Nightstorm and the Grand Slam

by Stacy Gregg

  There was no time to pull up. Issie and Victory flew the fence, jumping far too big and landing halfway down the bank on the other side. Issie quickly recovered and shortened the horse up in time for the next fence, a big log positioned at the top of a bank. They took the log by the skin of their teeth.

  Wake up! she told herself angrily. She had to prepare for the fences ahead and be ready each time if she wanted to get around this course in one piece.

  At the infamous Huntsman’s Close, she found herself fretting about the big corner hedge. It was set in the shade of some spreading elm trees and it was easy for horses to be bewildered by the tree shadows and unable to see the hedge until the moment it confronted them.

  Preparing Victory for the corner, Issie set him back on his hocks after the first element and collected him up so that he had plenty of time to eye up the hedge and take it very neatly on a lovely forward stride.

  “Magnificent! Just look at this horse!” Mike Partridge was enthusing to the crowd. “He is absolutely eating this course up. But how will he handle the lake complex? Remember, Isadora only got given the ride on this wonderful eventer when he deposited his rider, Warren Woodfield, in the drink with a spectacular fall into the water at the Adelaide Three-Day event. Warren ended up with a broken back for his troubles and has been out of competition ever since. So, has this horse lost his nerve when it comes to water?”

  Coming into the lake complex, Issie already knew the answer to this question. Since then Issie had jumped several three-star water complexes on the horse. She knew that he’d lost none of his nerve.

  At the front of the water jump Issie could see two Mitsubishi flatbed pick-up trucks. They were parked tail-to-tail with their flatbeds touching and there were pretty flower planters sitting on their open platforms. However the flowers didn’t in any way camouflage the fact that these were trucks – and they were intended to be jumped!

  Squaring up to the massive spread of the pick-up trucks, Issie put her legs on firmly and kicked on to the jump to make sure that there was no doubt in Victory’s mind that they were going over this obstacle. She needn’t have worried. Victory knew exactly what to do and he flew the flatbeds and cantered onwards into the water, taking one-two-three canter strides before leaping the narrow element in the middle of the pond. Then he cantered on and over the last jump and out the other side.

  “Beautifully handled!” Mike Partridge was impressed. “A lovely round so far for this young rider!”

  Through the water and over the broad barn table and then coming down into the country complex, Issie was really hitting her stride. She had checked her watch at the minute marker as she whizzed by at a gallop and was absolutely smack on time.

  They were coming down the long, sweeping run of green lawn to the Farmyard, the last jump before the Vicarage Ditch, when suddenly a whistle blew and a steward in a high-vis jacket stepped out onto the course and waved his hands to tell her to stop.

  Issie ignored him at first, thinking that there must be some mistake. Why would a steward be stopping her? She’d done nothing wrong. She had walked this course so many times she knew it like the back of her hand and she was certain that she hadn’t taken a wrong turn.

  As she tried to gallop on, another steward appeared on the course and blew his whistle, waving his hands vigorously. There was no doubt about it. They were stopping her.

  It wasn’t easy pulling Victory up. The brown gelding had been in full gallop and he knew that there were more jumps to come. He didn’t want to stop, and when he did halt at last his flanks were heaving and he was wet with sweat.

  “What have I done?” Issie wanted to know.

  “It’s not you,” the steward said. “It’s another rider, further ahead. We needed to stop you to give us time to clear the jump so you can continue.”

  Issie’s blood ran cold. She knew the rider directly ahead of her on the course. It was the Austrian competitor Gerhardt Muller, a man who was well known on the circuit and had ridden against Issie just a couple of weeks ago in Kentucky. Today he was on one of his best horses, the much admired liver chestnut mare, Velluto Rosso.

  “Is it Gerhardt?” Issie asked the steward. “Is he OK?”

  The steward looked uncomfortable, clearly unsure how much he was allowed to say. “He’s had an accident at the Vicarage Ditch. The ambulance is with him now. Keep your horse circling and as soon as we can give you the all-clear we’ll let you go again and you’ll be back on the clock.”

  The clock! Ohmygod! When the steward had pulled Issie to a stop, that meant the clock had been stopped on Issie’s round. But Issie hadn’t stopped the watch on her own wrist.

  She clicked to pause it now, but it was way too late. She had no idea how many seconds had already ticked by – maybe even a whole minute or more. Now she had no way of keeping track of her time from here around the rest of this course. Even worse, with every minute that ticked by while she waited, Victory was getting cold. They had just been getting into their rhythm but now their momentum had been destroyed. It was the worst possible place to stop because the jumps ahead were the biggest and most demanding on the course. The Farmyard Complex was a series of difficult wooden corners combined with a hay cart. And straight after that was the Vicarage Ditch! She had been hoping to come into that massive spread with a head of steam up after having galloped half the course. Instead, they were walking around in a holding pattern, waiting for the course to clear. The stewards were muttering into their walkie-talkies. She heard one of them say that Gerhardt had been loaded on to the ambulance. She wondered what had happened to him. If the Vicarage Ditch really was jumping badly then maybe she should be taking the long route after all?

