Angel and the Flying Stallions. Stacy Gregg
would be a huge commitment. He told her that there would be a gruelling physical training schedule and that a professional rider needed more than just talent. They must have absolute, unwavering dedication.
Issie replied that she understood – she was totally committed to her goal. This was all Avery needed to hear. Ever since then he had taken up the challenge without hesitation and, even though he had his hands full with both Dulmoth Park and the pony club to run, he was totally focused on turning Issie’s dream of international eventing into a reality.
“The first thing we need to do is get you a horse,” Avery had told her that day. With his new position as head of the Dulmoth Park stables, Avery could offer her the pick of the best eventing hacks.
“You can have any one you like,” Avery told Issie, “but if I were you, I would stick with Comet.”
Issie was shocked. Comet was a Blackthorn Pony, born and bred on her Aunt Hester’s farm. Issie adored him and had been very successful in the showjumping ring with him, but she couldn’t believe Avery rated the fourteen-two pony above the fancy sport horses at Dulmoth Park.
“Don’t judge him by his size or his bloodlines,” Avery told her. “Comet has proven himself a brilliant showjumper. He picks his feet up more carefully over the jumps than any horse I’ve ever met. And he’s bold and fearless, so he’ll make a great cross-country horse.”
The only problem that Avery could see was Comet’s dressage. “He’s too hot-headed,” Avery admitted. “He lacks the patience for dressage…” adding with a smile, “…and, to be honest, you’re not much better, Issie!”
She took the criticism good-naturedly. After all, her instructor had a point. Issie couldn’t deny that she found dressage schooling sessions dull. She would always find an excuse to skip the flatwork and take Comet out jumping instead. Comet was just as bad, if not worse. The skewbald pony made it clear that he loathed trotting around the dressage arena and would act nappy and behave sluggishly. In the end, Issie would give up and they would tear off to do some cross-country jumps instead.
As a consequence, their first season together on the eventing circuit had been a series of appalling dressage tests followed by spotless clear rounds in both cross country and showjumping. Sometimes this was enough to elevate the duo in the final rankings and they would still manage to win a rosette, but Avery was still very dark on Issie about her lack of commitment to resolve her dressage schooling issues. He had pointed out to her that several times this season they had been pushed down the rankings and had ended up out of the prize money because their flatwork simply wasn’t up to scratch.
Despite the skewbald pony’s disdain for dressage, Issie knew that Avery considered him a serious eventing prospect for the future. But Comet’s future would have to wait. The eventing season in New Zealand was over for another year and Avery had decided that Comet should be spelled – turned out and left unridden for a month – to recuperate before the new season began in spring.
As the worst of winter set in, Comet would be having a horsey holiday with his paddock mates, Toby and Marmite, down at the River Paddock. Issie’s two best friends, Stella and Kate, were keeping an eye on the horses for the next few weeks. Issie, meanwhile, was about to set off to collect the horse that Avery pinned so much hope on for her international eventing career.
When Issie had told Avery her dream, he knew that she needed the right horse to take her to the top. Comet was on the list of potential mounts. But there was also another horse that Avery had in mind. Not just any horse, but the horse. If Avery was correct, this stallion would be talented enough to take Issie to the highest level, competing in international, four star events. A horse like this would normally cost a fortune but, luckily for Issie, she already owned the perfect horse. And right now he was waiting for her, far away in Southern Spain.
Issie’s bags were packed and the plane tickets were ready. Tomorrow they would board the plane to travel once again to El Caballo Danza Magnifico. There, she would be reunited with her beloved Nightstorm. And this time, they wouldn’t be separated again. This time, she was bringing him home.
Issie’s last flight to Spain had been one of the worst times of her life. Nightstorm had been stolen from Chevalier Point and Issie had gone after him, spending the entire twenty-four-hour journey worried sick that she might never see her colt again. This time, however, the butterflies in her tummy as she boarded the plane to Madrid were not from fear, but from excitement.
It had been a difficult decision, when she chose to leave Storm behind at El Caballo Danza Magnifico all those months ago. She knew deep down that she had done the right thing, but that hadn’t made it any easier. She still remembered how it broke her heart to hug Storm goodbye.
When she said goodbye to him, Storm had still been a leggy yearling. Now, by all accounts, he was fully grown – a strapping stallion! Issie was beside herself with excitement at the prospect of being reunited with her horse. It was almost impossible to sit still on the plane. Her nervous energy didn’t escape the attention of the passenger sat to her left.
“Are you going to keep jiggling about like that for the whole trip?” Mrs Brown asked as Issie squirmed in the cramped economy-class seat beside her. She peered over at her daughter’s tray table. “Look! You’ve barely touched your food.”
“Mum,” Issie groaned, “it’s airline food! No one touches it.”
“Do you want me to ask the cabin crew if they have something else?” Mrs Brown asked.
“No, Mum,” Issie smiled. “Stop fussing over me. I’m fine.”
It had come as a bit of a shock to Issie that her mum would be accompanying her and Avery on the journey to El Caballo Danza Magnifico.
“I don’t see why you’re so surprised,” Mrs Brown had said. “I need to keep an eye on you after last time. I don’t want you entering another Spanish horse race!”
Issie’s mother was still upset about her last trip there. “Racing horses through the streets!” Mrs Brown shook her head. “What were you thinking?”
If Mrs Brown had actually seen how Issie had ridden the El Caballo stallion, Angel, that day then she would have had a heart attack! The Silver Bridle was a wild, winner-takes-all contest, run through the town square of the local village. Issie had galloped against hardened, Spanish vaqueros – cowboys twice her size who rode with ruthless determination.
“I had no choice,” Issie had shrugged in her defence. “It was the only way to get Storm back from Miguel Vega.”
Issie had won the race and the colt had been returned to her safe and sound. She had been intent on bringing Storm back home immediately, but Roberto Nunez persuaded her not to. He convinced Issie to leave Storm with him in Spain at El Caballo Danza Magnifico so that the colt could receive an education in the art of haute école – the ‘high school’ dressage movements.
“I still don’t understand why you want to come, Mum,” Issie had said when her mother told her of her plans. “We’re not going to some seaside resort on the Costa Del Sol! This is a horse farm in the middle of nowhere. You don’t even like horses!”
“I’m coming because I need to keep an eye on you!” Mrs Brown said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to go on holiday to Southern Spain. And the weather is perfect in Andalusia right now.”
Issie couldn’t argue with that. July was mid-summer in Spain, a pleasant change from Chevalier Point, where the nastiest month of winter was about to set in. They would be leaving behind rain, mud and chilly mornings in favour of thirty degree temperatures, sunshine and blue skies for five whole weeks! It seemed like a long time just to collect a horse, but Avery had insisted that they needed to stay for at least a month to “do the training work and fulfil the terms of the contract with Francoise” – whatever that meant.
Avery