Fortune and the

Golden Trophy

Stacy Gregg

www.stacygregg.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2009. HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

Text copyright © Stacy Gregg 2009

Illustrations © Fiona Land 2009

Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020 Cover photography © Shutterstock.com CBBC logo © British Broadcasting Corporation 2016

The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Ebook Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780007340767

Version 2020-08-18

For Gwen, who knows more about horses than I could hope to learn in a lifetime. This book is dedicated to you for your generosity and wisdom, and to the wonderful ponies that you care for — Toddy, Hokey Pokey, Luka, Jasper and Migsy

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

The Pony Club Secrets series

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

The chestnut mare tensed up as the girth tightened around her belly. It had been a long time since she’d been ridden and she was excited by the weight of the saddle on her back. As she moved about nervously in the stall the girl with the long dark hair knew exactly how to handle her. She stayed calm, talking to her softly all the time as she cinched the straps up one more hole, before reaching for the bridle and gently slipping it over the mare’s pretty, dished Arabian face.

“Easy, Blaze,” said Issie Brown. She knew what the mare was thinking because she felt exactly the same way. It was so strange being in the stables at Winterflood Farm again, just the two of them, getting ready to ride. Issie could hardly believe that only a few days ago she had been in Spain, galloping across the sunburnt fields of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Now suddenly, here she was back in Chevalier Point. It felt so weird to be home.

The flight back from Madrid to New Zealand had been very long. Her mother had met her at the airport yesterday and Issie had collapsed into her mum’s arms at the arrival gates, burying her face to hide her tears.

Mrs Brown couldn’t understand why her daughter was so upset. What on earth had happened?

“It’s Storm…” Issie had finally managed to gulp out.

“Storm?” Mrs Brown was even more confused. “But I got your email. You said he was safe. You told me you’d won him back in the race.”

Issie took a deep breath and dried her eyes. “I did win him back. But he’s still at El Caballo Danza Magnifico,” she told her mother.

“For how long? Is Francoise organising his transport home?”

Issie shook her head. “No, Mum, you don’t understand.” She paused for a moment, unable to bring herself to say the words and acknowledge the awful truth. “Storm isn’t coming home. He’s going to stay in Spain. I’ve left him behind…”

The reality hit home when Issie arrived at Winterflood Farm this morning and the colt wasn’t there. The stables seemed so empty without Storm. The farm had been his home ever since he was born. Issie had been right there when his mother Blaze had given birth to him in these very stables. Over the past six months she had raised Storm, marvelling each day at the changes in him as he grew up from a baby foal to a strapping young colt. He wasn’t just any foal—he was Blaze’s son and he meant the world to Issie. She loved him so much. Letting him go had been the hardest thing she had ever done.

Roberto Nunez, owner of El Caballo Danza Magnifico, assured her that it wasn’t forever. The colt would live at El Caballo Danza Magnifico until he was fully trained and then, one day, Issie would get him back again.

At least she still had Blaze. Issie ran her hand over the arch of the Anglo-Arab’s elegant neck, smoothing down her flaxen mane. As Blaze turned her pretty face back towards her, Issie was struck once more by just how much the mare resembled her colt. Storm was a bay and Blaze was a chestnut, but mother and son still shared the same features, the dished nose, broad nostrils and wide, intelligent eyes that were the hallmarks of their Arabian bloodlines.

Blaze nickered softly, her dark eyes looking sorrowful as she nuzzled Issie. “You miss him, don’t you, girl?” Issie said softly. “I know. Me too…”

A sudden noise in the corridor startled the mare and she pricked up her ears. There were footsteps outside the stall, and then the sound of a bolt sliding as the top of the Dutch door opened and there was Tom Avery smiling in at them. He was dressed in his favourite brown jersey and his mop of thick, dark, curly hair was held back by a tweed cheesecutter cap.

“I just came to check on you. Is everything all right?” he asked.

Issie nodded. “Blaze is fine, Tom. I haven’t ridden her for over a year, or even seen her for the past month, so she’s bound to be a little nervous about being saddled up again…”

“I wasn’t talking about Blaze,” Avery said, his voice heavy with concern. “I meant you, Issie. Are you OK?”

Avery knew only too well how painful it had been for Issie to leave Storm in Spain. Although she had tried to act all grown up about it, he knew that deep down she was heartbroken. He had tried to talk to her about it on the flight home, but Issie had been too upset. She had put on her earphones and blocked out the world the whole way back. Avery had the good sense to leave her alone. But now they were home, he could see that Issie was still miserable. When she arrived at the farm this morning she had hardly said a word to Avery, and her instructor couldn’t help being worried about her.

Issie kept brushing Blaze and didn’t look up. “I don’t need you worrying about me too,” she said defensively. “I’ve had Mum fussing over me ever since I got back. I was lucky she even let me out of her sight this morning.”

“She’s just concerned about you, Issie,” said Avery gently. “It’s understandable, after all you’ve been through…”

“I’m OK, Tom,” Issie insisted unconvincingly. “I just wish I knew for sure…did I do the right thing?”

Avery nodded. “El Caballo Danza Magnifico is the best dressage school in the world. They’ll give Storm the finest training. I have no doubt that leaving your colt behind was the right thing to do.”

“So why does it hurt so much?” Issie asked, her voice trembling.

“It’ll get better,” said Avery gently. “I promise. And do you know what I always tell my riders to do when they’re hurting?”

“What?”

“Get back on the horse.” Avery smiled. “Of course, in your case you’re going to have to get back on two of them.

