Pony Club Secrets

Mystic and Blaze
Stacy Greegg

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Mystic and the Midnight Ride

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

Blaze and the Dark Rider

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

Sneak preview…

Copyright

About the Publisher

Mystic and the Midnight Ride

For Venetia

CHAPTER 1

Please, please let it be sunny tomorrow, Issie had prayed as she went to bed the night before the gymkhana. But when her alarm clock woke her at quarter to six the next morning and she ran to the window there were grey clouds covering the sky. Still, there was no sign of rain and when she listened for a cancellation on the radio nothing was mentioned, so she headed out into the pre-dawn light to prepare Mystic for his big day.

Stella and Kate were already down at the River Paddock. Stella was busily brushing out Coco’s tail, while Kate was sectioning out Toby’s neatly pulled mane so that she could start plaiting it into tiny knots along the top of his neck.

“You’d better hurry.” Stella smiled. “Tom said he’d be here by seven to help us load them into the truck and take them to the show grounds.”

Grabbing Mystic’s halter out of the tack room, Issie set off across the paddock. The grass was wet with dew and her riding boots were soaked by the time she reached the spot where Mystic was grazing. The pretty dapple-grey was chewing up great chunks of fresh spring growth and barely bothered to raise his head to acknowledge her.

“Here, Mystic,” Issie called hopefully, hiding the halter behind her back with one hand and holding her other hand out towards the pony.

She had forgotten to bring a treat to tempt him with, but perhaps she could bluff the gelding into believing she had a piece of carrot or apple in her empty fist.

No such luck. Mystic had spotted the halter. He gave a deep snort of surprise, shaking his mane and trotting off to the other side of the paddock.

“Oh, Mystic, no! Not today!” Issie cried in despair.

Of course these things always happened at the worst possible moment. Like today. Issie was nervous enough about riding at her first gymkhana. Now she was running late – the others were nearly ready to plait up their horses and she hadn’t even started grooming. Even at this distance Issie could see that Mystic had got himself into a right state from rolling in the long paddock grass. There were chunks of dirt matted into his silvery mane and his hocks were stained bright green.

“Come on, Mystic,” Issie begged. She bent down, picked a handful of grass and offered it hopefully to the little grey pony. Mystic swivelled his ears towards Issie. He took one step forward, then another. Even though he was knee-deep in grass, the small bunch in Issie’s hand was too good to resist. Issie walked quietly up to his side and slid the halter rope around his neck. Then she eased the halter over Mystic’s nose and quickly buckled it up behind his ears. Success!

“Who’s a naughty pony then?” Stella giggled as Issie led Mystic up to the fence and tethered him next to her Coco.

“It’s not just Mystic,” Kate insisted. “I spent ages catching Toby this morning. It’s this spring grass. It’s making them all act like crazy colts!”

“Do you hear that, Mystic? I bet you wish you were a colt again, eh boy?” Issie laughed.

Mystic wasn’t a young horse. Issie had known that when she bought him. Back then she been told that the grey gelding was eighteen. But it was hard to tell the age of a horse. Her pony-club instructor Tom Avery reckoned that the little grey might actually be as old as twenty-five which was positively ancient in horse years.

The pony’s dapples had faded over the years from the dark steel of a young colt to a soft dove grey. Mystic’s back was slightly swayed too, from years of riding. Still, he was a beautiful pony, only fourteen hands high but he held himself so proudly he seemed bigger. His eyes were dark smudges of coal in his pale face, and they had the calm depth of a horse that has lived a little. Mystic certainly knew his way around a showjumping or cross-country course.

Issie sighed as she examined her horse’s hindquarters. “Oh, Mystic, why aren’t you a nice dark colour like Toby and Coco? Keeping you clean is twice as much work.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Stella said. “You can’t see the grass stains on Coco, but check this out.” She gave the chubby little brown mare a friendly slap on the rump and a circle of white dust appeared where her hand had been. “See? I’ve been grooming for hours now and I can’t get rid of it.”

Coco turned around to see what Stella was up to and gave her a sniff, nuzzling the girl with her velvet-soft nose. “No, Coco. I don’t have any carrots,” Stella giggled, “but if you win a ribbon today I promise you can have as many carrots as you want.” Coco nickered happily. It was a deal.

Stella and Kate were perfectly suited to their horses, Issie thought. Blonde and blue-eyed Kate was as lanky and long-limbed as her rangy bay Thoroughbred, while Stella, with her bunches of red curls and pale complexion dotted with freckles, was small and bubbly – the same personality as her chocolate-coloured mare.

Stella was Issie’s best friend. They had been best friends since the first day of primary school when they realised that not only did they both love horses, they also loved to draw. Even now, art classes were still a competition between the two of them – although their third form art teacher was less than impressed that all they ever wanted to draw was horses.

Issie grabbed a rubber band out of her grooming bucket, using it as a hair tie to secure her long, dark hair out of her face while she worked. Then she dipped her hand back into the bucket of brushes again, this time producing a stiff-bristled dandy brush, and got started on Mystic’s hocks, furiously scrubbing away at the mud. She gave Mystic’s two white hind socks a brisk scrub with a damp brush to remove the last of the marks, then set about bandaging his legs for the trip. It may only be a few minutes down the road, she figured, but Mystic might still injure his legs in the horse truck if they weren’t padded for protection.

The Chevalier Point Pony Club grounds were within riding distance of the River Paddock – about half an hour away at a steady trot. But the stretch of road that you had to ride to reach the pony club was treacherous. The club grounds were just off a busy main road, which made them a nightmare to reach on horseback. Most drivers had no idea of the danger they were causing as they raced past at top speed, never bothering to slow down in case they spooked the horses that were confined to the narrow grass verge on the side of the road.

On rally days, Issie usually rode to pony club the long way, using a series of quiet backroads to reach the grounds, avoiding the main road as much as possible. But today, she wouldn’t have to worry about the roads at all. Tom Avery was loading their ponies into his horse truck to drive them to the gymkhana so that they would arrive fresh and ready for the big event.

Issie had bandaged Mystic’s tail to keep it clean and was about to start with some last-minute mane-pulling when she heard the stern voice of her pony-club instructor booming out across the paddock. “Come on, girls, I thought you’d have them rugged up and ready to go by now.”

Issie turned around to see Avery striding towards her, a tall striking figure in crisp white jodhpurs and long black boots. His face was set in a serious expression underneath the mop of thick, curly brown hair. He held a riding crop in one hand, which Issie had never seen him use – except to thwack against the side of his boot when he was making a point. She guessed he carried it mostly to make himself look meaner.

Sometimes Stella would imitate Avery when he wasn’t around, whacking her crop against her leg and barking in a commanding tone, “Come on, chaps, get their hocks under them!” Issie and Kate would hoot with laughter at this impersonation, but the fact was that all three girls had enormous respect for their instructor.

Avery had once been a professional eventer – until he took a bad fall at the Badminton Horse Trials which finished his career for good. He didn’t talk much about those days, but Issie knew he had competed against the best riders in the world. He had even been on the same team as Blyth Tait and Mark Todd. But since his accident he didn’t ride at all.

Now he worked for the International League for the Protection of Horses, rescuing horses and ponies that had been mistreated and abused by vicious owners, and in his spare time he gave lessons to Issie and the other riders at Chevalier Point.

Hardly a glamorous life for him, Issie thought. After all, Chevalier Point wasn’t exactly the most exciting place on earth. It was a small town, perched on a peninsula of land. Issie’s mum was fond of saying that there were more horses there than people. Which may have been true. Certainly, if you loved horses then Chevalier Point was the best place in the world to live. With its flat green fields and rolling hills it was perfect horse country.

“Let’s get them loaded,” Avery instructed the girls. “We’ve got no time to waste.”

“Toby looks great in his new rug,” Issie said as Kate led him towards the ramp of the truck. The handsome bay wore a blood-red woollen blanket. Coco, too, was dressed up in her show rug made of navy-blue netting.

Wearing his plain old canvas paddock rug, Mystic didn’t look anywhere near as grand. “Don’t worry, boy, you look good just as you are,” Issie reassured him, worried that her pony’s feelings would be hurt if the others got all the attention. Mystic seemed happy enough with Issie’s praise. There was a definite spring in his step as he walked up the truck ramp, as if he knew he was on his way somewhere exciting.

Toby whinnied a greeting to Mystic as Issie tied the little grey up in the stall next to the big bay Thoroughbred. She gave each horse a hay net to play with for the five-minute trip and knocked on the window that separated the horses from the passenger cab of the truck to let Avery know they were ready to go. The overcast skies had cleared, the sun was out and they were on their way.

CHAPTER 2

Clouds of dust rose up from the truck tyres as Avery turned off the main road and down the gravel drive that led to the Chevalier Point grounds. Ahead of them were the pony-club gates, hemmed by a line of tall magnolia trees. Beyond the magnolias was another paddock gate and then a series of large plane trees ran like a leafy spine down the middle of the three paddocks that made up the club grounds.

On warm summer days riders could loll about in the shade of the plane trees while their horses rested. It wasn’t going to get that hot today. After all, this was the first gymkhana of the season. Still, Avery pulled the horse truck up in the first paddock under two of the biggest trees so that they would be shaded from the glare of the sun.

They unloaded the horses and set to work braiding manes, stencilling chequerboard patterns on to rumps and oiling the ponies’ hooves.

Issie had never seen so many riders at Chevalier Point before. The gymkhana was open to all riders in the district, and Issie tried to pick out which riders were from the various clubs by the colour of their jerseys and ties. The Chevalier Point club uniform was a navy jersey with a bright red tie and Issie could see two riders dressed in Chevalier Point colours riding towards her from the far field where the showjumps had been set up.

“Hey, dizzy Issie!” the rider at the front called to her as he cantered closer. “About time you got here. Ben and me have already walked the showjumping course.”

Dan and Ben were Chevalier Point Pony Club members. Dan had a flea-bitten grey gelding called Kismit, while Ben rode a grumpy Welsh pony called Max.

“Are the jumps very big?” Issie asked nervously.

“Huge!” Dan teased her. “And you’ve got to ride fast too, if you want to beat the clock. The best time with no faults wins.” He was grinning from ear to ear. Dan was a speed demon. He and Kismit would be the ones to beat in the jumping ring today.

No time to walk the course now, Issie decided. It was nearly time for the first event. She would have to check out the jumps with Stella and Kate during the lunch break.

“Hello, Kismit.” Issie reached out a hand to pat the slender grey on the nose. “I suppose you’ve been promised extra carrots for dinner if you go fast today?” She smiled at Dan.

