Читать книгу Mystic and Blaze - Stacy Gregg, Stacy Gregg - Страница 12

“Issie! Issie! I’ve got to talk to you…” Stella was panting from the effort of trying to catch up with her friend as she entered the school hall. It was Tuesday, assembly day, and they were late as always.

“Quick,” Stella grabbed Issie by her school jersey as she caught her up, “let’s sit up the back so we can talk.”

She pushed through the herds of Chevalier Point High students trying to find seats and made a beeline for the back benches, dragging Issie along behind her. “Here!” Stella squeaked, claiming two spaces on a bench at the far end of the hall by throwing herself down and using her bag to mark a place next to her for Issie.

“So,” she grinned as Issie sat down, “I know you don’t want to talk about horses any more, but this isn’t just about horses. It’s like a mystery or something…” She paused for dramatic effect, lowering her voice to a whisper. “There’s this new pony grazing at the pony-club paddocks and no one knows who it belongs to!”

Issie tried to speak, but before she could open her mouth Stella was rambling on again. “You should see this horse, Issie, she’s beautiful. Part Arab I think, well, she looks like an Arab anyway. She’s sort of a dark chestnut colour with a pale mane and tail, and white socks, totally gorgeous. She’s really skinny and stuff but apart from that she’s, like, the most amazing horse you’ve ever seen.” Stella paused for just a minute to take a breath and then started raving on again.

“I’ve asked everyone at the pony club and no one seems to know who owns her. Kate thinks maybe she belongs to Natasha—”

“No she doesn’t!” Issie snapped, fed up with Stella’s chatter. “She belongs to me. She’s mine.”

“What?” Stella squealed. Instead of shutting her up it seemed that this news had her more excited than ever before.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Issie! Where did she come from? How could you possibly afford her? Did your mum cave in and buy her for you after all? What’s her name?”

“Her name is Blaze,” Issie muttered under her breath. She could see Mrs Savage, the fourth form dean, glaring at her now. If they kept on talking during assembly then she and Stella were bound to get detention. “And Mum doesn’t even know about her. I can’t tell you any more now. It’s too complicated. I’ll explain after assembly – at lunch break.”

At lunchtime, Issie was on her way to the tuck shop to get a fruit pie when she was almost tackled from behind. “Gotcha!” Stella giggled, her arms around Issie’s waist. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on. I’m not letting go until you do.”

And so Issie told Stella the whole story—how Avery had found Blaze in a terrible state and brought her to Issie, who had agreed to take on the chestnut mare and nurse her back to health.

“And the worst thing is, she just doesn’t trust people,” Issie said. “Avery said I can ride her soon because she’s putting on weight, but I don’t want to rush things…It took me a week before she would let me brush the mud off her! She’s been so scared, Stella!”

“Oh, Issie, how dreadful!” Stella’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Poor Blaze. She must have been so badly mistreated by her old owners. That’s why she’s being so difficult. I’m sure you’ll make friends with her if you just keep trying. You can’t give up on her. She needs you.

Stella was buzzing with excitement. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping Blaze to yourself all this time too! We’ve got to go and find Kate and tell her all about it. She’s been dying to discover who owned the mystery horse. We’ll both meet you at the paddock after school.”

When Stella and Kate arrived later that afternoon Issie had already caught Blaze and was tying her to the fence, preparing to groom her.

“She’s beautiful!” Stella was breathless with admiration. It was the first time the girls had seen Blaze up close and even cool Kate was impressed.

“She’s got wonderful conformation,” she admitted as she ran her eye over the mare’s elegant arched neck, “and what a gorgeous face with that fantastic white blaze! Blaze is the perfect name for her.”

“You’re right, Issie, she must be part Arab,” Stella agreed. “Look at her lovely dished nose. I wonder if she has breeder’s papers?”

“I don’t know,” Issie said. “We don’t even know who her old owners were, so there’s no way of finding out what her bloodlines are.”

“Who could be so cruel, treating a horse like that?” Kate shook her head. “Does Avery have any leads to find the old owners?”

“Not yet,” Issie said, “but he’s reported it to the police so they might come up with something. Anyway,” Issie turned to Blaze, “you’re safe with me now, girl; I’m going to take good care of you.”

“Well,” Stella said, “I think it’s time for Blaze to meet the boys.” She turned to Kate. “Come on, let’s go catch Toby and Coco and do some proper introductions.”

