Читать книгу Angel and the Flying Stallions - Stacy Gregg, Stacy Gregg - Страница 9

When Storm was nothing more than a skinny-legged colt running around the paddocks at Winterflood Farm, Issie had trained him to come when she whistled. It was a cute trick to teach a foal, but it was a totally different story now he had become a fully-grown stallion.

“I’m sorry,” Issie called out to Francoise as she led Storm back up the corridor, “I can’t believe he still remembers my whistle.”

“It is my fault,” Francoise replied as she strode forward to meet them. “I should have anticipated his reaction. They say that horses do not remember as you and I do, but this is not always true. Some memories run so deep they cannot be erased. He has not forgotten you, Isadora. That is quite clear.”

As if to confirm this, Storm gave another nicker and rubbed his handsome face up against Issie, using her as a scratching post just as he had always done in the paddock back home.

“Storm!” Francoise chastised the stallion. “Where are your manners? An El Caballo stallion doesn’t behave like that!”

Francoise took the lead rope and jiggled it to make him step back. Storm got the message and stood obediently while Francoise embraced Issie in the customary French way with a kiss on each cheek before adding a hug of her own.

“Welcome back to El Caballo Danza Magnifico, Isadora,” she smiled.

“It’s good to be back, Francoise,” Issie grinned.

Issie had been hoping that perhaps they could saddle up straight away. She was desperate to ride Storm for the first time and Francoise seemed to be reading her mind. “There will be time for riding soon enough,” the Frenchwoman said as she grasped Storm’s lead rope and began to guide him down the corridor back towards his stall, “I don’t think Roberto would be impressed if I took his guest out for a gallop straight away. We should go back into the house and get you settled in.” She smiled at Issie. “That is, if you can possibly bear to be apart from Storm again!”

Issie laughed at this, but really she would rather have stayed out here, exhausted, grubby and jetlagged, and fallen asleep beside her horse on the straw in his stall than go to the luxury and comfort of her room in the Nunez hacienda. But Issie knew that would have sounded ungrateful, so she followed Francoise as she led the stallion back to his loose box.

“He has grown up so beautifully, hasn’t he? Look at his topline!” Francoise gestured at the ridge of muscle along the stallion’s neck just beneath the glossy, black mane. “You can see by the developing muscles that we have already begun his training in the dressage school. He is still too young for the advanced haute école manoeuvres. They will come later. We are taking things gradually, but already my riders think he shows great promise. Once he learns collection and paces he will be ready to progress to the ‘airs above ground’.”

Issie felt herself tense up. Francoise was talking about Storm as if he still had more training to come. But how could that be possible when they were here to take him home to Chevalier Point? Francoise was acting as if he wasn’t actually going to leave El Caballo Danza Magnifico!

“We’ll keep training him when we get him home, of course,” Issie said, hoping that she was subtly making it clear that she expected to take the colt back with her, “but dressage isn’t really my priority. Avery believes Storm will be a great prospect as an eventer.”

Francoise looked serious. “We have had long discussions about this, Tom and I. When you first agreed to keep the colt with us, it was so that he could be schooled as a classical dressage horse. And, as I have been trying to impress upon Tom, his training has not yet finished.”

“What do you mean, he hasn’t finished?” Issie was getting edgy. “I’m here to take him home.”

Francoise frowned. “But surely you know about this? I made it clear to Avery that I could not permit you to take Storm away now. The stallion’s basic training has begun, but he has yet to learn the truly advanced moves of dressage. It would be wrong to drag him out of the best classical school in the world when you could not possibly complete his training back home in Chevalier Point. Only an haute école rider will do for a horse such as Storm. That is why we came to the arrangement.”

Issie was taken aback. “Arrangement? What arrangement?” This couldn’t be happening! “I’ve come all this way and now you’re telling me I can’t take my own horse home?”

“Non, non!” Francoise shook her head. “That is not what I am saying. Of course you will take him.” She paused. “But first, you must fulfil your side of bargain. That was the deal that I struck with Tom.”

The conversation had grown tense. Issie desperately wanted to make a childish snatch and take back the stallion’s lead rope. She was jetlagged and on the verge of tears, trying to behave like an adult. But Issie didn’t feel very grown-up. She didn’t want to be having this conversation. She just wanted her horse.

Footsteps echoed in the stable block, and Francoise and Issie both turned to see Avery walking up the corridor to join them.

