Liberty and the Dream Ride

by Stacy Gregg

  It was just like Avery had said – now that Liberty’s blood was up and she was on the course for real, she was a totally different horse. Perhaps Liberty also understood somehow that Issie had saved her life that morning. Whatever it was, there was a bond of trust between Issie and Liberty that hadn’t been there before and the mare felt confident and bold as they approached the Duck Marsh.

  It took all of Issie’s strength to slow Liberty down enough to balance her up to jump the wooden duck in the water and then turn her hard left to leap out over the wooden rails before circling back through the water and up the bank towards the next jump, the Hickory Tables.

  “Beautifully executed by Isadora Brown riding Valmont Liberty!” Mike Partridge told the crowd. “Those of you who have been here all day at the Duck Marsh will remember that this is the same rider who turned her last horse, Blackthorn Comet, round in the middle of the pond and abandoned the course and galloped for home. But not this time! It looks like the runaway rider has broken her jinx. She’s successfully through the Duck Marsh on her second mount of the day, Valmont Liberty, and my word, what a ride this mare is giving the young lady! Look at them go!”

  Mike Partridge didn’t know the half of it. Liberty emerged from the water jump at a full gallop. The mare had decided that she was no longer interested in slowing down for the fences. She was bolting and even if Issie wanted to, she couldn’t have stopped her.

  Steeling herself, Issie remembered Marcus’s game plan. Don’t fight the mare when it happens, just hang in there and go with her. It was a theory that worked OK for big, simple jumps like the Hickory Tables, but as Issie got further round the course she began to experience some very hairy moments! At the Giant Squirrel Tails, Issie found herself executing a high-speed turn between the tails and hanging on for dear life as Liberty only realised that she needed to take a second jump when the next squirrel loomed suddenly into view. They made it over, though, and at the second water complex Liberty ploughed into the Lake so fast she sent up a wake that almost drenched the spectators on the sideline. As they headed up the hill towards the Sheep Shelter they were still clear and going strong.

  Still to come, though, was the biggest fence on the course, the Gamekeeper’s Brush. So far, Liberty had managed to get away with galloping hard at the jumps without being checked and had taken off on a solid forward stride every time. But the Gamekeeper’s Brush was no ordinary fence. Issie knew the spread was two metres seventy wide! One mistake, one-last minute flub or a hoof out of line at the speed that Liberty was now travelling, would be nothing short of catastrophic. If Issie thought the cracked ribs she was nursing right now were bad, that was nothing compared to what would happen at the Gamekeeper’s Brush if they got it wrong.

  This was the most dangerous thing Issie had ever done in her life. As they galloped down the hill towards the Gamekeeper’s Brush Issie knew without a shadow of a doubt that this fence could kill her. If Liberty got her timing wrong and tried to chip in an extra stride at the last minute then she wouldn’t have time to lift her legs for take-off and would slam into the rails that supported the hedge, cartwheel backwards and land on top of Issie in the ditch.

  Issie felt the knot in her stomach tighten in a way she had never experienced before. Something was very wrong and as the fence grew closer she suddenly realised what it was. As the ditch loomed ahead of them, she felt a chill run down her spine. Liberty was coming at the jump in a mad gallop – and she was on the wrong stride.

  Chapter 14

  Issie had no more than a split-second to solve the situation. If she kept going on the wrong stride Liberty would find herself too close to the fence on take-off and she would crash. If Issie pulled the mare off the jump, veering to the side of the ditch, it would be counted as a refusal and would put them out of the competition. But at least they’d still be alive.

  But Issie had come too far to throw it away now. There had to be another way.

  Steeling herself, Issie suddenly put her legs on and rode even harder at the jump. Ignoring the ditch, she raised her eyes to look at the brush, growling encouragement to the horse beneath her, asking the mare to go even faster and increase her stride!