“Hey! I don’t need to bribe my own horse to win.” Dan grinned back. “Anyway, we’re going to fill in our entry forms now. Do you want to come?” he asked.

Issie was about to say yes when she heard her mother calling her name.

“Isadora! Isadora!” Mrs Brown cried out as she strode across the field towards her. Issie groaned. She couldn’t stand the way her mother insisted on using her full name. Isadora. It sounded so snobby and girly, not at all the sort of name for a serious horse rider. Sure, Avery called her Isadora sometimes too, but only when he was telling her off during a riding lesson. Apart from that, everyone else, even her teachers at school, called her Issie.

“I’ve filled in your entry forms,” Mrs Brown explained. “Doesn’t Mystic look wonderful?” She gave the grey gelding a very nervous pat and held on to the reins, extending her arm so that she was standing as far away from Mystic as possible while Issie did up the girth.

Everyone said that Issie was exactly like her mum. It was true that they were both tall, tanned and lean with long dark hair. But Issie didn’t think they were alike at all. How could they be when Issie loved horses so much and her mother didn’t even like them?

Issie wished her mum would give riding a try. Maybe if she could experience for herself the thrill of cantering across open fields with the wind in her hair, she’d finally be able to understand why Issie adored riding so much. But her mum was way too scared to even sit on a horse, let alone canter one.

“What’s your first event?” Mrs Brown asked, still reluctantly hanging on to Mystic’s reins as Issie finished adjusting her stirrups.

“Paced and Mannered. We’re due in the ring any minute now,” Issie told her. She gave Mystic a stroke on his dark, velvety nose and her mum gave her a leg up.

“Come on, boy,” Issie murmured softly, leaning low over Mystic’s neck, “let’s show them what we can do.”

In the ring, several horses were trotting around warming up. Dan and Ben were already there. A girl that Issie didn’t recognise rode in on a skewbald with a peppy trot, a young girl on a chubby chestnut mare following behind her. The chestnut pony had a vicious temper. Her ears were lying flat back against her head – a warning to other horses not to get too close.

The prettiest by far in the ring, thought Issie, was a golden palomino with a star on her forehead and high, lively paces. “Wow! Isn’t that palomino gorgeous,” Stella said, reading Issie’s mind as the two riders sat at the edge of the arena checking out the competition. “I wonder who that rider is? I’ve never seen her here before but she’s wearing our club colours…”

The girl on the palomino had golden hair, almost the same colour as her pony, tied back in two severe plaits. She wore a tweed hacking jacket over her club jersey and had a sour expression on her face.

“I know who it must be,” Kate said as she rode up beside them. “That’s Natasha Tucker. Her family have just moved here. I bet she’s joined Chevalier Point Pony Club!”

The three girls were still eyeing up the palomino with envy, when it suddenly spooked at a plastic bag blowing across the ground. The girl with the sour expression jerked back in the saddle, wrenching on the reins and jagging the little pony sharply in the mouth with the bit. Regaining her seat, she raised her riding crop in the air and brought it down hard on the pony’s golden flank. “Stand still you brute!” she squealed.

Issie was stunned. “I can’t believe she just did that!”

“Don’t worry,” muttered Stella, “the judge saw it too and she can’t believe it either. Paced and Mannered? More like bad manners! There’s no way she’s going to get a ribbon for that behaviour. And neither will we for that matter if we don’t get in the ring pretty quickly. Come on! The event is about to start.”

“Trot on!” ordered the judge, a sturdy woman in blue stockings and a matching straw hat, standing in the middle of the arena. The riders obediently trotted around in a circle.

Issie urged Mystic into a trot and tried to look her best. Heels down, hands still, head up, she chanted to herself as she rose up and down to the rhythm of Mystic’s trot.

“Canter!” called the judge. Mystic cantered eagerly around the ring, ears pricked forward, tail held high. Unfortunately his canter was a little too keen. As he got closer to the chubby chestnut mare in front of him she flattened her ears and lashed out with her hind legs. Mystic squealed and shied to one side. Issie let the reins slip and had to grab a handful of mane to stay on his back.

“Halt!” commanded the judge. But there was no hope of that right now. Issie snatched the reins back up but it was too late. Everyone else had stopped their horses and Mystic was still doing an ungainly trot around the ring. She sat down heavy in the saddle and finally he came to a halt. Too late, though – the judge had been watching her mistakes.

When the winners were called into the centre of the ring Issie knew she didn’t stand a chance. Kate rode out with a grin on her face and a red ribbon tied around Toby’s neck. Behind her was the skewbald in second place and a boy on a brown pony came third.

The haughty girl with the palomino hadn’t got anywhere either. As the riders left the ring she barged past Issie and Mystic in a huff. “Get your stupid horse out of the way,” she snapped. Then she halted the palomino and turned in the saddle to glare at Issie. Her face was so bitter it looked like she’d been sucking lemons. “It’s all your fault anyway,” she continued. “If your horse hadn’t run wild in there and scared Goldrush I would have won this dumb event. You obviously have no idea how to ride. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Issie opened her mouth to protest her innocence, but it was too late. The sour-faced girl turned the palomino again and set off at a canter, leaving Issie reeling in shock and anger.

“What was that all about?” Stella rode up to join Issie.

“Well, Stella,” Issie said sarcastically, “it looks like I just made friends with the new girl.”

As Issie reached Avery’s truck she was still deep in thought, mulling over all the things she should have said to nasty old Natasha instead of just sitting there with her mouth hanging open. Then she heard Natasha’s shrill voice again. This time, thankfully, she wasn’t yelling at Issie. She was talking to someone on the other side of the truck where a silver horse float was parked behind a matching silver sports car.

“Mum, I hate this horse,” the girl wailed as she slid off the palomino’s back and threw the reins to a tall blonde woman wearing black sunglasses.

“Natasha Tucker!” scolded her mother. “Do you know how much money we’ve spent on that horse?”

“I don’t care!” Natasha barked. “She’s useless!”

“Sweetie, please just try to ride her for the rest of the day,” her mother sighed. “It seems like every horse we buy for you simply isn’t good enough. Give Goldrush a chance.”

“All right,” Natasha muttered. She was staring at the ground, kicking the dirt with her riding boot as she sulked. “All right then. But I really can’t be bothered. I mean, she’s a useless horse. And why do I have to ride anyway? Why won’t you buy me a snowboard?”

“Natasha,” her mother said firmly, “we’ve already bought you a jet ski and a pair of rollerblades and a mountain bike, and you don’t use any of them. Now, you told us you wanted a pony, and we’ve paid a small fortune for Goldrush, so you can jolly well get out there and ride her.”

With a dramatic sigh of resignation Natasha turned away from her mother and mounted the palomino again, giving her a sharp boot in the ribs as they headed back towards the arena.

Issie couldn’t believe it. Was Goldrush just another toy that this girl was getting tired of playing with? How could Natasha Tucker not love the beautiful palomino? And was this awful spoilt brat really the newest member of the Chevalier Point Pony Club?

CHAPTER 3

“Forget about Miss Stuck-up Tucker,” Stella giggled. The two girls were sitting on a tartan rug that had been thrown down on the grass next to Avery’s truck, noshing into the pile of sandwiches that Issie’s mum had prepared for their lunch. “Finish up your sandwich and we’ll go grab Kate and walk the showjumping course with Tom.”

The showjumping course was laid out at the far end of the club grounds. Avery was already there waiting for them.

“The key to a clear round,” he advised them as they set out on foot towards the first jump, “is never take any fence for granted. Especially the first one. Many a rider has a refusal at the first jump because they’re too busy thinking about what comes next.”

The girls followed along as Avery walked between the fences, describing the various obstacles and advising where the ponies should take off and land. Standing beside the third fence, a parallel rail painted in blue and white stripes, Avery measured the jump against his body. The rail was almost as high as his waist. “These fences are a decent size,” he said. “You’ll need to be thinking at all times. Keep your horse well-rounded with lots of power in the hindquarters. If you allow them to flatten out you’ll never make it over these jumps.”

Avery charted out the rest of the course, taking slow careful steps and measuring the strides needed between each fence. “When you’re riding I expect you to follow exactly in my footsteps,” he told Issie as he walked the line between the fences. “Don’t be tempted to cut corners,” he said. “Better to risk time faults than to have a refusal.”

As they headed back to the truck to saddle up, the girls stopped at the judges’ tent and collected their competition numbers, which had been written in black felt tip on to fabric squares that they tied on over their jerseys. Issie was number twenty-two, the last to go. An advantage, she decided, since she could watch the other riders and learn from their mistakes.

“Your first showjumping competition, eh? You must be nervous.” Dan gave Issie a grin as he rode up to join her at the side of the show ring.

“Nervous?” Issie tried to act cool even though her tummy was churning with butterflies. “No way! Mystic has done this sort of thing a million times before. I’m pretty relaxed,” she said airily.

“Still, hadn’t you better go over a few practice jumps?” Dan said, teasing her. “Maybe your problem is that you’re a little too relaxed.”

Dan was so confident, so self-assured. Issie couldn’t stand it any longer. She stared up at him with her hands on her hips. “You think you’re so cool, don’t you, Daniel Halliday? Well how about a little bet? The losing rider has to groom the winner’s horse for a week.”

As soon as Issie had opened her mouth she regretted it. What was she saying? Dan hadn’t meant to be mean or anything. He only teased her because he liked talking to her, she knew that. She also knew that he was a better rider than she was.

Still, she figured, even losing wouldn’t be so bad. She was more than happy to groom Kismit – and hang out with Dan.

Dan removed his helmet, pushing back his blond hair with one hand and then reaching that same hand out to her. “I could use a good groom,” Dan smirked. “Let’s shake on it.”

“Number twenty, Natasha Tucker on Goldrush, please enter the arena,” the announcer called over the loudspeaker.

With only three competitors to come, the showjumping course had claimed its fair share of victims. In fact, so far there hadn’t been a single clear round. Now it was the turn of Chevalier Point’s newest rider to try her luck.

Natasha cantered Goldrush into the ring, pointed the pony towards the first fence and gave her a swift slap with her whip. Goldrush gave a surprised snort and leapt forward, rushing the fence and catapulting Natasha back in the saddle. It wasn’t the best start, but somehow Natasha managed to hang on and re-settle herself for the second fence, which Goldrush took with a perfect stride.

One by one, the golden pony took each fence after that without a hitch. As they cleared the final fence, a serious oxer, the crowd let out a cheer. The first clear round of the day. With a fast time too – three minutes and five seconds exactly.