The two girls grabbed their halters out of the tack room and set out across the paddock, leaving Issie alone again with Blaze.

“Good girl,” Issie cooed, reaching out to stroke the mare on her neck. But Blaze made a low snorting sound and quickly backed away. Issie knew better by now than to be disappointed by the mare’s behaviour. It was nothing personal; she understood that. Blaze’s last owners were cruel to her, so why should she trust anyone?

Issie had been taking it slowly with the mare, trying to gain her trust. Now, as she moved towards Blaze, she didn’t pick up a brush straight away. Instead, she reached out an open hand and stroked her wither. The chestnut leapt away at first, but as Issie tried again and again she finally stood still, letting the girl run her hands gently across her glossy neck, back over the wither and down her front legs, feeling tendon and fetlock, then back up again and along her rump and hindquarters, softly talking to the mare as she went.

All the time, Issie kept her gaze low and never looked Blaze in the eye. The stroking was something she had learnt in Avery’s natural horsemanship classes. Avery had also told her to keep her eyes down – horses are prey animals, and being met by the stare of a human predator was liable to spook them.

By the time Issie lifted up the dandy brush, she was thrilled to see that Blaze was almost relaxed under her hands. In fact, once Issie had scuffed the caked mud off her hocks and began to work on her with the body brush, the mare even seemed to enjoy the feeling of the soft bristles against her skin. When Issie took a thick, damp sponge and ran it down the white stripe in the middle of her forehead, Blaze gave a grunt of pleasure and lowered her head against Issie, using the girl as her scratching post, rubbing up and down against her.

“Hey,” Issie giggled. “Cut it out!” But inside she was pleased to see Blaze acting so friendly with her. She was starting to trust her.

“Hey, Issie,” Stella said as she led Coco up, tying her to the fence next to Blaze, “do you know those men:

“What men?”

“Over there,” Stella said, “in that white van. There are two of them. They’ve been sitting there watching us ever since we arrived. I thought they must have a flat tyre or something, but they haven’t got out of the van to fix it. They’re just sitting there staring at us. It’s kinda creepy.”

Issie put down her hoof-pick and turned around to take a look. Sure enough, there was a white van parked out on the kerb of the road. Two men sat silently in the front seat.

“What are you looking at?” Kate led Toby over to join them.

“That van over there,” Stella said, pointing towards where the two men were parked.

Suddenly there was the sound of an engine revving up, and the white van did a quick u-turn back up the street and was gone.

“Well, they sure left in a hurry!” Kate was puzzled. “Who were they anyway?”

“Never mind,” Stella chirped, “let’s ride.” She looked over at Issie who was still combing out Blaze’s mane. “C’mon Issie. Are you going to tack her up or not?

“I…I don’t think she’s ready to be ridden yet,” Issie said. Although she knew that the truth was she wasn’t ready yet. She was still nervous about getting up on the chestnut mare for the first time, and she certainly didn’t want to do it with Stella and Kate watching her.

“Besides,” Issie added, “Mum doesn’t know I’m here and I’d better get home before she starts to worry.”

“Issie, why haven’t you just told her?” Kate was shocked.

“I will, I will. I’m just waiting for the right moment,” Issie said.

The problem with this secret, though, was that it never seemed like the right time to share it. Every afternoon as she cycled home from the horse paddock Issie imagined herself telling her mother all about Blaze. But somehow, by the time she arrived home, her resolve to share her secret had faded. Not just yet, she thought. Soon. When I’ve nursed Blaze back to health and we’ve made friends. Then Mum will have to let me keep her.

And Blaze was getting healthy fast. In the short time that she had been at the River Paddock, the slender chestnut had put on condition at such a pace that her ribs no longer showed and her coat had lost its stark quality and was beginning to shine a deep burnished gold.

But it was the change in Blaze’s mood that mattered most. When Issie arrived at the River Paddock late one afternoon after school she found the mare with her head over the fence of the pen looking almost pleased to see her.

It had been three weeks now since the chestnut mare had been gifted into Issie’s care. Now when Issie tethered her to the fence paling, the mare didn’t flinch or jump under her touch. Her confidence in Issie had grown. She had begun to trust her.

“What do you think, girl? Shall I take you for a ride?” Issie buried her face in Blaze’s thick flaxen mane. She never thought she would want to get back on a horse after what happened to Mystic. But when she looked at Blaze now she suddenly felt this deep, strong urge. She wanted to ride again.

