The Riverdale Pony Stories Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Amanda Wills

  At lunchtime Alex came to find them to check they were OK. Being in Year Nine gave him a certain amount of kudos and a couple of the Year Seven girls sitting near them tittered nervously as he chatted to Scarlett and Poppy about their morning.

  ‘Scarlett, is that really your brother? He’s so good-looking,’ said one dreamily as Alex walked away.

  ‘You’re joking, right? You don’t have to live with him and his sweaty trainers. He’s a complete and utter pain in the –’. At that moment the bell went and they gathered up their lunchboxes and trundled slowly out of the canteen in a river of navy blue and burgundy.

  By Thursday Poppy and Scarlett were beginning to find their way around the school and were getting to know more of their classmates. Charlie had started at Scarlett’s old primary school the previous day and had already made firm friends with a boy called Ed, whose dad was the local farrier. The evenings were getting darker and Poppy had at least an hour’s homework every night. She hadn’t had a chance to see Cloud all week and fretted about him constantly.

  On Friday the Tavistock Herald published its story about Charlie’s big cat sighting alongside a shorter article about the search operation for two children who had gone missing on the moor the previous weekend. Charlie produced the paper with a flourish the minute Poppy let herself in the back door after school. She flung her rucksack under the kitchen table and settled down to read. The big cat story took up most of page three. Next to Charlie’s picture of the cat were Henry Blossom’s photo of Charlie and Poppy and a file picture of a black panther with the caption, Could a creature like this be roaming Dartmoor?

  EXCLUSIVE: Boy captures Beast of Dartmoor on camera

  By Stanley Smith

  A six-year-old Waterby boy has astounded big cat experts after capturing the clearest photo yet of the so-called Beast of Dartmoor.

  Charlie McKeever was with his 11-year-old sister Poppy on the moor near Waterby last Thursday when they saw the black panther-like creature.

  ‘The cat was massive and we were both absolutely terrified,’ said Charlie, whose dad Mike McKeever is one of the BBC’s top war correspondents.

  ‘We weren’t terrified,’ said Poppy indignantly.

  ‘I know. Sniffer Smith seems to have embellished most of the quotes,’ Caroline replied drily. Poppy continued reading.

  The quick-thinking Waterby Primary School pupil grabbed his digital camera and took this photograph seconds before the cat leapt from the boulder and disappeared onto the moor.

  Big cat enthusiast John Clancy, who has been tracking the fabled Beast of Dartmoor for the last five years, said the image was irrefutable evidence that the big cat existed.

  ‘Thanks to a brave six-year-old we can at last prove to the sceptics that there is a black panther living on our doorstep,’ he added.

  But Tavistock Police Inspector Bill Pearson was quick to dismiss the sighting. He told the Herald: ‘I really don’t know why people continue to get so excited about the so-called Beast of Dartmoor. Call me cynical but it’s probably just someone’s overweight black moggie that’s strayed too far from home.’

  Have you seen the Beast of Dartmoor? We’d love to hear your story. Email the newsroom now.

  ‘We’re famous, Poppy!’ said Charlie. ‘Everyone at school’s going to think we’re so cool.’

  Poppy quickly scanned the second article about the search and rescue operation. Inspector Pearson was quoted as saying he was glad the outcome had been a happy one while issuing a stern warning about the dangers of Dartmoor. He hadn’t released their names to the press and she was relieved to see that Sniffer hadn’t made the connection. But her name was still plastered all over the local paper. She hated the limelight and couldn’t imagine anything worse than being the centre of attention, especially at school. The very suggestion made her feel sick.

  Seeing her concern Caroline squeezed Poppy’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. By Monday people will be wrapping their fish and chips and lining their cat litter trays with the Herald. It’ll be old news. Now, what would you like for tea?’

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Poppy’s head was filled with thoughts of Cloud when she awoke the next morning. The drift was exactly a week away and she knew the weekend would be her last chance to catch him and bring him home to Riverdale. She picked up her mobile phone from the bedside table and texted Scarlett.

  Hi Scar, any chance we can go for a ride on the moor and see if we can find you know who? P x

  The screen flashed with a reply within seconds.

