Blaze and the Dark Rider

by Stacy Gregg

  She turned to Issie. “You’ve already found her lurking around the tack room once, and now here she is again. She’s the one who cut the stirrup leathers—obviously she meant to hurt you and got poor Annabel by mistake. Now that’s failed she’s trying to poison Blaze. Issie, it has to be her!”

  Issie felt her chest tightening. Could it be true? Was Francoise really trying to hurt Blaze?

  “What if it wasn’t Francoise?” Issie said. “You’re all just assuming it was her. But what if it’s not? Francoise has no reason to hurt Blaze or me. Maybe she’s not the one who did this, and while we’re wasting our time on Francoise the person who is really causing the trouble is still out there!”

  “Issie, calm down,” Dan said. “I think Stella is right. It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? There have been too many strange coincidences since this Francoise turned up. Why is this woman interested in you and your horse? I think there’s something fishy going on and you have to face the fact that she’s behind it.”

  “Well, what if she is?” said Ben. “We still can’t tell the police. We don’t have any proof.”

  “We’ll have to get some.” Kate nodded.

  “But I keep telling you,” Issie was furious now, “Francoise had no reason to do this. What if she hasn’t done anything wrong?”

  “Issie, I can’t believe you are still standing up for her!” Stella snapped back. “After all she’s done. If Blaze had eaten that feed she would have been sick. So would Toby and Coco if they had eaten any. So she’s putting our horses in danger too! You have to face up to the fact that Francoise is the one behind all of this or other horses may be hurt as well as Blaze.”

  Issie looked around the room at her friends in disbelief. The room went quiet once more as the five friends stood there, not speaking.

  “I think we should take a vote,” Ben said finally. “All those who think it was Francoise raise your hands.”

  There was a brief pause, and then four hands went up in the air. Issie took one last look around the room, and then she burst into tears and ran out the door.

  It was nearly dark when Issie arrived home, and Mrs Brown was waiting for her. “I’m glad you’re home,” she called out to Issie as she walked in through the front door. “I’ve made roast chicken for dinner and it’s ready now.”

  Then she saw her daughter’s tear-stained face, and her eyes which were red from crying all the way home on her bike. “Issie! What on earth is the matter?” She gave her a long hug and then sat her down in a chair next to her at the kitchen table.

  “I had a fight with Stella and the others,” Issie sighed. “They all think that Francoise is the one responsible for everything…”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. “It’s nearly eight o’clock! What now? It looks like we will be eating cold chicken for a late supper at this rate.” Mrs Brown smiled at her daughter as she got up from the table and went down the hallway to answer the door.

  “Bonjour, Madame Brown.” Isadora heard the voice of Francoise D’arth. “May I please come in? I have something very important to discuss with Isadora.”

  When Issie saw Francoise’s face as she entered the kitchen, she knew immediately that something was very wrong. The dark-haired Frenchwoman looked very grave indeed.

  “Would you like some dinner, Francoise?” Mrs Brown offered. “We were just about to sit down to some roast chicken.”

  “Non merci, thank you but no.” Francoise shook her head. She was still standing back in the doorway, as if she were afraid to come closer. In her hands, Issie saw that she held a piece of paper.

  “Well, then, at least sit down and let me make you a cup of tea,” Mrs Brown said, and she gestured for Francoise to take a seat at the table across from Issie. “Now, you said you had something important to discuss?”

  “Yes, but, well, I don’t know how to begin…” Francoise said.

  “Milk or sugar?” asked Mrs Brown.

  “I like it black please.” Francoise smiled weakly in response to Mrs Brown’s question.

  “Isadora,” Francoise said, “do you remember the day when I first met Blaze, that morning at the pony club when I whistled for her, and she behaved strangely?”

  Issie nodded, but didn’t speak. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “It was almost unbelievable,” Francoise continued. “For only one of my mares, one of the Arabians of the El Caballo Danza Magnifico knows the sound of my whistle. Only one of my dancing Arabians would know that it is a signal to rear up and to gallop. My mares are trained in this way.”