Then she suddenly realised – what was she going to ride her with? Mystic’s saddle had been crushed in the accident. And since her mother still didn’t even know that Blaze existed, she could hardly ask her to buy her a new one! “Looks like we’re going bareback for now, girl.” Issie smiled at Blaze.

She could use Mystic’s old bridle. It had a simple Eggbutt snaffle bit; just right for Blaze. But before the chestnut mare could wear it, it would need some adjustments. Her pretty Arab face was much smaller, more dished than Mystic’s solid features. Issie moved the cheek straps up a couple of holes and adjusted the cavesson noseband to match. Then she eased the bridle over Blaze’s head to check the fit. Perfect.

Issie grabbed her old spare helmet out of the tack room and, leading Blaze by the reins, she guided her out of the pen and positioned the mare so that she was standing parallel to the fence. Then she climbed up on the railings and threw herself lightly on to her back.

As soon as Issie mounted Blaze the thought struck her: What if this mare is actually unbroken? What if I’m sitting on a wild horse who has never had a rider on her back before?

Her fears disappeared as Blaze accepted her weight and the feel of the bit in her mouth.

“Let’s go, girl!” Issie clucked the mare on and gave her a dig with her heels. Blaze snorted and shot forward at a smart high-stepping trot, which almost rocked Issie off her back.

As Blaze trotted briskly on, Issie found herself sliding around. Riding bareback could be slippery. Without stirrups Issie couldn’t rise to the trot, and the bouncing made it almost impossible to stay on.

Holding on to a handful of mane, Issie wrapped her legs firmly around the mare and tried not to jiggle like a jelly as she trotted on. Steering was nearly impossible and it was all she could do to point Blaze towards the entrance to the dressage ring.

Too late she realised that the chestnut was going too far to the left. She tried to pull Blaze to a halt, but the sudden tug on the reins made her bolt forward, missing the entrance entirely. Instead of slowing down, Blaze broke into a canter and headed for the gate that led to the far paddock.

“It’s OK,” Issie told herself, “the gate is shut. She’s bound to stop.” But Blaze showed no signs of slowing down, in fact her canter increased in speed. Issie found herself completely out of control, her hands tangled in the flaxen mane as she struggled to stay on board.

“My God! She’s going to take the gate!” Issie couldn’t believe it. The gate between the two main paddocks must have been at least one metre twenty high and Blaze was racing at it in full canter, completely ignoring Issie’s frantic tugs on the reins. With her head held high, Blaze was fighting the bit, and Issie didn’t have the strength to haul her back.

A few strides out from the gate, Blaze gave a proud toss of her head, freeing herself from the reins, and then leapt. The chestnut mare arched tidily through the air, clearing the gate with room to spare, and Issie lost her grip on the mane and began to slide. As Blaze landed lightly on the other side of the fence Issie landed too – heavily on the ground with a thud.

The long grass helped cushion her fall. Still, she felt a jolt of pain in her shoulder, and it took her a minute to get her breath back.

As she got up and wiped the dirt off her jodhpurs Issie was shaking and tears of anger and frustration welled up in her eyes. She should never have been so cocky, she realised. After all she’d never ridden Blaze before. She had no idea what this horse was capable of. And yet there she went, as bold as brass, climbing on board and trotting off as if she were the world’s best rider. Well, she had paid the price for it. She straightened up, giving her limbs a shake to check that everything was in working order, and looked around for Blaze, who already had her head down munching a patch of long grass as if nothing had ever happened.

Why had Avery given her this horse? It was obvious that Blaze was too spirited for her to ride. She had overestimated herself. She should never have given up on her vow.

“Maybe I’m really not meant to ride after all,” she sighed, reaching for Blaze’s reins. She led the mare back to the pen on foot, not willing to suffer another fall on the way home. Then she unbridled Blaze, gave her some feed and refilled the hay net and cycled home, her head stuck in a cloud of gloomy thoughts.

She should have known better than to take on this horse; she realised that now. Blaze was moody and unpredictable, not at all what she was used to. If only Mystic were still alive. With Mystic, it had all been easy, she had known what to do. The little grey had been so sweet, like her best friend. With Blaze, it was like she couldn’t do anything right. In fact, the mare didn’t even seem to like her!

Was it too late to change her mind, she wondered, and give the horse back to Avery? Issie knew the answer. Avery would probably take Blaze back but he would be so disappointed in her she wouldn’t be able to stand it. No, she had to stick at it. Things would get better with Blaze. They had to.