“He was right. Even with Storm gone, Issie had her hands full. Blaze had recovered from having her foal and was ready to start serious training once more. Then there was Comet. The stocky skewbald had been Issie’s star showjumper before she went away, and she was keen to get him primed for competition. The Chevalier Point Pony Club Annual General Meeting was being held tomorrow night, marking the beginning of a whole new season. Next weekend would be the first rally and then every weekend would be full of club days and competitions, dressage tests, one-day events and gymkhanas, and Issie had not one, but two super horses to ride!

Issie loved both her horses equally, but she was smart enough to know that they shouldn’t be treated the same. While Blaze was a delicate purebred, Comet was the opposite—a rough customer like all of the Blackthorn Ponies. After running wild for years on her aunt’s farmland, Blackthorns were a rugged breed, and they didn’t need mollycoddling. So, for the past three weeks of winter rain, she had left Comet grazing down at the River Paddock where other pony-club horses grazed. She knew that the hardy little skewbald would be just fine to face the elements in his thick, waterproof New Zealand rug.

Blaze, on the other hand, was much more fragile. Her Anglo-Arabian bloodlines made her sensitive to the cold. So Avery had offered to keep the mare stabled at Winterflood Farm while they were away, and Stella and Kate, Issie’s best friends, had promised to keep an eye on her.

Now Issie was home and the worst of the rain was over. Blaze would be fine at the River Paddock from now on and today Issie planned to hack the mare there. Blaze seemed to sense that they were about to leave the farm. She moved about restlessly, her metal horseshoes chiming on the concrete floor of the stable block as Issie walked her outside.

“Take it easy on her,” Avery cautioned as he gave Issie a leg-up. “Blaze hasn’t been ridden for a long time so she’s bound to be a bit spooky.”

He was right. As Issie rode down the long, poplar-lined driveway that led from Winterflood Farm Blaze seemed to take fright at every leaf that wobbled in the wind. When they reached the end of the drive and a pheasant flew up from the undergrowth beside them, Blaze startled and leapt forward as if she were about to bolt, but Issie held her back and calmed her down. She didn’t panic at the mare’s display of nerves and she never lost patience with her. Instead, she stayed relaxed in the saddle, whispering secret words to her pony in a soft, low voice, bonding with Blaze once more.

By the time they reached the wide grass verge of the riverbank that would take them to the River Paddock, Blaze wasn’t spooking at all. She was still fresh though, and kept jogging, keen to break into a trot. Issie gave in and let the mare trot on, but Blaze still strained at the reins and Issie realised that the mare wouldn’t be happy until she was let loose to gallop.

She also knew what Avery would say, that Blaze wasn’t ready and they should take it slow, that galloping was a no-no. But at that moment Issie didn’t care. She was desperate to blow the events of the past weeks away and escape from her own thoughts, if only for a moment. She needed to gallop just as much as her chestnut mare did.

Issie stood up in the stirrups, adjusted her weight into her heels and then gently let the reins slide through her fingers, inching them out slowly enough to give Blaze her head without losing control. She felt the mare rise up beneath her into a loping canter and then suddenly they were galloping, the grass below Blaze’s hooves dissolving into a green blur as they sped on.

Issie could feel her pulse racing, the wind whipping against her face, cold air stinging her cheeks. It felt good. After the heartache of the past few days, being back on Blaze made her spirits soar. She was consumed by the rhythm of the horse beneath her, surging forward, leaving everything else behind.

Blaze was in full gallop now, her strides lengthening. Issie stayed low over the mare’s neck and kept a tight hold on the reins. They were nearly at the River Paddock and she would need to slow the mare down soon, but not just yet.

As they came into view of the paddocks Issie found that she actually had to work quite hard to bring Blaze down from a gallop. The mare was bristling with energy and high spirits and didn’t want to stop. But Issie worked the bit in her mouth and slowly Blaze gave in to her rider and began to canter and then, reluctantly, to trot.

Issie posted up and down in the saddle in a brisk rising trot, her eyes scanning the paddocks ahead of her. She was looking for Comet, but she was also trying to see if she could spot the other horses too. Kate and Stella both grazed their horses here at the River Paddock. Toby, Kate’s horse, was a rangy, bay Thoroughbred gelding, while Stella rode a cheeky, chocolate-coloured mare named Coco.

In the shade of the willow trees down near the river, Issie caught sight of Comet. He was grazing happily next to Toby, but there was no sign of Coco. Issie’s eyes swept the paddock. She couldn’t see her anywhere.

Coco was probably hidden out of sight. There were lots of trees and dips and hollows in the River Paddock where a horse might be concealed. The mare was bound to be here somewhere.

Then Issie caught a glimpse of something and suddenly she wasn’t so calm about Coco any more. At the far end of the paddock, beyond the willow trees near the river, there was something huge lying down on the ground. At a distance, it looked to Issie like the shape of a horse—and it wasn’t moving. Issie felt a sudden surge of panic. It had to be Coco!

There are lots of perfectly normal reasons why a horse might be lying down. But alarm bells were ringing in Issie’s brain. The horse lying there looked odd. Something was definitely wrong. Issie’s first thought was colic, and it filled her with dread. Coco was a greedy little pony and with the new spring grass coming through she could easily have eaten too much and become colicky. That would explain why she was lying down. But lying down was the worst thing a pony with colic might do. Stomach pains could make Coco kick at her own tummy with her hooves and she might injure herself horribly. If she did have colic, Issie needed to get her up immediately. She had to get Coco walking and keep her moving until she could fetch the vet.