  Course. Be here for ten. I’ll be by the stables. C U later! S ;-)

  Poppy hadn’t ridden for a couple of weeks and it felt great to be back in the saddle. Flynn seemed as pleased to be out as she was and looked around with his bay ears pricked as they followed Scarlett and Blaze along the rocky track that led from Ashworthy to the moor. Scarlett chattered about school while Poppy scanned the horizon looking for Cloud’s dappled grey coat. They headed towards the Riverdale tor and as they drew nearer were bemused to see a huddle of people at the foot of the tor, looking and pointing to the cairn at the top.

  ‘Who on earth are they?’ cried Poppy. ‘Cloud’s not going to come near with that lot hanging around.’

  Scarlett swung around in her saddle to get a better look. The group was mainly middle-aged men with cameras around their necks. A couple were filming with camcorders.

  ‘Do you know what, I think they’ve probably come to look for Charlie’s black panther,’ she told her friend. ‘I expect they read the story in yesterday’s Herald.’

  Poppy’s heart sank. ‘Typical. We might as well give up now. Cloud will be miles away.’

  ‘Let’s at least ride over to Riverdale wood and see if he’s there. You never know,’ said Scarlett. But although they saw a couple of small herds of Dartmoor ponies there was no sign of Cloud.

  It was the same story the next day. Even more people had turned up hoping to get a glimpse of the famous Beast of Dartmoor. Poppy felt so frustrated she could have wept. With school the next day she knew that any chance she had of saving Cloud from the drift had all but disappeared.

  Caroline sensed her despair as they sat down to roast chicken that evening. She waited until Charlie had gone to bed before she tackled Poppy.

  ‘Something’s up, I know it is. Are you worried about school tomorrow?’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ Poppy replied miserably.

  ‘You know you can tell me anything, don’t you Poppy? I’m on your side.’

  Poppy looked at Caroline across the kitchen table and managed a weak smile. ‘I know you are. I should have told you sooner. I don’t really know why I didn’t. But I don’t want to keep secrets from you any more.’

  Over the next half an hour Caroline listened quietly as Poppy told her about Cloud. How she’d glimpsed the flash of white in the woods they day they moved to Riverdale and the first time she and Charlie saw him by the river. She recounted how her suspicions that Tory knew where the pony had come from had been correct. Caroline looked shocked when Poppy described the hunter trial where Cloud had fallen in the mud, trapping Caitlyn beneath him, and how the pony had ended up at George Blackstone’s farm before being set free by a heartbroken Tory.

  ‘You know Charlie and I kept going to watch the badgers? We weren’t. We were out looking for Cloud,’ said Poppy, not daring to meet her stepmother’s eyes. ‘Every year Tory used Chester to lead Cloud to Riverdale where she kept him in the stable hidden from the drift,’ she continued. ‘That’s what I was going to do last Sunday when you were in hospital. I had everything planned. Then Charlie went missing and I knew I had to go looking for him instead. But Cloud found me in the fog and led me to Charlie. It’s Cloud who saved Charlie, not me.’

  When she finally raised her eyes to Caroline’s face she could see only concern so she ploughed on. ‘And the drift is next Saturday, so I’m too late to save Cloud now.’

  Caroline looked at her stepdaughter. Poppy’s should
ers were slumped and her green eyes were forlorn.

  ‘Oh Poppy, I had no idea. I could have helped, you know. You may not believe it but I was as pony-mad as you when I was your age.’

  ‘You never said.’

  ‘You never asked, sweetheart,’ Caroline replied. ‘And I was lucky enough to have my own pony. I didn’t like to rub your nose in it.’

  ‘What was your pony like?’ Poppy asked.

  Caroline’s face took on a faraway look. ‘His name was Hamilton and he was a fleabitten grey, not dappled like your Cloud. He was 14.2hh and the love of my life.’ She looked at Poppy and smiled. ‘You go and sit by the fire. I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  The lounge was warm and cosy and although she couldn’t shake the wretchedness she’d felt all weekend Poppy felt glad to be cocooned inside after the strain of the last few days. Caroline re-appeared with a tatty old shoebox tied up with a faded red ribbon. She sat down on the sofa beside Poppy and attempted to open the box one-handed.

