Flame and the Rebel Riders Read online

  “Come on, Issie.” Ginty seemed so self-assured that Issie felt silly for making a fuss and being unprofessional. “You’ve got half a dozen horses to ride today, so let’s get moving!”

  Issie’s heart was racing as she rode Tokyo to the other end of the arena. Had Natasha been telling the truth when she said all the proper showjumping stables did this? It seemed so cruel to hit the horses in the legs on purpose, but Issie had to have faith in Ginty. She was one of the best trainers in the business. She must know what she was doing.

  Beneath her, Tokyo was trotting with a loose, free stride. Issie already instinctively liked the big Hanoverian mare. She seemed sound and sensible. Hopefully, she was a good jumper too — because Issie was about to take her over the upright rail.

  As she turned Tokyo to face the rail Issie felt her heart race a little more, but then it always did that when she was about to take a jump. She looked at the fence ahead of her and focused on the task at hand. Tokyo had a huge stride, but she collected up neatly and came in towards the jump with a bouncy canter. Issie pressed her on and counted the canter strides in her head, one, two…three!

  They were right in front of the fence when Issie tapped the mare with her heels and Tokyo took off into the air, picking her front feet up and beginning her arc over the jump. If Penny and Verity hadn’t lifted the rail, Tokyo would have cleared the fence easily. Instead, Issie felt the jolt, as the mare’s legs struck the timber.

  Tokyo hadn’t been expecting to hit the rail and the shock made her spook and lurch forward when she landed on the other side of the jump. Issie tried to stay with her, but she got left behind as Tokyo charged ahead, and she had to fight to get her seat back. Issie had lost her grip on the reins and by the time she had regained control and pulled the big bay up, they were both rattled and tense.

  Ginty, however, didn’t seem to notice. “Take her through again,” she said. “Let’s see if she picks her feet up more this time.”

  As Issie rode a circle around the jump and gathered Tokyo up to take the fence again, she felt a tight knot of nerves in her tummy. It was a horrible feeling to take your horse towards a fence when you knew the poor thing was going to get whacked in the legs for its trouble!

  As they took off Issie found herself almost trying to lift Tokyo over the fence, willing the mare to lift her legs high enough to avoid the blow. But it was no good. Penny and Verity lifted the pole even higher this time and Tokyo’s legs smacked hard once more against the raised rail.

  “Take her around again!” Ginty called out. “And use the whip this time.”

  Use the whip. Issie felt herself tense up even more as Ginty said this. She never used a whip on any of her horses, and she didn’t care what Ginty said, she wasn’t going to start now. Tokyo wasn’t doing anything wrong — she didn’t deserve to be hit by a whip as well as the rail! Besides, mares were prone to losing their cool and panicking if they felt confused and Issie could tell that Tokyo was definitely getting anxious as she rode the horse in to the fence once more. Surely the whip would only make it worse?

  Coming into the jump this time Tokyo hesitated, and Issie had to put her legs on more strongly to keep her going forward.

  “Use your whip! Use your whip!” Ginty ordered loudly. The shouts made Issie panic that Tokyo was going to refuse. She felt compelled to do as the trainer demanded and so, ignoring her own instincts she raised the riding crop and gave Tokyo a thwack. The bay mare surged forward with fright as the blow struck, putting in a short stride before leaping like a startled fawn. It was an ungainly and ugly jump, but she went high in the air, clearing the fence with a huge bound. This time, there was no sound. Tokyo had cleared the raised rail with almost half a metre to spare.

  “There!” Ginty said brightly. “You see? It didn’t take long for her to learn the lesson, did it?”

  Issie knew the jump hadn’t been stylish or pleasant, and she felt awful about using the whip. But she had to admit that Ginty had got the result she was after. Tokyo had put extra air between herself and the rail. After that, the girls spent the next half hour schooling the horses over the jumps, and if Tokyo ever looked like she was dropping her hind legs, Verity and Penny would rap her again. By the end of the session the mare was leaping like a gazelle, always clearing the jump with at least twenty centimetres to spare.

  “Make sure you ice Tokyo’s legs when you put her back in her loose box,” Ginty told Issie as she left the arena. “Verity will show you how to use the iceboots.”

