Storm and the Silver Bridle (14 page)

At this very moment the famed El Caballo stallions were in the middle of a training session, rehearsing their latest routine for the upcoming world tour. As Issie entered the school in search of Roberto her eyes fell upon
the stallions and the vision took her breath away.

In the arena, twelve perfect, white horses were marching in unison, lifting their legs up in a high, exaggerated Spanish Walk. One by one the stallions wheeled about, pirouetting, striking off at precisely the same time to dance a half-pass back across the sand.

It was a performance that any horse-lover in the world would have paid handsomely to see, and here was Issie, all alone, with a front row seat, watching the greatest performing horses in the business at work.

She gazed on, enraptured, as the elegant stallions, their manes cascading down their necks like white silk, tails flowing behind them like bridal trains, began to circle the arena, showing off their extended trot — their legs flicking out in front of them like ballerinas
en pointe
, graceful and poised…

“Stop! Stop!” There was a voice over the sound system. The riders, immediately aware that something was not right, pulled their horses up to a halt and turned their heads to look up at the man above them, sitting enclosed in a glass booth that looked down over the arena. Issie looked up there too and saw Roberto, sitting behind the microphone in the booth.

Roberto spoke again into the microphone and his voice
echoed out through the speakers in the arena. “Very good pirouettes,” he said, “lovely collection! But then what happened when you were doing the extended trot? I expect these horses to look like they are floating above the sand, not just trotting along like it’s a hack in the park! Remember when you ask for the trot to really drive them forward with your hips to get their legs active.”

He muttered something in Spanish that Issie didn’t understand and then spoke again clearly into the microphone. “We’re going to take it from the very start again. This time, I want to see their hooves strike the ground exactly on the beat of the castanets. OK? Let’s take it from the top!”

Roberto was about to say something else when he spotted Issie at the side of the arena. He gave her a wave. “Isadora, you are welcome to come up and join me in here,” he spoke into the microphone. “Use the steps at the back of the arena — the hallway leads you up to the booth.”

Issie did as he said, walking between the rows of tiered seating towards the far corner of the arena until she found the stairwell that led up to the glass viewing booth where Roberto was sitting.

Roberto greeted her warmly with a kiss on both cheeks. “You came to watch the horses train?”

Issie didn’t know what to say. She was too nervous to bring up the real reason for her visit. “Why did you stop them just now?” she asked. “I was watching them do the extended trot and I thought they looked OK. What was wrong with it?”

Roberto shook his head. “It was no good. Not enough elevation, not enough… magic. El Caballo Danza Magnifico has the best horses in the world — watching them perform must be more than just
OK
.” He stressed the word as if he found it distasteful. “They must be magnificent. It is easy to produce horses that can perform a reasonable pirouette or half-pass, but here we are always striving to reach the utmost levels of the
haute école
. It is that final polish that will make the crowd gasp with delight or cry with pure joy. This is what we must aim for.”

Roberto beckoned for Issie to take a seat next to him. Then he slid down the yellow button on the control desk in front of him and the lights in the arena faded to black. He pressed another button on the console and the music began once more, the sound of the Spanish flamenco. As the castanets began to strike up, Roberto slid the lights back on, the signal for the horses to enter the ring to start the routine again. Issie watched as they
came in single file down the centre line of the arena, peeling off one by one in each direction.

“I’ve seen this before,” she said to Roberto, “in Chevalier Point, when El Caballo was on tour. I saw them perform this routine.”

“We have changed it a little since then,” Roberto said. “There is a whole new dance for the Anglo-Arab mares to perform also.”

He took his eyes off the Lipizzaners in front of him now and turned to look at Isadora.

“Tell me,” he said, “how is Salome? The mare that you call Blaze. Is she happy in your country? She must miss her old life, running with the herd under the heat of the Spanish sun. She is so far from home, it must be very strange for her.”

Issie had never thought about it like that before. As far as she was concerned, Blaze was home. OK, so the mare had grown up here at El Caballo, but she was Issie’s horse now, and she knew Blaze loved her life in Chevalier Point.

“She’s great,” Issie said. “I haven’t ridden her since Storm was born, and it’s winter at home, but when the weather gets better I’ll be able to ride her again.”

Roberto smiled. “She is not an easy mare to ride. Anglo-Arabs can be highly strung and Salome is no
exception. It is impressive that you can handle her. Avery tells me that you are a very good rider.”

Issie squirmed nervously. This seemed like a good time to ask Roberto the question that she had come here with. “Roberto, I wanted to talk to you… It’s about the Silver Bridle.”

“What about it?” Roberto stiffened in his seat. He could see that Issie had something important on her mind.

“I know that you think that Marius can win the race,” Issie began, “but what if there was an even faster horse in your stable?”

Roberto shook his head. “Impossible. I am quite certain. Marius is my best stallion. Alfonso has raced him against every horse in my stable to prove it!”

“Not every horse,” Issie said.

Roberto looked at her. “And which horse is it that you suggest? Who do you think is faster than Marius?”

“Angel,” Issie said. “I think Angel should be your champion to race in the Silver Bridle.”

Roberto shook his head. “Did Francoise not explain to you?” he asked. “Angel is afraid of men. All of the men in my stable have attempted to ride him. He will not have a man on his back — not even Alfonso, and he is my best rider.”

“Angel’s scared of men — but he’s not scared of women,” Issie said. “He’s not scared of me. I can ride him, Roberto!”

“You?” Roberto looked hard at her. “How old are you? Fourteen? You are not a grown woman. You are not much more than a child.”

“I’m old enough. I rode him today — he was faster than Marius. You can ask Francoise and Alfie — they’ll back me up.”

