressage ring Blaze and Issie had managed to put the past week behind them and performed a perfect test. Even so, Issie could scarcely have hoped for such a result. After all, there were nearly sixty riders here today competing in her class.
“Did you see who’s coming first?” Issie asked the overexcited Stella.
“You’re not going to believe this one either,” Stella groaned. “It’s Natasha. She’s in first place on fifty-nine points. You’re right behind her on sixty-one.”
Issie was puzzled. “How come I’m behind her if I’ve got more points?”
“Man, you really are green at this game, aren’t you?” Stella giggled. “The winning dressage rider is the one with the lowest score. You take each dressage score and you add the faults that the rider gets in the crosscountry and then the faults from the showjumping, and the one with the lowest score at the end of it all is the winner.
“The dressage score is important,” Stella continued, “but it’s the cross-country that is crucial. You get twenty faults for every refusal and sixty faults if you fall off. It doesn’t matter how good your dressage score is if you have to add sixty faults to it! The showjumping isn’t so tough—it’s just five faults for every rail.
“So,” Stella grinned at her friend, “all you’ve got to do now is go clear on the cross-country and the showjumping and you’re in the running for a ribbon.”
“Yeah, right,” Issie joked, “two clear rounds? That sounds really easy—not!”
“We’ll see about that.” Avery’s voice behind her caught her off-guard. “Come on, girls. Tie your horses up and let’s get a move on and walk the course.”
Walking the cross-country course was a crucial part of the one-day event, and earlier that day Avery had offered to take Issie and Stella around the fences on foot, pointing out the different angles and approaches for the fences and the best way to handle each obstacle. However, she hadn’t counted on the fact that Dan and Ben would be coming with them as well.
As Avery’s students set off towards the first fence of the course, Dan slowed down so that he and Issie were walking together at the back of the group.
“Hey, Issie!” Dan seemed excited to see her. “I heard all about what happened with you and Blaze. Pretty freaky stuff, huh? It sounds like you and Avery were real heroes, catching those guys like that.”
“Mmmm…” Issie tried to act casual. Inside, she was dying to tell Dan all about how they saved Blaze from the horse thieves. But she was still in a huff with Dan over the whole Natasha thing so she felt obliged to give him the silent treatment instead.
“Are you OK, Issie?” Dan’s cheery tone was beginning to slip a little. “I mean, I know you must have been pretty busy over the past week or so but I was kind of hoping you would come along to Summer in the Park with me.”
“With you and Natasha, you mean!” Issie snapped and then realised what she had done. Ohmygod, she thought. Now Dan will realise that I’m jealous of him and Natasha. This is so embarrassing…
“Gather round, everyone, let’s check out jump number one.” Avery interrupted her thoughts as he drew their attention to the first fence, a rustic wooden rail that stood around eighty centimetres high and was strung with old car tyres.
“This is a simple fence, with a clean take-off and landing point,” Avery briefed them. “What I want you to concentrate on here is getting a smooth stride happening. Your horse should already be in a steady cross-country gallop. I want you to check them a few strides out and bring them back to a strong canter, then pop over it and pick up the pace again. It shouldn’t give you any trouble.”
“Issie,” Dan whispered in her ear as Avery kept talking, “Issie, I think you have the wrong idea about Natasha and me.”
No use trying to act cool about this now, Issie thought to herself; Dan knew what she was thinking. “Well, if you mean that Natasha is your girlfriend, I think I’ve got the right idea,” Issie muttered back.
“Girlfriend!” Dan squeaked. “No way! Issie, I only took Natasha to Summer in the Park because her mum asked my mum if I would take her along. I mean, they’ve only just moved to Chevalier Point and, well, I know Natasha can come across as really snobby, but I think maybe that’s just because she’s got no friends here and she’s afraid of us because we’re all so close and we all get on so well…Well,” he added glumly, “at least I thought we did, but lately I’m not so sure. You won’t even talk to me.”
“Jump number two, quite a wide ditch, this one,” Avery explained. “Your horse is likely to take off too soon and bunny hop across, so keep your legs on…”
But Issie wasn’t listening. Her head was buzzing now So Dan wasn’t interested in Natasha after all!
“I’m sorry if I haven’t been myself lately” Issie smiled at Dan, taking in his thick waves of blond hair and soft blue eyes. “
I guess I’ve just been really worried about things—you know with Blaze nearly being stolen and everything. But yes, of course we’re friends. And maybe you’re right about Natasha,” she added, “but I’m still not so sure. She seems pretty stuck-up to me.”
With the misunderstanding cleared up, Issie and Dan walked the rest of the course in silence, concentrating on Avery’s advice.
“Now this is truly a natural obstacle.” Avery grinned as they neared the end of the course. Issie found herself standing at the edge of a deep gully with steep banks on either side. To enter the gully, riders had to jump over a large fallen tree, and then immediately after the tree the ground fell away steeply so that the horses literally slid down a muddy slope until they reached the bottom of the gulch, where another fence was constructed out of oil drums. The horses would have to leap over the drums before cantering back up the other side of the mud bank, taking the post-and-rails fence that sat at the top of the ridge.
“I’d like you to slow down to a trot coming into this one,” Avery said. “The fallen tree is a quite a big spread, but the horses should be able to jump it at a trot, and approaching at a slow pace will give them enough time to realise that there’s a steep bank behind the fence—so they don’t spook at the last minute. Then, once you’re over the tree, all you really need to do is hang on. The horses will be moving pretty fast down the muddy bank and they’ll have no trouble with the oil drums. Then they’ll power back up the other side and take the post and rails. They’ll really be flying by them, so hang on.”
