Blaze and the Dark Rider

by Stacy Gregg

  She stopped now in front of them, raising one finger aloft as if she were making a very crucial point. “Who would have a reason to want to hurt Annabel?” Stella asked.

  “Oh, Stella, this really is too silly.” Kate was grouchy now. “No one had any reason to hurt Annabel. It was just an accident, obviously.”

  “Or maybe,” Stella continued, “maybe they just got the wrong girl!” Stella turned to Issie. “Isadora, you said you saw Francoise coming out of the tack room in the middle of the night. Couldn’t she have done this? I mean, couldn’t she be the one who cut Annabel’s stirrup leather? She must have mistaken Annabel’s saddle for yours and sabotaged her leathers instead!”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Dan broke in. “Who is this Francoise and why would she be in the tack room in the middle of the night? Issie? What is this all about?”

  And so Issie and Stella and Kate all started talking at once over the top of each other. They told Dan and Ben all about El Caballo Danza Magnifico and the horses that looked just like Blaze, and how Francoise had come to visit that day.

  When they had finished their story, Dan and Ben both sat gobsmacked in their armchairs. “Well, Issie,” Dan shook his head in disbelief, “you are most definitely the most interesting girl I have ever met!”

  Issie blushed at this, and then Dan, realising what he had said, blushed too and added hurriedly, “I mean, I think Stella is right, maybe this Francoise does have something to do with Annabel’s accident. I think we should investigate further.”

  “Ohhh, you should come with us!” Stella suggested. “To El Caballo Danza, I mean. Kate and Issie and I are going to go along on Sunday. Francoise said she would give us free tickets to the show, and we’re going to go backstage afterwards and meet all the horses. I’m sure she won’t mind if you and Ben come too.”

  Everyone agreed that Ben and Dan should come with them that weekend to the show.

  “Meanwhile,” Stella instructed, “I think all of us should keep our eyes open during the next practice session on Saturday, just in case any other gear gets tampered with.”

  The five of them took a vote that night on whether to tell the other riders about this. “After all, Natasha and Morgan are in the team too,” Ben and Dan had argued. It was harder for them to keep it a secret, Issie realised, because Dan and Ben both went to Kingswood, the same school as Natasha and Morgan.

  “No,” Issie had said, “we don’t know that it was Francoise who did this. And if there is someone else out there who is sabotaging the Interclub team, then the less people that know about it the better. We need to keep this to ourselves until we have more proof.”

  Besides, she thought to herself, Natasha would only laugh at them if they tried to warn her.

  “Well, if we don’t tell them that they’re in danger then I think we should at least try to keep an eye on them too, and check that their gear is safe,” Stella suggested. The five of them agreed that this was a good idea. Issie would somehow get close enough to Natasha to check on Goldrush, while Stella would keep an eye on Morgan.

  When they all left the clubroom that night, they carefully checked the tack room downstairs—Ben tried to make ghost noises in the dark to scare the girls. Then they made double-sure that the door really was locked before they went home.

  The next Saturday morning, when they were saddling up at the club, all the riders made sure to check their stirrup leathers and girths extra carefully just in case. Stella took her sleuthing duties very seriously and when Morgan and Araminta arrived at the club with Jack in the horse truck, she shot off instantly in their direction.

  Kate shook her head as she watched Stella racing off towards the truck. “What’s she going to say to them?” Kate wondered. “How do you casually ask someone if you can check their horse to see if they’ve been sabotaged?”

  A few minutes later Stella was running back across towards them with a huge smile on her face. “Did it!” she beamed proudly. “I told Morgan that Avery was getting me to do a routine gear check on all the riders after the accident. Well, Morgan looked a bit spooked at first but she let me check over her saddle and bridle, and I got Araminta’s autograph at the same time,” she said, pulling a piece of paper out of her jodhpur pocket.

  “It’s not for me, it’s for my little sister,” she added hastily.

  “Well, then, I guess it’s your turn, Issie,” Kate said. “What excuse could you possibly have that Natasha will believe?”