  The steward spoke once more into his walkie-talkie and then he turned at last to Issie. “They’re about to let you back onto the course again. Get ready…”

  A few moments later the whistle blew and Issie was galloping once more. In total, she had spent nearly fifteen minutes being held back. She was now on a horse that was cold and tense as she came in to attack the Farmyard.

  Victory stood back a little from the first corner and took it clumsily, but he took the second corner much better and he flew over the third element, the hay cart.

  Issie felt a rush of adrenalin as they took the cart and she knew that there was no way they were taking the alternate route at the Vicarage Ditch. They were going straight through.

  She gave Victory a quick tap with the whip as they galloped down the approach to the fence, just to let him know that something really big was looming ahead. Victory raised his head at the sight of the massive wooden rail set into the middle of a three-metre-wide ditch. His ears pricked forward and his strides shortened up. They were three strides out when Issie kicked on like crazy and asked him to stretch out once more. Victory powered forward for all he was worth and took the Vicarage Ditch beautifully, soaring over it and landing expertly on the other side. Behind the crowd barriers the spectators went wild. Their cheers followed Issie around the rest of the course as she cleared fence after fence including the famous Shogun Hollow, the Staircase, the Owl Hole and the Rolex Crossing. As they came in to take the final fence in the main arena, the Mitsubishi Garden, the audience were on their feet and hollering their support.

  “Flying in over that last fence!” Mike Partridge said. “She’s come in against the odds, but the big question is, has she made it within the time?”

  There was no point looking at her watch and so Issie waited like everyone else for the announcer to break the news.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike Partridge’s voice had a serious tone, “she hasn’t come in on time… she’s beaten the clock by two whole seconds! Isadora Brown has romped in – it’s a clear round!”

  Chapter 5

  Issie and Avery arrived back at the horse truck that afternoon to find an unexpected guest on their doorstep.

  “I know it’s a little premature for celebrations,” Tulia Disbrowe said, handing Avery a bottle of champagne
, “but I thought I would wish you all good luck for tomorrow.”

  Tulia Disbrowe’s flight from Australia had been delayed and she had missed seeing her horse compete in the dressage. However, she made it in time to witness Victory’s superb cross-country round.

  “That was a remarkable piece of riding,” she told Issie. “I honestly thought it was over when I saw you being pulled up by the stewards. It’s so hard to bring a horse back on to form after a stop like that. But you got him back on track for the second half, beautifully handled!”

  Issie brushed off the compliment. “Your boy is such a star, Tulia. He answered every question and jumped perfectly.”

  “Best of all,” Avery said, “he’s come through the course totally sound and ready for the showjumping tomorrow.”

  Victory had indeed coped better than any of them could have hoped. He had finished the six kilometres with only a few superficial cuts and scrapes – although Avery wasn’t taking any chances and had Stella down at the stables now, keeping the horse’s legs iced to take down any potential swelling in preparation for tomorrow.

  The trotting-up was first thing in the morning. The horses would be led out on the tarmac in front of three judges who had to approve their soundness before the competitors would be allowed to progress on to the showjumping phase.

  Stella and Avery both insisted that Victory was in fine fettle and the trotting up would be little more than a formality. But after Nightstorm’s unexpected bout of colic, Issie wasn’t taking anything for granted. She stared at the bottle of champagne that Avery had left next to the tack box in the back of the horse truck and couldn’t help feeling that they weren’t quite ready for celebrations. Not yet.

  After much nagging from Stella after the Kentucky Four-Star, Issie had gone out and chosen a new outfit especially for the trotting-up. It was a pale blue dress with a full skirt and Issie had teamed it with a black jacket over the top and a pair of black and cream ballet pumps.

  “Too girly?” she asked Stella and Francoise as she paraded in the stables that morning.

  “It’s gorgeous!” Stella said.

  “Très belle!” Francoise enthused. “The judges will be so busy looking at you they will never notice whether the horse is lame!”

  “That’s the plan,” Issie said.

  Over the years, the ritual of the trotting-up had become almost as much of a spectator event as the showjumping. That morning hundreds of onlookers gathered on the forecourt of the magnificent Badminton House to watch the riders each take their turn to trot their perfectly groomed horses inhand for the judging panel.

  Issie waited with Victory, her stomach tied in knots with nerves. When her turn came, the brown gelding was passed without hesitation. The same could not be said for two of the big names in the competition – Millie Wardlaw and Tim Smith – when their horses were spun.

  The shock eliminations at the eleventh hour spelt disaster for Millie and Tim. They had been in second and fourth place respectively and with their exclusion from the showjumping phase Issie and Victory moved up the leaderboard. They were now lying in an incredible third place!

  Even more exciting, only three faults were now separating the top three riders – Andrew Pember-Reeves was in the lead on Mythic Realm, still on his dressage score of 37. Prudence Palmer and her horse The Changeling were in second place with time faults that pushed their score to 39. Issie was breathing down her neck on 39.5. There was only one rail separating the top three and suddenly the talk was starting at Badminton about the prospect of Issie Brown edging her way to the winner’s podium and keeping her hopes alive for completing the Grand Slam!

