Storm and the Silver Bridle (6 page)

Issie did have school tomorrow. In fact she had another whole week of school to go before the winter-term break. However, this was the least of her problems. She might have been able to convince Francoise to let her come to Spain, but convincing her mum to let her go halfway around the world to track down the horse thieves who had taken her colt? That would be flat-out impossible.

“Let me speak to your mother,” Avery suggested. “I’m sure if I explain she’ll listen to me.”

“You must be kidding!”

It turned out that Avery was being a little optimistic when he said that Mrs Brown would listen to him. They had woken her at 6 a.m. and tried to put her in a good mood before they popped the question by making her breakfast. But it soon became clear that it would take more than bacon and eggs to bring her round.

“You expect me to let Isadora go to Spain with you to hunt down horse thieves?” Mrs Brown shook her head in disbelief. “Tom! This is crazy and you know it!”

“Mrs B,” Avery began, “it’s perfectly safe. We’ll go over there and prove the colt is ours, talk to the authorities if necessary…” He locked eyes with Issie’s mum. “Amanda, you must trust me. You know I would never put Isadora in any danger. But this is the best chance we have of getting the colt back.”

“Why don’t you just call the authorities and let them handle it?” Mrs Brown said.

“Call who exactly? Interpol aren’t going to chase around Andalusia to get a girl’s horse back for her!” Avery said. “Believe me, Amanda, if I thought there was any other way…”

Mrs Brown shook her head. “Then maybe we have no choice, Tom. Maybe we’ll just have to let Nightstorm go.”

Issie felt the blood freeze in her veins. “Mum? You can’t mean that!”

“Issie, I can’t let you go over there by yourself!”

“But I won’t be going by myself!” Issie said. “Tom will be there, and Francoise too! They’ll look after me. And I’ll call you every day.”

“This is madness, Issie. Apart from anything else you’ll be missing school.”

“Last week of term is just a muck-about week, Mum—everyone knows that. I’ve finished all my work.” Issie looked at her mother with pleading eyes. “I’m fourteen years old. I’m old enough to do this.”

“You’re still my baby,” Mrs Brown objected.

“And Storm is my baby,” Issie countered, “and he’s out there right now on his own and he’s probably terrified. He needs me.” She paused. “Mum, I can’t leave him with those men. I can’t just pretend that Nightstorm doesn’t exist and go on with life. He belongs here, with me and with Blaze. I have to get him back. And you have to let me go.”

Mrs Brown looked at her daughter’s face, the strong determined set of her jaw, and the fierce wilfulness that burned in her. They were so alike, mother and daughter—both with their long, dark hair, willowy limbs and
olive skin. But there were differences between them too Issie was so headstrong, and so independent, just like her Aunty Hester. Mrs Brown was always amazed by the ferocity of the passion that her daughter possessed. Her love for her horses was beyond anything she had ever seen before. At that moment Mrs Brown realised that if she prevented Issie from doing this, she would be destroying that passion, crushing the spirit out of her daughter. No matter how painful, how terrifying it was, she had to make a choice.

“Issie,” she said softly. “I hope I’m not going to regret this…”

“Mum! Please—” Issie began to argue, but her mother raised a hand.

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t fight me, Isadora. Just listen…because I’m telling you that I’m going to let you go.”

The man behind the glass wall gave Issie a stern look as she approached him, dragging her suitcase. “Documents!” he snapped as she fumbled in her pockets and pulled out her airline ticket and her papers. His expression softened when he opened her passport.

“You are from New Zealand?” He raised an eyebrow. “It is a long way to come to Madrid—halfway around the world!” His strict face broke into a kindly smile.

It had been a long way. Twenty-four hours in the plane without a proper stop. Over that time Issie had watched five movies and eaten three dinners—the plane never seemed to serve lunch or breakfast, it was nothing but never-ending dinnertime.