  It was an incredibly risky decision and the crowd on the sidelines knew it. You could hear them collectively holding their breath while Mike Partridge’s voice came tense and shrill over the loudspeaker. “Oh… my goodness… she’s coming in very, very fast indeed. This mare had better not put a foot wrong!”

  Issie’s urgings did exactly what she hoped they would do. Liberty had stretched out, altering her stride so that by the time she reached the jump, she found herself at the perfect take-off mark. The mare never even noticed the ditch below her as she pricked her ears and leapt, arcing beautifully over the enormous spread as if it wasn’t even there to clear the jump with ease.

  Taking the massive spread was almost like flying. And then they were back on the ground again on the other side and galloping on, Issie with her heart hammering at a million times the normal rate. She had done it! It was the biggest fence she’d ever taken in her life and they’d jumped it! She felt a brief moment of utter elation at having made it over – and then realised just how crucial it was to gather her wits once more. The very worst thing a cross-country rider could do was get cocky, even for a moment, while still on the course. There were six fences to come before she made it home and she couldn’t afford to underestimate any of them. Especially since the silver-dapple mare was beginning to tire now, after galloping flat out for five kilometres. This was the danger zone, the final quarter of the course, when the horses began to flag and accidents were most likely to happen.

  Issie knew that Liberty must have been exhausted, and yet the mare was so strong! Issie still had no brakes. As they came up to the next jump, the Tobacco Stripping Table, she shortened up the reins a little to alert Liberty that there was a serious obstacle ahead. The flat-topped wooden table was supposed to be taken as a big spread, but Liberty had other ideas. She sprang up on to the table like a cat jumping up on to the kitchen bench and then leapt back off again down the other side to the wild applause of the crowd, who thought it was brilliantly funny!

  “Well done!” Issie gave Liberty a slappy pat on her sweaty neck as they galloped on. It didn’t matter that they had taken the jump in an unconventional fashion – as long as they were over it, that was fine!

  At the Normandy Bank, Liberty popped through the complex in much more classic style and once again the crowd cheered, as did Mike Partridge.

  “Now this is the way the Normandy Bank should be ridden!” the announcer trilled over the loudspeakers. “In fact this is shaping up to be a very stylish round here at Kentucky by this gifted seventeen-year-old rider. Now, with just four fences to come, can Isadora Brown bring this mare home?”

  As Mike Partridge asked the question, Issie and Liberty flew over the Tudor Cottages and the crowd shouted them on. There were only two fences to come and as she galloped along the final sward of green turf towards the finish line Liberty felt as powerful as ever. They were coming up to a course marker and Issie took a moment to check her stopwatch. She had been expecting to be ahead of the clock because of Liberty’s strong galloping and she was shocked to see that in fact they were almost exactly on the time. If they lost even a second over the next two fences then they would fall behind and incur faults. She had to press on!

  The Kentucky Hedge was a clean and simple jump, but Issie was careful not to underestimate it. A refusal at the second to last obstacle in the competition would have been totally heartbreaking.

  “She’s clear over the Kentucky Hedge and here she comes!” Betsy Bevan called out. “Look at this young jockey showing riders twice her age how it should be done! She’s coming up to the last jump and – look at the clock as she approaches the Bourbon Barrels! It will be touch and go right down to the finish line!”

  As Liberty took the barrels Issie was already up and over the mare’s withers, urging her on as hard as she co
uld for the final gallop to the line. They flew past the flags and as they did so Issie closed her fingers round her stopwatch, clicking the timer off. For a moment, as Liberty slowed to a trot, Issie couldn’t bring herself to look at the watch display. And then, when she finally drew her eyes to it, a smile spread across her face. They were home. They were clear. And they had made it a whole second inside the required time!

  As Avery, Marcus and Tara rushed towards her, Issie vaulted off her horse and let her team take over the important job of cooling down her mount.

  “Brilliant round!” was all Avery said as he took the reins from her and began to lead Liberty at a walk, keeping the mare moving so that she wouldn’t stiffen up.