  ‘Let me help,’ said Poppy. ‘What’s inside?’ she asked as she leant in to get a closer look.

  ‘Just some photographs I thought you might like to see.’

  Photo after photo showed a handsome grey pony, ears pricked as he looked over his stable door, caked in mud while he grazed in his field, pulling hay from a net tied to a five bar gate. She riffled through the pictures. There were photos of the pony jumping over small fences, being shampooed, having his mane plaited and new shoes fitted.

  ‘Is that you?’ Poppy asked Caroline, pointing to a photograph of the pony nuzzling the ear of a slim blonde girl about Poppy’s age.

  ‘Yes. And that’s Hamilton. I think I was about twelve when that photo was taken. You can see his stable in the background.’

  ‘He was beautiful. He reminds me a bit of Cloud,’ said Poppy, a catch in her voice.

  ‘He was. And he was such fun. We had a ball together, we really did. For three years he was the most important thing in my life.’

  ‘What happened to him?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘You remember my dad used to work for an oil company before he retired?’ Poppy nodded. ‘When I was fourteen he was posted overseas and your Auntie Lizzie and I were sent to boarding school. My parents said we had to sell Hamilton. He went to a nice family but I was absolutely devastated. I never rode again.’

  Poppy reached over and gave her stepmother a hug. Caroline held her close. ‘I really do understand how you feel,’ she said, wiping a tear from Poppy’s cheek.

  ‘I know you do. It’s just so unfair. I know something awful will happen to Cloud and there’s nothing I can do to help him. He trusted me, I know he did. And I’ve let him down.’

  ‘Don’t give up hope, Poppy. We’ll go out early on the morning of the drift. You never know – you still have time to bring him home to Riverdale.’

  Poppy seriously doubted it, but she supposed there was at least a chance. She tucked her legs up and sank back into the sofa, resting her head on Caroline’s shoulder.

  ‘I’m glad I’ve told you about Cloud,’ she mumbled.

  Caroline kissed the top of her head. ‘So am I, sweetheart. So am I.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Dad phoned after you went to bed last night,’ Caroline informed the two children at breakfast the next day. ‘His newsdesk has finally agreed to send in another correspondent to replace him. He’s flying out on Saturday night and should be home some time on Sunday.’

  ‘Hurray!’ shouted Charlie, his mouth smeared with raspberry jam. ‘Did you tell him I’m headline news?’

  ‘No, not yet!’ Caroline laughed. ‘I thought you’d want to tell him yourself.’

  Caroline looked happier than she had for weeks, Poppy thought as she shrugged on her blazer and let herself out of the back door. Scarlett was waiting for her by the postbox and as they walked to the bus stop together Poppy realised with surprise that she was actually looking forward to school. A couple of her new classmates gave her some gentle ribbing about the story in the Herald but she followed Scarlett’s advice and played along with them and her five minutes of fame were soon forgotten.

  At lunchtime their talk inevitably turned to Cloud and the drift. It was all Poppy thought about these days.

  ‘I’m going try one last time to find Cloud before they start rounding up the ponies on Saturday morning. Caroline’s going to come with me,’ she told her friend.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ groaned Scarlett. ‘Mum’s dragging me and Alex to Plymouth for the day on Saturday. Says we both need new clothes for the winter. There’s no way she’ll let me come with you instead. Normally I’d love a day’s shopping but I’d much rather help you catch Cloud.’

  Privately Poppy thought that the fewer people who were looking for Cloud the better, but hurting her friend’s feelings was the last thing she wanted to do so she grimaced convincingly and said, ‘That’s such a shame. But I promise I’ll text you if we do find him.’

  Saturday morning finally arrived, mild and sunny. By nine o’clock Poppy, Charlie and Caroline were ready to go. Poppy ran into the tackroom, grabbed an old rucksack and swung it over her shoulders before looking over the door of Chester’s stable.