  She looked Issie in the eyes. “It was at that moment, Issie, when Blaze responded to my whistle, that I knew who she really was. But it was not enough for me to know. I knew that my word would not be enough for you. So I needed proof.”

  Out of her pocket now, Francoise removed a plastic bag. Inside the bag were five long flaxen-blonde strands of horse hair.

  “I came back the next night and pulled these out from Blaze’s mane,” Francoise explained. “These hairs contain Blaze’s DNA. For the past week they have been at the laboratory being analysed and cross-checked against the hairs of my own dancing mares. They prove without a doubt what I have known in my heart the whole time, ever since I met Blaze.”

  “What is that?” Issie’s mother asked as she put the tea down in front of Francoise.

  Francoise gave Issie a look of deep sympathy. It was a look that made Issie feel completely and utterly sick because she knew in her heart now what was coming next. She felt the knot of anxiety that was growing inside her reach around her heart, making it hard to breathe.

  “The tests confirmed what I knew,” Francoise said. “Isadora, the horse that you call Blaze was once known by another name, her true name. She is called Salome. And she belongs to me.”

  Chapter 10

  Francoise D’arth put the piece of paper, which Issie now realised was the DNA test result, down on the table. Issie stared at it. The numbers and words on the page were a blur to her, but she knew that what Francoise was telling her was the truth. It all made sense.

  Issie thought back to that moment when she first set eyes on the El Caballo mares, and her shock when she saw how much they resembled Blaze. In the show, the mares had reared up and danced as part of their performance. When Blaze had reared at Francoise’s whistle she was performing too, just as she had done when she was an El Caballo mare. Blaze wasn’t Blaze at all—she was, what did Francoise call her? Salome. Of course! Issie knew she had seen that name somewhere. It was the same name as the dancer, the one who performed the Dance of the Seven Veils.

  Francoise D’arth saw the pained look on Isadora’s face and the tears welling in her eyes. She reached out across the kitchen table and took both of Isadora’s hands in her own. “I would like to tell you a story” she said softly. “It’s the story of the horse that you call Blaze.”

  Issie nodded mutely and Francoise began. “Isadora, the Arabian horse is a living treasure. In ancient times sultans and kings considered their best horses to be their most precious possessions. But did you realise that above all else, what mattered most to these kings were their mares? These mares were treasured beyond even the great Arab stallions, because their beauty and speed could be passed on again and again in the fine foals that they would bear.

  “One such mare was a great beauty called Mahabbah. Legend has it that her beauty was unparalleled. She was a chestnut, just like your Blaze, and most of her descendants today are chestnut too. Mahabbah’s bloodline is highly prized and it is from her that many of the mares at the El Caballo Danza Magnifico are bred.”

  Francoise smiled. “Your Blaze, the mare I call Salome, is descended from royalty. After all, Mahabbah belonged to sultans and was ridden by princesses. Her blood was then mingled with the strength and speed of the modern Thoroughbred. Blaze’s dam was the mare Bahiyaa, a direct descendant of Mahabbah. Her sire was the great stallion, Night Dancer, a Thoroughbred also of noble and revered bloodlines.”

&nb
sp; Francoise looked at Issie, who was too stunned to say anything. “You seem surprised, Isadora.” Francoise smiled. “Surely you must have known that Salome was a mare of high breeding?

  “Over the years,” she continued, “El Caballo Danza Magnifico’s stud farm in Spain has grown. There we breed all of the horses that will appear in our show, the Lipizzaners and the Anglo-Arabs. We use the Lipizzaner stallions because of their great power and classical grace, and the Anglo-Arab mare because of her beauty and intelligence. Our mares are all bred to be the best examples of the breed. Yet when Salome was born, I knew she was something special. Her beauty surpassed the others and could be seen even when she was still a leggy foal at her mother’s feet. I took it upon myself to train her to join the dancing Arabians.

  “It was not an easy task. Salome has a mind of her own, as you have no doubt discovered. But she soon proved to be the cleverest of all my mares—as well as the most beautiful.”