By the time she reached the gates of the paddock, Issie was in a blind panic. She pulled Blaze up and vaulted off, hunting desperately in her pockets for the padlock key. Eventually, she managed to find it and work the lock. She pushed the gate open and led Blaze through.

Toby and Comet, both excited to see another horse at the paddock, did the normal thing and trotted up straight away to greet Blaze. The horse on the ground, on the other hand, didn’t budge. It was lying there at the end of the paddock, utterly still. Now Issie really feared the worst. Was the mare even alive?

Slamming the gate shut behind her, Issie stuck her foot in the stirrup and bounced back up into the saddle. She urged Blaze straight into a canter and clucked the mare on through the paddock towards the dark shape on the ground.

The horse was still lying there, perfectly motionless. However, as they came closer, Issie began to have doubts. Was it really Coco? It was quite definitely a horse—Issie could see the outline of its fat belly and legs sticking out from beneath a winter paddock rug. But as she approached, she noticed that it didn’t actually look like Coco. It was too big for starters. Also, getting even nearer, Issie could see that the horse wasn’t chocolate brown either. It was a piebald, with black and white patches, a bit like a magpie.

There was no time to feel relieved though. Whoever this horse might be, it was still in big trouble.

As Blaze reached its side, Issie had been hoping for some sign that the animal was still alive. Surely a healthy horse would raise its head to acknowledge them? But this horse didn’t even twitch a muscle as Issie dismounted and began to walk towards it.

Issie was just a few metres away from the piebald when she heard the noise. She had never heard anything like it before. It sounded like a troll grunting. Not that she had ever heard a troll grunt obviously, but it was that sort of sound, deep and guttural—almost otherworldly.

Issie took a few tentative steps forward. She was right up close to the piebald and there was no doubt that the noise was indeed coming from the horse. Now that she was right next to it, Issie could see the winter rug that covered the horse’s stomach rising and falling in time to the noise. Issie stared at the piebald lying on the ground in utter disbelief. This horse wasn’t sick or dead. It was fast asleep—and it was snoring.

Issie was about to take another step forward when the black and white horse suddenly stopped making the troll grunts and raised its head off the ground. Yep, there was no doubt about it. The piebald had been asleep all right!

Issie didn’t know whether to feel angry or relieved as she watched the pony lumber to its feet in a rather ungainly fashion. The gelding shook out his mane and looked at her with a dopey, heavy-lidded expression on his face.

Issie stared as the piebald began to graze just a few metres in front of her. He was about the same size as Blaze, maybe fourteen-two hands. It was hard to be sure though because he wasn’t shaped like Blaze in the slightest. He was a tubby pony. Clearly, the only thing he really liked as much as sleeping was eating. He was a true piebald, covered in big black and white splodges, with chunky white streaks through his black mane. He had a white muzzle and a star on his forehead which radiated out so that his whole face was sprinkled with white hairs in a salt-and-pepper effect.

It was a bit of an ugly face, Issie assessed clinically, slightly too large and out of proportion with his body, and with a Roman nose to boot. As far as Issie could tell with his rug on, the pony seemed to have decent enough conformation, apart from being overweight, but he was certainly no oil painting.

Even now that he was awake the piebald didn’t seem particularly alert. He cast a vacant glance at Blaze, showing a complete lack of interest in the mare. He displayed even less interest in Issie who was still standing there, slack-jawed and staring at him. The piebald gave what looked like a yawn, then turned his rump on them both, lowered his head and ambled off.

Issie was gobsmacked. She had never seen anything like it. Horses hardly ever lay down to sleep. They certainly didn’t snore. And she’d never met a horse who wasn’t in the least bit curious to meet another new horse before.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re OK,” Issie said. She was talking to herself though because the piebald wasn’t listening. He was grazing away and resolutely ignoring her. “You are one kooky little piebald.” Issie shook her head. “Whoever owns you has got their hands full.”

She didn’t realise how right she was.

Chapter 2

Issie poked about in the tack shed, hoping to find some clue as to who owned the piebald in the paddock, but he remained a mystery. However, there was a saddle that looked about the right size for him and a bridle too. She also noticed that Coco’s tack was missing. It was possible that Stella had taken it home to clean, but that was unlikely. Stella hardly ever cleaned her tack and was frequently being told off by Tom Avery for having sloppy turn-out on rally days.

Issie hung up Blaze’s bridle and put the mare’s saddle and numnah on top of a sawhorse. Then she headed for the back corner of the shed. Next to a big pile of winter rugs, right where she had left it, was her bike. She wheeled it out with Blaze’s rug over the handlebars, then put the rug on her pony, gave her a carrot and slipped her halter off. Blaze trotted over to join Comet and Toby. There were a few snorts and ears back before the three of them remembered that they were best friends and trotted away happily together.

The piebald, meanwhile, was lying down and snoring once more. Issie shook her head in amazement, wheeled her bike out to the road, padlocked the gates behind her and set off for home.

Issie hoped that her mother would be there when she got back. She was desperate to tell someone about the mysterious arrival of the strange pony in the paddock.

“Mum?” Issie called as she shucked off her riding boots at the front door. “I’m back! Are you home?”

“We’re in here!” Mrs Brown called back. “In the kitchen.”

We’re in here? What did that mean? Who was there?

