by Stacy Gregg
When Issie went back to the front of the house to find the ranger she saw another three cars had arrived in the driveway. Five men, all dressed in the same uniform as Cameron, were now gathered in conversation on the front porch. All of them were carrying guns.
“Aunt Hester would like to talk to you,” Issie told Cameron. “She’s made a pot of tea if you’d like to come in.”
The ranger nodded, then he turned to his men. “Wait here for me. We’ll set off as soon as it’s light. This won’t take long.” And with that he followed Issie inside.
“Ah, Cameron!” Hester greeted the ranger. “Cup of tea?”
“Thanks, Hester,” he replied gruffly, sitting down at the kitchen table.
“Cameron,” Hester continued, “I know it’s going to seem like a dreadful waste of time for you, now that you’ve got your men out so bright and early, but the thing is, we’re going to bring the rest of the herd in today. It’s very good news actually – we’ve come up with a way to find homes for them all. My niece’s riding instructor is very well connected with the International League for the Protection of Horses and he’s kindly going to help us find new owners for all the Blackthorn Ponies.”
Hester sat down opposite Cameron and poured the tea before continuing, “We had planned to have the herd back here at the farm already, but we’ve had a few setbacks. Still, we’re going to bring all the horses in today. So you needn’t bother with the cull. If you want to go out now and tell your men they can go home, that would be lovely…” Hester paused. “Naturally they’re welcome to come in and have a cup of tea before they go home. I’ve put the jug back on and—”
Cameron shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hester. I can’t do that.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Hester said. “If they’d prefer coffee, of course, I can make a pot—”
“No, Hester. I mean, I can’t call the cull off. It’s going ahead as planned. You’ve already delayed us so many times now. We’ve had petitions and Conservation Trust meetings and lawyers meetings. Then your niece tries to sidetrack us with all this talk of a Grimalkin – some mythical creature that my men have been wasting their time over…”
Issie couldn’t believe this. “I didn’t make it up! The Grimalkin is real…” she began. But Cameron hushed her with a sullen glare and continued.
“So we don’t find any trace of this ‘Grimalkin’. And then you tell us you can catch the horses. You promised you’d catch the herd and bring them home to your farm if we just gave you more time. Friday was the deadline and today is Friday. There’s a limit Hester and you’ve reached it. My men are here to do their job. None of us wanted this cull to happen, but it is going to happen. You can’t stop it now; it’s too late. We’re taking our guns and we’re going out there. I’m sorry, but it’s got to be done.”
Hester stared at the ranger. “Cameron. I’m asking you. As a friend. Please – give us just a little more time. What difference will one more day make? It means nothing to you but it may save these horses’ lives. Isn’t there anything you can do?”
Cameron looked down at the mug of tea in front of him and sat in silence for a moment. Then he looked up at Hester. “I can’t give you the day,” he said with a glint in his eye, “but I can give you a couple of hours to get a head start.”
He turned to look at Issie. “I think my men could do with a big, hearty breakfast before we head out there to look for the herd. Issie, if your aunt wouldn’t mind serving us up some farm eggs and bacon, and perhaps doing us a few of her famous griddle scones… and then after that we’ll spend some time consulting our maps and doing a bit of a rifle check… well, it could take us a couple of hours before we’re ready to set off.”
He looked at his watch. “It’s six a.m. now – all that should keep us busy until about eight a.m…”
“Thank you, Cameron,” Hester said.
“Yes, thanks,” Issie said.
“Are you still here?” Cameron looked sternly at Issie. “I thought you would have been out there saddling up your horses by now. You don’t have that much time.”
“I’m gone,” Issie said as she raced for the door.
Dust clouds billowed up as the horse truck belted along the Coast Road heading for Preacher’s Cove. Sitting in the front seat, Issie looked at the speedometer and then checked her watch. It was nearly seven a.m. “Come on, Aidan!”
“I’m driving as fast as I can. We’ll be there in less than five minutes,” Aidan snapped back at her.
