Liberty and the Dream Ride (12 page)

Issie realised a few strides out from the Mushroom that she hadn't got Comet on the right line and had to put her legs on quickly to steer him straight. The skewbald took the jump a little unbalanced and knocked it with his hind legs. The white grease on his legs helped him skim over it without injury, but Comet dropped his nose on landing and Issie had to sit back to balance him up again so he didn't fall to his knees. It was a close call and the crowd gasped as the pony very nearly came to grief.

“Oh!” Mike Partridge echoed their concern. “Almost a nasty incident there at fence number three. She's still in the saddle, but can this seventeen-year-old rider pull the Pony back together again? Because coming up we have one of the biggest spreads on this course, the Bridge.”

As The Bridge loomed Issie still wasn't focused. Her brain was whirring. She was thinking back to Rio Rancho. Marcus had mentioned calling Valmont from the motel. She hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but now she realised that this meant Valmont had known exactly where they were that night. Could he have sent one of his men to dispose of Liberty there?

And what about the other night here in the stables at Kentucky Horsepark, when Marcus had fallen and broken his arm chasing the intruder? Could the hooded figure have been Valmont himself? The green passcard she'd found in the stables could easily have belonged to Valmont – his card had gone missing!

And if Valmont was now attempting to do his own dirty work then he was clearly getting more daring and more desperate as the deadline for his giant tax bill approached.

The Bridge came up suddenly in front of Issie and she kicked Comet on – one-two-three strides and hup!

“Beautifully executed over the Bridge on Blackthorn Comet,” Mike Partridge trilled. “This is exactly the sort of performance we were hoping to see from this young rider hoping to make her dreams come true. Here she comes now in towards the Angled Rails and she's taken those beautifully as well! Now the long gallop round the curve of the track as she comes in to tackle the Duck Marsh…”

As Issie headed towards the water jump she didn't know what to do. She was convinced that her suspicions were right and that Valmont was responsible for Promise's death. He must have drugged Promise before the horse went out on to the cross-country course, causing the heart attack. Valmont was killing his own horses for the insurance money and he was planning to murder Liberty next!

With a sickening dread, Issie realised that Valmont was already on his way to the stables with Marcus's passcard right now. He was going to get to Liberty and dope the mare before the cross-country! Issie felt her stomach clench. Stella and Liberty were in terrible danger and Issie was the only one who knew it – and she was stuck out here, riding the most important cross-country of her entire career!

“Here she comes,” Mike Partridge called out. “Isadora Brown is taking the bold, direct line straight into the Duck Marsh just as she's done at every jump so far, and look at this pony ploughing fearlessly into the water! Three neat strides and there he goes over the wooden duck! Brilliant riding on a very narrow fence – now which way will this young rider go? Will she go left and take the long route over the low rail or right and choose the short route over the jump into the second phase of the water?”

There was a gasp of amazement from the crowd as Issie did neither. She made a sudden U-turn in the water, galloping hard back the way she had come.

“Extraordinary!” Mike Partridge said. “She's turning round completely! She must have lost her path and got confused because she's going backwards! I'm afraid the judges may be forced to penalise this. There will be time faults here and possibly elimination and… hang on a minute! What on earth… where is she going?”

The crowd of onlookers were utterly mystified by her change of direction, but Issie knew exactly what she was doing. She was no longer competing in this cross-country. She couldn't take the risk of finishing the course when there was so much at stake. The time on her stopwatch had ceased to matter – she was racing for something far more important. She had to get to the stables straight away. She had to get back – before it was too late to stop Valmont.

As Issie and Comet thundered past the jump stewards and sideline officials they began shouting and waving frantically, trying to direct them back on course. On the Tannoy, Mike Partridge and Betsy Bevan were completely flummoxed.

“I've seen riders get eliminated for taking the wrong route,” Betsy Bevan was telling the crowd, “but in all my years I've never seen a rider suddenly start galloping in completely the wrong direction!”

