Flame and the Rebel Riders (10 page)

“What happened to Verity?” Penny asked now that they were out of earshot of the stables. “I saw her leaving Ginty’s office in tears.”

“Ginty fired her!” Natasha said. And before Issie could stop her, Natasha had blabbed the whole story about Verity doing strange things to the horses and Ginty telling her she had to go. Penny looked a little shocked, but she didn’t seem upset.

“So what did Ginty say exactly?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“We only caught the second half of the conversation,” Natasha said, “but she was telling Verity that she couldn’t have her around behaving like that and so she was, like, fired!”

Penny shook her head in amazement. “I hope Ginty’s planning on replacing her. I’m not going to do all of Verity’s work as extra for no more money!”

Before now, Issie had always assumed that Verity and Penny were best friends, but Penny’s lack of sympathy
made it clear that she couldn’t have cared less. It reminded Issie of something that Verity had said on her very first day at Dulmoth Park.
You never know who your friends are around here.
She was right. A week ago Issie would never have believed she’d become friends with Natasha, but as they were riding home through the forest and Natasha was chatting away to her, Issie suddenly realised that the pair of them were actually getting along.

Ginty seemed to be in a better mood that afternoon too. She helped them to groom the horses that evening and do the hard feeds to make up for Verity’s absence. They had finished feeding all the horses and Natasha and Penny had already gone home for the day when Ginty asked Issie to come back to her office “for a chat”.

“You’re aware of what happened this morning?” Ginty asked. “You know that I had to let Verity go?”

“Yes,” Issie said nervously.

“Well, I’m going to need you to take over a couple of her horses to exercise them until we can find a replacement. And I’ll need all of you to work extra hours to cover for her too.”

“OK,” Issie said.

“There’s no extra money at this stage,” Ginty paused. “But it’s all valuable experience if you want a career as a rider, and I’ve got my eye on you for future promotion. Cassandra was very impressed by the way you rode Quebec. And even considering the problems you had with Flame, I think it was a good outing on the weekend. I think you’d fit in around here quite nicely if a permanent position ever came up.” She reached into the top draw of her desk and handed Issie a brown envelope. “This is for you.”

When Issie arrived home she was still clutching the envelope tightly in her hand.

“What’s in there?” Mrs Brown asked.

“My first pay cheque,” Issie said proudly. “Ginty called me in to her office to tell me that she’s really happy with my work. She’s giving me more responsibility too, now that Verity has gone.”

And so, while Mrs Brown prepared their dinner, Issie filled her in on all the drama and Verity’s departure.

“Ginty said that if I wanted, I could have a permanent
job at the stables in the future,” Issie told her mother, unable to conceal her excitement.

Mrs Brown raised her eyebrows. “Well, I hope you told her that you couldn’t take it. You’re still at school.”

“I know that!” Issie replied. “She didn’t mean straight away. She meant when I leave school I could work there.”

“Oh, Issie!” Mrs Brown sighed. “Do we have to keep having this argument? Horses are not a proper career. Maybe you can work there part-time while you’re at university.”

“I don’t see why I need to go to university to be a professional rider,” Issie grumbled.

“Wanting to be a professional rider when you grow up is like wanting to be a fairy princess,” Mrs Brown said.

“Fairy princesses don’t shovel horse poo at seven in the morning!” Issie pointed out with a grin.

Mrs Brown shook her head in amazement. “I have to admit I never thought you’d last at that place, getting up so early. I expected you to be begging me for a job in at the office by now!”

“I am pretty exhausted,” Issie admitted. “Riding at least six horses a day takes it out of you.”

“Have you got a favourite one yet?” Mrs Brown asked.

“Tokyo was my favourite, I guess — but I had to give her up for Natasha to ride,” Issie said. “Now I’m riding this Hanoverian chestnut called Flame. He’s really gorgeous and he has these amazing jumping bloodlines. He cost a fortune and he’s supposed to be one of Ginty’s stars, but he goes bonkers in the arena. He’s got so much potential but he’s a total nightmare. I can’t figure him out.”

“Maybe you could ask Tom to look at him?” Mrs Brown suggested.

“Yeah,” Issie said sarcastically, “I’m sure Ginty would be thrilled if I did that.”