Issie and her friends had made the most of the ranger’s two-hour head start. Instead of setting out on horseback for the cove as the ranger had assumed they would, they had loaded their horses into the truck.
All the horses were on board except Dolomite. Since Issie was riding Destiny it had been decided that Stella would ride Blaze and Avery would ride Paris. “We need Blaze’s speed and agility; it will come in handy for the muster,” Avery reasoned. “Besides, it will keep Destiny happy in the horse truck if Blaze is at his side.”
Issie looked back now through the window of the truck cab. She could see Blaze and Destiny standing side by side in their partitions, the stallion craning his neck around to get closer to the chestnut mare.
“How many of the Blackthorn Ponies do you think you can fit in here?” Issie asked.
“It’s big enough to take seven horses the size of Dolomite, so I dunno, about fifteen if we’re lucky,” Aidan said.
Issie looked worried. “It’s not enough, Aidan,” she sighed. “That still leaves maybe ten horses that won’t make it on to the truck.”
“We can herd the stragglers home,” Aidan said. “There’s six of us on horseback. We should be able to manage the ones who are left behind.”
When they reached Preacher’s Cove Aidan parked the horse truck at the top of the hill.
“Let’s get them off quickly everyone,” Avery said. Issie moved swiftly inside as soon as the ramp was lowered, hurrying to untie Destiny’s ropes. “Easy, Destiny, good boy,” she murmured. The black stallion was in surprisingly good shape after the journey. He seemed to take the truck ride in his stride.
“Good lad, Destiny. Come on, we’re here now…” Issie said. Destiny picked his hooves up neatly and precisely as he marched down the ramp of the truck. At the end of the ramp the black horse lifted his head high and scanned the horizon. His nostrils were flared wide as he sniffed the air.
“Do you think he’ll be able to find his herd?” Issie asked Aidan.
“His instincts are strong. He’ll find them,” Aidan said. “Let him go wherever he wants. All you have to do is get on him and hang on.”
Is that all I have to do? Issie thought to herself. Aidan made it sound so easy. Had he forgotten that this was a wild stallion? Just yesterday she had ridden Destiny for the very first time. Now here she was, taking him out alone on to the open plains to reunite him with his herd.
“I’d better go saddle him up then,” Issie said.
“Do you want help?” Aidan asked.
Issie shook her head. “It’s better if I do this alone. You go and help the others.”
Issie went to the truck and grabbed her saddle. Then she returned to Destiny’s side. The stallion was shifting about nervously, his nose still high in the air. Was it the scent of his herd that had captured his attention? Issie wondered.
She moved very deliberately and slowly as she put the saddle on Destiny’s back and did up the girth. The horse didn’t flinch as the strap tightened around his belly. “Good lad,” Issie breathed softly. She drew the bridle up gently over his face now and quickly did up the straps, then pulled on her helmet and fastened her chin strap. She checked the girth one last time.
“All ready?” Tom Avery appeared at her side. “Do you want a leg up?”
“Uh-huh, I guess so,” Issie said.
Avery took Destiny’s reins in one hand and offered the other hand to Issie for a leg up. She put her knee in Avery’s hand and with a quick bounce she leapt up into the saddl
e. Avery was still holding the reins. He seemed reluctant to let go.
“When you find the herd, let him take control,” Avery instructed. “He’ll do what comes naturally to him. Then all you need to do is guide him back towards the cove. Get the herd to follow you down to the sea and then we’ll do the rest.”
Issie nodded. She straightened the peak on her helmet and took up the reins. She noticed that her hands were trembling a little.
Avery noticed too. “You know, Issie, you don’t have to do this,” he said gently.
“I know. I’m not scared, Tom, honest,” she replied.
“Remember,” Avery said, “you’re the alpha.”
“I’m the alpha.” Issie smiled at him. Then she wheeled the stallion around to face the road.
“I’ll see you soon. Be ready for me,” Issie called back. And with that, she clucked the stallion into a canter, riding him swiftly up and over the crest of the hill, along the Coast Road that would lead her to Lake Deepwater.