Issie walked down the hall to the kitchen. Mrs Brown was at the kitchen worktop, pouring hot water from the kettle into the teapot. Standing beside her, putting some chocolate biscuits on a plate, was a boy who looked a couple of years older than Issie. He had black hair and his fringe, which was far too long, fell over his face as he turned around. He pushed the fringe back carelessly with his hand revealing a pair of penetrating blue eyes. He looked almost unbearably handsome and Issie felt her heart leap. The last time she had seen this boy he had been kissing her goodbye on the front lawn of Blackthorn Farm.

“Aidan!” Issie couldn’t believe it. “Ohmygod!”

There was no chance of kissing Aidan now, even if he was supposed to officially be her boyfriend, because her mum was standing there staring at them both. And besides, even if her mum hadn’t been there, Issie thought, Aidan was acting kind of odd. She would have expected him to come up and at least give her a hug, but he was being all cool, sort of distant and aloof.

“So,” he said, hiding his eyes under his fringe, acting casual in a really awkward way, “how have you been? How was the trip back from Spain?”

“Good,” said Issie, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I sent you a postcard. Didn’t you get it?”

“Yeah,” Aidan said, “I got it. Why didn’t you call me? I thought you’d call me when you got back…”

“I was going to,” Issie said, “but I’ve only been back for, like, a day.”

“Sure,” Aidan said, “you’ve been busy. I understand…” But he didn’t look like he understood at all; in fact, he looked rather put out.

“What are you doing here anyway?” asked Issie.

Mrs Brown put down the teapot and placed her hands on her hips. “See? I told you!” she said to Aidan. “Issie had no idea you were coming either. Oh, this is so typical of Hester!”

Issie didn’t understand. “What are you talking about, Mum?”

Mrs Brown shook her head. “It appears that your Aunt Hester had another one of her genius plans that she forgot to tell us about. She’s sent poor Aidan here out of the blue. He was just explaining it to me when you arrived.”

“Aidan?” Issie was still confused. “What’s going on?”

“Ummm,” Aidan began, “there seems to have been a bit of a miscommunication. I thought you and your mum were expecting me. Didn’t you get the email that Hester sent you?”

Issie shook her head. “I only got back from Spain yesterday. I haven’t checked my emails for days.”

“Oh,” Aidan said, “so I guess you got a bit of a shock finding the piebald at the River Paddock?”

“Totally!” Issie said. “How did you know? I turn up at the paddock, Coco is missing and instead there’s this crazy piebald lying on the ground fast asleep, snoring like a train.”

“I don’t have a clue about the Coco part,” Aidan said, “but I can explain the piebald. I drove him up from Blackthorn Farm in the horse truck this morning and dropped him off at the paddock.”

“But why is he in the River Paddock?” Issie was still confused. “Who does he belong to?”

Aidan groaned. “That’s the thing…Hester was supposed to tell you…I thought you already knew.” He paused. “Issie, I don’t know how to say this, but…” Aidan winced, “he’s yours. I brought him here for you.”

By the time Issie was on to her third chocolate biscuit, she had managed to make sense of Aidan’s explanation.

It appeared that Issie’s lovely but utterly mad Aunty Hester was in trouble yet again. The last time Issie had visited Blackthorn Farm, a rambling old country manor high up in the hills near Gisborne, she had been helping Hester out of a tight spot. Her aunt ran the Daredevil Ponies, a troupe of stunt horses who were the best in the movie business. When film work had suddenly dried up earlier in the year Hester hit hard times and was on the brink of selling Blackthorn Farm and her menagerie of four-legged movie stars.

Luckily for Hester, Issie and Aidan, her farm manager, had come to the rescue. They both entered the Horse of the Year Show—Issie on Comet and Aidan on Destiny—and between them they won enough prize money to help Hester save the farm. Hester had been so grateful she had made the two of them her business partners.

It turned out that Comet had put in such a superstar performance at the Horse of the Year that Hester’s ponies subsequently became hot property on the showjumping circuit. Every showjumping rider in the country wanted a Blackthorn Pony in their stable and they were prepared to pay big money for them. Hester and Aidan suddenly found themselves with a lucrative business on their hands, schooling up and selling Blackthorn Ponies.

“Hester and I have been really busy training half a dozen up-and-coming young jumpers,” Aidan told Issie. “We’d planned to sell them at the end of the season. Everything was going really well until that movie, the same one that was cancelled earlier in the year, suddenly sprang back to life. Now it’s all on again and filming starts in two weeks.”

“I know. You emailed me about it in Spain. But that’s brilliant news, isn’t it?” Issie asked.

“Yes—and no,” said Aidan. “Hester has been working like crazy behind the scenes, trying to get the stunt horses ready in time for the cameras. She doesn’t have any time right now for the farm and it will only get worse when filming begins. I’ve been left behind to look after the Blackthorn Ponies. Some of them are at a crucial stage in their schooling, plus I’m snowed under with farm work. I was beginning to panic that I wouldn’t be able to cope, and that was when Hester decided we needed to involve you.”

“Me?” Issie squeaked nervously.

“Yeah, well, you are a partner in the business.” Aidan smiled. “So Hester had the idea of bringing a few of the young horses up to Chevalier Point for training.”

“A few? You mean there’s more of them?” squeaked Issie again.

“Uh-huh. I brought three of them with me in the horse truck. You’ve met the piebald. The other two are a chestnut and a dark brown—Jasper and Marmite. Both of them need loads of work too.”

Aidan grinned at the look of horror on Issie’s face. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to look after them as well. You’ll have your hands full with the piebald. I’ve asked Tom if he’ll take care of the other two. I’ve just taken them to Winterflood Farm.”

