understood. “It’s a normal process for all mares and foals to be split up, but they’ll be upset for a day or so,” he said. “I think it would be best to keep Storm here at Winterflood Farm in familiar surroundings.
He’ll feel more secure if he’s in his usual field. I’ll take Blaze down to the River Paddock.”
And so on the day of the weaning Issie sat at home hugging her knees miserably and watching bad movies on TV, while Avery separated the mare and her foal for the first time.
Blaze had been frantic when she was taken away from her son. She had whinnied and whinnied and paced up and down the fenceline, with a heartbreaking expression on her face as she searched in vain for her baby. But eventually she calmed down and began to graze and make friends again with her old paddock mates Toby and Coco.
As for Storm, the little colt had bellowed for his mother solidly all day and into the night. Then, just before Avery went to bed, he heard the trip-trap of the colt’s hooves on the gravel driveway. Storm had decided that no one was keeping him away from his mum any longer and had jumped out of his paddock!
Issie couldn’t believe it when Avery called to tell her. “Well, on the positive side, at least we know now that he has the makings of a good showjumper,” Avery said. Luckily the driveway gate had been shut and Avery had caught the colt before he got too far. “Don’t worry,” he told Issie, “I’ve put him back in the magnolia paddock this time where the fences are a metre higher. I doubt he’ll get out again.”
With his attempted jailbreak foiled, Storm seemed to resign himself to his fate and began to make friends with Avery’s two horses, Starlight and Vinnie, who grazed in the paddock next to his. By the time Issie arrived at Winterflood Farm the next day she found her colt quite content with his new life without his mum, nickering happily over the fence to her.
“It’s all part of growing up,” Avery told her. “He’s becoming a horse.” Issie knew her instructor was right, but still, she worried about her colt.
Now Avery said Storm was ready for the next step—his first outing. For the past two weeks Issie had been practising with the colt in Avery’s horse float. At first she had simply got Avery to park the float around the back of the house in Storm’s paddock. She had dropped the ramp and let the colt sniff his way around it, putting one tentative hoof and then another onboard. Then, she had clipped a lead rope to his halter and led the colt all the way on and off the horse float, talking softly to him whenever he spooked or snorted, reassuring him that it was OK and nothing would hurt him.
By the end of the second week, Storm was so comfortable around the horse float that he would walk on all by himself and stand like a perfect gentleman as Issie fussed with his halter, tied up his hay net and then lifted the ramp and locked the colt safely inside. Once he was closed in she would leave him standing there for a few moments, just to let him see how it felt before she lowered the ramp and let him out again.
Today the routine would be just the same as the past couple of weeks, Issie told herself. Except today, instead of going nowhere and staying in the paddock, the horse float was attached to the towbar of Avery’s Range Rover.
“Easy, Storm,” Issie cooed to the colt. “We’re just going to go for a little ride.”
Storm lifted his legs in an exaggerated high step, wary of the leg bandages that Issie had put on him today to protect him for the journey. The colt raised his feet deliberately and precisely as he walked up the float ramp. Then he was inside and Issie was bolting the doors behind him before climbing into the Range Rover next to Avery.
“Is he ready?” Avery asked.
Issie took a deep breath and nodded. “Uh-huh. Let’s go.”
As the Range Rover rolled slowly down the driveway, Issie twisted round in her seat and stared out of the back window at the float.
“Is he OK?” Avery asked her.
“He’s fine, Tom.” Issie turned to her instructor. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried so much, but it’s his first ride in the horse float, you know?”
Avery smiled at her. “The pony club is the perfect distance—just a few kilometres. That’s a good first trip for him. It will get him used to travelling and being around other horses. It’s all about breaking him in gradually to new experiences. We start him off by taking him to pony-club rally. Let him understand that it’s not a big deal, just tether him to the float for an hour or so, let him look around, then bring him home again. By the time he goes out to compete at his first gymkhana or one-day event he’ll be quite relaxed because he knows the drill.”
Issie nodded. Then she turned back to stare out of the rear window again, keeping her eyes locked on the horse float to make sure Storm was still OK.
If she hadn’t been so busy staring straight at the horse float she might have noticed the car that was trailing behind them to the pony-club grounds. It was a black sedan with tinted windows, and it had been following them ever since it pulled out from behind the trees next to Winterflood Farm.
The black car kept its distance, travelling slowly behind them all the way to the pony club. When Avery pulled up to open the gates of the Chevalier Point club grounds, the sedan pulled over and parked out of sight behind the hedge across the road. A tinted window was lowered and a pair of binoculars appeared. Through the binoculars, dark eyes were watching Issie and her colt. They watched as Storm came down the ramp of the float, the binoculars trained directly on the colt as he looked about excitedly, letting out a shrill whinny, calling to the other horses. They saw the way Issie held the colt’s head firmly and talked to him all the time, and the way the colt responded to her voice, calming down as she handled him.
Then, satisfied that they had seen enough, the tinted window was rolled shut again and the black car silently drove off.
If only Issie had seen the car, she might have realised that there was something suspicious going on. But as the black sedan swept out of sight, she had no idea of the danger they were in. She did not know what was to come—for her, and for Nightstorm.
Issie might not have noticed the black sedan, but it was hard to miss the sour-faced spectacle that greeted her as they pulled into the club grounds.
Natasha Tucker had spent pretty much the whole season at pony club trying to make Issie’s life a misery. As Avery steered the truck through the gates and Issie caught sight of the girl with the stiff blonde plaits glowering malevolently at her it was clear that today was going to be no different.
Issie knew precisely why Stuck-up Tucker had her in her sights. Ever since the Horse of the Year Show, when Issie and her skewbald pony Comet had beaten Natasha, the girls had openly been at war. Natasha was still furious that Issie’s aunt Hester had refused to sell Comet to her.
Natasha’s trainer, Ginty McLintoch, had offered Hester a huge amount of money—$28,000! But Hester had turned her down and given the skewbald showjumper to Issie instead.
Natasha didn’t take no for an answer. She always got what she wanted and, despite the fact that she kept telling Issie that skewbalds were ugly, she had decided she wanted Comet. Ginty McLintoch had approached Issie twice since then on Natasha’s behalf and offered to buy the skewbald gelding. But each time Issie said no—which
