Comet and the Champion's Cup (14 page)

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dawn light,
was a grey pony. Issie could see the soft bloom of his dappled coat and the thick silvery mane shining, his coal black eyes staring intently at her.

“Mystic!” she called out. The grey gelding raised his head and nickered to her, and Issie waited, expecting her pony to come to her as he always did. But he didn't come closer; he shifted about restlessly, dancing this way and that, shaking his mane in agitation.

“Mystic?” Something was wrong. Issie dropped Diablo's reins and began to run towards him, but it was too late. Mystic had already turned on his hocks and set off at a canter, disappearing through the stable doors and out of sight.

“Mystic!” Issie began to run faster, her blood pounding, pulse racing. Why didn't her pony wait for her? When she reached the stable doors and ran outside she almost expected him to be gone, and was a little surprised to see him standing waiting for her next to the paddocks beyond the cottage. “Mystic!” she called out. The grey gelding didn't move. Issie didn't understand. Mystic had never been like this before. Why wouldn't he come to her? Then the thought occurred to her.
He wants me to follow him!

Well, she realised, she wouldn't get far like this. She
needed Diablo. When Issie had dropped Diablo's reins to run off after Mystic, the Quarter Horse had remembered his stunt training and stayed rooted to the spot where Issie had left him at the far end of the stables.

Issie spun around to face him, put her fingers to her lips and blew a short, sharp whistle. Diablo reacted to this cue as if on pure instinct. Without hesitation, he broke into a canter, his hooves clattering on the concrete floor of the stables as he ran to Issie's side.

“Good boy, Diablo,” Issie said, grabbing the reins and swinging herself swiftly on to the stunt horse's back. “Let's go.”

Mystic was still standing by the paddocks waiting for them, but the moment he saw Issie and Diablo emerge from the stables he turned away and began to canter ahead of them, towards the back fence of the paddock and the rise of Blackthorn Hill. The countryside beyond the fenceline was hilly and the terrain was rough and covered with scrub. There was no path or clear ground to ride over. Issie would never have come this way herself. She would have ridden along the well-worn ridge track. But she quickly understood why Mystic was leading her this way. It may be more dangerous, but it would take half the time.

Issie clucked Diablo into a canter and they began
gaining on Mystic, who was heading straight for the back fence. Issie scanned the fenceline, looking for the gate. She didn't realise the flaw in Mystic's plan until it was too late. There was no gate. If they were going to get to the other side, they were going to have to jump their way out.

Issie looked at the fence. It was a post and rails, about one metre twenty. Comet would clear a fence like that easily. But could Mystic and Diablo? As the grey gelding approached the fence, Issie held her breath. She needn't have worried. Mystic took the fence with ease, his legs forming a graceful arc above the rails. He looked just like a dolphin diving, Issie realised. A perfect bascule!

She was getting close to the fence herself now and, considering she had never even seen the piebald jump a fence before, let alone ridden him over one herself, she decided she would just have to ride hard at it. As Diablo approached the back fence she heard him give a nervous snort, as if he had only just realised what she was asking him to do.

“You can do it, Diablo!” Issie said, putting all her faith into the horse, willing him to take the jump. Diablo sensed her confidence and, as he came into the fence he didn't hesitate; his stride stayed steady as he took off and flew over the rails, landing cleanly on the other side
without breaking stride. “Good boy!” Issie gave him a firm pat on his black and white patchy neck, her eyes remaining on Mystic, who was now galloping on ahead of them, across the rough gorse and scrub towards the crest of Blackthorn Hill.

As they galloped on and up the hill Issie caught a glimpse of some cross-country jumps to her left and remembered what Aidan had said about building a course across the farm. As she rode over the crest of Blackthorn Hill and looked down on the valley she could see several cross-country obstacles scattered over the paddocks below. To her left now she could also see the winding red snake of dirt that was the ridge track. Her cross-country route must have saved her at least twenty minutes, maybe more. Had she caught up with Kelly-Anne and Comet? Maybe she had even overtaken them? She looked up and down the track. Where were they?