“Is that where your horse truck is?” Issie realised that she hadn’t seen it parked outside when she arrived.

“Uh-huh. I’m going back there shortly to help him settle them in, but I thought I’d better come here and see you first to explain about the piebald.”

“What’s up with that pony? He’s totally kooky,” Issie said.

“He’s a Blackthorn Pony, born and bred,” Aidan said. “So I figure he’s got a huge jump buried in him somewhere, but I really haven’t had the chance to do any schooling on him yet. He’s been broken in, but apart from that he’s just been turned out for two seasons now. I’ve only ridden him a few times in the past six months. I got on him for the first time in ages last week. I thought I’d better try him before bringing him here. Anyway, I thought he’d be all fizzy after not being ridden for so long, but he just about fell asleep under me. The only thing he loves, as far as I can tell, is sleeping.”

“I noticed!” Issie said.

“He’s kinda…quirky,” continued Aidan, “but he’s got no vices. He doesn’t buck or rear or anything, he’s just, well…you’ll see…he’s a bit of a…character. He needs someone like you, Issie. Someone who can focus on him and bring out the best.”

“But I already have Blaze and Comet! How can I focus on him when I have two other horses I’m supposed to be riding?” Issie protested.

“I’m working six horses a day at the moment,” Aidan pointed out. “I’m only asking you to manage with three.”

“Yes, but that’s your job!” Issie objected. “I’ve got school to worry about.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Mrs Brown said wryly as she reached between Issie and Aidan to restock the chocolate biscuit plate. “I’ve never noticed you being particularly concerned about your horses getting in the way of school work before, Isadora. You have grown up since you got back from Spain!”

Her mother’s sarcasm was not lost on her, but Issie decided to ignore it. “I’ve got exams this term,” she continued. “It’s different. And looking after three horses is a lot harder than two.”

Aidan’s smile faded. “Issie, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this unless it was important. Hester has only just got the farm back on its feet again. You and I are her business partners now and she needs us to pitch in. Maybe by next season, when things have improved, she can hire another stable hand to help out with the training, but until then she’s relying on you.”

Aidan brushed his dark fringe back and looked into Issie’s eyes. She remembered the last time he had stared at her like that. It was just before his lips had touched hers, on the lawn under the cherry trees.

She remembered feeling as if her knees were going to buckle beneath her as she stood there that day. Now, when Aidan smiled at her, she felt herself going weak all over again. “Come on, Issie, what do you say? It’s just one horse. How much trouble can he be?”

Issie sighed. Aidan made it impossible to say no. Still, she had a feeling she was going to regret this.

“What exactly does Hester want me to do with him?”

“Compete on him,” said Aidan. “Right now that piebald isn’t worth a lot because he doesn’t have enough experience. But if you could ride him for the next few months and win a few ribbons or maybe even some trophies with him on the gymkhana circuit then he’d be worth a whole lot more.”

“You want me to take him on the show circuit and win championship ribbons?” Issie was stunned. “Aidan! Have you seen the state of him?”

Aidan gave her a cheeky grin. “What’s the matter, Issie? Are you saying that you’re only a good rider if you’ve got a fancy horse like Blaze underneath you to rely on? If the piebald is too tough for you to handle…”

“I didn’t mean that!” Issie cut him off. “All right,” she sighed, “I’ll do my best with him, but you’ve seen what he’s like—I’m not a miracle worker! I’ll try, but tell Aunty Hess that I’m not making her any promises.”

“Great!” Aidan said with obvious relief. Then he looked at his watch. “Listen, I hate to do this, but I have to go. I promised Tom I would help with the horses. And after that I need to head straight back to Blackthorn Farm.”

Issie’s heart sank. “Really? You can’t stay?”

Aidan shook his head. “No. I’m only here for the day. I can’t leave the horses and the other animals at Blackthorn overnight without anyone there to feed and check on them. I’ll try and make it back through soon though—maybe next week?”

“OK,” Issie said with an air of resignation. She had dreamt about seeing Aidan so often over the past month, but those dreams definitely didn’t involve him turning up with a nutty piebald pony to dump on her before racing off again.

As Aidan grabbed Avery’s car keys and headed for the door Issie walked with him. She was beginning to think Aidan was going to leave without giving her a kiss goodbye, but then at the last minute he leaned over and gave her a hasty peck on the cheek. The cheek! What sort of kiss was that? Aidan, meanwhile, was looking decidedly uncomfortable again. Something was definitely up.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Issie nervously.

“Yeah, well, I had something I wanted to say to you…” Aidan said.

“What is it?” Issie felt her pulse quickening. What was going on? Was he trying to break up with her? Was that it?

They stood there for a moment on the front step, both of them afraid to speak. And then, just as Aidan was about to open his mouth, Mrs Brown appeared beside them.

“You forgot your coat,” she said, handing Aidan a navy puffa jacket.

He froze with embarrassment, being caught in an awkward moment by Issie’s mum. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the jacket. Then he looked at Issie. “Anyway, I’ll talk to you later, OK?” he said. “I’ll give you a call.” And with that, he headed off down the front steps towards the gate.

Aidan was just opening the gate when Issie suddenly realised she’d forgotten to ask him a very important question.

“The piebald!” she called out after him. “What’s his name?”

Aidan turned to look at her. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” he said. “I’ve had no luck coming up with anything so far. I’m stuck, I’m afraid. I thought I’d leave it up to you.”