“What do you mean?” Mrs Brown was taken aback.

“Ginty and Tom don’t get on, Mum,” Issie said. “Besides, she’d never let another instructor come and look at one of her horses.”

Her mum didn’t know anything about the way things worked in a professional stable, Issie thought. But Mrs Brown did have a point. Issie wished she could talk to Tom about Flame. She lay awake in bed for hours that night thinking about the big chestnut. What had made Flame perform so badly in the showjumping ring? She knew that with his bloodlines he could jump three times as high as the jumps in the arena, so it couldn’t have
been the size of the fences. Maybe it was the crowds that bothered him? Perhaps he needed an earguard like she used on Comet. Her Blackthorn Pony hated crowd noise when he jumped. This was the sort of idea she would have discussed normally with Avery, but when Issie offered her theory to Ginty the next morning at the stables, the red-haired instructor dismissed it briskly as nonsense.

“This horse simply needs to learn to do as he’s told,” she said stiffly. “He’s had a day off to recover. Saddle him up and bring him into the arena. We’re going to drill him and drill him until he gets it right.”

The rapping session that day was even tougher than anything Issie had experienced before. Time and again, with Ginty barking the orders, Natasha and Penny lifted the rail up to bash Flame in the legs as Issie jumped him over.

“Hold him! Hold him!” Ginty shouted out at Issie with frustration. “Now go! Canter on!”

With each attempt at the jump, Flame became more strung out. He was charging the fences like a bull, his problems now getting worse, not better. Ginty kept telling Issie to hold him back, but this just drove the big chestnut into a frenzy. By the end of the day,
instead of cantering on the spot as he had done at the competition the day before, the Hanoverian was cantering on the spot
and sideways.
He couldn’t even look at the jumps without going berserk. It was like trying to ride a bucking bronco.

By the time Issie took Flame back to his stall, he was quivering all over and his whole body was wet with sweat. As Issie untacked the horse, she couldn’t help but feel worried about him. Flame wasn’t coping with the stress. She gave him his hard feed and tried to dry him off before she put his lightweight rug on him so that he could cool down.

“I’m sorry, boy,” Issie said softly. “I’m trying to help, you know that, don’t you?”

“Issie?” Ginty stuck her head over the partition. “Are you still in there? What’s taking you so long? You should be saddling up your next ride by now.”

“I’m just worried about Flame. I think maybe the training isn’t right for him,” Issie said. She realised it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of her mouth. Ginty’s face turned stony.

“I’m sure that when you’re riding your pony-club ponies you coax them over the jumps with cuddles and
carrots,” Ginty said snidely, “but this is a professional stable, Issie. Horses need to learn how to work and do what is asked of them. And you need to learn to harden up. Flame is not a pet, he’s an expensive investment.”

“But if he’s worth so much money, shouldn’t we at least try—” Issie began, but Ginty cut her off.

“I have nearly thirty horses in work at these stables, Issie. They all respond to my training system. Flame will too. You need to do as I tell you.”

Ginty seemed so confident of her methods. And she clearly didn’t like being questioned. The trainer had a reputation for producing champion showjumpers, and compared to her, Issie was just some pony-club kid. What could she possibly know? But that was never how it had been with Avery. Issie had always been able to talk to Tom about her horses whenever she was in trouble. She only wished she could talk to him now.

It was late evening and the sky was turning a dusky pink colour on the horizon as Issie rode her bike up the driveway of Winterflood Farm.

It had only been three weeks ago that she’d had her argument with Avery, but it felt to Issie as if she hadn’t been here for years. When she spotted Tom out the back with the horses she gave him a wave. Tom looked up and saw her and waved back. She couldn’t tell at this distance whether he was pleased to see her or not. As he led the horse closer and came over to greet her she still wasn’t sure. His face was expressionless.

Avery was leading a small pony, about twelve hands high, an Appaloosa with a very pretty blanket of white spots on its dark chocolate rump.

“Who’s the new horse?” Issie asked.

“This is Cookie,” Avery said. “He’s a rescue pony. You should have seen the state of his feet when he arrived. He’s quite sound again now — he’ll be well enough and ready to be re-homed in a week or two.” He looked at Issie, still in her jodhpurs and helmet after a hard day in the stables at Dulmoth Park. “Been at work?”