Mike Partridge spluttered. “Isadora Brown and The Pony were clear at the Duck Marsh and unbeliev ably they've thrown it all away! This young girl, such a great hope for the sport of eventing is now galloping for… well, we don't know where she's going!”

As she bent down over Comet's withers and urged the skewbald on, Issie ignored the shouts of the concerned onlookers and rode for all she was worth.

It had been a snap decision halfway through the water jump to turn round and go back. Had Issie really just thrown away her chance to win the Kentucky Four-Star? All that hard work, those dreams, the sacrifice and the sweat, and the future of Laurel Farm and her horses had been cast aside in one sudden, crazy moment.

What if her theories about Valmont amounted to nothing more than an over-active imagination? How would she explain herself to Stella and Avery when there had been so much riding on this for all of them? But it was too late to change her mind now. Issie's impulsiveness had already destroyed any chance she had of winning the Four-Star.

And yet in her gut, Issie was certain that she was doing the right thing. If Valmont was planning to sabotage his own horse then he would do it now, while Marcus and Tara were out of the way watching the cross-country. He would give the mare the same drug that he had given Promise and when Liberty died in the middle of the cross-country course it would look like a heart attack, just like the last time. Poor Liberty would die in front of thousands of spectators and TV cameras, and Valmont wouldn't be anywhere near her at the time. It was the ultimate alibi for a perfect crime and the only person left in Valmont's way was the young girl in Liberty's stall preparing the mare for the cross-country… Stella.

Issie stood up high in the stirrups and urged the skewbald on. They had already raced back past the Angled Rails, the Bridge and the Mushroom and now as they reached the Stone Walls, Issie veered sharply to the right and headed away from the jumps and straight towards the course barrier.

Comet took one look at the four-foot-high red and white striped barrier rails and his ears pricked forward. Finally here was something to jump at long last!

The pony flew over the barrier as if it were nothing more than a cavaletti. Issie gathered him up and pushed him up to the bridle once more, galloping on towards the stable blocks. They were now in the avenue that led to the stables and they were approaching the traffic checkpoint. In the booth ahead the security guard saw Issie and her horse coming and stepped out, raising his hand to signal its rider to stop, blowing his whistle loudly.

“Sorry!” Issie shouted at him, “this is an emergency!”

The guard's whistle let out a shocked tweet as he realised that the rider wasn't stopping. He didn't have time to raise the arm of the security gates, but it didn't matter. Comet flew over that too like any other cross-country obstacle and Issie caught a quick glimpse of the guard's stunned face as he watched her gallop past.

When they reached the end of the avenue Comet's shoes chimed out on the concrete of the stable yards and Issie knew she had no choice but to slow down – it was too risky to gallop on such an unforgiving, slippery surface. She pulled him up to a trot and they wove their way down the first row of stalls heading for Stable Block D.

When they reached the stables the wide wooden sliding doors were already open and they trotted straight inside. Liberty's loose box was down at the far end and Issie trotted Comet until they got near and then vaulted down off the skewbald's back and ran the rest of the way on foot.

“Stella!” Issie shouted as she reached Liberty's box. “Stella, are you in here? Is everything OK?”

And then Issie saw her friend. She was sprawled out in the far corner of the loose box, her red hair covering her face as she lay prone and lifeless on the straw.

“Stella!” Issie raced towards her. She wasn't moving! What had Valmont done to her?

The stomping of hooves on the straw surface of the loose box floor made Issie suddenly stop in her tracks. She turned round and saw Liberty at the other end of the stall. Tyrel Valmont was gripping her halter with one hand. In the other, he held a syringe full of lethal-looking yellow liquid. Valmont clearly hadn't been expecting to be disturbed, least of all by Issie, who was supposed to be out on the course. A horrified expression passed over his face, but then he quickly composed himself.

“Thank goodness you're here,” he said unconvincingly. “I just came in and found your friend on the ground. I think the mare must have knocked her over.”