  ‘I’m keeping you in today,’ she told the old donkey. ‘I don’t want you being upset by all the noise and commotion of the drift. You’ll be safe in here.’ She blew him a kiss and joined Caroline and Charlie. They set off towards Waterby, where the ponies would be herded into a temporary corral before they were sorted. As they walked they could hear the distant sound of neighing and the roar of quad bikes. Poppy could feel her stomach churning. They passed flat-capped farmers in checked shirts and tweed jackets, their craggy faces inscrutable as they headed for the moors, walking sticks in hand.

  ‘Scarlett said that some of the people rounding up the ponies are on horseback and others ride quad bikes,’ said Poppy, slightly out of breath as they marched up a steep lane that led to one of the bigger tors behind Waterby.

  ‘Look!’ cried Charlie, as they rounded a corner and the moor stretched out in front of them. In the distance they could see a small group of Dartmoor ponies picking their way through the rocks as they headed towards the village. The herd, driven by three women on cobs and a boy in his late teens on a quad bike, was soon joined by another gaggle of ponies that cantered down a grassy path flanked by gorse bushes. Their coats already thickening in preparation for a harsh Dartmoor winter, the ponies flashed past Poppy, Caroline and Charlie. Poppy’s eyes skimmed the dark bays, blacks, chestnuts, skewbalds, piebalds and red and blue roans. There were two grey ponies in the group, but neither was Cloud and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  For the next couple of hours they watched as more and more ponies trickled down from the highest parts of the moor, forming a mass of streaming manes and heaving flanks. There was still no sign of Cloud and Poppy could feel her spirits rise. He knew the moor so well. Maybe he had managed to hide from the drivers.

  ‘Well, hello!’ said a familiar voice, and the three of them turned to see Henry Blossom standing behind them, his camera around his neck, his camera bag attached, as always, to his stooped right shoulder.

  ‘How are you all? Not planning another adventure on the moor I hope?’ he asked, looking at Charlie with a grin.

  ‘No,’ answered Charlie, sheepishly. ‘We’re watching the ponies. Why are you here?’

  ‘I’m covering the drift for the Herald – we do every year,’ he explained. He looked behind to where Sniffer Smith, notebook in hand, was talking to one of the rugged old farmers. ‘This year Sniffer is planning to write a feature and flog it to one of the Sunday papers. Always has his eye on the main chance, that one.’

  Poppy glanced at the journalist, who was now heading towards them. Sniffer was as unpleasant as Henry was likeable, and she didn’t trust him one inch.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she said under her breath to Caroline who, seeing Sniffer approaching, agreed at once. They said hasty goodbyes to Henry before t
urning and walking off.

  ‘What do you want to do now, Poppy? Stay and watch the ponies as they come off the moor to see if we see Cloud?’ asked Caroline.

  ‘If I was Cloud I’d be hiding in the Riverdale wood,’ announced Charlie suddenly. ‘It’s so overgrown the quad bikes and horses and riders wouldn’t be able to get in. We could go and have a look.’

  ‘That’s actually a really good idea, Charlie. If we walk quickly it shouldn’t take us more than half an hour to get there,’ said Poppy.

  ‘But what are we going to do if we do see him?’ Caroline asked.

  Poppy looked over her shoulder at her rucksack. ‘I’ve got a headcollar and leadrope in here, plus a scoop filled with Chester’s pony nuts. It’s been digging in my back all morning. I just hope Cloud trusts me enough to let me catch him.’

  Half an hour later they reached the edge of the wood. Caroline followed the two children as they plunged into the trees, struggling to keep up as they ducked and weaved around branches and over fallen logs.

  ‘You seem to know the wood pretty well,’ she panted, as they all stopped in front of a fallen tree trunk.

  ‘Must be all that badger watching,’ grinned Poppy, as she scrambled over, Charlie following closely behind. Eventually they reached the river and followed it down to the small beach where Poppy and Charlie had first seen Cloud. There was no sign of him today.

  ‘What should we do, Poppy?’ asked Caroline quietly.

  ‘I think you and Charlie should go and sit on that log and I’ll stay here by the river with the pony nuts and headcollar. I’ve a feeling Cloud will come to us.’