There was a whinny from Mystic, who was already barrelling back down the other side of Blackthorn Hill, ducking and swerving his way around blackthorns and gorse as he headed helter-skelter at a gallop towards the valley below. Issie's eyes followed the grey gelding, and then her heart leapt as she caught sight of another horse ahead of Mystic in the distance. It was Comet! The
skewbald was about half a kilometre ahead. She could see him clearly next to one of Aidan's jumps.

“Come on, Diablo.” Issie clucked the horse into a gallop, through the scrub and the long grass, following Mystic down the sheer face of the hill.

If you have ever galloped downhill, you will know that it's terrifying. It would have been hard enough for Issie galloping downhill on the ridge track, but here on the uneven ground of Blackthorn Hill, with Diablo dodging this way and that to avoid the prickly gorse and blackthorn bushes, it was a total nightmare. All Issie could do was hold on and stick to the path that Mystic had taken ahead of her, trusting in the grey gelding to show them the safest way to go. Issie bit her lip to hold back her fear. She wanted to tell the little grey pony to slow down, but as they drew nearer she became even more afraid of what lay ahead.

Kelly-Anne had obviously tried to take Comet over one of Aidan's cross-country jumps, a stacked logpile, and something must have gone wrong. Very wrong. Comet was standing stock-still and Kelly-Anne was no longer on his back. Issie could see her body lying sprawled and motionless on the ground next to the jump, with Comet standing over her. Comet raised his
head a little when he caught sight of Diablo and Mystic, but other than that, the skewbald didn't move a muscle. He was standing next to the girl, still as a statue! But Comet never stood still. He was always dancing about. Something was definitely wrong!

As they came into closer range Issie could finally see why her pony wasn't moving. Instinctively, she pressed Diablo on to gallop even harder. She couldn't afford to slow down; she had to reach her horse before things got any worse. Comet wasn't standing next to the logpile, he was standing in the logpile. His front leg had somehow got wedged between two rails of the rustic fence. He was standing perfectly still because he had no choice. If he moved or tried to pull his leg free, the pony would rip the skin from his cannon bone or even break a leg as he tried to wrench his hoof out.

At the sight of Issie and Mystic, the skewbald gave a frantic whinny and began to try and free himself.

“Comet! No!” Issie called out. He had to stay still until she could reach him. She urged Diablo on faster now. She had to get to Comet.

Please, please don't move
, she thought.
Stay still just a little bit longer, Comet. I'm coming
…

As she pulled Diablo up next to the logpile, Issie wanted more than anything to rush to Comet's side, but first she needed to see if Kelly-Anne was OK. Issie vaulted off Diablo's back, running over to the girl, who lay motionless on the ground.

“Kelly-Anne?” Issie put her hand on her shoulder and shook her gently. She didn't move. She must have been knocked out cold from the fall. Quickly, Issie tried to remember what they had taught her in the first-aid sessions at pony club.
Don't move her, and check her breathing
. She looked at her chest and could see it rising and falling. Good. Kelly-Anne was definitely breathing.

“Kelly-Anne, can you hear me?” Issie tried again. This time there was a groan and the girl murmured,
her eyelids fluttering. She was waking up. “What happened?” Kelly-Anne said groggily “You've had an accident,” said Issie. “Don't try to move yet. Just lie still. I'll be back in a moment.”

Now she was certain that Kelly-Anne was OK she was finally able to get a closer look at Comet. The skewbald had been standing still all this time, waiting patiently for Issie to come to him.

“Hey, Comet,” Issie said. “It's going to be OK, boy.” At first glance, though, Issie wasn't sure things were going to be OK at all. Comet was shivering with shock. His flanks were damp with sweat and he was covered in mud. But what really worried Issie was Comet's leg. The pony's near foreleg was completely wedged through the shattered wood rails of the logpile fence. By the look of the angle, he had brought the leg down on top of the jump and his hoof had rammed straight through the wood. The weathered timber had splintered under the sheer force of the pony's hoof so that Comet was now stuck knee-deep in the logpile. Luckily, Comet had had the common sense to recognise his predicament and had stood still, waiting for his rider to free him. Only Kelly-Anne was in no fit state to help him at all.

