Storm and the Silver Bridle (2 page)

Issie was beyond grateful when Avery offered to keep Storm at Winterflood Farm and help her with his training. Together they began to ‘imprint’ the foal, teaching Storm to wear a halter, to lead and to stand politely while they brushed him and picked up his hooves.

Still, there were some things that Issie simply couldn’t bring herself to do. When the colt was five months old and Avery decided that he was ready for weaning, Issie knew she couldn’t bear to watch Storm and Blaze be separated.

“Can you do it, Tom?” she said, with tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it. It’s better if I just stay home.”

Avery understood. “It’s a normal process for all mares and foals to be split up, but they’ll be upset for a day or so,” he said. “I think it would be best to keep Storm here at Winterflood Farm in familiar surroundings.

He’ll feel more secure if he’s in his usual field. I’ll take Blaze down to the River Paddock.”

And so on the day of the weaning Issie sat at home hugging her knees miserably and watching bad movies on TV, while Avery separated the mare and her foal for the first time.

Blaze had been frantic when she was taken away from her son. She had whinnied and whinnied and paced up and down the fenceline, with a heartbreaking expression on her face as she searched in vain for her baby. But eventually she calmed down and began to graze and make friends again with her old paddock mates Toby and Coco.

As for Storm, the little colt had bellowed for his mother solidly all day and into the night. Then, just before Avery went to bed, he heard the trip-trap of the colt’s hooves on the gravel driveway. Storm had decided that no one was keeping him away from his mum any longer and had jumped out of his paddock!

Issie couldn’t believe it when Avery called to tell her. “Well, on the positive side, at least we know now that he has the makings of a good showjumper,” Avery said. Luckily the driveway gate had been shut and Avery had caught the colt before he got too far. “Don’t worry,”
he told Issie, “I’ve put him back in the magnolia paddock this time where the fences are a metre higher. I doubt he’ll get out again.”

With his attempted jailbreak foiled, Storm seemed to resign himself to his fate and began to make friends with Avery’s two horses, Starlight and Vinnie, who grazed in the paddock next to his. By the time Issie arrived at Winterflood Farm the next day she found her colt quite content with his new life without his mum, nickering happily over the fence to her.

“It’s all part of growing up,” Avery told her. “He’s becoming a horse.” Issie knew her instructor was right, but still, she worried about her colt.

Now Avery said Storm was ready for the next step—his first outing. For the past two weeks Issie had been practising with the colt in Avery’s horse float. At first she had simply got Avery to park the float around the back of the house in Storm’s paddock. She had dropped the ramp and let the colt sniff his way around it, putting one tentative hoof and then another onboard. Then, she had clipped a lead rope to his halter and led the colt all the way on and off the horse float, talking softly to him whenever he spooked or snorted, reassuring him that it was OK and nothing would hurt him.

By the end of the second week, Storm was so comfortable around the horse float that he would walk on all by himself and stand like a perfect gentleman as Issie fussed with his halter, tied up his hay net and then lifted the ramp and locked the colt safely inside. Once he was closed in she would leave him standing there for a few moments, just to let him see how it felt before she lowered the ramp and let him out again.

Today the routine would be just the same as the past couple of weeks, Issie told herself. Except today, instead of going nowhere and staying in the paddock, the horse float was attached to the towbar of Avery’s Range Rover.

“Easy, Storm,” Issie cooed to the colt. “We’re just going to go for a little ride.”

Storm lifted his legs in an exaggerated high step, wary of the leg bandages that Issie had put on him today to protect him for the journey. The colt raised his feet deliberately and precisely as he walked up the float ramp. Then he was inside and Issie was bolting the doors behind him before climbing into the Range Rover next to Avery.

“Is he ready?” Avery asked.

Issie took a deep breath and nodded. “Uh-huh. Let’s go.”

As the Range Rover rolled slowly down the driveway,
Issie twisted round in her seat and stared out of the back window at the float.

“Is he OK?” Avery asked her.

“He’s fine, Tom.” Issie turned to her instructor. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried so much, but it’s his first ride in the horse float, you know?”