He tightened his grip on Liberty's halter and took a step forward. “You look after your friend and I'll take Liberty into another stall out of your way and—”

“Let go of her!” Issie warned him. “You're not taking Liberty anywhere!”

“I'm sorry?” Valmont looked wryly amused that this young girl was standing up to him. “Are you telling me what to do with my own horse? Because I don't take orders from my staff and the last time I checked, you were working for me.”

“I know what you did to Promise,” Issie said, holding her ground. “I know you killed him for the insurance money.”

Valmont's sense of humour disappeared. “That's a very serious claim, young lady,” he said. “I'd be very careful about what accusations you make.”

As he said this, Valmont let go of Liberty's halter and took a step towards Issie, and suddenly she realised that she had said too much.

“There's no need for anyone to do anything they might regret,” Valmont said as he moved closer towards her, the syringe still held aloft in his hand. “Come on, let's talk about it…”

Issie took a step backwards and then another and suddenly found herself up against the wall of the stall, unable to go any further. Valmont was getting closer and closer when, out of nowhere, a dark shadow launched through the doorway of Liberty's stall.

“Mystic!”

The grey pony was suddenly right there, manouevring swiftly between Issie and Valmont, placing himself in front of the girl to protect her.

“Hoi! What do you think you're doing? Get out of here!” Valmont began waving his arms at the dapple-grey to drive him out of the loose box. But instead of shying away, Mystic went on the attack, rising up on his hind legs, front hooves flailing.

With one deft blow from his left front hoof he struck Valmont, knocking the syringe out of the man's hand and Valmont dropped to the floor clutching his wrist, howling in pain.

The grey pony stood above him, malevolent and magnificent in his anger, his nostrils flared and his ears flat back against his head.

“Get him away from me,” Valmont whimpered. He was still clutching his bruised and broken wrist as he grovelled on the floor, afraid to move. “Don't let him hurt me!”

Issie ignored his pleas and went to the other end of the stall, bending down to examine Stella.

“Your friend's fine,” Valmont insisted. “They were only sleeping pills – I put them in her tea. She'll wake up soon. Now come and get this horse to leave me alone!”

It looked like Valmont was telling the truth. Stella was sound asleep and snoring. “Stella!” Issie bent over her best friend and shook her gently. “Wake up! It's me!”

“Wha… Issie?” Stella opened her eyes, “What's going on?”

“Come on, Stella!” Issie dragged her friend up to her feet. “I've got to get you out of here.”

“Oh,” Stella said dozily, “OK.”

As she stood up she stumbled forward, still half asleep, and then reeled back again on the straw bedding. Then she looked up and saw the grey pony standing sentry over the pathetic, slumped figure of Tyrel Valmont.

“Oh, hey,” Stella smiled dopily, “it's Mystic! Hi, Mystic!”

“Come on, Stella!” Issie dragged her up to her feet again. “Try to walk – I need to get you out of here.”

With Stella's arm draped over her shoulder Issie managed to drag her friend out into the corridor.

Outside the stall, Issie let Stella slump down on a bench, propping her against a wall. Then, after making certain that she was OK, she went back into the loose box, grabbing a cloth from the grooming kit on the wall. She hunted around in the hay for the syringe that Valmont had dropped, carefully wrapping it in the cloth, careful not to touch it with her fingers. She was pretty sure that whatever the yellow fluid was, it had enough strength to kill a horse and would be untraceable afterwards. She was also pretty certain that the syringe would have Valmont's fingerprints all over it.

“Watch him, Mystic,” she said to the grey pony as she left the stall. “I'll be right back.”

Issie put the syringe in the tack room and locked it in, pocketing the key and then she headed back into the stall. Mystic was standing exactly where she had left him. Every time Valmont tried to move so much as a centimetre Mystic stamped his hooves and flicked his head back, teeth bared, as a warning that if Valmont didn't want another broken bone then he wouldn't be going anywhere.