“How about Snoozy?” Issie suggested sarcastically.

“Up to you,” Aidan said. “He’s your horse for now.” He looked at his watch. “Oh, man, I’ve gotta go. Avery will be waiting!” He looked intently at Issie. “I’ll call you, OK? Good luck with the piebald.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Issie muttered under her breath as Aidan waved goodbye. “Thanks a whole bunch…”

Chapter 3

The Coco mystery was solved not long after Aidan departed when there was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Stella,” Mrs Brown said. “I told her you’d be home shortly. She said she was coming over as soon as you were back.”

When Issie opened the door Stella leapt through it and smothered her friend in a mammoth hug.

“You’re back!” she squealed. “Ohmygod! I missed you so much. Heaps of stuff has happened and it’s been awful not having you here…”

“I just went down to the River Paddock,” Issie interrupted her. “Where’s Coco?”

“That’s what I mean about it being awful,” Stella said. Her expression was grim beneath her red curly hair. “Coco is gone.”

“Gone? Where? What do you mean?”

“I sold her.”

“What?” Issie was stunned. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Last week. I didn’t tell you because you weren’t here obviously,” Stella said glumly. “I was getting so big on her—I had to sell her really. Remember how you said my feet were almost dragging on the ground?”

“Did you have to do it while I was away?” said Issie. “I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye to her!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Stella said, “but they wanted to take her immediately.”

She looked really miserable. “I wish you’d been here when she left. It was so awful watching them load her on the horse float and drive away. I’ve been crying all week.”

“Who bought her?” Issie asked.

“Do you remember Kitty from the riding school at Blackthorn Farm?” Stella sniffed. “Well, her mum said she could finally have her own pony and so they came and tried Coco out, and Kitty totally fell in love with her.”

“Stella, that’s great!” said Issie. “Kitty is super-nice and she’s a really good rider.”

Stella didn’t seem at all cheered up by this. The idea of her precious Coco being ridden by anyone else, even Kitty, didn’t make her any happier. “She’s all right I suppose,” she agreed grudgingly.

“But what about pony club?” Issie pointed out. “The new season is just about to start. It’s only a week until our first rally. What will you do?”

“That’s my big news!” Stella perked up. “He arrives tomorrow, so I’ll have him in time for the first rally next weekend.”

“Who arrives tomorrow?” Issie was confused.

“My new horse!”

“You’ve got a new horse already?”

“Well, not exactly,” Stella admitted. “He’s just on trial. I had one ride on him to try him out and now they’ve let me take him for a week to see if we get on. His name is Misty and he’s a fleabitten grey.”

“Has Tom checked him over yet?”

Stella shook her head. “He said he’d have a look at him for me this week before the first rally day.”

“I can’t believe it’s the beginning of the season already!” Issie said. “I wish I only had one horse. Now I’m stuck with three of them at once.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Issie! Just listen to yourself! Complaining because you have too many horses? Most riders would kill to have just one pony and you’re lucky enough to have three.”

“I know,” Issie checked herself. “I mean it’s amazing having three horses, but honestly, how will I cope? I was really looking forward to riding Blaze and Comet this season and now this great piebald lump from Blackthorn Farm has turned up and I have to train him too…”

“So Aidan just dropped him off and left him with you?” Stella said.

“Pretty much.” Issie nodded. She was still thinking about how odd Aidan had been when he’d turned up. Had he been trying to break up with her? If he was, she didn’t feel ready to tell Stella about it. Not yet anyway.

“What’s the piebald like?” Stella asked.

“He’s really tubby with a bit of a Roman nose and he’s got big black and white patches.”

“Does he have a name?”

Issie shook her head. “Aidan says I have to name him.”

“That is so cool!” Stella grinned. “I’ve always wanted to name my own horse.”

“What do you think I should call him then?”

“How about Tonto?” Stella said. “You know, like the Lone Ranger because he’s a cowboy colour?”

“What about Patchy?” Issie suggested.

“You’re kidding, right?” Stella pulled a face. “I tell you what, why don’t you come over to my house with Kate tomorrow night before the AGM. We can order a pizza and come up with pony names together.”

“OK,” Issie agreed.

“It must be awful for the poor piebald,” said Stella. “Imagine not knowing what you’re called! No wonder he’s a bit odd. I’m sure you’ll get on better once you’ve named him.”

Issie hoped Stella was right. Maybe her feelings about the new horse would change once he had a name, but right now the only thing she could think of calling him was a big fat nuisance.

From the very start, the following night was a disaster. First of all, the pizza arrived late and the girls were grossed out when they took a bite and discovered it had anchovies on it. Then the pony-naming session wasn’t a great success either. Stella and Kate’s list of suggestions all sounded like cuddly toys.

“I am not calling my horse Mr Snuggles!” Issie finally snapped.

“Geez, OK!” said Kate. “There’s no need to get grumpy.”

It was at that point that Stella’s mum, Mrs Tarrant, put her head round the bedroom door. “The AGM begins in ten minutes,” she said. “Pile into the car and let’s go!”

By the time Mrs Tarrant and the girls arrived at the Chevalier Point clubroom, most of the rows of fold-out chairs were already filled up with club members and their parents. There were loads of other riders that the girls hadn’t seen since last season and the first person that they bumped into was Morgan Chatswood-Smith.

“You’re back!” Issie said, giving Morgan a huge hug.

“How was the showjumping circuit?” asked Stella.