  Issie collapsed on the grass, chest heaving and ribs aching, while her pit crew did their jobs. Tara was busily stripping off Liberty’s tack and throwing a cooler rug over the mare’s quarters to stop her getting a chill, while Marcus was working on the front end and where the saddle had been, vigorously sponging the mare down.

  “She’s got a small cut on her stifle. She must have scraped her hindquarters over a couple of the fences,” Marcus said to Tara. “We’ll have to keep an eye on her for signs of swelling.”

  “I’ll check her thoroughly when I get her back to the loose box,” Tara confirmed. “Tom needs another five to cool her before I can take over.”

  “Issie!”

  It was Stella. She looked puffy-faced and exhausted but smiling nonetheless as she ran over to join Issie with Shane Campbell by her side.

  “That was an amazing round,” Stella said. “Sorry I wasn’t there to help you get her ready.”

  “I’m just glad you’re OK,” Issie said. “You are OK, aren’t you?”

  “The paramedic guys say I’m fine,” Stella said. “I can’t even really remember anything. One minute I’m having a cup of tea and then the next thing I know I’m in an ambulance. But my head feels totally clear now.”

  “She should still be lying down, if you ask me,” Shane said protectively, “but she won’t listen. She insisted on being here to help with Liberty.”

  Stella ignored this comment. “I was watching you on the round on the closed-circuit TV in the ambulance,” she told Issie. “That was a killer round! You were totally galloping flat out the whole way.”

  “Yeah,” Issie said. “That wasn’t exactly my idea. I could barely control Liberty most of the time – all I did was hang on!”

  “Well, whatever you did, it worked,” Stella said. “So far only six riders have made it within time and—”

  Stella broke off mid-sentence. As they’d been talking she’d been watching Avery still diligently leading Liberty around. “What is he doing?” she muttered, “He’s taking too long. They should be getting the ice boots on her now!”

  Stella turned to Shane. “Can you go and get Liberty’s ice boots ready? They’re in her loose box. I’ll come and help you in a minute.”

  Shane hurried off to sort out the ice boots and Stella turned back to Issie. “I was kind of spaced out by the sleeping pills,” she said. “But Tom explained what happened in the stables – I know what you did for me, giving up your chance of winning on Comet to save me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Hey, Stell? You’re not going to get mushy on me, are you?” Issie smiled. “Now, go and take care of Liberty. I’m relying on you.”

  At this moment in the competition, Stella was the most vital person on Issie’s team. Liberty had just been through a punishing cross-country and she would need expert care to recover in time for the showjumping tomorrow. The next twenty-four hours were crucial and Stella was in charge. Back at the loose box she got the team to work, fitting ice boots on all four legs to soothe the pain and control the swelling. Over the next four hours Stella and Marcus would be constantly refilling and replacing the boots on Liberty’s legs. Tara would also be massaging the mare vigorously all over to ease her aches and pains.

  It was nearly one in the morning when Issie turned up at the stables to see how the mare was doing and Stella was still there, bandaging Liberty’s legs and giving her another serving of hard feed.

  “Stella, you shouldn’t be working like this after everything you’ve been through,” Issie said. “Go back to our cabin and get some rest.”

  “No, thanks. I’ve had more than enough sleep to last me a while,” Stella said. She bent down again over Liberty’s legs and massaged them just above the bandages. “I tried trotting her on the concrete just now to see if she was sound and she looked a bit stiff in the hindquarters.”

  The second trotting-up was always held on the morning of the showjumping day, to test whether the horses were sound enough to continue after the gruelling trials of the cross-country. Any sign of lameness and a horse would be ‘spun’ – which meant disqualification on the spot.

  “I’m sure Liberty will come right by the morning,” Issie reassured Stella. “Horses are always stiff after the cross-country. Anyway, there’s nothing more you can do for her now.”

  “OK,” Stella said reluctantly, picking up her bandages and brushes and heading for the stable door. “I’ll be back here at six a.m., though, to check on her legs and start plaiting her up.”