Issie’s inner body clock felt completely mixed up by the
time they landed in Madrid. It was midday in Spain, which meant that right now, back home in New Zealand, it was midnight. Even weirder, she suddenly found herself baking hot. It was summer! Issie couldn’t believe it. Yesterday she had been freezing in the cold and rain of winter, and now here she was on the other side of the world and it was a glorious, sunny day.

Francoise had warned Issie to pack for the summer heat with T-shirts and shorts, but she had still boarded the plane in her winter clothes. As she emerged from the air-conditioned airport on to the street outside she began to swelter instantly in her sweatshirt and jeans. The long flight had left her feeling sticky and exhausted. Her brain was swimming, and she was finding it hard to think straight.

“You’ve got jetlag,” Avery told her. “Did you sleep at all on the plane?”

Issie had tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes all she could think about was Storm. Where was the colt now? Was he already here in Spain? Did horses get jetlag too? Did Storm feel just like she did? She wished she could be there with him, to let him know it was going to be OK, that she was coming for him and that she was going to bring him home again.

“We’d better get moving,” Francoise said as they wheeled their suitcases through customs. “The next train from Madrid to Seville leaves in less than an hour.”

The train station in Madrid turned out to be a giant tropical glasshouse. In the centre of it, enormous palm trees sprouted out of the ground, their thick, green leaves creating a jungle canopy. It wasn’t like any train station Issie had ever seen. And the train wasn’t like anything she had ever seen either. It was shaped like a space rocket.

“It goes like a rocket too!” Francoise laughed when Issie told her this. “Three hundred kilometres an hour. We’ll be in Seville in a couple of hours from now and from there we drive on to El Caballo Danza Magnifico.”

Tiredness finally overwhelmed Issie as they settled into their seats and she curled up, using her bag as a pillow, to be rocked asleep by the steady rhythm of the train.

It felt like she had only just drifted off when she was being woken up again, Avery’s hand on her shoulder shaking her gently. “Issie, we’re here.”

Groggy from her nap, Issie followed Francoise out to the street.

“Alfie is supposed to be meeting us with the car,” Francoise said as she scanned the parking lot. Her face broke into a broad smile as she spied a beaten-up old
Land Rover heading towards them. “There he is!”

The Land Rover pulled up and the boy behind the wheel gave a cheery wave before opening the door and leaping out to join them on the pavement. “Alfie!” Francoise gave the boy a kiss on both cheeks. “These are my friends, Isadora and Tom.”

She turned to introduce the boy to them. “This is Alfonso. He is head of the stables at El Caballo Danza Magnifico.” Issie’s first thought when she’d seen Alfonso pull up in the Land Rover was that he looked a little bit like Aidan. He was about Aidan’s age, with the same mop of dark hair. Now that he was standing right in front of her, Issie realised that Alfonso didn’t really look like Aidan at all. He was much more tanned, and he had dark brown eyes that smiled readily whenever he did. His features were different from Aidan’s too. Aidan’s face was delicate and fine-boned, while this boy had the broad, rugged looks of a Spanish film star.

If he was good-looking though, Issie didn’t really notice. It was sad but true that she was pretty much too lovesick over Aidan to look at any other boy. This wouldn’t have been so sad if it weren’t for the fact that she hadn’t even seen him since he’d kissed her goodbye that day on the cherry tree lawn at Blackthorn Farm. It
was so unfair, Issie thought, to finally, officially have a boyfriend, and never get to actually be near him. She longed to gaze once more into those pale blue eyes that Aidan kept half hidden under that long, dark fringe…

“Issie?” She was shaken out of her Aidan daydream by the sound of Avery’s voice intruding sharply into her thoughts.

“Issie!” The voice prodded a second time. “Wake up! I said to give your bag to Alfonso so he can load it into the car.”

“Sorry.” Issie shook herself back to reality and reached out to hand Alfonso her bag. “I guess I’m a bit jetlagged.”

Alfonso gave Issie a broad grin and took her bag.

“That’s OK,” he said. “How was your trip? Was the food on the plane actually, like, food, or was it totally gross?”