As they cantered along the Coast Road Issie steeled her nerve and let the reins go slack so that the big, black horse was in control. Give him his head, she thought, let him find his own way. He will lead me to the herd.
Destiny immediately sensed his freedom and broke into a gallop. Issie wrapped her hands tight in his mane and clung on.
As the stallion veered off the Coast Road and began to skilfully pick his way across the rocky terrain at full gallop Issie fought the urge to snatch back the reins and slow him down. Destiny was going far too fast. If he stops suddenly, Issie thought, I’ll go flying over his head.
At that very moment Destiny gave a sudden lurch to the left to avoid a large rock and Issie felt herself sliding uncontrollably to one side. For a moment she was sure she was going to fall. But she managed to hang on to the hank of mane that she had tangled in her hands and in a couple of strides she had righted herself again.
Hang on, she thought to herself. No matter what, you have to hang on…
Destiny slowed down to a canter as he rose up over the brow of a hill. He let out a loud, vigorous whinny as he surveyed the valley below. Issie scanned the fields in front of her but there was nothing to see except green pasture and a few blackthorn trees. Destiny whinnied again. Still nothing. The stallion stood alert, his ears pricked forward. He was listening, waiting. And then, from out of nowhere, came the whinny of a horse returning his call. Issie’s heart raced. He had found the herd.
Issie was left behind in the saddle as Destiny lunged forward and began galloping headlong down the hill. From the other direction she heard the low thunder of hoofbeats as the herd approached.
When Issie had first met the Blackthorn Ponies they seemed to be one big faceless herd, but now, she realised, she was beginning to recognise each of them as distinct individuals. They were all so wild, so alive. Issie felt herself choking back her anger at the rangers and their stupid cull. How could anyone ever think of hurting these beautiful horses?
The herd slowed down to a trot as the stallion reached them. Issie had been worried that they would scatter when they saw her on Destiny’s back, but the ponies seemed not to notice or care about her.
The stallion cantered a wide circle around the herd, establishing his territory. Then he moved closer, nipping and lunging at his mares to snap them into line, asserting his authority over the other horses. The buckskin mare wasn’t easily subdued. She lashed out with her hind legs as he nipped at her and Issie had to hang on once again as Destiny swerved to avoid her flying hooves.
When the stallion seemed satisfied that his herd were all under control he began to move them back up the hill. Issie held on tight to his mane, resisting the temptation to touch the reins. Destiny was heading back towards the cove, exactly where they needed to go, and the ponies were following him. All she had to do was hang on.
When they reached the hill at the top of the valley she expected Destiny to trot on straight ahead, back down to the Coast Road and the cove. But the black horse seemed to suddenly change his mind. He broke into a canter, altered his direction and turned along the ridge in completely the wrong direction.
“Destiny, NO!” Issie pulled hard on the right rein to turn the stallion around. As soon as she had done it, she realised her mistake. Never, ever fight him. She remembered Tom Avery’s words. You won’t win that way.
As he felt the jarring of the metal bit pulling harshly in his mouth Destiny responded by fighting back. He reared up, his front legs thrashing the air in front of him. Then, as he came back down with Issie still on his back, he gave an almighty buck.
Issie had fallen off her horse loads of times, but this fall was different. Destiny’s buck sent her flying up in the air in a dramatic arc. It all happened so fast there was nothing she could do to soften the fall. She hit the ground with such force, she immediately felt the wind being knocked out of her. Breathless and shocked Issie tried to push herself up on her elbows, coughing and heaving as her lungs struggled desperately for air. As she propped herself up on her arms she felt a shooting pain down her left arm and the thought flashed through her head that her wrist must be broken.
She stayed there on the ground a bit longer. She was too dizzy to stand up; the ground and the sky were spinning around her. What had just happened? Where was Destiny?
The nicker of a horse brought her back to reality. She took a deep breath and pulled herself together. She needed to stand up and look for her horse. Issie forced herself to her feet. The sun on the horizon was blinding her now but she could make out the shape of a horse. He was coming towards her.