Issie couldn’t watch Dan as he entered the ring to begin his round. It wasn’t that she was too nervous to watch him; she would have loved to. But she had to warm Mystic up over the practice jump and get him worked in so that he would be ready when her turn came. She rode to the far end of the field and cantered him back and forth over the low crossed rails, all the time half-listening to the loud speaker to hear how Dan was doing. It would be dreadful to lose to Dan, she decided, but much, much worse if they both lost to Natasha.

Issie arrived back at the ringside just in time to see Dan clear the final fence. Kismit took the rails cleanly, then gave a high-spirited buck to signal the end of a clear round, nearly unseating Dan as the pair rode between the flags to finish.

“A clear round in two minutes and forty-four seconds for competitor twenty-one, Dan Halliday,” the voice over the loudspeaker announced. “That time puts Dan Halliday in the lead. Would the final competitor, number twenty-two Isadora Brown, please enter the ring.”

As the last rider to go, Issie thought to herself, at least she knew where she stood. With only two clear rounds before her, all she needed to do was go clear too and she would win a ribbon. But if she wanted to beat Dan’s time? Then she would have to ride faster than she had ever done before in her life.

“Let’s go, Mystic,” she breathed into the little grey’s ear as she leant down low over his neck. Then she squeezed her legs around his plump belly and trotted into the ring. As the judges’ bell went to signal the start of the round, Mystic tossed his head and Issie pressed him on into a canter. Her nerves disappeared as she kept her mind focused on clearing the first fence. She sat down heavy and urged Mystic on. He leapt it boldly and fought against her hands to get his head. “Steady boy,” Issie cautioned, holding him firmly and looking to the next fence. Again they took it cleanly and Issie’s confidence grew with each jump.

They were gaining speed now, until it seemed to Issie as if she were flying. The grey gelding fought against the bit to go faster still and Issie was forced to hang on tight to the reins to keep Mystic under control.

By the time they rounded the corner to face fences six and seven – a double combination – Mystic was in full stride and too strong for her to hold back. Issie found herself on a sharp angle as the headstrong pony rushed the fence and had to put in a last-minute stride to adjust himself. His hind legs went thwack against the top rail of the first jump and Issie could hear the crowd gasp and hold their breath as the pole rocked in its metal socket. Would the rail fall? She couldn’t look, she must concentrate on the next fence ahead of her. She tensed, expecting to hear the crash of the rail falling behind her, but instead she heard a cheer rise up from the crowd. The rail hadn’t fallen. She was still clear.

Over the next fence and there she was with just one jump between her and a clear round. As they neared the big oxer she felt butterflies rise in her tummy and tried to calm herself. “Trust your horse, Issie,” she commanded herself out loud. She gave Mystic his head and sat deep in the saddle. The dapple-grey took off perfectly and soared over the rails, landing cleanly on the other side. Clear round!

Mystic was flecked with sweat and snorting from his efforts as the pair left the ring. Issie slid to the ground and threw her arms around his neck giving him a hug and inhaling the sweet smell of warm, damp horse sweat. It must be the best smell in the world! Issie thought, breathing in deeply.

“Good lad, Mystic. Well done! A clear round!” she murmured to her pony, her face still buried deep in his grey mane.

“Hey, hey,” Dan called as he rode over to her, “what are you doing? Get back on your horse – you’ll have to ride into the ring in a minute to get your ribbon!”

But which ribbon? With three clear rounds, Issie’s time was crucial now. Had she gone fast enough to beat Dan?

“Competitor number twenty-two, Isadora Brown, a clear round in two minutes fifty-six seconds,” the announcer called. “The winner is Dan Halliday on Kismit. Second place goes to Isadora Brown on Mystic, third Natasha Tucker on Goldrush. Would all riders please come back into the ring to collect your prizes.”

As Mystic trotted into the arena, Issie felt like she was in a dream. It didn’t matter that Dan had beaten her. She had won her first ribbon. Mystic seemed to know it too; as the three riders cantered around the ring in a lap of honour he bristled with pride, flicking his tail and arching his neck.

“You are totally the best pony ever, do you know that?” Issie told Mystic as they rode back to Avery’s truck. “Just the best,” she repeated again proudly as she pulled the little grey up to a halt. OK, so she’d lost her bet with Dan and she’d have to groom Kismit for a week—she didn’t care. Second place. And a clear round! How fantastic was that?

Issie was just about to dismount and give Mystic yet another hug when she heard someone crashing about on the other side of the silver horse float.

“Stop that! Stand still, damn you!” Natasha Tucker’s voice was raised in a high-pitched squeal. She had been trying to take off Goldrush’s tack but the pretty palomino kept dancing nervously as the girl tried to undo her bridle. “Stop it!” Natasha shouted again, this time giving Goldrush a slap across the neck with her riding crop.

As the whip cut hard into her flesh the palomino reared up, jerking the reins out of Natasha’s hands. Natasha stood there helplessly as Goldrush planted her front legs back on the ground, standing on top of the loose reins and tangling them around her legs.

Caught in the reins, Goldrush went wild with terror. The mare tried to back up to get free, but found herself pressed up hard against Toby and Coco who were tied to the truck beside her.

What happened next came so suddenly that Issie didn’t have a chance to stop it. She watched as Goldrush kept backing up into the other horses, kicking out in terror with her hind legs. Then Toby gave a snort and pulled back hard against his halter rope. The knot gave way and his lead rope came loose. Coco, too, had worked her way free from her tether. Now, all three horses were loose and heading for the paddock gate.

It was then that Issie noticed that the main pony club gate was still open – someone must have forgotten to shut it as they had driven in to park their horse float.

“Hey! The gates. Shut the gates!” Issie yelled.

As the horses bolted through the first paddock gate and headed for the main gate, Issie saw people running after them, trying to divert them from the exit. It’s no use, she realised. They’ll never catch up with them on foot. But maybe she could reach them on Mystic.

She wheeled the little grey around and clucked him into a canter, leaning low over his neck. The horses were through the gate now and already clattering along the gravel driveway that would lead them to the deadly road.

In full gallop now, Issie and Mystic rounded through the gate behind them. “Come on, boy, we’ve got to beat them to the road.” Issie dug her heels into Mystic’s sides, urging him on even faster. Mystic was gaining on the horses but as they got closer to the intersection where the roads met, Issie realised they weren’t going to make it in time. She would have to ride out on to the road after the horses and try to herd them back again.

The clatter of gravel became the clean chime of metal horseshoes hitting tarmac as the horses struck the main highway. There was the honk of a car horn as two vehicles sped past, one of them narrowly missing Toby.

Issie quickly checked for more traffic then followed the runaway horses out on to the road. She pulled Mystic around hard in front of Toby and waved an arm at him, spooking the big bay and directing him back down the gravel drive, back towards the pony club.

If she could get Toby to lead the way, maybe the others would follow. It was their only chance. Two cars had already nearly hit them. How long could their luck last?

Suddenly the deep low boom of a truck horn sounded off behind her. Issie heard the sickening squeal of tyres and smelt burning rubber. As the truck rounded the corner towards her, everything suddenly seemed to go into slow motion.

To Issie it seemed as if Mystic was turning to face the truck, like two stallions set to fight. The grey horse reared up suddenly, throwing her backwards with such force that she flew clear of the oncoming traffic, landing hard on the shoulder of the road. There was a sickening crack as her riding helmet met with tarmac, the peak splintering as it took the full force of the blow.

Groggy from the fall, Issie tried to stand up, to move, but her vision blurred and she could taste blood in her mouth. In the distance came the screech of tyres again and then the most hideous sound she had ever heard, the sound of a horse screaming. Through the sirens and the traffic noise she could make out a voice calling out her name, and then everything faded to black.

CHAPTER 4

Issie could hear hoofbeats. In the pitch black she saw the blurry grey shape of a horse galloping towards her. Just out of her reach, the horse reared to a stop. His nostrils flared, and he pawed the ground impatiently, flicking his head and nickering to her. Then, as suddenly as he had come, he wheeled around and galloped away again. Mystic? It had to be. Issie tried to yell out to him but she couldn’t speak. What was happening to her?

“I think she’s coming round,” a voice broke through the blackness.

Then another voice, softer, calling her, “Isadora. Isadora. Wake up.”

And there she was, lying between the cool white sheets of a hospital bed, looking up into her mother’s eyes.

“My God, Isadora! You gave me such a scare.” Mrs Brown had tears in her eyes as she hugged her daughter tightly. The embrace was so strong, Issie found it hard to breathe and had to gasp for air. As she took a deep breath her chest ached and she let out a squeal of pain.

“Do your ribs hurt?” A woman in a white coat was leaning over her. Issie nodded yes.

“Isadora, my name is Doctor Stone,” the woman said. “I don’t think your ribs are broken. I suspect it’s just bruising. We’ll be sending you down to x-ray shortly to check. But first I need to ask you a few questions, just to check that you’re OK. You had a bad fall and you may be suffering from concussion.” The doctor held up her hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” said Issie. She was surprised at how wobbly her voice was. “And what day is it?” Doctor Stone asked as she checked Issie’s eyes with a little torch light. “Umm…Saturday?”

“Excellent.” The doctor was making notes on her chart now as she talked. “How old are you, Isadora?”

“Twelve,” Issie had to think for a moment, “but I’ll be thirteen soon.”

Doctor Stone gave her young patient a concerned look. “Now, I want you to think carefully, Isadora. I want you to try to remember the last thing that happened to you. Do you know why you’re here?”

Issie shut her eyes and tried to think. What had happened to her? She remembered the sound of a truck horn, and the way Mystic had reared up, as if to protect her from the huge steel vehicle that was bearing down on them. Then nothing, nothing but the tarmac rushing up to meet her, that inhuman scream and then the blackness.

“Where is Mystic?” Issie felt a wave of panic sweep over her. “Mum, is Mystic OK?”

Her chest ached sharply as she tried to sit up. “Isadora, please try and stay still until we can get those ribs x-rayed,” Doctor Stone said firmly. She turned to Mrs Brown. “I don’t think we’ll need to keep her in overnight. If the x-ray comes out OK, she can be discharged this evening.”

“But what about my horse?” Issie was cold with horror as she spoke. Her mum kept ignoring her questions about Mystic. Something was wrong. Mrs Brown had turned her head away from her now. At first she couldn’t speak. Finally, she faced her daughter and took her hand. Her words came softly but in Issie’s ears they were like crashes of thunder.