“You speak English!” Issie exclaimed with relief. She didn’t know any Spanish and had been terribly worried that she wouldn’t be able to understand a word that anyone said.

“Yeah,” Alfonso said casually, “I picked it up from touring with El Caballo—we’re overseas a lot with the horses so most of us know lots of languages. We can all speak English really well.” He picked up Issie’s bag and threw it in the back of the Land Rover and opened the
passenger door for her. “Come on,
vamos!”
he said.

Issie looked at him blankly and didn’t move.

“
Vamos
—that means ‘let’s go’!” Francoise laughed as she offered Issie the front seat next to Alfonso. Francoise and Avery climbed into the back seat, Alfonso put his foot down on the accelerator and the Land Rover roared into life, heading down the cobbled streets, making its way through the busy city towards the outskirts of town.

Within an hour they had left Seville and the Land Rover began to climb through the forest-clad hills of Andalusia. As Alfonso turned off the main road, pale dust flew up from beneath the car tyres and they began to make their way along remote dirt tracks through the rugged farmland that led to El Caballo Danza Magnifico. The Land Rover bumped and skipped along the potholed road, dust flying in through the open windows. Issie clung on to her seatbelt to stop herself being thrown about as the car bounced around.

Issie looked over at Alfonso, who was focused on the road. “You know, you don’t look old enough to be driving this car, and you certainly don’t look old enough to be the head of the stables.”

Alfonso raised an eyebrow. “You’re not happy with my driving?”

“No, I didn’t mean that!” Issie stammered. “I’m sorry, that came out sounding really rude! I just meant—”

Alfonso grinned. “It’s OK. I’m just joking. You’re right. I’m only eighteen. Most of the riders at El Caballo are much older than me. But I’ve been in the saddle since the day I was born. It is in my blood.”

Francoise leaned forward from the back seat to explain. “Alfie is the son of Roberto Nunez, the owner of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Roberto is one of Spain’s greatest horsemen. He once rode for the Spanish eventing team at the Olympics. As a rider in this country his career remains unrivalled.”

“But your dad doesn’t ride any more?” Issie said.

“Yeah, he still rides,” Alfonso shrugged. “He’s the one responsible for training all of our best stallions for the performing school. But he doesn’t like to tour. He prefers the quiet life here in Spain with the herd.”

“Will Roberto be there when we arrive?” Avery asked.

Alfonso nodded. “He went out this morning to bring in some of the mares, but he should be there to meet us when we get to the hacienda. It’s not much further now. We’ll be there soon. We’re already on land that belongs to El Caballo. These olive trees that you see around you were planted by us. We grow oranges and olives here in
the dry hills and the horses graze down in the valley, where the pasture is better.”

“How long have you lived here?” Issie asked.

“All my life,” Alfonso replied. “El Caballo has been my family’s home for two centuries.”

Francoise spoke up again from the back seat. “This place is steeped in tradition. When I left France and the Cadre Noir de Saumur to come and work here, I did not realise how long it would take to be accepted.” Francoise laughed. “For the first five years they would call me ‘the new girl’. It was a joke, of course, but it took them a long time to grow tired of it. Then, finally, one day, they said ‘she is one of us now’. I have been here for ten years, and sometimes I still feel like I am the new girl…”

As Francoise was talking the Land Rover had been bumping and bouncing its way along the dirt road through the olive-clad hills. Now, as they came over the crest of the range, Issie looked down into the valley below. The sight that greeted her was one of the most beautiful she had seen in her entire life. The sunburnt fields were dotted with snow-white horses, mares with their coal-black foals at foot. To see these horses running free as a herd was like bringing a fairy story to life.

“Ohmygod! They are so beautiful!” Issie breathed.

Francoise nodded. “They are the very best mares. Roberto has a true eye for horses and it is his mastery that has made El Caballo Danza Magnifico stables the most respected in all of Spain. We have almost fifty horses here—stallions, mares and foals. Roberto loves his Spanish-bred Lipizzaners and also the Andalusians and his prized Anglo-Arabs—the bloodline of your mare Blaze.”