of Goldrush completely and Coco and Toby both panicked and tore themselves free from the truck. Then all three horses bolted, heading straight for the pony-club gates.
As people began to run after the horses, trying to divert them before they reached the gate to the main road, Issie realised they’d never catch them in time on foot. But maybe she could reach them on Mystic.
The horses were out of the gates and had reached the road before Issie got to them. Cars were honking and swerving as she pulled Mystic around in front of Toby, and waved an arm at him, spooking the big bay, driving him back towards the pony club. The other two loose horses followed Toby’s lead and scattered back off the road. Issie was just about to turn Mystic and follow them to safety when she heard the deep low boom of the truck horn. There was a sickening squeal of tyres as the truck driver tried to stop, and the intense smell of burning rubber as the truck went into a slide. To Issie, it seemed as if everything began to move in slow motion. She felt Mystic rear up beneath her to face the truck, like a stallion preparing to fight. As the grey pony went up on his hind legs he threw Issie back with such force that she flew clear out of the saddle.
She was falling, the tarmac racing up to meet her. She braced for the impact, but this time it never came. Instead, she was jolted out of her dream state by the sharp honk of a car horn and a man’s voice shouting.
“Hey, buddy! You’re on the wrong side of the road!”
She was suddenly wide awake. They were at a petrol station and Avery had just swerved to avoid another driver, honking vigorously and waving his fist as he went past them.
“Stupid Americans,” Avery muttered under his breath, “It’s not my fault you drive on the wrong side of the road. Why can’t you drive on the left like everyone else?”
Then he caught sight of Issie’s face.
“Are you all right, Issie?” he asked with genuine concern. “You look utterly exhausted. I’m sorry you got woken up.”
“I’m fine,” Issie said. “I guess I’m a bit jetlagged.”
She was relieved that the honking had woken her up. At least she didn’t have to relive the rest of that nightmare. After the fall on the road that day, Issie had been knocked out. She remembered the crack of her helmet on the tarmac, the taste of blood in her mouth and then everything had turned black.
When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed with her mum sitting at her side holding her hand.
“Mum? Where is Mystic? Is Mystic OK?”
The look on her mother’s face told her everything she needed to know even before she spoke. “Isadora, there was nothing anyone could have done… the truck… Mystic is dead.”
Overwhelmed with grief at the loss of her beloved Mystic, Issie truly believed that she would never ride again – but then she didn’t know what was to come, or that the bond she shared with Mystic would prove to be unbreakable.
The first time he returned, Issie didn’t know how it could possibly be happening, and yet she instinctively knew somehow that the grey pony standing before her was real. Mystic had returned to her – not a ghost, but flesh and blood, and here to help her.
Ever since then Mystic had been her protector and her guardian, turning up out of the blue whenever Issie and her ponies really needed him.
Issie knew it wasn’t just the jetlag that had brought on her dream. She’d had premonitions like this before. It was a sign that trouble was looming.
She didn’t dare to fall asleep again. Instead, she stared out the car window, listening to the country music pouring out of the car stereo as they drove up mountain ranges through the dense conifer forests, and into the heartland of New Mexico.
It was almost seven and the sun was turning blood-red on the horizon when they finally reached their destination for the evening – a motel called The Hacienda on the outskirts of the township of Rio Rancho.
The motel buildings were old Spanish Mission plasterwork painted pale pink and there was a pink neon sign on the roof above the office that read: Vacancy. Horses welcome.
Stella stared at the sign with wide eyes. “I’ve never stayed at a horse motel before,” she said. “Does Comet get his own bedroom or will he sleep with us?”
Avery looked at her. “Stella, they have loose boxes here for the horses.”
“I was only joking,” Stella grinned.
Avery backed the horse float up beside other floats parked in front of the stable block.
“I’ll unload Comet,” he told Issie. “You go in to the front desk and ask them for two rooms and a loose box for Comet. Oh, and get them to provide some hay too.”
As she trudged across the motel forecourt, Issie realised that despite her nap in the car she was still exhausted. All she wanted to do was get those room keys, get Comet bedded down in his stall for the night and get some sleep.
At the reception desk, Issie waited patiently while an elderly couple checked in, and then it was her turn. She was about to step up to speak to the manager, when out of nowhere a boy slipped in front of her, barging in and taking her place.
“I’d like to book a room for the night, please…” the boy began.
Jetlagged and exhausted, Issie lost her cool. “Uhh, sorry, but I think I was next.”
The boy turned around to look at her. He wasn’t much older than Issie, and had short-cropped, ginger-blonde hair and wore dark blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Actually,” he replied, in an English accent, “I was here first. You didn’t notice me because I was just sitting down over there waiting.”
“Sitting around isn’t the same as being in the queue,” Issie said. “I thought you English wrote the rule book on how to queue.”
The boy gave a faint laugh. “There was no queue when I got here because you weren’t here,” he pointed out. “I was just waiting for my turn.”
“Well it didn’t look like you were queuing, that’s all…”
“Ah, excuse me?” the motel manager spoke up. “Do either of you actually plan on checking in at any stage or is this going to go on forever?”
Issie sighed and gestured defeat with a tired wave of her hand. “You go ahead,” she said to the boy.
“Thank you,” he said and turned to the man at the desk. “Right! I’d like a room, please, and a loose box for my horse.”
The man behind the counter handed him a key and pointed out the directions. “Park your horse truck over there with the others and you can put your horse in the last stall at the end of the stables.”
The boy signed his name into the guest register and then gave Issie a grin. “Now it’s your turn,” he said.
Exhausted and fed up, Issie finally stepped up for her turn at the desk. “I’d like two rooms, please, and a loose box for my horse and hay for the evening.”
The man shook his