“Isadora, there was nothing anyone could have done. The truck…” Her mother’s voice trailed off for a moment. “…Isadora, Mystic is dead.”

“No!” Issie felt hot tears running down her cheeks. She was shaking, gasping once more for breath. “No!”

“I’m sorry, honey.” Her mother was still clutching her hand, and she was crying too. “Stella saw it all from the side of the road. You and Mystic saved the other horses, you know. If you hadn’t gone after them and herded them back up the driveway, who knows what would have happened. But then the truck came…” Mrs Brown stroked away her daughter’s tears. “You know, I think Mystic was trying to save you too. When he reared up and threw you clear of the truck, it saved your life. So it wasn’t just the other horses he saved. He saved you.”

“Isadora,” the doctor interrupted, “I’m just going to give you a sedative. It’ll take away the pain and let you relax for a while.”

Issie nodded vacantly. She didn’t really hear what the doctor was saying, and she could no longer feel the pain in her ribs. Instead, it was her heart that ached. An ache that consumed her entire soul. Mystic was dead.

Issie barely even noticed the sting of the injection that Doctor Stone gave her, but she began to feel its effects almost immediately. She felt woozy, and her muscles went limp. Through half-closed eyes she could see her mother sitting beside the bed holding her hand, then she drifted off, back into darkness, back into black sleep.

Her mother was still sitting by the bed two hours later when she opened her eyes again.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Mrs Brown ran her hand softly over her daughter’s forehead, smoothing back her dark hair. Issie’s complexion, usually a light olive colour just like her mum’s, was so drained and pale she was almost the same colour as the hospital sheets.

“I’ve telephoned your dad,” Mrs Brown told her, still stroking her hair as she spoke. “He said he would fly up to see you, but I told him it would be OK, that you were likely to be going home tonight. Still, he was very worried about you.”

“Sure he was,” Issie said. Since her mum and dad divorced three years ago it seemed like she hardly even existed. Her father had remarried and had a whole new family in another city now and it had been months since she saw him last. What made her mum think that just because she’d been in an accident he would come running?

“Anyway, he sent you these.” Mrs Brown lifted up a pot of yellow chrysanthemums and plonked them down on the table by Issie’s bed.

“Issie,” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s hand, “when you’re ready to talk about what happened to Mystic…”

“Mum, I don’t want to. Not yet…” Issie was trying hard not to start crying all over again. She looked down at the bed clothes, refusing to meet her mother’s eyes. “Can’t I…can’t we just go home now? I just want it all to be over.”

“I’m sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting?” Doctor Stone entered the room. “Only we really need to get Isadora down to x-ray now.”

Mrs Brown sighed. “Of course. We can talk later when we get home.”

Two hours later, the x-rays had been taken and Doctor Stone’s diagnosis was confirmed: no broken bones, just some bruising, slight concussion and a large swollen lump at the front of her head where the peak of the helmet had connected with the road.

Issie was getting dressed to go home when she heard a knock. “Can we come in?” Stella and Kate stuck their heads around the corner of the door to Issie’s room. Issie gave them a weak smile and the two girls entered the room and sat down beside her bed. Kate looked pale with shock and Stella’s freckled face was flushed hot pink from crying.

“How are Toby and Coco?” Issie wanted to know.

“Well, Toby has gone lame. But it’s nothing serious. The vet thinks it’s a stone bruise from galloping on the gravel but he should be OK in a week or so.” Kate managed a grin.

“And Coco is just fine. She threw a shoe, but she wasn’t hurt,” Stella continued. “In fact, that run is probably the most exercise she’s had in years!”

“If you and Mystic hadn’t caught up with them…” Stella sighed. “Well, it was just the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.” She looked down at her shoes for a moment and then back at Issie. “I mean, I know there’s nothing I can do to bring Mystic back, but Kate and I were thinking…if you wanted to, you could ride Coco and Toby any time you like. We could even work out a roster. You could have Coco on Mondays and Tuesdays and ride Toby on Wednesdays…” She paused as Issie began to cry.

“Oh, Issie, I know it’s not the same as having your own horse but.…”

Issie shook her head. “It’s not that. Don’t you see? I don’t want another horse. Not after what happened to Mystic. I couldn’t…I’m never going to ride again.”

That night, home from the hospital, Issie found it hard to sleep. When she did finally close her eyes, the vision of the grey ghost horse returned. There was the pounding of hooves, and then once again the horse appeared and reared to a halt just out of Issie’s reach.

This time she could see his face more clearly. The smouldering charcoal eyes, the velvety nostrils flared with tension. It was Mystic. She was sure of that now. She held out her hand and the horse whinnied gently, lowering his head so that the tip of his nose traced just above the ground as he stepped towards her. Issie knew that the lowered head was part of “horse language”. It was Mystic’s way of saying, “I know you. I trust you. You’re part of my herd.”

She spoke softly to him now, “Easy, Mystic, easy, boy. It’s me, boy…” Her hand reached out and Issie felt a shock of wonder as her fingers touched the silver tussock of his mane. The sensation of the coarse, ropey hair against her skin was totally real. This horse was no ghost! It was as alive as she was. Why, if she only reached out her other hand and grabbed on to his mane, she was sure she could swing herself up on to Mystic’s back and ride him. Ride him just as she had done before the accident had ruined everything. She reached out a hand, but Mystic stepped backwards and pawed fitfully at the ground with his left front hoof. Then he turned again and galloped off, the silver stream of his tail disappearing into the blackness.

“I know it sounds stupid,” Issie told her mum at breakfast the next day, “but it was as if he was real. I mean, I know it must have been a dream, but it didn’t feel like a dream. It was like Mystic was really there, right in front of me. I even touched him!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mrs Brown took her daughter’s small, tanned hand in her own, “you had a bad fall and you’ve been through a terrible experience. It’s only natural that you’ll be pretty shaken up for a while. But you have to face up to what has happened. I know it hurts and you miss Mystic. But you’re lucky to be alive.”

Mrs Brown smiled gently as she reached over and poured out a cup of hot chocolate for Issie and a fresh cup of tea for herself. “Your father and I have discussed the best thing to do about this…” Mrs Brown looked down at her cup of tea. She paused, unable to get the words out. “Isadora, I know how much you love horses. And I know what happened wasn’t your fault. You were very brave to do what you did. But, well, your father agreed with me on this…” Mrs Brown finally looked her daughter in the face.

“Issie, I can’t let you have another horse. It was so terrifying when you were in that hospital bed and I didn’t know whether you would even wake up. I couldn’t go through that again. I am your mother and…oh, Issie, you have to understand I can’t risk something else happening to you. I know that you want to get another horse and—”

“No, Mum, you don’t understand!” Issie felt hot tears well in her eyes. How could her mum even think she would want a new horse? All she wanted was Mystic. She wanted her horse to come back to her. How could she explain to her mother that Mystic was more than just some pony to her? That he had been her closest friend, the one soul that she could confide all her secrets to, because he would never betray her. A kindred spirit who she could trust totally and love absolutely. The most important thing in her life. The truth was, she couldn’t explain it to her mother, or to anyone.

Issie took a deep breath and kept her eyes on the bowl of cereal in front of her. “I don’t care anyway.” Issie could feel the tears running down her cheeks; she wanted to stop crying but she couldn’t. She wiped her cheeks roughly with her sleeve and faced her mother. “I said that I was never going to ride again, and I meant it.”

CHAPTER 5

“You know Lisa Jones?” Stella was chattering away and looking absent-mindedly for a book in her school bag as they walked into Mrs Carter’s classroom for fourth period maths. “Well,” Stella continued, “her family moved to the Hawkes Bay and she had to go to this new school. I think it’s called Iona College. Anyway, it’s very posh and they get to ride horses at school. Can you believe it? Horse riding is actually a school subject! So instead of doing a stinky old maths class, you could go riding instead. Lisa grazes her horse there and she’s allowed to go and check on him at lunchtimes, and they even have proper stables with loose boxes to keep them in. I mean, that would be so cool, wouldn’t it?”

Issie just nodded, and headed for the back of the classroom, taking her usual seat at the far corner of the room. She was sick and tired of hearing stories about horses and how much fun they were. It seemed like ever since she told Stella and Kate that she wasn’t going to ride any more, the pair of them had been trying to come up with new ways to get her interested in riding again. OK, she knew her friends were just trying to help, but she wished they would leave her alone.

Stella leaned over from her desk and whispered to Issie, “Hey, Kate and I were thinking that after school, if you’re not busy—”

Issie groaned and cut her off in mid-sentence, “Stella, I don’t want to go riding. Not this afternoon. Not ever!”

“OK, OK, get over yourself,” Stella sneered back. “What I was going to say is that me and Kate, well, you know how Kallista Field has a pierced belly button? Well, they do piercings at Lacey’s chemist shop and we were thinking of getting them done too.”

Of course Issie knew all about Kallista Field. There were always stories about the young dressage rider in PONY Magazine. Issie even had pictures of Kallista up on the wall in her bedroom. Kallista wasn’t just a good rider, she was also tall and beautiful with long blonde hair. And she had a pierced belly button. Issie had seen it in photos and she had to admit, it did look pretty cool.

Stella kept on talking, “Kate says she still can’t decide whether to get one or not. But we were talking to Louisa Bull – she’s really cool, she’s a fourth former but I know her because she’s in my house—anyway, she has one and it looks so fab and she says it didn’t hurt much at all.” She poked Issie in the tummy and grinned. “You would look so good with one, Issie. So what do you say? Are you in?”

Issie winced and pulled up her jersey to look at her naked belly button. It was an innie, not an outie, a small, delicate whirl in the middle of her olive-skinned tummy. She imagined the piercing gun clamped over it, driving a steel ring through her skin.

“I don’t know…” Issie muttered. “Mum wouldn’t be too keen on it…”

“It’s OK,” Stella insisted. “I asked Penny and she said she would take us, so you don’t need to ask your mum.”

Penny was Stella’s older sister. She was much older than Stella and was in her first year at university. The two sisters both had the same curly red hair and freckles—and the same naughty streak too. If anything, Penny was even wilder than her little sister. And Stella always wanted to do what Penny did. Penny already had her belly button pierced – and her tongue!

“Come on,” Stella was whining. “Your mum won’t even notice. We’ll all do it together. It’ll be fun.”

Issie took her hand off her stomach and tucked the thin cotton of her school shirt back into her skirt, smoothing it down flat. She had always wanted to get a piercing. Even plain pierced ears weren’t allowed at Chevalier Point High. But a belly button? Who would ever notice it underneath your school uniform?