Avery smiled at her. “The pony club is the perfect distance—just a few kilometres. That’s a good first trip for him. It will get him used to travelling and being around other horses. It’s all about breaking him in gradually to new experiences. We start him off by taking him to pony-club rally. Let him understand that it’s not a big deal, just tether him to the float for an hour or so, let him look around, then bring him home again. By the time he goes out to compete at his first gymkhana or one-day event he’ll be quite relaxed because he knows the drill.”

Issie nodded. Then she turned back to stare out of the rear window again, keeping her eyes locked on the horse float to make sure Storm was still OK.

If she hadn’t been so busy staring straight at the horse float she might have noticed the car that was trailing behind them to the pony-club grounds. It was a black sedan with tinted windows, and it had been following
them ever since it pulled out from behind the trees next to Winterflood Farm.

The black car kept its distance, travelling slowly behind them all the way to the pony club. When Avery pulled up to open the gates of the Chevalier Point club grounds, the sedan pulled over and parked out of sight behind the hedge across the road. A tinted window was lowered and a pair of binoculars appeared. Through the binoculars, dark eyes were watching Issie and her colt. They watched as Storm came down the ramp of the float, the binoculars trained directly on the colt as he looked about excitedly, letting out a shrill whinny, calling to the other horses. They saw the way Issie held the colt’s head firmly and talked to him all the time, and the way the colt responded to her voice, calming down as she handled him.

Then, satisfied that they had seen enough, the tinted window was rolled shut again and the black car silently drove off.

If only Issie had seen the car, she might have realised that there was something suspicious going on. But as the black sedan swept out of sight, she had no idea of the danger they were in. She did not know what was to come—for her, and for Nightstorm.

Issie might not have noticed the black sedan, but it was hard to miss the sour-faced spectacle that greeted her as they pulled into the club grounds.

Natasha Tucker had spent pretty much the whole season at pony club trying to make Issie’s life a misery. As Avery steered the truck through the gates and Issie caught sight of the girl with the stiff blonde plaits glowering malevolently at her it was clear that today was going to be no different.

Issie knew precisely why Stuck-up Tucker had her in her sights. Ever since the Horse of the Year Show, when Issie and her skewbald pony Comet had beaten Natasha, the girls had openly been at war. Natasha was still furious that Issie’s aunt Hester had refused to sell Comet to her.

Natasha’s trainer, Ginty McLintoch, had offered Hester a huge amount of money—$28,000! But Hester had turned her down and given the skewbald showjumper to Issie instead.

Natasha didn’t take no for an answer. She always got what she wanted and, despite the fact that she kept telling Issie that skewbalds were ugly, she had decided she wanted Comet. Ginty McLintoch had approached Issie twice since then on Natasha’s behalf and offered to buy the skewbald gelding. But each time Issie said no—which just infuriated Natasha even more.

Issie would never have given up Comet. She had really bonded with the skewbald since she brought him home to the pony club at the beginning of summer. Now summer was over—and so was pony club. The weather was turning rainy and miserable and the club grounds were already getting boggy. Today would be the last rally for a while. For the next month or so, during the very worst of the weather, the club would be closed and most of the Chevalier Point riders, including Issie, had decided to spell their horses over this time, leaving them unridden until conditions improved.

Issie had been torn when she realised that bringing Storm along today meant she would miss her chance to
ride Comet at the final rally of the season. She had even thought she might be able to ride Blaze to pony club today for the first time in ages. After all, Storm had been weaned so the mare was able to be ridden again. But Avery had convinced her to leave Blaze and Comet at home. It was more important, he said, to use this opportunity to give Storm his first experience of the grown-up horsey world. This was a vital part of the colt’s training, letting him get used to new sights and sounds, and other horses. Not that there was any point in trying to explain that to Natasha.

“So why are you bringing your foal to pony club? What’s the point of that?” huffed Natasha as she strode over from her fancy blue and silver horse truck where she had been standing to watch Issie unload Storm. “Trying to show off, I suppose. You always have to be the centre of attention, don’t you?”

“I am not showing off!” Issie was taken aback. “Coming here is part of Nightstorm’s training. Avery says—”

“Avery says, Avery says…” Natasha sing-songed back. She cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure Avery was still inside the horse truck and couldn’t hear her before she went on, “You know, some of us don’t care what Avery has to say. He’s just a pony-club instructor. If he was any good then he’d have his own private stables, wouldn’t he?”

