Storm and the Silver Bridle (19 page)

“Easy, Angel,” Issie soothed him. “Steady, Angel,” she said firmly. Angel was trembling at the very sight of Vega. Luckily, Issie didn’t have to line up right next to him. Two other riders from rival stables were positioned in the line between her and Vega, but that didn’t stop the mustachioed man from leaning over in full view of everyone and taunting her.

“Remember my kind offer, little girl! We have a deal!” Vega called to her. Francoise looked up at Issie, confusion and shock on her face. “What is he talking about, Isadora? A deal? You bargained with Vega?” Her voice was stricken with panic.

Issie ignored Vega’s taunt and his grinning face and looked down at Francoise. “Don’t worry, Francoise. I can’t explain now, but—”

“Issie… has he threatened you?” Francoise asked. “Listen to me! Vega is not to be trusted. What did he say to you?”

“Francoise… I—” Issie wanted to explain, but before she had the chance to finish the sentence there was another loud honk of the horn, signalling that the grooms
had to let go of the horses now, and leave the jockeys to line up alone behind the rope, ready to start the race.

Francoise gave Issie one last, long pleading look and let go of Angel’s reins and walked away. Issie watched her go. She wished she could have told Francoise, but there just wasn’t time. The race was about to begin.

Issie took a tighter grip on Angel’s reins and stood up in the stirrups of her saddle, ready for the rope to drop and the break to come. Above the sounds of the flamenco and the clacking of the castanets she could hear a louder rhythm, the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. She was about to risk everything and she knew it, about to turn her back on everything that she had agreed to with Tom and ride a different race, the race of her life. She hoped she was ready for it.

Beneath her, she felt Angel tense every muscle in his body, the rope pulling taut across his chest as the horses all lined up next to each other ready to run.

“On your marks,” the voice on the sidelines shouted, “get set… go!”

The pistol sounded and the rope dropped. As the horses broke, Issie remembered Tom’s advice. Get out in front of the rest of the pack and stay at the front. Ride in the lead and that way no one can touch you or try to hurt
you. It was good advice — under normal circumstances. But Issie wasn’t riding under normal circumstances. When the rope fell away, instead of letting Angel surge forward at the break as he had been trained to do, she did completely the opposite, holding the stallion back.

Angel tried to lunge forward, fighting hard against her hands. The other horses had taken off and he wanted to join them. He wanted to run! Issie’s arms ached from the strain of keeping him back, but she held him firm, allowing the other riders to get a whole length’s head start on the grey stallion before she finally loosened her fingers a little, leaned forward in the saddle and let him go.

Up ahead of her, Miguel Vega turned round and flicked a quick nod of approval at her. He could see what she was doing, holding Angel back so that the other riders were now ahead of her. From the sidelines, Roberto and Avery could see it too.

“What on earth is wrong with her?” Avery shouted over the noise of the crowd. “It looked like she was holding Angel back at the break! She’s supposed to get to the front! What is she doing?”

Issie was at the back of the field, mixed up with the other straggling riders at the rear, and now she was in danger of precisely the thing that Tom Avery had feared. As the riders
jostled and fought for position, Issie felt a hard blow on her shoulder as a jockey to her left riding a big bay stallion shoved her viciously out of his way. Issie let out a shriek, and tried to keep her balance, swerving to avoid the other rider. Then she pulled back hard on Angel’s reins, forcing the stallion to slow down and drop even further back behind the field. She was now right at the tail of the race, the very last horse, trailing the leaders by almost eight lengths as they came around the square and back towards the fountain that would mark the end of the first lap.

“What is she doing?” Avery said again as Issie rode past them. Instead of focusing on the track, Issie seemed to be paying no attention to the race! She was staring out distractedly over the buildings, looking out towards El Caballo Danza Magnifico.

“She has lost her nerve,” Roberto said. “She is too afraid to ride past them!”

As he said this, he caught sight of Francoise, who was running back to join them, pushing her way through the crowds to reach them. When she finally reached them she was exhausted, panting for breath as she tried to speak. “It’s Issie…” she said, “… I think something is terribly wrong! I think Vega has got to her and threatened Storm.”

“What do you mean?” Avery said.

“Look at her!” Francoise replied. “Don’t you see? He’s using the colt to blackmail her. That is why she is riding like this.”

Francoise took a deep breath and the words came tumbling out. “Tom, I think she’s losing on purpose. I think Issie is going to throw the race!”

As Issie grappled with the stallion, holding him back, she caught sight of Avery, Francoise and Roberto watching her with disbelief from the sidelines. It felt awful to do this to them. Issie only hoped that her plan would work and she would have the chance to explain once the race was done.

Francoise had been right, of course, when she said that Issie was losing the race on purpose. She was holding Angel back, staying at the very rear of the field, letting Vega stay in the lead. It was all part of Issie’s plan. She had to make Vega believe that she was really going to throw the race.