OK, so her mum would kill her if she found out. But who cared? Besides, why shouldn’t she have some fun and do something exciting for once? She was so tired of feeling this way, tired of being numb and depressed. Maybe Stella was right. It would look pretty cool to have a belly-button ring like Kallista.

“What sort of rings are there?” Issie sighed.

Stella let out a squeal of delight. “Yay! I knew you’d say yes! This is going to be great! There’s plain silver ones, or you can get ones with a stone in them,” Stella continued. “I was thinking of getting maybe a purple stone like an amethyst but you can get whatever you want.” She looked at Issie’s screwed-up face. “I swear. Honestly. It doesn’t hurt!”

A couple of hours later, Issie wished she had never taken Stella’s word for it. There she was, lying flat on her back on the thin white chemist shop bunk bed, looking down at her skin stretched taut under the clamp of the piercing gun. There was a felt-tip dot on her belly button where the ring would pierce the skin, and a woman with too much make-up on was busily daubing her tummy with antiseptic solution.

“Now take a deep breath and breathe out as the needle goes through,” the woman instructed. Issie looked away from the gun, trying not to think about it as she sucked in a deep lung full of air. As she breathed out she felt a sudden rush of pain.

“There. You’re done.” The woman smiled. Issie looked down at her newly decorated navel. It was red and tingling. “You’ll have to keep it very clean for the first couple of weeks while it heals, and whatever you do, don’t take the ring out,” the woman instructed, passing Issie some antiseptic to take home with her. “And try not to wear clothes that rub on it and irritate the site.”

“I can’t believe you two went through with it!” Kate shrieked as the three girls came out of the chemist into the bright sunlight to meet her.

“What? I can’t believe you chickened out on us!” Stella teased her back.

“I didn’t!” Kate insisted. “I never said I would get one. I only said I was thinking about it.” She leaned down and peered closer at Issie’s red, swollen belly button and pulled a face. “Eugh! Does it hurt?”

Issie looked pleased with Kate’s reaction. “Not really,” she lied. In fact, she could feel her tummy button all hot and throbbing where the ring had gone through.

“You know,” Stella began, “when Louisa Bull had hers done she told me that it went all infected and she woke up one morning and, oh, this is really going to gross you out, her mum had to take her to hospital because—”

“Stella! I thought you told me that Louisa’s belly button looked really cool?” Issie yelped. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened!” Penny snapped. “Stella! She didn’t go to hospital, she just went to the doctor and he gave her some ointment to put on it and sent her home again. Stop exaggerating and making up horrible stories.”

Penny pulled up her own t-shirt to show them her belly button. It had a silver ring with a green glass leaf dangling down from it. “Look, I’ve had my piercing for two years now and it’s fine,” she reassured Issie.

“I was just joking!” Stella insisted, grinning mischievously. “Hey, Issie, let’s go back to your house and try on clothes. I need to find a tank top that will show off my tummy button.”

The Browns had lived in the same house ever since Issie was little. It was a two-storey wooden home, surrounded by rambling, overgrown gardens. From Issie’s bedroom upstairs she had a view down over the big back lawn to the grove of trees at the end of the garden.

The view inside Issie’s bedroom, however, was one big mess. The girls had spent the past hour trying on everything in Issie’s wardrobe and the place looked like a stall at a jumble sale. There were pairs of jeans and shoes thrown all over the floor, and the bed was stacked so high with piles of clothes that you could barely see Stella and Kate, who were flopped down in the middle of it all on top of the duvet.

Issie stepped out of the wardrobe. She had stripped off the light-green pleated skirt and white shirt of her school uniform and was wearing a purple floral crop top and dark blue camouflage pants. She stood in front of the mirror to admire her new look. For once, her skinny boyish figure was working to her advantage. The pants hung down so low on her hips they exposed her stomach, showing off the freshly pierced navel.

Issie stared at her tummy button. It was still swollen and red, and even though she would never admit it, she was a little worried about what she had done. Stella’s story had scared her. What if the piercing really was turning septic? The skin around the ring did actually look all red and raw and it was hurting a lot more than she had thought it would.

Issie shrugged off her fears. At least Stella had been right about one thing, she thought, that silver ring did look pretty cool. It suited her, the slim metal circle resting perfectly against her tanned belly.

Issie was wiggling the ring and gazing at her reflection when she suddenly noticed the other two girls staring at her. Feeling embarrassed to suddenly be the centre of attention, she struck a ridiculous supermodel catwalk pose, pouting and throwing her head back, one hand on her hip, the other raised to blow a kiss to an imaginary camera.

The two girls fell about on the bed laughing. Stella was snorting so hard she was almost choking and Issie collapsed on to the duvet next to her in a fit of giggles.

As she lay there panting with laughter she realised this was the first time since the accident that she had been able to forget about Mystic and have some fun.

“Wait, wait!” Stella leapt up and grabbed a pair of sunglasses off the dressing table. She put them on, along with a pair of foolishly high heels that Issie had borrowed out of her mum’s room, and began strutting up and down the bedroom. “Who am I?” she asked giggling. “I’ll give you a clue,” she added, clearing her throat and talking in a mock posh voice. “I want a new pony! I want to go snowboarding! I’m a spoilt brat!”

“Oh, don’t…” Issie tried to stop laughing so that she could get the words out. “…we shouldn’t make fun of Natasha. It’s mean.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Stella snapped. “You haven’t had to put up with her at pony-club rallies for the past month. Honestly, she is such a snob she won’t even speak to Kate and me! At lunchtimes she ties her horse up at the other end of the paddock and refuses to even come near us.”

Stella looked distracted for a moment, then she bent over and examined her stomach. “I hope this ring doesn’t get caught on my jodhpurs when I’m riding.” She frowned.

Then she noticed Issie throwing her a sulky look.

“Oops. Sorry, Issie. I keep forgetting that you don’t want to talk about horses.” Stella smiled. “I guess I just can’t believe it, really. I know you feel awful about what happened to Mystic. But it was an accident. And, well, I don’t mean to be harsh, but Mystic was really old. So at least he didn’t have much longer to live anyway.”

Issie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She was used to her friend’s lack of tact. Stella had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But this was a bit much even from her. How would she feel if it was Coco that had died? Issie was trying so hard to hold back the tears that she felt too choked up to say anything. She wanted to say that Mystic was special. That he was her horse and that he may have been old but he had a young spirit that refused to give up. She wanted to tell her two friends how she still saw him every night. A silver ghost horse, too real to be just a dream. So real he felt like flesh and blood. Somehow Mystic was still there with her. She just wished she knew why.

The phone in the hallway rang. “I’ll get it,” Issie squawked, keen to escape this dreadful conversation, and the horrible feeling of tears welling up yet again in her eyes. She ran down the corridor, sliding on the hall rug as she made a grab for the receiver. It was Tom Avery’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since this morning.” Avery sounded serious. “Listen, Issie, something has come up. Can you meet me down at the horse paddock tomorrow morning at around eight?” He paused. “And bring the key to the tack room with you.”

When Issie asked him why, Avery became even more mysterious. “I need you to help me with something, that’s all,” he said, hanging up before she had a chance to ask any more questions.

Before Issie went to bed that night she set her alarm clock and laid out her favourite old faded blue jeans and a pair of boots to wear the next morning. She hadn’t spoken to Avery at all since the accident. And now this. Why was he being so mysterious? And what did he need her help for?

She sat down on the bed and pulled up her pyjama top to have one last look at her newly pierced belly button before she went to sleep. “Oh, well,” she muttered to herself, wiggling the little silver ring with her index finger, “nothing could surprise me now.”

But she was wrong.

CHAPTER 6

The pony-club paddocks were deserted when Issie arrived, except for the horses dotted about the field, grazing in the morning sun. Avery was nowhere to be seen, so Issie climbed over the fence and unlocked the tack room.

Standing in the tack room, she felt a rush of emotion as she looked at the hook and saddle horse where she had kept Mystic’s things. His leather halter and canvas paddock cover were still hanging there, but the saddle horse was bare. When Mystic had gone under the truck, her beloved Stubben saddle had been destroyed too. Not that it mattered, Issie reminded herself. She didn’t need a saddle because she wasn’t going to ride ever again.

As a further reminder of her vow, up there on the wall next to the empty saddle rack was a photograph. It was her and Mystic; taken the day that she had first brought the dapple-grey here to his new home. It must have been the end of winter, because Mystic’s coat was thick and fluffy with winter growth. His mane was long and flowing; it obviously hadn’t been pulled in months. His eyes were dark and steady, staring straight at the camera. And there she was with him, the wind whipping her long dark hair across her face so that her eyes were barely visible. She had one hand on Mystic’s wither and the other holding his lead rope. They made the perfect team.

“There you are!” Avery’s voice behind her made her jump. “Come on out for a moment, I’ve got something to show you. Oh, and bring that halter. You’re going to need it.”

Issie emerged into the sunlight to see Avery’s horse truck parked outside the gate. He climbed back into the cab again and gestured for her to swing the gate open to let him drive through.

As Issie closed the gate behind him, she watched Avery ease the vehicle alongside the loading ramp. When he pulled the truck to a stop, she could hear the uncertain shift of hooves against the matting floor. There was a horse in there! Of course! Why else would Avery tell her to bring a halter with her. But which horse? She looked out across the paddock to see Toby and Coco both grazing peacefully at the far end of the field. It wasn’t them on the truck then, but…The stamp of hooves became more restless and the high-pitched nicker of a horse could clearly be heard from inside the truck.

Avery leapt down from the driver’s seat and strode over to her. “Good, good,” he said. “All set then? Let’s go!” He began to unbolt the doors. “Issie you go in and put her halter on. We’ll put her in the pen by the tack room for the time being.”

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

“Oh, right. I’m sorry.” Avery smiled. “It’s a horse, Issie. And I want you to have her.” He held up his hand to stop her cries of protest. “Look, I didn’t mean to spring it on you like this. I understand how much it hurt you to lose Mystic. And maybe it is a little soon to expect you to get back into the saddle again. But I had no choice. You know about my work with the International League for the Protection of Horses, don’t you?”

Issie nodded.

“It’s my job to investigate reports of horses that are being mistreated or badly looked after by their owners. And if those horses are being neglected, then it’s also my job to take them away and find new homes for them. People can be unbelievably cruel,” Avery continued, shaking his head, unable to disguise the disgust in his voice. “Can you even imagine, Issie? No grass to eat, just dirt to live on. A paddock no bigger than a cattle pen. When the horse protection league found this mare, she was…well, you’ll see for yourself in just a moment what sort of a state she is in.