Francoise emphatically slid the bolt on the door, as if to make a point that the stallion was still under El Caballo lock and key, and then turned to face Avery with her hands on her hips. “I assumed you would have explained it to her by now. What is going on here?”

Francoise’s abruptness took Avery by surprise. “Well, bonjour to you too!” he smiled at her. “I was expecting at least a French kiss on the cheek before we started fighting.”

His amused expression seemed to infuriate Francoise. “Do not be cute with me! We made a contract. And, since it involves Isadora too, I thought you would have told her about it.”

Avery’s smile disappeared. “I did tell her. I said that we would be staying here for at least a month to fulfil the terms of the training contract.”

Francoise shook her head as if she was trying to rearrange jigsaw-puzzle pieces inside her brain. “But you didn’t tell her anything more than that?”

“Hey!” Issie was getting fed up with the to-and-fro between Avery and Francoise. “I’m standing right here! Will you please stop bickering and tell me what’s going on?”

Francoise cast a sullen look at Avery then turned to Issie. “If you want to take Storm home to Chevalier Point, you must know how to train him first.”

“I know how to train a horse,” Issie frowned. “I’ve schooled Fortune and Comet. I’m quite capable of teaching Storm the basics…”

“No,” Francoise interrupted her, “not the basics, Isadora. If you want to take Storm you must know how to continue his dressage education. You must learn the ways of classical dressage so that you can ride the haute école.”

Issie was gobsmacked. “You’re kidding me, right? Francoise, I can barely get through a dressage test for a one-day event. I can’t do any fancy moves!”

“Believe me, Issie,” Avery interjected, “Francoise is only too aware of your limitations when it comes to dressage.”

“Tom has told me about your riding on the eventing circuit,” Francoise continued. “Your dressage tests are, without fail, sub-standard. This is why I insisted that you must stay and learn haute école.”

“You agreed to this?” Issie was stunned. “It’s like you’re checking me into some kind of dressage rehab! You’re both ganging up on me!”

“It’s not like that,” Avery said. “You might not realise it now, but you will benefit enormously from what Francoise is suggesting.”

“You will have a month at El Caballo training in the dressage school with my riders,” Francoise explained. “The performers are all in training mode preparing their new routines for the upcoming touring season, so the timing couldn’t be better. You will train with the school as if you were one of them. It is a great honour, as I am sure you can appreciate. These riders are some of the best horsemen in the world. Their knowledge of dressage is second to none.”

Francoise was right. Her riders were amazing. The manoeuvres they could perform on their horses were nothing short of astonishing to watch. But Issie had never imagined herself in the same league. She wasn’t capable of performing this intricate ballet on horseback. She would only embarrass herself in front of Francoise’s riders. It sounded like a nightmare to Issie, but her fate had been sealed before she even set foot on Spanish soil. Avery and Francoise had agreed to this. She had to learn the haute école or she would not be allowed to take Storm home with her. She did not doubt that Francoise was quite serious about this. Or that Avery had agreed to it. She knew that neither of these formidable trainers would take no for an answer.

“OK, but I don’t understand how I’m going to do this,” Issie frowned. “You said a minute ago that Storm was still too young to learn haute école.”

“He is,” Francoise confirmed. “You will not be riding Storm in the school. You will be riding another horse.”

Francoise turned on her heels and led Issie and Avery further down the corridor of the stallions’ stables until they reached the stall at the end. Here she swung open the top of the Dutch door to reveal the horse that stood inside.

The stallion was almost as tall as Storm, sixteen-two hands high. His face had the noble bearing of a classical Andalusian with wide-set, soulful eyes and a dark, sooty muzzle. He was a grey, but his dapples had long ago faded so he was as creamy white as parchment. His long mane was like gossamer silk and it tumbled and cascaded over his broad neck and down his powerful shoulders. Only one thing marred this stallion’s pure and exquisite beauty – on the bridge of his Roman nose, just where the noseband of a bridle rests, were tiny jagged scars where once there had been deep cuts in the stallion’s flesh. The wounds were very old now and had healed over with time. Issie knew exactly how the stallion had received these scars – from wearing a cruel serreta bridle in the hands of Miguel Vega.

She reached up and stroked the stallion’s soft muzzle, touching the scar tissue tenderly as she looked deep into his dark, liquid eyes.

“Hello, Angel,” she said softly to him. “It’s me. I’ve come back.”