  The iceboots were made out of wetsuit fabric, with pockets fitted to the inside for the ice cubes. Verity showed Issie how to fill them with ice from the freezer, making sure to spread the ice evenly all the way down the boot before she wrapped the first one around Tokyo’s left front leg and Velcroed it firmly on.

  “What do they need these for?” Issie asked.

  “They stop any bruising or swelling from contacting the poles,” Verity said.

  “Why don’t we just bandage their legs beforehand to protect them?” Issie asked.

  “We need the horses to feel pain when they hit a jump. It has to hurt them so they learn their lesson — that’s how rapping works,” Verity replied.

  The head groom didn’t seem to notice the look of abject horror on Issie’s face. She was busy bending back down again to adjust the fastenings on the iceboot.

  “Can you fill the next boot with ice and pass it to me?”

  Verity clearly didn’t want to discuss the virtues of rapping with the new junior groom. But Issie had other matters that she wanted to talk to Verity about, anyway.

  “Verity?” Issie asked nervously.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What were you doing when I saw you earlier in the stall with Tottie?”

  Verity glared up at Issie. Her eyes were black and threatening.

  “Don’t talk about it! Not here!” she hissed under her breath. “I told you, didn’t I? If you know what’s good for you, then you won’t get involved!” Verity stood up and looked nervously around the stall. “You can put the other boot on by yourself,” she said flatly. “Leave them on her for twenty minutes then take them off again. I’ve got to go and get Tottie ready. Meet us back in the arena when you’re done. You’ll be helping Ginty on the ground this time.”

  As Issie took up her position opposite Penny, she felt sick to her stomach. It was bad enough being the one jumping over the rail, but lifting it and hitting the horses on purpose felt even worse.

  “I don’t want to do this,” she told Ginty.

  The flame-haired trainer seemed genuinely shocked. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to hurt the horses.”

  Ginty shook her head. “It’s for their own good. In the old days people used to let children touch a hotplate on the cooker. They’d burn their fingers, but they would learn the lesson — and they’d never touch the hotplate again. You’re the mother trying to teach your child a lesson. If your horse learns to keep their feet up when they jump, isn’t that a good thing?”

  Issie still didn’t really understand. What kind of awful mum would let a kid stick their finger on a hotplate? But she could see that Ginty was fed up with her making a fuss about things. And so Issie reluctantly took up her position next to the jump and stood there with her heart hammering in her chest as Verity rode into the ring on Tottie.

  Tottie was a gorgeous mare, with a really swingy trot and lovely dark grey dapples. Issie might not exactly have been a member of the Verity fan club, but she had to admit that Dulmoth Park’s head groom rode her really beautifully. Everything about Verity was precise and exact. She always had her body in the perfect position, her hands steady, her eyes up and her heels down.

  “How does she feel, Verity?” Ginty asked.

  “She’s tracking up,” Verity replied. “She seems fine.”

  Issie noticed that Ginty was looking closely at Tottie’s hind legs.

  “Is there something wrong with her?” Issie asked.

  Ginty stay
ed focused on the mare. “Just making sure that she’s level in the back,” she told Issie.

  Level in the back? Issie thought. That meant Ginty was watching Tottie’s back legs to see whether the mare was lame or sore.

  Whatever Tottie’s problem might have been, Ginty seemed satisfied that there was nothing wrong. “She looks good to me. Bring her over the fence, please.”

  Verity brought Tottie in towards the fence. Issie stood by, holding the rail, waiting. She was so nervous, her hands were wet with sweat, and she worried that she wouldn’t be able to keep her grip on the painted pole.

  As the grey mare took off, Issie grasped the rail with both hands and looked across at Penny, waiting for her to give the cue. “OK…” Penny nodded, “do it now!”

  The two girls picked up at exactly the same time, hoisting the rail out of its cups and holding it aloft so that Tottie couldn’t help but hammer her hind legs against it in mid-air.

  Even though Issie knew the blow was coming, she still got a shock as she felt the horse’s hind legs connect. The impact reverberated through her own body as she gripped on to the rail, absorbing the blow before lowering the rail back down again and resting it back in the cups.

  “Good stuff, girls!” Ginty said, looking pleased.

  “Come through again, Verity,” she instructed. “And pick up the contact this time!”

