Nightstorm and the Grand Slam. Stacy Gregg
was and he was desperately worried about her.
“Issie…” Avery began.
She cut him off before he could say anything more.
“Tom, please, don’t. I’ll be fine.”
Issie wasn’t giving up – not now! Victory was still in with a real chance. They had been in eighth place after the dressage but already over the past few hours the cross-country course had taken its toll on the leaderboard. Eliminations and refusals in the top ranks meant that a clear round on the cross-country would elevate Issie up to fifth place at the very least.
Avery saw the look of grim determination on her face and he knew he would never be able to change her mind. “Good luck,” he said. “Remember, if in doubt…”
“I know,” Issie grinned at him, “kick on!”
Avery let go of the reins and Issie had a few final seconds to make her last adjustments, checking her compulsory airtech inflatable vest and setting the stopwatch on her wrist. She had the timer set so that she knew exactly where she needed to be on the clock at the minute markers around the course. It wasn’t good enough to go clear – she would have to avoid time penalties too.
Issie tightened her grip on the reins and urged Victory into the box. The gelding tried to leap forward and Issie had to pull hard on the reins, turning a circle in the box behind the start line.
“Easy, boy,” Issie said to him in a soft voice, “Any minute now…”
She clasped the reins in one hand and placed the other hand on the stopwatch button as the starting steward spoke into his walkie-talkie to confirm that the other competitors out on the course were far enough ahead.
“We’re all clear to jump 12,” the voice at the other end of the walkie-talkie crackled. “You can let the next rider go.”
Issie felt a tight knot of nerves strangling her stomach. This was it.
“OK, line him up.” The steward waited for her to edge Victory forward in the box. “And ready, get set… and go!”
As Victory surged forward across the start line the electronic timer let out a peep. They were off! The crowds in the stands cheered as they came in to take the first fence.
Victory leapt the flowerbed like a seasoned professional, taking the jump with a perfect forward stride. Issie suddenly exhaled and realised that she had been holding her breath until that point. It was always good to get the first jump out of the way. Now she was really doing this. Her nerves were gone and she was totally focused on the ride ahead as they came along the rolling green turf, past the cheering crowd at the grandstand exit, veering to the left to approach jump number two, the massive Higham’s Brush. Victory took this fence precisely, and Issie felt her confidence levels surging. She was so elated that she briefly lost focus and they were only a few strides out from the quarry when she realised they were at full gallop and needed to slow down. There was a massive drop on the far side of this fence and they were taking it too fast!
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.