“Good boy,” Issie told the gelding. “Hold him a little longer, while I get Liberty out of here.”

Since Valmont had released his hold on her the silver-dapple mare had been cooped at the back of the stall. She stood there now tense and nervous, her flanks heaving.

“It's OK, girl,” Issie tried to reassure the mare as she reached out a hand to Liberty's halter. Liberty shied back in fear as Issie reached up to take hold of her, but as Issie spoke softly to her the mare relented.

“Hey, girl,” Issie murmured. “It's over now. He's not going to hurt you. You're going to be OK. It's all going to be OK.”

She led Liberty out of the loose box and along the corridor, putting her in one of the empty, open stalls further down. Then she bolted off the bottom half of the Dutch door and came back to the loose box.

“Mystic…” Issie began to say as she entered the loose box, but Mystic wasn't there any more. Instead, there was a man, standing in the middle of the room with Tyrel Valmont and he didn't look pleased to see her.

“You're the girl that jumped the barrier!” It was the security guard who Issie had ignored when she jumped the security gate. He must have followed her and Comet all the way down the driveway and hunted through the stables to find them.

“I can explain everything,” Issie said to him.

“It better be a good story,” the guard said. He was pink-faced and puffed from running after her.

“I had to get back to help my groom.” Issie pointed out into the corridor where Stella could now be seen lying back against the stable wall, snoring with her mouth wide open.

“That man next to you knocked her out with sleeping pills and then tried to kill his own horse.”

The security guard's eyes grew wide. This girl had nearly mown him down on her horse just a moment ago. Now he'd arrived here to find her with some red-headed kid on a bench in the corridor snoring and drooling on her T-shirt, and one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the eventing business lying in the straw with a broken wrist. What was going on?

“Please, you have to believe me!” Issie said. “Tyrel Valmont is a horse murderer!”

“This is preposterous,” Tyrel Valmont interrupted as he stood up, wincing in pain at his broken wrist. He looked at the guard. “I'm the head of the Valmont Stables. I could have your job for this. Now get out of my way and let me go—”

“Wait!” Issie said. “I can show you proof. I've got the syringe of poison that he used to try and kill Liberty. It's locked up in the tack room!”

Valmont went to push past the security guard, but the guard put up a hand and blocked his path.

“I'm sorry, Mr Valmont,” the guard said, “but this young lady here seems pretty upset. You just hang tight in here for a moment, sir, while I check out her story.”

Issie went to the tack room and brought out the syringe, which she handed to the security guard.

The guard looked at the vial filled with yellow fluid and then set it aside for a moment and dialled his phone. “Hello, police? It's Kyle Jones here. Yeah, I'm on security detail at the Kentucky Horsepark. Can I get a squad car sent straight away? There's been an accusation of attempted murder… Yes, ma'am – Mr Tyrel Valmont… No, ma'am, not a person; apparently he tried to kill a horse. Yes, ma'am, that's right – a horse. You heard me – A HORSE. For Pete's sake – just send the squad car, OK!”

The guard hung up the phone and turned to Issie. “You better not be pulling my leg – they think I'm crazy down at the station!”

“Thank you,” Issie said gratefully. “It's the truth. You'll see.”

The police arrived fifteen minutes later – at the same time as Avery, Marcus and Tara reached the stables.

Valmont tried to smooth-talk his way out of it, insisting he was innocent. But the hard evidence of the syringe, combined with the businessman's debts and the unsolved death of Valmont Promise, was all they needed to charge Tyrel Valmont and take him into custody.

“So where is Liberty? Are you sure she's OK?” Marcus asked.

Issie nodded. “She'll be totally fine. Valmont didn't have a chance to inject her. I put her in an empty stall.”

Marcus hurried off to check on the mare. Avery, meanwhile, was bent over Stella, who was finally beginning to wake up from the sleeping pills that Valmont had put in her drink.

“Tom! What are you doing here?” Stella slurred in a sleepy voice. “Do you want me to groom Mystic too?”