“Issie, I know it’s not fair to ask this from you. This mare is in a delicate condition. She’s very sick, one of the worst cases I’ve ever seen.” Avery’s face was grim. “She needs round the clock care from someone who really understands horses if she’s going to pull through. Even then she may not survive…And I know you’re still hurting from losing Mystic. But when I saw her I knew that you were the one to take care of her. To love her. Because she’ll need someone like you, someone who truly loves horses, who has a way with them, to bring her back to life.”

A faint, nervous whinny came from behind the door. “Now, come on,” Avery looked at her intently, “what do you say?”

Issie knew that there was nothing she could say. She just nodded to Tom, and stepped to the side so that he could open the door and let her in.

In her worst nightmares, Issie had never seen anything like the sight that was now before her. In the centre stall of the truck stood a chestnut mare. At least Issie supposed she was a chestnut. The pony’s coat was so covered in mud, and worn thin in great patches, that you could hardly tell what colour she was at all. From beneath the caked mud, her ribs stuck out sharply through her skin. Her rump, rather than being rounded and firm, was hollowed out where the muscles should have been. And the pony’s legs were covered in mud sores. But it was the pony’s expression which upset Issie most of all. The little mare wouldn’t even raise her head to look at Issie, and when she finally did look her way, her eyes showed pure terror. As Issie got closer the mare let out a long, low snort of fear. But she didn’t attempt to back away. It was as if her spirit was so broken she didn’t care what happened to her any more.

“Easy now, girl,” Issie cooed as she put the halter on. The chestnut mare flinched away from her hands as Issie fastened the halter buckle, but she was too weak to put up much of a fight. “Easy now,” she murmured again, stroking the length of the mare’s slender neck. Underneath the dry mud on her legs Issie could make out four white socks, and down the mare’s dainty face ran a white blaze.

“What’s her name?” Issie asked Avery as she tried to cluck the mare into moving forward and out of the truck stall.

“Doesn’t have one, I’m afraid,” Avery said. “At least, we don’t think she has a name. We never did track down the people who did this to her. We’re trying to trace the owners so that animal cruelty charges can be laid against them, but it’s not easy. So…no owners and no name.”

“I think we should call you Blaze,” Issie whispered to the mare, “after that pretty white blaze that’s running down the middle of your face.”

“Hey, hey, wait a minute,” Avery smirked, “you can’t just go ahead and name this horse.” He paused. “Unless, that is, unless you’re willing to keep her?”

“Oh, Tom,” Issie sighed, “of course I’ll keep her. Like you said, I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“You understand the rules of the ILPH, don’t you?” Avery asked. “If a horse comes into our care we can appoint a guardian for that horse. But that’s all you will ever be to Blaze – her guardian. You don’t own her, so she’s not yours to sell. If you ever change your mind about her or can’t look after her you must return her to the League and they’ll find a new home for her.”

Issie nodded, then turned to the chestnut mare. “Do you hear that, girl? I’m your new guardian. And I’m going to take real good care of you. Come on now, come out and see your new home.”

Issie led Blaze down the truck ramp and her heart nearly broke as she watched the little mare, all wobbly on her feet, gingerly putting one hoof in front of another.

She tied the chestnut to a fence rail. It had been hard to really examine her in the truck. Now, in the bright sunlight, she stood back and took a long hard look. She was definitely a pony, not a horse; Issie guessed she stood somewhere between fourteen and fourteen-two hands high. And there was no doubt that she was well bred. Even in such pitiful condition the mare showed signs of her Arab bloodlines. The classic dished nose and finely pricked ears gave her away. As did her legs, slender and delicate like a ballet dancer’s.

In the sunlight the mare’s coat was darker than Issie had first thought, a deep liver chestnut. Her mane and tail were a light shade of honey, almost flaxen blonde. Looking down at her legs, Issie could see that she did indeed have four white socks. In fact, the two hind socks were almost stockings – running all the way right up to her hocks, while the white blaze which began as a large star on her forehead continued in a slender streak all the way down her face to her velvety nostrils where it finally tapered away.

“She’s beautiful, Tom,” Issie breathed softly.

“We’ll have to keep her in the pen for a couple of days or so, I’m afraid,” Avery said briskly. “She’s too weak to be let loose to graze with the other horses at this stage. If they took to her she’d never survive the fight. I’ll try and sort out the grazing so she can have a paddock to herself in a day or two and in the meantime you’ll have to start bulking her up on hard feed and hay.”

Avery looked concerned. “We’re talking about more than a physical problem with this mare though, Issie. It’s her mind that needs the most care. She’s been through a lot. Whoever owned her must have abused her terribly. She doesn’t know how to trust people any more. And it’s going to take a lot of work and patience to win back that trust.

“Might as well get to work on the physical stuff straight away though, eh?” Avery pointed to Issie’s grooming kit and gave her a knowing grin. “I’ll bet there’s a decent coat under all that mud, so get to it! I’ve got to dash. You need to spend some time, to know her better. And,” Avery added, “of course you’ll need to talk to your mum about things too – but I’m sure she’ll be fine about it, won’t she?”

Issie was about to respond to this and point out that, actually, her mum wouldn’t be fine about it at all. But Avery wasn’t listening.

“Excellent then! Right. I’m off. I’ll check up on you both next week.”

And with that, Avery backed the truck out of the gate and left Issie standing there open-mouthed.

Issie stood there for a moment longer, watching the truck as it became smaller in the distance. Then she turned back to the horse and reached for her bucket of grooming brushes. As she lifted the dandy brush towards Blaze to scuff off the dried mud, the pony let out a terrified snort and pulled back hard against the rope, her eyes wild with fear.

“Easy, girl, I’m not going to hurt you,” Issie murmured. She put the brush down and reached her hand up to stroke Blaze’s neck and calm her down. But the mare wasn’t having any of it. She backed up, straining against the rope, her ears flat back against her head.

Issie felt terrible. She knew Blaze wasn’t acting up on purpose. It was simply that the poor horse had been so badly abused in the past she was scared of being touched. Issie realised it was only natural that Blaze would be scared of her too, but it still hurt.

Once more she moved slowly towards the horse, and Blaze backed even further away, letting out a low, long snort of terror.

“Blaze! How can I brush you if you won’t even let me get near you?” Issie pleaded, close to despair. Then she had an idea. In the tack room there were three large bins of hard feed for the horses, the first two filled with oats and chaff and the third with pony pellets. Issie grabbed a handful of these and walked back over to Blaze.

This time the nervous chestnut didn’t back away. She sniffed the air, then stretched out her long, elegant neck as far as she could without actually stepping forward. Food. She could smell it all right. But was she brave enough to take it? Still not moving a single hoof, the mare craned her neck even further, then used her rubbery lips to stretch out and snuffle up the pellets out of Issie’s hand.

“Good girl, Blaze,” Issie murmured, reaching her hand out once more to stroke the horse. Blaze let Issie’s fingertips graze against her mud-coated neck before she backed up once again, heaving with fear.

“Easy, girl, it’s OK,” Issie said, backing away herself, admitting defeat. She went back to the tack room a second time, but when she emerged again she wasn’t carrying a handful of pellets, but a slice of hay. Stuffing the hay into the hay net in the far corner of the pen, she managed to get close enough to Blaze to unclasp the lead rope from her halter so that she was free to go and feed.

“I think we’ve done enough for one day, hey, girl?” Issie spoke gently to the mare. But inside she wasn’t feeling so great about her first meeting with her new horse. How was she expected to feel when Blaze wouldn’t even let her pat her?

She stood and watched as the mare nervously ate her hay. One thing was certain: this wasn’t going to be easy.

CHAPTER 7

“Issie! Issie! I’ve got to talk to you…” Stella was panting from the effort of trying to catch up with her friend as she entered the school hall. It was Tuesday, assembly day, and they were late as always.

“Quick,” Stella grabbed Issie by her school jersey as she caught her up, “let’s sit up the back so we can talk.”

She pushed through the herds of Chevalier Point High students trying to find seats and made a beeline for the back benches, dragging Issie along behind her. “Here!” Stella squeaked, claiming two spaces on a bench at the far end of the hall by throwing herself down and using her bag to mark a place next to her for Issie.

“So,” she grinned as Issie sat down, “I know you don’t want to talk about horses any more, but this isn’t just about horses. It’s like a mystery or something…” She paused for dramatic effect, lowering her voice to a whisper. “There’s this new pony grazing at the pony-club paddocks and no one knows who it belongs to!”

Issie tried to speak, but before she could open her mouth Stella was rambling on again. “You should see this horse, Issie, she’s beautiful. Part Arab I think, well, she looks like an Arab anyway. She’s sort of a dark chestnut colour with a pale mane and tail, and white socks, totally gorgeous. She’s really skinny and stuff but apart from that she’s, like, the most amazing horse you’ve ever seen.” Stella paused for just a minute to take a breath and then started raving on again.

“I’ve asked everyone at the pony club and no one seems to know who owns her. Kate thinks maybe she belongs to Natasha—”

“No she doesn’t!” Issie snapped, fed up with Stella’s chatter. “She belongs to me. She’s mine.”

“What?” Stella squealed. Instead of shutting her up it seemed that this news had her more excited than ever before.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Issie! Where did she come from? How could you possibly afford her? Did your mum cave in and buy her for you after all? What’s her name?”

“Her name is Blaze,” Issie muttered under her breath. She could see Mrs Savage, the fourth form dean, glaring at her now. If they kept on talking during assembly then she and Stella were bound to get detention. “And Mum doesn’t even know about her. I can’t tell you any more now. It’s too complicated. I’ll explain after assembly – at lunch break.”

At lunchtime, Issie was on her way to the tuck shop to get a fruit pie when she was almost tackled from behind. “Gotcha!” Stella giggled, her arms around Issie’s waist. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on. I’m not letting go until you do.”

And so Issie told Stella the whole story—how Avery had found Blaze in a terrible state and brought her to Issie, who had agreed to take on the chestnut mare and nurse her back to health.

“And the worst thing is, she just doesn’t trust people,” Issie said. “Avery said I can ride her soon because she’s putting on weight, but I don’t want to rush things…It took me a week before she would let me brush the mud off her! She’s been so scared, Stella!”

“Oh, Issie, how dreadful!” Stella’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Poor Blaze. She must have been so badly mistreated by her old owners. That’s why she’s being so difficult. I’m sure you’ll make friends with her if you just keep trying. You can’t give up on her. She needs you.