“Destiny?” Issie croaked. And then there he was in front of her. Not a big, black stallion at all, but a little grey gelding. Weak and exhausted from her fall, Issie fell forward and wrapped her arms around the horse’s neck, hugging him tightly, her face buried in his mane. It was Mystic.
What a complete disaster! Right now Avery and the others would be waiting at the cove for Issie to return, leading the herd back to them. They had no way of knowing Destiny was gone and there was no sign of the wild ponies. The clock was ticking. The rangers would be here soon, tracking down the herd to begin their cull. She had to do something – and fast!
Issie scanned the horizon desperately. Then she turned to the little grey gelding. “Mystic! You found them before – you can do it again. We’ve got to get those horses back!”
She looked around for somewhere to mount up and spied a fallen tree just a few metres away. If she climbed up on that log, it would be easy to make a leap on to the little grey’s back. Issie put a hand out to grasp Mystic’s silvery mane, and let out a sudden squeal, doubling over in pain. She had forgotten about her injured wrist. She gave her fingers one more tentative wiggle and winced as the pain shot up her arm. She was pretty sure it wasn’t broken but it was still really sore. She couldn’t ride like this.
Issie felt tears of anger and frustration welling up. She had to get on Mystic’s back if she was to stand any chance at all of finding the Blackthorn Ponies. But how could she do it with an injured wrist?
Calm down, she told herself sternly, calm down and think, Issie. She paused for a moment and then, very carefully so as not to hurt her wrist, she pulled off her jacket. It was one of those stretch velour tracksuit jackets, pale blue with white stripes. She took it and knotted one sleeve around the elbow of her injured arm, checking that it was firm but not too tight. Then she took the other sleeve and used her teeth once more to tie a knot with the end of the sleeve around her sore wrist. With the sleeves secured at her elbow and her wrist she pulled the rest of the jacket up and over her head, wriggling and squirming her head through so that the jacket was now strung over her shoulder with the sleeves stretched taut, holding her arm in a makeshift sling.
“If I can’t use that arm, I’m just going to have to keep it out of the way,” she said to Mystic. Grabbing a hank of his mane with her right hand she led the horse over to the log, trying to protect her injured wrist as she vaulted lightly on to h
is back. Steadying herself, she wrapped her good hand tightly in Mystic’s mane. As long as I can hold on and ride with just one hand, Issie thought…
“Let’s go, Mystic.” She gave the grey gelding a light tap with her heels to let him know she was ready. “Go find them for me.” The little grey immediately set off at a fast canter, following the trail of the Blackthorn herd.
Issie had ridden Mystic bareback many times before, but one-handed bareback added a whole new challenge. As the little pony galloped on she tried to keep her balance by staying low and gripping with her legs. She sat tight and didn’t even try to guide him; Mystic seemed to know exactly where he was going.
“Oh, where are they, Mystic?” Issie said. They had to find the ponies fast. It must have been nearly two hours since Issie had left the farm. The rangers would be loading up their four-wheel-drives right now and heading this way.
Thankfully it didn’t take Mystic long to track down the herd. When the grey gelding galloped up to a plateau overlooking the Coast Road, Issie let out a cry of relief. There they were! Destiny and the ponies – and not more than a hundred metres away.
The black stallion still had his saddle and bridle on and he was grazing happily alongside the buckskin mare. When he saw Mystic he raised his head and stood, alert and watchful, as if deciding whether to spur his herd into action and run again.
Issie and Mystic froze too and Issie could feel her heart racing as she realised what she was about to do. Her plan was dangerous and she knew it. She wasn’t in the best shape to take on a stallion – the throbbing pain in her arm reminded her of that.
She looked at the ponies. She had to act fast. This was her last chance – and their last chance too.
“Come on, Mystic!” she said decisively.
Mystic moved swiftly into a gallop as Issie turned the little grey around in a wide circle and then began bearing down on the black stallion, approaching him from the rear.