  Issie looked over at the silver Mercedes SUV and silver horse float where Goldrush was tied up. Natasha appeared to be lying down on the back seat of the car looking bored, while her mother tacked up her pony for her.

  “I’ll think of something,” Issie said hopefully as she set off reluctantly in their direction.

  Luckily, it looked like she wouldn’t even need an excuse. She watched as Mrs Tucker and Natasha walked away from the float and headed off for the clubroom. Now was her chance!

  When Issie reached the horse float, she slipped between Goldrush and the float where she couldn’t been seen. Then she examined the saddle, checking on the stirrup leathers, which showed no signs of being tampered with. She checked the girth too, flipping back the top flap of the saddle to examine the straps. They seemed fine.

  Issie slipped under Goldrush’s neck and back through to the other side to do the check on that side of the saddle too. Unfortunately, just as she bobbed up from under Goldrush’s neck she saw Natasha walking back towards her from the clubroom with her mum.

  Frozen with panic, Issie considered running away. But it was too late. Natasha had definitely seen her. No, she had to come up with something else. She gave a smile and a wave and Natasha, after checking over her shoulders to see who Issie could possibly be waving at, gave her a reluctant wave in return.

  “Hi, Natasha, hi, Mrs Tucker!” Issie smiled. Her brain was racing now. What on earth was her excuse?

  “Oh, it’s Isabella, isn’t it?” Natasha said frostily. She had met Issie a million times but seemed to delight in never knowing who she was.

  “Isadora,” Issie said, trying desperately to keep the smile plastered on her face.

  “How is that scruffy old charity pony that you got given?” Natasha smirked at her.

  “Blaze is great, thanks,” Issie said. “Umm, in fact that’s why I came over here. A whole bunch of us are going along to El Caballo Danza Magnifico—you know, the show with the dancing horses? Well, the mares look just like Blaze and I know the woman who runs it and we’ve got free tickets for tomorrow to see the show…” Issie gulped, she had no choice, it was her only solution “…and I was wondering if you’d like to come with us.”

  Please say no. Please say no, Issie wished as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

  Natasha gave a sneer of disinterest and Issie’s heart soared. Then she sighed with boredom and finally spoke, “OK, why not?” She turned to her mother. “I can go, can’t I, Mum?”

  Mrs Tucker nodded. “Yes, of course. Thanks very much, Isadora, Natasha would love to come with you. Is your mum taking you? I’ll drop her off at your house tomorrow. What time is it?”

  “Umm, we’re leaving at midday,” Issie said.

  Mrs Tucker smiled. “Lovely, see you then.” And she walked off, leaving Natasha and Issie still standing there.

  “I can’t wait to see the show,” Natasha said to Issie. And then she added, “because I bet those dancing mares don’t look anything like your scruffy mutt of a pony. There’s no way she’s a purebred Anglo-Arab. A horse like that costs a fortune, just like Goldrush here. She has impeccable English riding-pony bloodlines. I won’t even tell you how much she cost, but it was more than Mum’s Mercedes.”

  Natasha eyed Issie up and down. “Your charity pony isn’t a purebred. You don’t get given horses like that, Isadora. And,” she added, “in your case you most certainly could never afford one.”

  “How did it go?” Stella was bright-eyed with excitement as Issie came back over
the paddock towards her.

  “Great, Stella. Just great,” Issie replied. “Thanks to your brilliant plan I had to ask Natasha Tucker to come to El Caballo Danza with us!”

  The news that Natasha was going to be joining them tomorrow didn’t go down too well with Kate either. “Couldn’t you think of any other excuse?” Kate sighed.

  Issie shook her head. “I know; it was a bit dim of me. But anyway, it probably won’t be that bad.”

  Kate and Stella looked at her as if to say that in fact it would probably be even worse than bad, but no one said anything—it was clear that Issie felt bad enough about the whole thing.

  Apart from the Natasha Tucker incident, the training session went well that day Issie and the gang were on the look out for anything suspicious, but nothing strange happened at all. The riders all swooped gracefully between the bending poles, practising their relays and their baton passes, and Avery kept checking his stopwatch and nodding with a look of quiet satisfaction on his face.