  She looked at Issie, who was still standing with the mare, stroking her silvery-blonde mane. “Are you coming? You must be exhausted too.”

  “I’ll catch you up,” Issie said. “I won’t be long.”

  She wanted to spend a moment alone in the stall with Liberty. The mare had tried so hard for her out there on the cross-country course. She had rewarded Issie’s trust in her by never faltering or stopping, and although at times it had been terrifying, the mare had delivered one of the most exhilarating cross-country rounds that Issie had ever ridden. It was hard to believe that if Issie hadn’t turned back on Comet to come to Liberty’s aid, then this mare wouldn’t be here right now.

  Of course, Issie realised only too well that if it hadn’t been for Mystic, then she might not be here now either. Mystic had saved her from Valmont. Once again the grey pony had been there just when she needed him most. Afterwards, Avery had told Issie that Valmont raved and complained to the police about being attacked by a dapple-grey who flew at him out of the blue and broke his wrist.

  “He must have meant that Liberty struck him,” Avery said. “She’s a silver-dapple so perhaps the police got it confused.”

  “Maybe,” Issie replied.

  Tyrel Valmont was in a prison cell awaiting his arraignment. Meanwhile, the board of directors at the Valmont Stables had already ousted him, and Tara Kelly had told Issie that even if the charges didn’t stick, there was no way that Valmont would ever return to run the stables.

  “He can’t hurt you any more, girl,” Issie reassured Liberty as she put her rug on and switched out the light.

  As she walked back through the stable blocks in the dark, Issie could have sworn she caught sight of a horse in the darkness. For a brief moment she saw him there watching her, the familiar coal-black eyes in a snow-white face with their gaze trained upon her. She smiled to herself and kept walking, safe in the knowledge that he was there with her.

  Chapter 15

  It was still dark at 6 a.m. when the phone rang. Bleary-eyed and half asleep, Issie fumbled about on her bedside table and finally found her mobile. When she answered it she was stunned to hear mad screaming at the other end of the line.

  “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” It was Kate.

  “I just turned on the radio and heard the news! You’re in second place? And you’re riding some horse I’ve never even heard of? Why didn’t you call to tell us all of this?”

  It was true. Issie was in second place on Liberty! The cross-country course had proved to be one of the most challenging in the long history of the Kentucky Four-Star and by the end of the day, once the cross-country scores had been added to the tally, many of the front runners after the dressage had found themselves either eliminated or with refusal faults that made them slide down the ran
kings.

  With a clear round and no time faults Issie and Liberty had moved up the rankings from eighth to an incredible second place! They were going into the showjumping ring today just two points behind the leader, Gerhardt Muller, the Austrian rider whose stallion, Avatar, had put in a neat cross-country round to maintain their lead.

  “So who is this horse you’re riding? And what happened when you were riding Comet?” Kate asked. “Why did you turn round in the middle of the course?”

  Issie gave Kate a very brief version of the Valmont story – about the attempted murder of Liberty, and why she abandoned the cross-country on Comet.

  “Ohmygod!” Kate said. “Is Stella OK?”

  “She’s fine,” Issie said glancing over at Stella, who was still asleep. “She’s been up half the night looking after Liberty. We’ve got the trot-up in a couple of hours. Stella was worried because Liberty was a bit stiff last night.”

  “You’ll get through it,” Kate said. ”I know you will. It would just be too cruel if you got spun now!”

  “Even if we do get through,” Issie said, “don’t get excited. There are loads of riders right behind me on the points table… all I need to do is drop a rail and it’s all over.”

  “Of course I’m excited!” Kate squealed. “They’re screening the showjumping live on TV in New Zealand, Dan and Ben and I are getting together to watch it. And all the little kids at pony club are so excited that someone from Chevalier Point is riding at the Kentucky Four-Star – they can’t believe I actually know you!”