“Uh-huh,” Issie nodded. “I thought I’d just drop in and say hi on my way home.”

This was patently untrue. Winterflood Farm wasn’t on her way home. It was in completely the opposite
direction. But if Avery knew she was lying, he didn’t let on.

“Just let me give Cookie his feed,” he smiled at her, “and we can have a cup of tea. I’ve just made a fruit loaf.”

Five minutes later they were in the kitchen and Issie was telling Avery all about Flame rushing his jumps and getting crazy every time he was faced with even the tiniest fence.

Avery listened with a frown furrowing his brow. “Issie, I want to help, I really do, but I can’t tell you what to do with someone else’s horse…”

“I know that, Tom, but I thought we could at least talk about it. I keep thinking that his training isn’t helping. We’ve been rapping him for the past two weeks—”

Avery froze. He stopped what he was doing and turned to face Issie again.

“Did you just say that Ginty is rapping him?”

“Uh-huh,” Issie said. “She does it with all the horses.”

“Issie, this is exactly why I didn’t want you working for Ginty. I can’t believe she’s rapping the horses — it’s a horrid practice — it should be outlawed.”

“But Ginty said everyone does it! It’s just a training technique.”

“Some showjumping stables still do it,” Avery admitted. “And sometimes it works. But it can be disastrous. For a horse like Flame all it does is make them lose their nerve, and then they become terrified every time they see a jump.” He shook his head. “Besides it’s cruel. I’ve seen horses that have been rapped until their legs bled. Not that Ginty would care. She’s always been like this — willing to do whatever it takes to win.”

“She’s not like that!” Issie said, standing up for Ginty. “She actually fired one of her grooms for giving a horse an illegal injection! You don’t know her! She really, really cares about the horses!”

“Oh, wake up, Issie!” Avery replied. “I know better than you exactly what Ginty is capable of. I’ve seen the damage that she’s done in the past. She destroys good horses, and for some reason people pay her big money to do it.” He looked Issie square in the eyes. “You can’t stay on at the stables — she’s mistreating those horses.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” Issie asked.

“I don’t know,” Avery said, “but you can’t continue working for her.”

“But I can’t just leave. Working in professional stables is what I’ve always dreamt of. Tom, she’s talking about offering me a full-time job at Dulmoth Park once I leave school.”

“You can’t actually be considering it?” Avery was appalled.

Issie didn’t know what to say. Did Avery really think that Ginty was so terrible that he wouldn’t want Issie working for her? Even if it helped her to achieve her dream?

“I’ve gotta go,” she said, standing up and putting down her slice of half-eaten fruit loaf. “Mum is expecting me for dinner.” She walked out the door and grabbed her bike hastily, noticing that her hands were shaking as she wheeled it down the driveway.

“Issie, wait!” Avery called after her. But she pretended she didn’t hear him as she clambered on quickly and leant hard against the pedals. She cycled like mad and managed to make it to the end of the driveway and out of Avery’s sight, before she pulled over, her chest heaving, and burst into tears.

When Issie arrived at the stables the next morning and saw that Flame was the first horse on her roster she felt sick at the prospect of trying to jump him again. She was hoping that maybe they’d be exercising the horses on a forest ride instead. But according to the roster they’d be working in the arena, where the jumps were set up at a substantial height ready for training.

Ginty hadn’t managed to get another rider to replace Verity yet, but she did have two of the groundskeepers from Dulmoth Park on hand that morning helping out with the jumps. The two boys knew next to nothing about horses, but they had been given a brief explanation of what to do and now they stood by in
position ready to lift the poles as Issie, Natasha and Penny began to warm their horses up, trotting round the arena.

“OK,” Ginty called out to the riders. “Can I have you one at a time, please, over the jump where the boys are?”

Natasha went first. She was on Tokyo and the big bay mare picked her feet up neatly on the first try, but the boys had really yanked the pole up. They hit her hard, scraping the wood against her cannon bones and Issie saw Tokyo flinch as she tucked her legs up even higher.

Suddenly Issie knew that she couldn’t go through with it. It was her turn, but how could she ride Flame over the jump knowing that the boys were going to hit him no matter what? Instead, she rode straight up to Ginty.