  In the afternoon they did practice sessions for rider on the flat. Avery stood in the middle of the arena as judge, and all the riders walked, trotted and cantered around him in a twenty-metre circle, concentrating on keeping in the very best possible position to impress the judge.

  “Heels down, hands still, eyes up!” Issie chanted to herself in her head as she trotted.

  “Canter on!” Avery called to the riders, and he watched them now as they rode, calling out advice to each of them in turn. “Stella, you’re gripping up with your knees. Relax your knee and keep your heels down…Ben, you’re dropping your shoulder in…Morgan, keep Jack on the bit, don’t let go of the contact…Good, Issie, very good. A bit more impulsion at the canter, yes, that’s it…lovely stuff”

  Issie focused hard on keeping her position perfect and keeping Blaze at a balanced, steady canter. The mare was going so beautifully and Issie was thrilled that the rearing incident didn’t seem to have affected her. Blaze was her old self again.

  “Excellent effort today!” Avery said as he walked down the row in front of them all at the end of the practice session. “I know that some of you have been to visit Annabel in hospital.” Avery smiled at Stella, Kate and Issie. “And the news is good—she will be fine. But there’s no way that leg of hers will heal in time for her to ride at the Interclub.”

  He turned now to his two reserves. “Natasha, I’ve decided that with Annabel out for the competition, you will be our new team member. Morgan will remain as our reserve. Right? Excellent!”

  And with that, Avery strode off towards the horse floats. The team, including a rather smug Natasha, turned and began to head in the same direction to unsaddle and go home.

  Issie was about to ride after the others when she noticed Morgan hadn’t moved. She was sitting quite still on Jack and she was trying desperately not to look upset, but failing utterly.

  “Are you OK?” Issie asked her.

  “Uh-huh,” Morgan nodded, although she was clearly trying not to cry. “I just thought…I thought that with Annabel gone Avery would put me in the team. I never thought that it would be Natasha.”

  Morgan sighed, “Mum will kill me when she finds out.”

  “Why?” Issie was puzzled.

  A single tear trickled down Morgan’s left cheek. “Oh, you know, she really, really wants me to make the team,” Morgan said. “She wants me to ride for Chevalier Point in the Gold Shield like she did when she was my age.”

  “I’m sure Avery just chose Natasha because she’s been at pony club for longer than you have,” Issie offered hopefully.

  Morgan looked at her darkly. “I didn’t expect you to understand. The Gold Shield means everything to Mum. I need to get my name on it, just like she did,” she said. There was a chill in her voice now as she turned to Issie and wiped away the tear. “Anyway, you’d better catch up with the others. You don’t want to let your team down,” and she spun Jack around and kicked him on into a canter, leaving Issie standing alone and wondering what she had done wrong.

  Chapter 8

  True to her word, Francoise had left the girls’ tickets at the door for the matinee session of El Caballo Danza Magnifico.

  “Wow!” Stella was impressed. “These must be the best seats in the house. We’re so close to the arena we could almost touch the horses as they go past.”

  “Maybe we will actually get to touch them,” Issie said. “Francoise is going to show us around backstage after the show and she said she would introduce us to the horses and riders.”

  “I doubt it,” Natasha sniffed. “They don’t just let the public go backstage, you know. These are very valuable animals.” She turned to Issie. “When are we going to see the dancing mares that look so much like your mongrel pony?”

  “They don’t come on until later. It’s the stallions first,” Issie replied.

  The matinee show was very much like the performance the girls had seen when they came for Issie’s birthday. But none of them minded watching it a second time. When the white stallions came out doing a Spanish Walk, with their legs lifting out into the air in an exaggerated flamenco prance, the girls clapped and cheered louder than anyone. They held their breath when Marius strutted into the arena, kicking his hindquarters elegantly back in a Capriole. They were sitting so close they could smell the horse sweat keenly in their nostrils and hear the grunts and snorts as Marius performed the most spectacular haute école movements.

  As Marius left the ring, Issie looked at the programme that each of them had been given with their tickets. “The Arabian mares are next,” she said excitedly. “They’re going to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. Listen to this…” Issie began to read out loud from the programme.