Issie knew Vega was not to be trusted, but she had no doubt that he meant it when he threatened to put the
serreta
on Storm. She knew he wasn’t bluffing when
he told her that if she got out in front, he would signal one of his men to return to the stables and put the metal-barbed bridle on the colt. And so she was going to hold Angel back until the time was right to strike. She had to let Vega keep his lead, for Storm’s sake.

Beneath her now, as they came around to the end of the first lap, Angel snorted his objections. He had been straining on the reins since the break, and Issie could feel the leather cutting deep into her fingers as she gripped with all her strength to keep the horse back. Up ahead of her she could see the other riders. Vega was at the front of the field on Victorioso. He was at least ten lengths ahead of her now and there were ten horses between them. Issie needed to act soon, to put her plan into play. But right now she had no choice but to hang back. Vega’s men were watching her suspiciously. Vega had told them to keep an eye on her. When she made her move, so would they. Timing was everything and so she had no choice but to hang on to the reins, try to ignore the pain in her fingers and wait. As she came around the village square this time she had a clear view to El Caballo and she looked down at the gates, hoping to see the signal she was waiting for. Her heart sank — there was no signal.

“Come on, Mystic!” Issie muttered to herself. “I’m depending on you. Where are you?”

Mystic, meanwhile, was galloping as if his life depended on it, racing across the green fields where the mares grazed around the white walls of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. The grey gelding wasn’t alone. He was matched stride for stride by the leggy, bay colt who ran beside him. It was Storm! His head was held high as he ran for all he was worth, determined to prove that he could keep pace with the grey horse, sticking to Mystic’s side like glue as they ran together.

This was Issie’s master plan. It had all come to her like a vision in her dream last night just before Mystic had appeared.

Mystic was the answer. Issie couldn’t save Storm. But Mystic could. While Issie was at the village taking part in the race, Mystic could go to Vega’s hacienda, help Storm to escape, and bring him home. Mystic would be the one to rescue the colt — on his own.

The race created the perfect opportunity. Vega’s men were all at the village square and the stables were deserted. There was no one watching the colt, Nightstorm was alone and unguarded. When Mystic arrived at the hacienda there wasn’t a soul waiting to stop him.

Storm had gone mad with excitement when he saw the grey pony. It had been a simple matter for Mystic to encourage the colt to follow him by jumping over the five-bar gate. Storm had taken the fence just as easily as the paddock gate that he was only too accustomed to jumping back home.

The two horses had clattered down the cobbled stables, and straight out of the front gates as Mystic led Storm through the orange grove and across the pastures, towards the gorge.

All they had to do now was make it through the gates of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Issie needed to be sure they were safe. She planned to win this race, but not until she was certain that her colt was truly home and free from the clutches of Miguel Vega.

That was where Alfie came in. He was a crucial part of her plan. Alfie would look out for Storm and signal to Issie the moment that the colt had arrived at the stables by running the El Caballo flag up the flagpole. The flag was the signal. Issie would see it flying and know that she was free to give Angel his head and try to win the race.

That was the plan. So far, Issie had carried it out perfectly. She had stayed at the back of the field, making it look like she was completely willing to lose this race, waiting until she was certain that Mystic’s mission had been successful and the colt was safe at home at El Caballo again.

It was a good plan, but time was tight. Would Mystic get the colt back in time? Would she see Alfie’s signal? She needed to know that Mystic’s mission had been a success and that she could go ahead and try to win back this race — before it was too late.

As the crowds cheered around the village square, Issie kept holding Angel back at the rear of the other riders. They had turned the corner now to begin the second lap, and as she rode back around the square past the fountain, she could see down over the tops of the village houses once more with a clear view to El Caballo Danza Magnifico nestled in the valley below.

“Come on, Mystic!” Issie muttered. “We’re out of time.”

And then she caught sight of a vision that made her heart leap. A golden flag with a red heart was being raised up the pole so that it fluttered in the breeze. It was the signal! They had done it! Storm was home.

The sight of the flag was all that Issie needed to spur
her on. She felt a sudden chill run through her. Vega and Victorioso were still out in front and they must have been at least eight lengths ahead of her. She hoped she hadn’t blown it. Had she left it too late to make her move? Too late to win?

On the sidelines, Avery, Roberto and Francoise were thinking the same thing. “She has lost,” Roberto said. “Francoise is right. I think she has thrown the race on purpose.”

“Issie wouldn’t do that!” Avery snapped.

“No?” Roberto said. “Then how do you explain the way she is riding?”

Francoise kept her eyes on the race. “Even if she tries to claw her way back now,” the Frenchwoman said ominously, “I do not believe she can do it. There is too much distance between her and Vega. The race is halfway through. She cannot possibly gain the distance on him in time to win.”