How long had Comet been standing there like this? Issie wondered. And what would have happened if she hadn't arrived in time? Even now that Issie was here to help him, the skewbald was still in a perilous position. He was terrified. Issie could see the whites of his eyes and knew the pony was exhausted with stress and fear. How long would it be before he lost his cool and went into a frenzy, trying to free himself at any cost? Issie felt the panic rising in her too; she knew she had to act fast.

“Easy, boy,” she cooed as she moved slowly towards Comet. She had to be careful. A sudden movement might spook him and if he pulled back he would wrench his leg horribly against the pointy barbs of broken wood.

“Easy, Comet,” she said. “It's OK, boy,” she whispered as she stroked the skewbald's neck. “Steady, boy, that's a good Comet, steady…” Her hands ran along his neck and down his near foreleg, the one that was wedged tight into the logpile. “Easy, Comet,” Issie soothed him, stroking his neck and looking at the leg. “Stay still. I'll get you out, I promise. There's a good boy…”

“He's not a good boy, he's a stupid, mean pony!” It was Kelly-Anne. She was on her knees and looking dazed and wobbly as she struggled to clamber back up on to her feet.

“Kelly-Anne!” Issie said. “Don't get up. You've had a bad fall and you were knocked out. Sit down for a minute and catch your breath.” For once, Kelly-Anne seemed to listen. She collapsed back against the logpile.

“No!” Issie said. “Not on the rails! You'll crush his leg if you sit there! Get off!”

Kelly-Anne staggered back up and looked at Comet. “It's his own fault,” she said. “He wouldn't jump it. I was trying to jump the logpile and he wouldn't go over and then he stopped in front of it so I whacked him and he still wouldn't go over so I hit him again and then he did this stupid sort of bunny hop and I guess he must have landed on top of the fence and that was when I fell off…”

Issie felt her blood boil. She knew it! It was exactly the same back at the riding school when Kelly-Anne had terrified poor Julian.

“I don't want to hear any more!” Issie snapped. “It's always the horse's fault, isn't it? Well, I've got news for you, Kelly-Anne. It's your fault. You're a nightmare. You shouldn't even be allowed to ride. You don't know anything about horses and, even worse, you don't seem to care about them either!”

All the blood drained from Kelly-Anne's face as Issie said this. The girl stood there for a moment, too scared
to speak. “I'm, I'm sorry…” she started.

“Don't be sorry,” Issie said. “Be useful.” She looked around frantically. “Take off your jacket!' she barked at Kelly-Anne.

“What do you mean?” asked Kelly-Anne.

“Just what I said. Take it off and pass it here.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Kelly-Anne asked nervously as she handed the jacket to Issie.

“I'm going to wrap it around Comet's leg like a bandage so he doesn't hurt himself when we pull him out.” Issie took off her own jacket too. Then, speaking softly to Comet the whole time, she bent down and wedged her hand through the logs and began to wrap the jackets around his knee and cannon bone. As Issie worked Kelly-Anne watched over her shoulder.

“What now?” Kelly-Anne said. “Do we just make him pull his leg out?”

“No way! We can't move him yet!” Issie said. “The poles are still wedged too close around his leg. We need to open them up a bit so he has enough room to get his hoof out.”

Issie looked at the logpile. It had been built solidly like a true cross-country fence. It wasn't going to be easy to pull the logs apart. But the timber logs next to the pony's
leg were already broken, so all she really needed was something to push between and lever them apart. Then if she could wedge the logs open another few centimetres, she would be able to get Comet's leg out.

“Give me your riding helmet,” ordered Issie. Kelly-Anne didn't hesitate this time. She unbuckled her chin strap and passed Issie the helmet. It was dented in badly on the left side from the fall.

“It probably saved your life,” Issie said, showing Kelly-Anne the dent. Then she looked around on the ground. “We need a big stick,” she said. “Go and search over there and see if you can find something we can use as a lever to push the logs back while we shove the helmet in the gap. While Issie stood with Comet, reassuring him as she double-checked his bandages, Kelly-Anne searched the ground around the jump.

“How about this?” She lifted up a tree branch. The branch was about two metres long and as thick as her forearm. “Will this do?” Issie took the branch from Kelly-Anne and tried to bend it. The branch didn't yield at all. The wood was green and firm–perfect.