Roberto raised an eyebrow. “You raced against Marius?”

“I didn’t mean to race him — it just kind of happened. Alfie and I were riding back across the high pasture and Angel totally beat him to the other side. Marius had a twenty-length lead on us and we overtook him.”

Roberto’s eyes narrowed. “The high pasture? You were near Vega’s hacienda?”

Issie winced at this. She had been hoping Roberto wouldn’t question how she came to be racing against Marius.

“Umm… yeah, Alfie was showing me around. You know, a full tour of the estate,” she offered. It was a feeble excuse, but Roberto seemed to let it slide.

“Anyway, it makes no difference if Angel beat Marius racing on the high pasture,” Roberto continued. “The Silver Bridle is not raced on open fields. This is no ordinary
race, it is a street fight, a rough contest, ridden by men who will stop at nothing to win. It is no place for a girl.”

“But Angel can win. I know he can!” Issie said. “Please, Roberto, let me prove it to you. Let Angel race Marius again. We can race on the streets of the square this time and that will prove to you that I can handle it. Then you’ll have to let Angel take Marius’s place in the race.”

Roberto bristled at this. “Have to? I do not have to do anything, Isadora. I understand that this race means a lot to you also — your colt is at stake. Still, it is up to me to decide who races for El Caballo. It is not your choice to make.”

Issie opened her mouth to speak, but Roberto raised a hand. “Wait!” he said. “I did not say no, did I? If Angel is as fast as you say he is, then I want to see it for myself. We shall have a match race as you suggest. Tomorrow we shall take both the horses to the village square and see whether you are right. If your horse can run as fast as he did in the fields, then he will be our champion for the Silver Bridle. But if he does not win, then you must accept it, and stand back and let Alfie and Marius take up the flag for El Caballo instead. Does that sound fair?”

Issie was overcome with excitement. “Thank you, Roberto. Thank you for giving me this chance!”

“You have much courage for one so young.” Roberto
smiled at her. “You will need all of it to best my son in this match race.”

“I won’t let you down,” Issie said. “You’ll see. Angel will prove how fast he is tomorrow.”

Roberto raised an eyebrow at this, then he said, “Tell me, Isadora, what will happen if we do win the Silver Bridle?”

“What do you mean?” Issie was confused.

“You will get your colt back,” Roberto said. “And what then? What will you do with him? Take him home to your pony club at Chevalier Point?”

“Why?” Issie said. “Is there something wrong with that? He’s my horse!” She could feel her pulse racing now. What did Roberto mean? Was he planning to try and take the colt off her?

“Do not panic,” Roberto said gently. “You must know by now, the colt is yours and no one at El Caballo would dream of taking him away from you.”

“Then why wouldn’t I take him home with me?”

“Because he is already home,” Roberto said. “Isadora, look around you here. You are standing in one of the greatest horse training institutions in the whole world. This is where Nightstorm is meant to be. Leave him here with us and we will train him for you. He can receive schooling here with the best riders in the world. He’ll be
taught
haute école
movements, far above anything that he might learn at pony club. We could fulfil the destiny of his bloodlines, make him a true El Caballo stallion.”

“Why would you do that? What would be in it for you?”

“You know how important Nightstorm’s bloodlines are to us,” Roberto said. “When Nightstorm comes of age, we would use him as a sire across our best mares. His progeny, his colts and fillies, would be invaluable for El Caballo. Then, with Nightstorm’s training completed, and with our fields full of his foals, we could return him to you.”

Issie didn’t know what to say.

“Do not answer me now,” Roberto told her. “Please, take your time and think about it. Search your heart. For you must know that this farm is Nightstorm’s true home. Just as it is still the home of his mother, Salome.”

“Her name isn’t Salome — it’s Blaze,” Issie said, “and her home is with me in Chevalier Point, just like Storm.”

Roberto was quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and low. “I can see the great love that you have for your horses, Isadora,” he said. “It burns like a fire in you,” and then he added, “but love does not always mean keeping things close to your heart. Sometimes it can also mean letting them go.”

He looked down at the arena where the stallions were now finishing their routine. The Lipizzaners were taking their bows, each horse lowering itself down on to one knee to bow its head, while the riders on their backs doffed their hats to the imaginary audience.

“They have finished. I must go down to the arena now to discuss their training. They have much that they need to improve on,” Roberto told her. “I am sorry our conversation must end here. But we will talk again, I am sure. With the race coming, there is much to be decided.”

“Yes,” Issie agreed. “There really is.”

At dinner that night, Issie was surprised when Roberto poured her a glass
of fino
sherry, just like the adults had, and then raised his glass.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Roberto said. “We are lucky to have friends here with us from across the world, friends who love and value their horses as much as we do. Tomorrow my son Alfie and Isadora will have their match race to see which of them will ride for the Silver Bridle and the glory of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. I wish them both luck.
Viva El Caballo!”

“
Viva El Caballo!”
everyone cried, raising their glasses.
Avery, though, did not raise his glass. It was clear he was not happy with Roberto’s decision, but he said nothing.

Issie, who was sitting next to Alfie, took a sip of her sherry. It was dry and almost bitter. “It doesn’t taste anything like the stuff that Granny has in her sideboard at home,” she said to Alfie.

“That depends on who your grandma is,” Alfie smiled. He began to eat his paella.

“Umm, Alfie?” Issie said. “I know that the Silver Bridle is, like, a really big thing for you. I just want to say that I’m not trying to take your place. If there was any way that you could ride Angel instead of me…”

Alfie smiled at her. “Yes, the race is a big deal for me. I have been training for it my whole life. Ever since I was a young boy I knew I wanted to ride in the Silver Bridle and bring honour to El Caballo.”