“Like Ginty McLintoch, I suppose?” Issie said archly. She was fed up with Natasha banging on about her fabulous, expensive lessons with Ginty, and complaining about Avery’s ‘dated methods’.

“Ginty McLintoch says she’d never teach at a pony club,” Natasha said. “She says she’s too professional to lower her standards—”

“Natasha!” There was a call from the blue and silver horse truck and Mrs Tucker appeared on the ramp, looking flustered. “Natasha! What’s going on? Are you going to unload your horse or do I have to do everything?”

Natasha groaned out loud at her mother’s command, but she did as she was asked and walked back over to her truck, following Mrs Tucker back inside. A few moments later she emerged again leading a horse. Issie had been expecting to see Natasha’s elegant rose-grey, Fabergé. Instead, the horse that appeared was a striking chestnut, about sixteen hands high, with a glossy coat, perfectly pulled mane, flowing tail and two white hind socks.

“His name is Romeo and he’s a purebred Selle Francaise—a French sport-horse!” Natasha said proudly as she led him past Issie and tied him up.

Issie was stunned. “What happened to Fabergé?”

“Fabby’s gone,” Natasha shrugged. “He was never talented enough for me. Ginty was supposed to find me a new horse at Horse of the Year, but really there was nothing there that measured up to my needs.” Natasha said this last part with a nasty sneer and Issie knew this was a dig at Comet. “Anyway, that’s when Mummy suggested that Ginty fly over to Australia and look for a new horse to bring back. That’s where she found Romeo. She insists that Romeo is the perfect horse to take me to the national pony club champs, and—”

“Got a new horse then?” Stella interrupted as she rode up to join them. “Is that because Fabergé kept bucking you off?”

Natasha gave Stella a filthy look. “That wasn’t my fault! Fabergé is too highly strung. Ginty says that’s why we weren’t clicking.”

“Natasha, I don’t know how you can expect to ‘click’ with a horse if you just keep getting new ones every time something goes wrong!” Stella shot back.

“It’s called upgrading,” Natasha sniffed. She cast her eyes over Coco. “You know, you should really think about upgrading too, Stella. You’re so huge your legs are almost dragging on the ground on that pony. What’s the matter? Can’t your parents afford to buy you a new one?”

Stella seemed genuinely hurt by this and Natasha, pleased with the success of her put-down, decided that was the end of the conversation. “I’m glad this is the last rally of the year,” she added icily as she turned to lead Romeo away to the washing bays. “That means I won’t have to put up with you two again for the next few months.”

“God, she is such a cow!” Stella said, pulling a face behind Natasha’s back as she watched her walk away. Then she vaulted out of the saddle to stand beside her horse. “Never mind what Stuck-up Tucker says, Coco, I still love you!” Stella threw her arms around Coco’s neck, giving the mare a snuggle. Coco, who didn’t particularly like snuggles, put her ears back a bit.

“You are getting a bit big for her though, aren’t you?” Issie said gently.

It was true. The girls were fourteen now and Stella had really grown this year. Coco was only thirteen-two hands high and Stella looked enormous on her. Her legs were so long they almost wrapped right around the mare’s tubby brown belly.

“I know…” Stella said. She cast a sneaky sideways glance at Coco, as if she was checking to see if the pony was listening, and then whispered dramatically to Issie with her hand over her face. “I don’t really want to talk
about this in front of Coco, but I’ve been looking in the ‘ponies for sale’ pages in
PONY
magazine. Mum and Dad said that I can sell Coco and get a new pony in time for summer and they’re taking me to look at this fourteen-two roan next week…”

“Stella,” Issie whispered back, “you do know that you don’t have to whisper, don’t you? Coco can’t understand English.”

“Coco understands every word I say, don’t you, Coco?” Stella giggled, stroking her mare’s forelock.

While the girls were talking, Storm had been standing obediently tied up beside them, his head held high, watching everything that was going on around him with bright, wide eyes. Mostly though, he was looking intently at Coco. He gave a high-pitched whinny and stretched to the end of his lead rope, craning his neck to get closer to her.