  The odds were stacked against anyone achieving the three-events-in-a-row victory, but now that she lay in third place, the goal was once again within reach, and the buzz surrounding her chances resurfaced.

  “The tension in the air is palpable,” Mike Partridge intoned. “This next young competitor has to keep all the rails up if she wants to stay in with a chance of winning Badminton.”

  As she cantered into the showjumping arena, Issie knew that everything was riding on this round. If she didn’t go clear in the arena then her chances were over. The pressure on her now was intense – could she handle it and bring Victory home without a mistake?

  A hush fell over the crowd as the bell sounded and Issie circled Victory in a collected canter to come through the flags and confront the first jump – a blue upright.

  This was the moment when Victory’s calibre as an eventer would be truly tested. Yesterday the gelding had been fearless and bold, taking the knocks as he bashed his way around six kilometres of solid, rough-hewn jumps. Now, here in the showjumping ring, a totally different mindset was required. Victory needed to pick up his feet carefully over every fence to avoid bumping the delicately balanced rails if they wanted to take home the gold.

  Issie felt her heart hammering in her chest as Victory took a sluggish approach to the first jump and dragged his hind legs over the fence. Was the brown gelding more exhausted than any of them had suspected? Would this phase prove to be too much for him?

  The pole rocked but it didn’t fall and Issie collected the horse up and rode him firmly towards the next jump. If Victory was tired, then it was up to her to help him get round the course.

  At the second fence, she rode with precision and determination and Victory seemed to wake up and lift his game, clearing the jump with air to spare. This was more like it!

  Issie urged him on towards the double, putting her legs on firmly. Victory responded a little too well. He cleared the first jump but the excess energy in his stride left him off balance for the next fence and he took one long stride and leapt from too far back. His hind legs scraped the pole as he went over the jump and once again the rail rocked in its cups.

  Issie wanted so badly to turn around and see if the rail had fallen, but she knew it would be fatal. Don’t look back, she told herself, stay focused on the next fence.

  “She’s still clear,” Mike Partridge confirmed. “The rail hasn’t fallen. Now she takes a sharp turn and in to confront the big spread, the red and white rails…”

  The red and white spread was a huge jump and Victory was all class as he took off perfectly and cleared it. The brown gelding’s neck was white and frothy with sweat and his breath was coming in keen snorts as they turned to take the white gate and then the treble. This time the striding was perfect and they popped in and out with a single stride between each fence and didn’t drop a rail.

  With just three jumps standing between her and a clear round, Issie was doing her best to keep her cool. But as she came at the oxer she realised she had totally messed up her line, and her canter lead was wrong. Luckily, Victory was the ultimate schoolmaster. He saw that he was on the wrong leg and did an amazing flying change, righting himself in time and putting in a little short stride right in front of the jump to make it work. Issie held her breath, worried that Victory would bring a hind leg down on the back rail, but nothing fell. She kept her eyes ahead to the next fence. Only two more jumps to go and she would be clear.

  At the penultimate jump there was a heart-stopping moment when they took the fence too fast and Issie panicked that Victory wouldn’t take off in time – but again his talent showed through and he got his knees up just enough to clear the rails.

  All this time they had been belting around the course between the fences, cantering as fast as they dared to try and stay inside the time. And with one jump to go Issie wasn’t slowing down. Coming in at a fast canter she rode hard at the jump and relied on her horse to find the perfect take-off point. Victory obliged, arcing beautifully and clearing the final fence with half a metre to spare.

  As she crossed the line a roar came up from the crowd.

  “It’s a clear round, and no time faults!” Mike Partridge confirmed.

  Now Issie’s fate rested with the other two riders who were yet to come. Prudence Palmer on The Changeling was in the arena next and then the current number one
on the leaderboard, Andrew Pember-Reeves on Mythic Realm. A knocked-down rail from both Andrew and Prudence would give Issie the win that she so desperately needed.

  Vaulting down off Victory’s back, Issie joined her teammates on the sidelines and watched with her stomach doing flip-flops as Prudence Palmer entered the ring. Prudence’s mare, The Changeling, was a stunning dapple-grey Thoroughbred that Issie had admired when she first saw the pair compete at the Stars of Pau in France. Today The Changeling looked on perfect form as she swept over one fence after the other without so much as grazing a rail. As she came down through the treble there was a moment of tension as the mare scraped hard against the rail of the second element, but the fence still didn’t fall. With only three fences to go before Prudence completed a clear round, Issie’s heart was in her mouth and Stella was gripping onto her arm so hard that Issie thought she would cut off the circulation!

  Please! Oh please! It was awful, wishing that a rail would fall, but that was exactly what Issie found herself doing.

  But nothing fell at the treble or the oxer. The Changeling was over the upright now and the mare was still clear with only one fence left to go. As Prudence lined the grey horse up and rode at the jump Issie watched in dismay as the mare flew the fence and galloped on through the flags.

  Prudence Palmer and The Changeling had just dashed Issie’s chances of the Grand Slam with a clear round!

  As the crowd cheered and went wild for Prudence, Issie clapped too. It had been a good round and even though it meant bitter disappointment for her, she had to give Prudence credit for riding so well.