Stella was buzzing with excitement. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping Blaze to yourself all this time too! We’ve got to go and find Kate and tell her all about it. She’s been dying to discover who owned the mystery horse. We’ll both meet you at the paddock after school.”

When Stella and Kate arrived later that afternoon Issie had already caught Blaze and was tying her to the fence, preparing to groom her.

“She’s beautiful!” Stella was breathless with admiration. It was the first time the girls had seen Blaze up close and even cool Kate was impressed.

“She’s got wonderful conformation,” she admitted as she ran her eye over the mare’s elegant arched neck, “and what a gorgeous face with that fantastic white blaze! Blaze is the perfect name for her.”

“You’re right, Issie, she must be part Arab,” Stella agreed. “Look at her lovely dished nose. I wonder if she has breeder’s papers?”

“I don’t know,” Issie said. “We don’t even know who her old owners were, so there’s no way of finding out what her bloodlines are.”

“Who could be so cruel, treating a horse like that?” Kate shook her head. “Does Avery have any leads to find the old owners?”

“Not yet,” Issie said, “but he’s reported it to the police so they might come up with something. Anyway,” Issie turned to Blaze, “you’re safe with me now, girl; I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Well,” Stella said, “I think it’s time for Blaze to meet the boys.” She turned to Kate. “Come on, let’s go catch Toby and Coco and do some proper introductions.”

The two girls grabbed their halters out of the tack room and set out across the paddock, leaving Issie alone again with Blaze.

“Good girl,” Issie cooed, reaching out to stroke the mare on her neck. But Blaze made a low snorting sound and quickly backed away. Issie knew better by now than to be disappointed by the mare’s behaviour. It was nothing personal; she understood that. Blaze’s last owners were cruel to her, so why should she trust anyone?

Issie had been taking it slowly with the mare, trying to gain her trust. Now, as she moved towards Blaze, she didn’t pick up a brush straight away. Instead, she reached out an open hand and stroked her wither. The chestnut leapt away at first, but as Issie tried again and again she finally stood still, letting the girl run her hands gently across her glossy neck, back over the wither and down her front legs, feeling tendon and fetlock, then back up again and along her rump and hindquarters, softly talking to the mare as she went.

All the time, Issie kept her gaze low and never looked Blaze in the eye. The stroking was something she had learnt in Avery’s natural horsemanship classes. Avery had also told her to keep her eyes down – horses are prey animals, and being met by the stare of a human predator was liable to spook them.

By the time Issie lifted up the dandy brush, she was thrilled to see that Blaze was almost relaxed under her hands. In fact, once Issie had scuffed the caked mud off her hocks and began to work on her with the body brush, the mare even seemed to enjoy the feeling of the soft bristles against her skin. When Issie took a thick, damp sponge and ran it down the white stripe in the middle of her forehead, Blaze gave a grunt of pleasure and lowered her head against Issie, using the girl as her scratching post, rubbing up and down against her.

“Hey,” Issie giggled. “Cut it out!” But inside she was pleased to see Blaze acting so friendly with her. She was starting to trust her.

“Hey, Issie,” Stella said as she led Coco up, tying her to the fence next to Blaze, “do you know those men:

“What men?”

“Over there,” Stella said, “in that white van. There are two of them. They’ve been sitting there watching us ever since we arrived. I thought they must have a flat tyre or something, but they haven’t got out of the van to fix it. They’re just sitting there staring at us. It’s kinda creepy.”

Issie put down her hoof-pick and turned around to take a look. Sure enough, there was a white van parked out on the kerb of the road. Two men sat silently in the front seat.

“What are you looking at?” Kate led Toby over to join them.

“That van over there,” Stella said, pointing towards where the two men were parked.

Suddenly there was the sound of an engine revving up, and the white van did a quick u-turn back up the street and was gone.

“Well, they sure left in a hurry!” Kate was puzzled. “Who were they anyway?”

“Never mind,” Stella chirped, “let’s ride.” She looked over at Issie who was still combing out Blaze’s mane. “C’mon Issie. Are you going to tack her up or not?

“I…I don’t think she’s ready to be ridden yet,” Issie said. Although she knew that the truth was she wasn’t ready yet. She was still nervous about getting up on the chestnut mare for the first time, and she certainly didn’t want to do it with Stella and Kate watching her.

“Besides,” Issie added, “Mum doesn’t know I’m here and I’d better get home before she starts to worry.”

“Issie, why haven’t you just told her?” Kate was shocked.

“I will, I will. I’m just waiting for the right moment,” Issie said.

The problem with this secret, though, was that it never seemed like the right time to share it. Every afternoon as she cycled home from the horse paddock Issie imagined herself telling her mother all about Blaze. But somehow, by the time she arrived home, her resolve to share her secret had faded. Not just yet, she thought. Soon. When I’ve nursed Blaze back to health and we’ve made friends. Then Mum will have to let me keep her.

And Blaze was getting healthy fast. In the short time that she had been at the River Paddock, the slender chestnut had put on condition at such a pace that her ribs no longer showed and her coat had lost its stark quality and was beginning to shine a deep burnished gold.

But it was the change in Blaze’s mood that mattered most. When Issie arrived at the River Paddock late one afternoon after school she found the mare with her head over the fence of the pen looking almost pleased to see her.

It had been three weeks now since the chestnut mare had been gifted into Issie’s care. Now when Issie tethered her to the fence paling, the mare didn’t flinch or jump under her touch. Her confidence in Issie had grown. She had begun to trust her.

“What do you think, girl? Shall I take you for a ride?” Issie buried her face in Blaze’s thick flaxen mane. She never thought she would want to get back on a horse after what happened to Mystic. But when she looked at Blaze now she suddenly felt this deep, strong urge. She wanted to ride again.

Then she suddenly realised – what was she going to ride her with? Mystic’s saddle had been crushed in the accident. And since her mother still didn’t even know that Blaze existed, she could hardly ask her to buy her a new one! “Looks like we’re going bareback for now, girl.” Issie smiled at Blaze.

She could use Mystic’s old bridle. It had a simple Eggbutt snaffle bit; just right for Blaze. But before the chestnut mare could wear it, it would need some adjustments. Her pretty Arab face was much smaller, more dished than Mystic’s solid features. Issie moved the cheek straps up a couple of holes and adjusted the cavesson noseband to match. Then she eased the bridle over Blaze’s head to check the fit. Perfect.

Issie grabbed her old spare helmet out of the tack room and, leading Blaze by the reins, she guided her out of the pen and positioned the mare so that she was standing parallel to the fence. Then she climbed up on the railings and threw herself lightly on to her back.

As soon as Issie mounted Blaze the thought struck her: What if this mare is actually unbroken? What if I’m sitting on a wild horse who has never had a rider on her back before?

Her fears disappeared as Blaze accepted her weight and the feel of the bit in her mouth.

“Let’s go, girl!” Issie clucked the mare on and gave her a dig with her heels. Blaze snorted and shot forward at a smart high-stepping trot, which almost rocked Issie off her back.

As Blaze trotted briskly on, Issie found herself sliding around. Riding bareback could be slippery. Without stirrups Issie couldn’t rise to the trot, and the bouncing made it almost impossible to stay on.

Holding on to a handful of mane, Issie wrapped her legs firmly around the mare and tried not to jiggle like a jelly as she trotted on. Steering was nearly impossible and it was all she could do to point Blaze towards the entrance to the dressage ring.

Too late she realised that the chestnut was going too far to the left. She tried to pull Blaze to a halt, but the sudden tug on the reins made her bolt forward, missing the entrance entirely. Instead of slowing down, Blaze broke into a canter and headed for the gate that led to the far paddock.

“It’s OK,” Issie told herself, “the gate is shut. She’s bound to stop.” But Blaze showed no signs of slowing down, in fact her canter increased in speed. Issie found herself completely out of control, her hands tangled in the flaxen mane as she struggled to stay on board.

“My God! She’s going to take the gate!” Issie couldn’t believe it. The gate between the two main paddocks must have been at least one metre twenty high and Blaze was racing at it in full canter, completely ignoring Issie’s frantic tugs on the reins. With her head held high, Blaze was fighting the bit, and Issie didn’t have the strength to haul her back.

A few strides out from the gate, Blaze gave a proud toss of her head, freeing herself from the reins, and then leapt. The chestnut mare arched tidily through the air, clearing the gate with room to spare, and Issie lost her grip on the mane and began to slide. As Blaze landed lightly on the other side of the fence Issie landed too – heavily on the ground with a thud.

The long grass helped cushion her fall. Still, she felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder, and it took her a minute to get her breath back.

As she got up and wiped the dirt off her jodhpurs Issie was shaking and tears of anger and frustration welled up in her eyes. She should never have been so cocky, she realised. After all she’d never ridden Blaze before. She had no idea what this horse was capable of. And yet there she went, as bold as brass, climbing on board and trotting off as if she were the world’s best rider. Well, she had paid the price for it. She straightened up, giving her limbs a shake to check that everything was in working order, and looked around for Blaze, who already had her head down munching a patch of long grass as if nothing had ever happened.

Why had Avery given her this horse? It was obvious that Blaze was too spirited for her to ride. She had overestimated herself. She should never have given up on her vow.

“Maybe I’m really not meant to ride after all,” she sighed, reaching for Blaze’s reins. She led the mare back to the pen on foot, not willing to suffer another fall on the way home. Then she unbridled Blaze, gave her some feed and refilled the hay net and cycled home, her head stuck in a cloud of gloomy thoughts.

She should have known better than to take on this horse; she realised that now. Blaze was moody and unpredictable, not at all what she was used to. If only Mystic were still alive. With Mystic, it had all been easy, she had known what to do. The little grey had been so sweet, like her best friend. With Blaze, it was like she couldn’t do anything right. In fact, the mare didn’t even seem to like her!

Was it too late to change her mind, she wondered, and give the horse back to Avery? Issie knew the answer. Avery would probably take Blaze back but he would be so disappointed in her she wouldn’t be able to stand it. No, she had to stick at it. Things would get better with Blaze. They had to.

CHAPTER 8

“Isadora! Wait! What is that sticking out through your shirt?”

It was a quarter to four. Issie had just charged in through the front door to make herself a sandwich and change into her riding gear before heading out to see Blaze. She hadn’t counted on running into her mum. Or that her new body piercing would be so visible through the thin white weave of her school shirt.