Morgan’s mum, Araminta, was a professional showjumper, and for the past season she had taken Morgan on the road with her, touring the country with her string of showjumping horses.

“Pretty cool,” Morgan said, “but you have to work really hard. I was doing loads of grooming for the other riders and I hardly ever got to do any riding myself.”

“At least you didn’t have to go to school! I would kill for three whole months without school work,” Stella said.

Morgan shook her head, “I wish! I still had to do the work—Mum home-schooled me. And you know how tough she can be about horse riding? Well, she’s even worse with maths!”

The girls nodded knowingly at this. When Issie first met Morgan she had been envious of her having such a famous horse-riding mum. But when Araminta put too much pressure on her daughter to compete Morgan started acting strangely—even sabotaging the other riders’ equipment at the pony club! Issie had found out what was going on and confronted Morgan and Araminta with the truth. Since then, things had been much better between them. Even so, Issie could tell that Morgan still struggled to live up to the high expectations of her competitive mother.

“Why don’t you guys come and sit with us?” Morgan said to Issie. “We’ve saved you seats.”

Issie looked across the clubroom and spotted Araminta in a seat in the front row next to Tom Avery. Two other riders, Dan Halliday and Ben MacIntosh, were sitting next to them.

Dan smiled and waved when he saw the girls. Issie grinned and waved back. It was hard to believe that there had been so much drama with Dan just a few months ago. He used to have a crush on Issie and there had been a stand-off between him and Aidan at the Horse of the Year Show as they fought for her attention. But that was all over now. Dan and Issie were back to being just the way they were before—really good friends.

“Hey, Issie!” Dan called down the row to her as the four girls took their seats. “What’s this I hear about you having a new horse? What’s he like?”

“Don’t ask!” Issie groaned. Everyone had taken their seats now and the meeting was about to begin. Issie glanced anxiously over her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Natasha Tucker’s not here,” Issie said. She scanned the room again to be sure, but there was no sign of the sour-faced girl with the stiff blonde plaits. Issie couldn’t help but feel relieved.

“You want to know my theory about Stuck-up Tucker?” Stella said to Issie. “I think she has a love-hate relationship with you.”

“You’re wrong,” Issie sighed. “There’s definitely no love. She can’t stand me.”

Any hope that Issie had of ever being friends with Natasha had disappeared forever after the Horse of the Year Show. Bratty Natasha had been training on her horse Fabergé with her expensive private trainer Ginty McLintoch and she totally expected to win. No wonder then that she was furious when Issie and Comet beat her in the big competition that day.

It made matters even worse, when Natasha and Ginty McLintoch offered to buy Comet after the show, and Issie refused to sell him to them. Ever since then, it had officially been war between the two riders.

The meeting had been scheduled for 8 p.m. and at ten past, Mrs Tarrant stepped up to the podium. She tapped the microphone to make sure it was working and then began to read from the stack of papers in front of her.

“As your departing club president, I am going to take you through the minutes of our last meeting…”

“Ohmygod,” Stella hissed to Issie. “I’m bored already!”

Issie couldn’t help giggling, but she quickly pulled herself together again as Avery shot the girls a stern glance.

Stella was right though; it was hard not to fidget as Mrs Tarrant went on about club fees and equipment rosters. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she plonked her stack of papers back down on the podium in front of her. “That takes care of all our business from last season.”

“Crikey! About time!” Stella muttered. The girls tried hard to suppress their giggles again.

“As you know, we’ve already voted in the new committee for the year and tonight I’ll be ‘handing over the reins’!” Mrs Tarrant grinned at her own joke, which she thought was very funny since this was a pony club, but no one else seemed to get it.

“Anyway, at this stage in the evening, I was hoping to hand you over to our new club president, Oliver Tucker…but I don’t think he’s arrived yet…”

At that exact moment, as if on cue, the front door of the clubroom swung open.

“Ahhh, Mr Tucker,” Mrs Tarrant said. “I had just about given up on you.”

“That’s our new club president.” Dan leant across to Issie. “Natasha Tucker’s dad.”

“Really?” Issie said, staring at the tall, blond man in the suit who now had everyone in the room turning around to look at him. “I’ve never, ever seen him here before.”

It wasn’t surprising that Issie had never seen Oliver Tucker before because, despite the fact that he had spent a fortune on Natasha’s ponies, until tonight he had never set foot on the grounds of the Chevalier Point Pony Club. He was a big-shot businessman, far too busy with corporate takeovers and property deals to make time for his daughter’s little hobbies.

Oliver Tucker wore a designer suit that stretched taut over his pot belly, well-padded from extravagant company lunches. My friends call me Ollie, he would often say by way of introduction. But this was untrue. No one called him “Ollie” because Oliver Tucker had no friends. He didn’t care—money was much more important and he had loads of that. This was just as well because he’d spent a fair chunk of it on horses to keep his daughter happy.

“I can’t believe he’s the new pony-club president,” whispered Issie.

“Mum says he won the ballot because no one else dared to stand against him,” Dan shrugged.

“Ohhh, scary!” Stella said. “So if that’s Natasha’s dad, then where is Natasha?”

Stella’s question was answered by a grunting noise on the stairs right behind Mr Tucker. “Hey, Dad! Urghh!…Can I get a little help here?”

Natasha Tucker appeared in the doorway behind her dad. She wore her trademark scowl and seemed to be struggling to carry something enormous in her arms.

“Hurry up, Dad!” Natasha squealed. “Take an end. I’m going to drop it!”