  Francoise looked grave. “The El Caballo horses travel many hundreds of miles to perform. Our school travels around the world, you know, and almost one year ago we arrived here for the first time.

  “It was the night of our first performance. We put the horses in their stalls. In those days we did not have Rene, who now guards the stables, and while all the riders went to dinner before the performance, there was no one left behind to watch over the mares. That was my mistake.

  “The thieves took Salome first. They did not realise, I think, that she was my favourite. I believe that they had planned to steal all the mares, not just her. Luckily, we arrived back before they could open the other stalls and so they fled with Salome and left the rest. We did not even realise she was gone until hours later when we opened her stall and saw that she had disappeared.

  “Rewards were offered, of course. I would have done anything to get her back. At first, we thought that maybe she had been smuggled overseas. In the right hands, Salome was worth a great deal of money. But these horse thieves did not realise how valuable their prize was. And they did not know what to do with her.

  “I wanted to stay and search for her but the El Caballo Danza Magnifico must always keep moving. Our show travels all the time, month after month, year after year. It was impossible for us to remain in one place any longer. Besides, even if we could stay and look for Salome, we did not know where to begin. The thieves could have taken her anywhere. It was futile. I had given up all hope of seeing her again until…until we came back here again, this time to Chevalier Point, and I met you and heard your story. You told me that you had a mare that looked just like mine, and although I didn’t dare hope that it might be Salome, I knew I had to meet her. It turned out that it was very lucky that I did.”

  Issie wiped a tear away roughly with the back of her hand.

  “I am sorry” Francoise sighed. “Perhaps not so lucky for you. I did not mean to be cruel. I can see how much Salome means to you.”

  Francoise gestured at the piece of paper that she had put on the kitchen table. “This is why I had to have proof before I could speak to you about this, Isadora. I know how much you love this mare, and how much Salome also adores you too. You have saved Salome’s life. If it were not for you I am sure she would have died. The horse thieves had treated her so badly and she was so very unwell when she came to you that only someone who truly loved her and could win her trust could have saved her life.”

  Issie smiled.

  “However,” Francoise’s face was stern now, “Salome is not your horse and she is too valuable to the riding school for me to give her up to you. Besides, even if I wanted to give her to you, I could not. Salome does not belong to me, she belongs to the El Caballo Danza Magnifico, and I work for them. They own her and, as you can imagine, they are looking forward to her return. Salome will once again become part of the Dance of the Seven Veils and our troupe will return to normal once more.”

  “But you can’t! You can’t take her!” Issie felt her face flush with anger and pain. “You don’t need her. I saw the show. You can do it without her. Blaze is mine. I love her and she loves me. She’s my horse and you can’t take her from me!”

  “Francoise, really, this doesn’t seem very fair,” Mrs Brown said. “Isadora was asked to be the guardian of this horse and as far as I can see, she has been much more than that. Blaze would not be alive if it weren’t for Issie, you’ve said as much yourself. Isn’t there something you can do about this?”

  Francoise hung her head. For a moment, she was silent and Issie thought that perhaps, just perhaps, she was reconsidering.

  Her hopes were dashed however when Francoise looked up at her again, her eyes filled with steely determination. “I am sorry, Mrs Brown. As I have explained, it is not my choice to make. Salome does not belong to me either, but to El Caballo Danza Magnifico. And she must be returned to the school.”

  She stood up now and walked towards the door, then she turned and spoke with a voice that was weary with sorrow. “Thank you for the cup of tea, Mrs Brown. It was most kind. I will be back tomorrow with a horse truck at nine a.m. to pick up Salome. I would appreciate it, Isadora, if you could have her ready for me by then? I am so sorry, but it is what I must do. Au revoir.”

  As Francoise pulled the door closed behind her, Mrs Brown walked across the kitchen and picked up the phone.

  “What are you doing, Mum?” Issie asked.

  “Calling Tom Avery. I want to get to the bottom of this. If anyone can help us it’s Tom,” Mrs Brown said.