“Ummm…” Issie wasn’t sure what to say. Lying to her mother would probably just make things worse. Best to tell the truth and get it over and done with. “It’s a belly-button ring. I got it done a couple of weeks ago,” Issie admitted.

“What? What were you thinking? Let me see it!” Mrs Brown made Issie pull up her shirt to show her navel, still red and puffy from where the ring had pierced the skin. “Oh, Issie! Why didn’t you talk to me before you had this done? Look at it! It could get infected!” Mrs Brown was furious.

“It’s only a belly-button ring, everyone’s got them these days,” Issie stood her ground.

“You know very well that you don’t charge off and do things like that without talking to me first,” Mrs Brown countered. “Honestly, Isadora. Since your father left it hasn’t been easy looking after you by myself. But at least I always thought I could rely on you to behave like a grown-up. And now you go off and do this! I’m really disappointed in you.”

“It just sort of happened,” Issie tried to explain. “Stella was having hers done and—”

“Stella! I might have known.” Mrs Brown was livid. “And I suppose if Stella was jumping off a bridge you’d be racing off to do that too, would you?” she snapped. “For God’s sake, Isadora, I thought you had more common sense. I hope you checked the equipment they used was sterilised? Heaven knows what diseases you could get from this. Where did you get it done?”

“At Lacey’s chemist. Penny went with us.”

Mrs Brown calmed down a little. “Well, even so, that doesn’t automatically make it safe. There’s still a chance that you could get an infection or blood poisoning. Have you been putting antiseptic on it?”

Issie nodded quietly.

“Isadora, I just wish you would talk to me before you race off and do these things, OK?” Mrs Brown fretted. “There are some decisions that are too important to make on your own.”

Issie took a deep breath. Now was obviously not the time to tell her mother about Blaze. After all, if she thought Issie was irresponsible getting her belly button pierced without her permission then how would she feel if she knew her daughter had gone ahead and agreed to look after a new pony without even asking her?

Mrs Brown gave her daughter a stern look. “You realise I should probably punish you for this, don’t you? It looks like you’ll be spending your time after school helping me out at the office so I can keep an eye on you.”

Issie’s blood ran cold. This couldn’t be happening. If her mum dragged her in to work with her every afternoon then how on earth was she going to get to the horse paddock to look after Blaze? With just a few weeks of school left before the summer holidays, Issie had been counting the days until she was free to spend more time with her horse. Until then, she could only sneak away for a couple of hours each day after school. And now she wouldn’t even be able to do that!

“No, Mum!” she squeaked. “Please don’t. I won’t ever do anything like this again. I promise. I was going to ask you first, only Stella made me go there straight away and…oh, Mum, please don’t ground me, please!”

“Well,” Mrs Brown considered, “I really don’t know…” She furrowed her brow and let out a deep sigh, examining her daughter’s pleading face. “OK, OK. But I don’t want to see you walking through that door with any more body piercings, is that clear, young lady? I want no more surprises out of you.”

“Oh, thanks, Mum!” Issie gushed, giving her a hug before bounding up the stairs.

Five minutes later she reappeared again in a sweatshirt and jeans.

“Where on earth are you off to now?” Mrs Brown asked.

“I won’t be long,” Issie said as she headed for the door. “I’m, umm…going down to the paddock to help Kate pull Toby’s mane.”

“All right, but be back in time for dinner. No later than seven, OK?” her mother yelled after her.

No more suprises? What would happen if her mum found out about Blaze? Issie thought about how she had lied to her mum. She felt bad not telling her about Blaze, but the time wasn’t right. Not yet. For now, the horse had to be her secret.

Kate and Stella were in the tack room when Issie arrived at the River Paddock. “I can’t find them anywhere!” Stella was grumbling as she rummaged through a pile of numnahs and old blankets on the floor.

“Find what?” Issie asked.

“The keys to the paddock gates,” Stella said. “You know how we always keep a spare set here in case we need to undo the padlock and get the horses out? Well they’re missing. And not only that, when I came down to the paddock this afternoon the tack room was wide open—and I could have sworn I locked it last night!”

“Maybe another rider was here after you and they left the tack room open?” suggested Kate as she straightened up the messy pile of horse blankets that Stella had strewn everywhere.

“Anyway,” Stella sighed, “the keys to the paddock are gone. What are we going to do? I wanted to go ride out today.”

“Let’s saddle up,” Kate said briskly. “We don’t even need to leave the River Paddock. We can head down to the back paddock and take a ride through The Pines.”

The Pines were a glade of tall pine trees at the far end of the back paddock. In winter the ground there was boggy, but in summer it was perfect for riding. A dirt track ran between the trees, scattered with pine cones and covered in a thick blanket of dark brown pine needles, which filled the air with their fresh scent.

The Pines had been Mystic’s special place. Issie had loved cantering him through the cool of the trees on a hot summer day. But she wasn’t so sure about Blaze. The path between the trees was narrow with low branches over it, hard to navigate on such a headstrong mare.

“Ummm, I don’t think Blaze is ready for that,” Issie had to admit.

“Oh, go on, it’ll be OK,” Stella insisted. “We’ll go at the front so she can follow us.”

The three girls set off at a trot towards the far paddock, Stella and Kate posting up and down, while Issie bounced along bareback. The weeks spent without a saddle had done wonders for Issie’s seat and even at a quick trot she felt secure on Blaze’s sleek back. As they got near The Pines she even forgot her fears and felt a surge of excitement at the idea of cantering through them again.

The back paddock dropped away down a grassy slope to the trees and the girls trotted down until they reached the path into The Pines. “Ready to canter?” Stella shouted back as she kicked Coco on, leaning forward and standing up in her stirrups so that her weight was out of the saddle.

Issie waited for Coco and Toby to go on ahead before clucking Blaze on to canter. But the mare was suddenly struck with fear at being left behind by her new friends. When Issie urged her on into a gentle canter, she sprang forward as if she was a racehorse in a starting gate, not at a canter, but in full gallop.

“Blaze, stop it, girl! No!” Issie pulled back hard on the reins, but Blaze was having none of it. She had set the bit between her teeth and was off.

At a canter The Pines were easy enough to ride through, but at full gallop with no saddle? Impossible. Worse still, as Blaze strained against the reins, her speed increasing, she began to gain quickly on the horses ahead of her. There was no way the path was wide enough for Blaze to pass the other horses – she would crash into them for sure.

“Out of the way!” Issie yelled to the riders ahead of her. “Blaze is out of control. She won’t stop!”

In front of her, Kate and Stella had heard the sound of hoofbeats before they even heard Issie’s cries. Now, they urged their horses on. There was no room for them to pull over to the side of the path, and no time to stop. The best option was to ride hard and try to make it to the opening at the other end of The Pines before Issie caught up with them.

The fiery Arab was still ignoring Issie’s attempts to slow her down, lost in the pleasure of her own speed. Her strides ate up the ground in front of her, and she was gaining quickly on Toby and Coco.

“Whoa now, girl!” Issie fought to keep her balance and grabbed up a handful of mane with the reins, pulling back as hard as she could. Blaze gave a rebellious snort and kept on running. In front of her, Coco was heaving with the effort of keeping up the pace, her coat flecked with sweat.

At a gallop the three horses emerged from the pine trees into the green clearing on the other side, and as Toby and Coco moved quickly out of the way Blaze powered forward, still in full gallop.

It wasn’t until Issie had reached the far end of the paddock that she was finally able to slow the mare down a little, first to a canter, then a trot and finally a gentle jog. Even though her sides were heaving from the run, Issie had to keep a tight hold on her horse to stop her from bolting off again.

“Steady, girl, good girl, Blaze,” she breathed, her arms trembling from the effort of hanging on to the reins. Her heart was beating like a drum in her ears.

“That was amazing!” Kate yelled out as she rode towards her. “I’ve never seen a horse run like that. Toby’s an ex-racehorse and Blaze even gave him a run for his money.”

“Good on you for staying on her back at that speed!” Stella was obviously impressed. Issie, however, was less pleased.

“This is the second time she’s got away on me.” Issie was shaking. “I just can’t control her. It’s like she goes crazy the minute I get on her back.”

Issie had been expecting sympathy from her friends, so she was shocked when Stella barked at her instead, “You’re being silly, Issie! Everyone knows you’re a natural rider. That’s why Avery chose you to take Blaze on. OK, so she’s being difficult. I’m sure all she needs to sort her out is a little bit of proper schooling. Talk to Tom. After all, he gave her to you. So why don’t you ask him for a little help?”

Stella was right, of course. Issie had been trying to struggle on alone. What she really needed was some advice. “I’ll ask Tom if he’ll meet me at the paddock one day next week when the holidays have started to give me a hand.” Issie nodded. “He’ll know what to do.”

Still, deep-down she doubted that anyone could really help her ride this spirited mare. Was Blaze too much horse for her to handle?

In the darkness of her bedroom that night, Issie had the dream again. It always began in the same way. The rhythmic sound of hoofbeats seemed to thunder out from the blackness and then the horse appeared like a silver mist in the gloom. As he came closer Issie could make out the misty outline of his body, the proud arch of his neck crested with a thick mane, and the long sweep of his elegant silver tail which trailed almost to the ground. The horse gave a soft nicker and came closer. He was just a few metres away now and Issie could see him clearly at last. It was Mystic. His dark-rimmed eyes looked at Issie intently and he was still for a moment. Then he pawed the ground and gave an agitated shake of his mane, before breaking into a high-stepping trot and heading straight for her.

Mystic came to an abrupt stop right in front of Issie. She reached out a hand to touch him, but before she could get near enough Mystic went up, rearing on his hind legs so that his front hooves thrashed the air above her. At the same time he let out a terrible long, low squeal – the noise a stallion might make if he was rounding up his herd against danger. It was a sound so deep and piercing that it woke Issie up with a start. She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart racing, her pyjamas damp with sweat.

Even now, wide awake, she could still hear Mystic’s shrill squeal ringing in her ears. And then she heard something else. Not a squeal, but the drumming of hoofbeats. It sounded to Issie as if the noise were coming from just outside her bedroom window. Without hesitating she leapt up and raced to pull back the curtains, squinting out into the darkness.

She stood quietly at the window and held her breath as she tried hard to listen again. Nothing. The night air was completely still. Her eyes had adjusted now and she could see that the back yard was empty. Reluctantly, Issie let the curtain drop from her hand, moved away from the window and slipped back under the covers and into bed. It was all a dream, she told herself. But as she drifted back off to sleep she could have sworn she still heard the sound of hoofbeats somewhere out there in the darkness.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.