  “The Dance of the Seven Veils is performed by the school’s six prized Anglo-Arab mares, all of whom share the same ancient Arabian bloodlines. These horses have been trained in the movements of the haute école like prima ballerinas, schooled by the famous Francoise D’arth, senior rider at El Caballo Danza Magnifico, formerly the head trainer at the Cadre Noir de Saumur in France. The Dance of the Seven Veils is an ancient tale. It was famously performed for the wicked King Herod by the beautiful Salome.”

  Suddenly there was a hush throughout the arena as the lights went out and the spotlights were trained once more on the sawdust floor of the ring. There was the faint tinkle of saddle bells and strains of exotic music, then the audience started clapping as the dancing Arabians cantered gracefully into the arena.

  Blaze could be an Anglo-Arab just like these mares, Issie thought. If that were true then, like Natasha said, she must be worth a fortune. The Arabians were all a deep, burnished liver chestnut with pale creamy flaxen manes and tails. Today their manes had been plaited up and the horses each wore scarves of silk chiffon knotted into their braided manes to match the veils worn by their riders.

  Issie spotted Francoise D’arth immediately. She was leading at the front of the ride, wearing a veil and harem pants in deep midnight blue covered with tiny clusters of diamond stars. As she rode past Issie she raised one hand to give her a wave, and Issie caught Natasha Tucker giving her a look of astonishment. Even snooty Natasha would have to believe that this famous rider was Issie’s friend now.

  Was Francoise really her friend though? Issie had waved back as the rider went past, but she didn’t return her smile. Issie’s instincts told her to trust Francoise. And yet, the more that she thought about it, the more certain Issie was that she was the mystery woman in the tack room that night. Why would the French trainer be prowling about the pony club in the middle of the night? Had she meant to cut Issie’s stirrup leathers and got mixed up and injured poor Annabel instead?

  At the end of the show, instead of following the crowds out into the main foyer, Issie and the others all walked across the sawdust of the main arena towards the doors that led out to the stables. When they reached the vast arched doorway that the horses came through to enter the ring, a big burly security guard emerged from behind the pillar
to block their path. “Sorry, kids. Riders only. No entry for tourists here,” he said sternly.

  “It’s OK, Rene, these are the young riders I was telling you about. They’re with me,” a voice behind the guard instructed. Francoise D’arth stepped forward out of the darkness and stood in front of them, smiling warmly. She had changed out of her costume and was wearing a pair of dark navy jodhpurs and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

  “Bonjour, Isadora!” she said, greeting Issie and looking along the row of faces beside her. “I know Kate and Stella, but you three I do not know.” She smiled at Dan, Ben and Natasha.

  “Oh, sorry,” Issie said, “this is Dan and Ben, and this is Natasha. We all go to pony club together.”

  “I hope you all enjoyed the show?” Francoise asked.

  “Yes, thanks. Thanks for giving us the tickets,” Ben and Dan said together.

  “Yes, it was a fabulous show,” said Natasha. “Your horses must be very expensive.”

  Francoise laughed at this, “Well, yes, I suppose they are,” she replied. “All of our horses are bred from very select bloodlines that have been refined over centuries. The mares and stallions are chosen for their looks and temperament, and from the moment they are born, they are raised to be part of the riding school, to perform haute école movements and to dance for the crowds who come to see them—”

  Natasha interrupted, “Yes, yes, but how much would my mum need to pay to buy me one of these horses?”

  Francoise raised one eyebrow and smiled at her. “Oh, but I am afraid they are not for sale at any price. Besides, I am not sure that you could ride them. These horses are very finely trained in the ways of dressage and they all know a trick or two.” She turned and smiled at Isadora. “It takes a very special rider to handle an El Caballo horse. “Now,” Francoise said, “who would like to meet my horses?”

  The stables for the El Caballo Danza Magnifico were divided into two separate wings. “One for the stallions,” Francoise explained, “and one for the mares. When we are touring like this we do not spend much more than a month in each place,” Francoise continued, “and during that time we must always find suitable accommodation for our stars.”