  Half an hour later the doorbell rang again and there was Avery, his face just as grave as Francoise D’arth’s had been when she had stood there not long before. “I’ve contacted the International League for the Protection of Horses and unfortunately it looks like everything she says is true,” Avery told them. “Francoise’s paperwork all checks out and Blaze’s DNA exactly matches the samples to prove that she is Salome.”

  He turned to Issie. “I’m sorry Isadora. I don’t think there is anything we can do. It looks as if Blaze is indeed her horse—or at least the property of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Legally they have every right to take her.”

  “But, Tom, there must be something we can do! I’m her guardian. She was given to me and she needs me!” Issie begged him.

  “I know, Isadora, I know,” Avery said. “If she is truly anyone’s horse then she is yours. And if I had ever known this was going to happen, I would never have asked you to be her guardian. I never suspected for a moment that Blaze’s real owners would turn up one day.”

  Avery looked at Issie. “I’m sorry, Isadora, but I cannot see any way around this. When Francoise turns up tomorrow morning you have no choice. You will have to let her take Blaze.”

  Issie hardly slept that night. Mrs Brown made her hot cocoa and brought it to her room, but it didn’t help. She lay quietly in her bed, running through it all in her head, wondering what could be done. As the night shadows flicked across her bedroom walls Issie held her breath and listened. Perhaps Mystic would come to her now and they could save Blaze together. After all, hadn’t they always saved her before? Yet Issie knew in her heart that this time it was different. There would be no midnight rescue this time. Mystic would not come. In the morning, Issie and Blaze would have to say goodbye.

  It was well after midnight when she finally fell into a restless sleep.

  She woke again when the light began to creep over her windowsill. It was a little after seven a.m. and Francoise was due at the pony club at nine. She would have to hurry and get dressed if she was going to cycle to the club grounds to meet her there.

  Issie had a shower and dressed quickly in jodhpurs and a sky blue T-shirt, then raced downstairs. Her mum was already there with breakfast on the table—scrambled eggs and toast.

  “No, Mum, I can’t eat. I’ll be late. I need to see Blaze,” Issie insisted.

  “I know,” her mother said. “I’m going to take you to the paddock. Tom is coming too. But please, sweetie, just try and eat a little bit of breakfa
st before we go. You look exhausted and you need to keep your strength up.”

  By the time Issie had reluctantly eaten her eggs and Avery had arrived at the house it was nearly 8 a.m. “Time to go, then?” Mrs Brown asked. Issie nodded.

  The three of them made the trip in the car to the pony club in silence. There was nothing left to say. Issie was regretting the scrambled eggs, which now seemed to be sitting in her stomach like a rock.

  Issie was relieved to see that Francoise hadn’t yet arrived when they reached the club grounds. In the far paddock Blaze was grazing peacefully, her long flaxen tail occasionally swishing lazily across her body to whisk away a pesky fly.

  Issie was about to call out to the mare when, from behind her, she heard a whistle. Blaze raised her head. Francoise whistled again and this time Blaze returned her call with a shrill whinny, trotting up happily to the fence.

  Francoise saw the broken-hearted expression on Issie’s face and realised what she had just done. “Bonjour, Isadora.” Francoise smiled. “We are here too early, I think. Perhaps you might like to catch Salome first and spend some time alone with her before we take her?”

  Issie nodded, afraid to speak in case her voice might break and then the tears would start. She left Francoise’s side and walked into the tack room. With a shaking hand she reached out and grasped Blaze’s halter off the tack-room peg, slung it across her shoulder and set out towards the far paddock. Beneath her, her legs felt as wobbly as rubber, and butterflies churned in her stomach.

  Blaze, on the other hand, seemed to have no idea that anything was wrong. To her, it was just another day at the pony club. As Issie approached she nickered a friendly greeting and stuck her head over the gate.

  “Hey girl.” Issie tried desperately to smile. “It’s OK. You’re going on a little trip today.”

  Blaze nickered again and gave Issie a nudge, using her as a scratching post to reach an itchy spot on her forehead.