There was a definite flicker of impatience on Mr Tucker’s face as he came to his daughter’s aid and took one end of the object, helping to ease it in through the door.

The mystery object, shrouded in a velvet curtain, was about a metre wide and almost as tall as Natasha. Whatever it was, clearly it was very heavy as it took both Natasha and Mr Tucker to carry it through the clubroom towards the podium.

“Careful, Natasha, careful!” Mr Tucker instructed as they manoeuvred their way between the rows of chairs to the front of the room. “Hang on to it! OK, now take a step to the left…no! My left, Natasha! Not yours! For Pete’s sake, can’t you do anything right?”

Natasha’s face was puce beneath her blonde plaits as she dropped her end of the object with a thud on to the floor. Mr Tucker tutted at her and lowered his end gently so that the mystery object stood in front of the audience, next to the podium.

“Good evening!” Mr Tucker said, greeting them all. “As Mrs Tarrant said, I’m your new club president. I’d just like to say that this is a great moment for the Chevalier Point Pony Club. It isn’t every day that a man like myself, with formidable business expertise, makes himself available for such a role…”

Mr Tucker had been expecting applause at this point and was clearly disappointed when he was met with stunned silence. Unabashed, he continued. “As your new president I have many great plans for this pony club, which you will hear in good time. Tonight, however, I thought this would be the perfect occasion to announce some very big news for the senior riders in the room.

“Many of you have enjoyed the pleasure of Natasha’s company here at the pony club over the years.” Mr Tucker gestured to his daughter, who had found a seat across the aisle from Issie and was watching her dad speak with a smug expression on her face.

“It seemed only fitting that the Tucker family should donate a special trophy in Natasha’s honour to commemorate her great achievements at the Chevalier Point Pony Club.”

Stella, who couldn’t believe what she was hearing, suddenly doubled over and began to have a coughing fit.

Mr Tucker frowned at the interruption and continued. “The Tucker family believe in rewarding success. Most of you will never achieve as much as my daughter has with the calibre of horses I’ve bought her, but it never hurts to dream, eh?”

There were astonished mumbles from the audience at the rudeness of this remark, but Mr Tucker never noticed when he was being rude and ploughed on. “Underneath this curtain is my contribution to the Chevalier Point Pony Club—a grand prize that will be awarded each year to the senior rider who accumulates the most points in the Open Gymkhana, which will be held at the end of next month, here at the club.”

He stretched out a hand, gripped the corner of the velvet cloth and gave it a firm yank. The velvet fell away dramatically as the trophy was revealed.

“Ohmygod!” Stella gasped. The trophy looked like it had come from a popstar millionaire’s mansion. It was a rearing horse over a metre high, coated from hoof to head in brilliant gold. The horse’s eyes were made of turquoise, its mane sparkled with diamanté crystals and its hooves were studded with fake rubies. The giant gold statue was set on an ornate walnut veneer base, upon which, in grandiose, curlicued gilt letters, were the words: Natasha Tucker Memorial Trophy.

“Memorial? I thought you had to be dead to have a memorial named after you?” Kate hissed.

“That’s a trophy? It looks like an explosion in a jewellery shop,” Stella giggled. Issie, however, wasn’t laughing quite so hard. She was in a state of shock. Where did Stuck-up Tucker get the nerve?

“I can’t believe she named a trophy after herself!” Issie whispered. “Don’t you have to, like, win Badminton or the Olympics or something before you can do that?”

As Mr Tucker stood there expectantly Mrs Tarrant tried to lead a round of rather reluctant applause. This soon petered out and nobody seemed to know what to do next. Finally, Natasha stood up and whispered something to her father.

Mr Tucker nodded and then cleared his throat. “My daughter just wants to make it clear that, of course, as a senior rider herself at Chevalier Point this year, she is also eligible to compete alongside the other riders for the Tucker Trophy.”

“You are kidding me!” Stella squeaked. “She’s competing to win her own trophy?”

Issie was stunned. Only Natasha Tucker could possibly have come up with something so outrageous!

Standing next to her father at the podium, Natasha looked over at Issie, Stella and Kate, who were sitting with their jaws hanging open, and gave them a self-satisfied smirk.

As she walked back out of the clubroom behind her father she paused for a moment and looked Issie straight in the eyes. “You should go up and get a close look at the trophy while you can. Daddy’s leaving it here in the clubroom on display for the next two months, until the gymkhana, so you’ll get the chance to see it.” Then she added with a sneer, “After that, it’ll be going home with me—Daddy’s already built a display case for it in the living room.”

“Don’t you think you should actually wait until you win it first before you build a case for it, Natasha?” Issie replied. “There are a lot of good senior riders at Chevalier Point you know…”

“And you think you’re the best, don’t you?” sneered Natasha. “You always have done. You act like you’re better than me. Well, OK then, here’s your chance to prove it!”

“I wasn’t saying…” Issie began, but Natasha cut her off.

“You’re not the best rider at this pony club, Isadora. In fact, you’re not even in my league any more. I’ve got a better horse and a better instructor than you and I plan to show everyone when I take home that trophy at the end of the gymkhana!”

And with that, the bratty blonde turned on her heels and swept out of the clubroom, leaving Issie sitting there, gobsmacked.

Issie had known that there was no love lost between her and Natasha, but she hadn’t been prepared for this latest outburst. She had no idea how much Natasha seemed to genuinely loathe her!

Natasha had Issie in her sights and their rivalry was about to come to a head in the battle for this trophy. The new season at Chevalier Point had begun and they were off to a cracking start.

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