  Tottie was slower to get the message than Tokyo had been. It took several ‘raps’ before the mare really began to lift up her feet above the rail.

  Issie hated hurting Tottie. Each time the poor mare bashed her legs it made Issie feel sick. But no one else seemed bothered. Penny appeared to be quite relaxed about raising the pole. The two girls must have hoisted it up about a dozen times until finally Tottie lifted her legs high enough and cleared the top rail with lots of space to spare.

  “See?” Ginty told Issie. “They all learn in the end.”

  It was Natasha’s turn back in the arena now. The next horse on her roster was Flame, and Issie noticed that the handsome chestnut horse seemed quite anxious. He skipped about, cantering on the spot as Natasha tried to hold him.

  “He loves jumping! He’s dying to take the fences!” Natasha said as she held the reins taut and tried to calm him down. But Flame wouldn’t settle. He kept jogging about, fighting for his head all the way to the other end of the arena until Natasha finally turned him to face the jump.

  As soon as Flame had the fence in his sights, the gelding became completely frantic, battling against Natasha, trying to break loose.

  Issie could see sweat forming a white froth where the reins were rubbing on the gelding’s neck, and he held his head up above the bit. His tail was swishing anxiously and his ears were back. Natasha, meanwhile, was gripping the reins even tighter, as if she were afraid to let the big chestnut loose.

  “Hurry up,” Ginty told her. “Take him over it, Natasha, and let’s see how he goes.”

  As she said this, Natasha loosened the reins just a smidgen. It was enough for Flame. He shot forward like a cannonball, bearing down on the fence in a full gallop. Issie and Penny didn’t raise the rail. Flame was galloping so hard, he couldn’t possibly get enough height to clear the fence. Instead, he almost ran through the jump, taking the top two rails with him, and scattering them in his wake.

  “Well, that was a disaster!” Ginty said grumpily. “Natasha — you need to collect him up. He can’t jump if he’s galloping. He’s too flat.”

  “I’m trying to!” Natasha spat back. She was still wrestling with Flame, trying to regain control of the big chestnut. She had managed to get him back to a canter, but Flame was bouncing around beneath her like popcorn in a pot. It was clear that he was ready to explode again.

  The next time Natasha pointed Flame at the fence and let him loose, Issie could hardly bear to even watch. If anything it was worse than before. This time, his gallop was so crazy that Penny and Issie actually both found themselves moving away from the sides of the jump in case there was a crash. This was just as well because Flame literally ran through the rails, barely bothering to jump at all, bashing all five poles with his chest and scattering them over the ground.

  “Ohmygod!” Issie hurried forward with Penny to pick up the rails and rebuild the jump again. “Is he always like this?”

  Penny nodded. “He’s getting worse! Ginty has been training him for a couple of weeks since he arrived at the stables. He’s really nuts. I don’t care how good his bloodlines are. He’s bonkers, if you ask me.”

  All this time, Natasha had been looking more and more nervous about controlling Flame. On the last jump, when Flame had bashed down all the rails, she had barely managed to stay on. Now, as Ginty asked her to bring the imposing chestnut around again, she was clearly terrified. Her face was as white as a sheet.

  As Flame danced and crab-stepped in front of them, Natasha turned him towards the fence and this time, to mask her own fear, she gave him several hefty whacks with the whip before she let him go. The result was that Flame shot forward faster than ever before, storming the fence at a mad gallop. Natasha let out a shriek, realising he would never make the jump, and pulled him off to the side so that Issie had to dive out of the way as they galloped past. It took Natasha the full length of the arena to pull the chestnut to a stop and by that time Flame was shaking and dripping with sweat.

  “I think that will do for him today, Natasha,” Ginty said coolly. “You can take him back to the stables.”

  Natasha nodded gratefully then turned the chestnut gelding away, riding him back towards the stalls. Issie watched them go, shaking her head in disbelief as Flame continued to side-step, stomp and fret all the way out of the arena.

  What a shame, Issie thought. Flame was such a beautiful horse, with such fantastic breeding. But what good was breeding when the horse went totally insane every time he faced a jump?

  Issie had to admit that she had been jealous of Natasha scoring the ride on Flame, but that was before she’d seen him going berserk in the arena! He was the clearly the last horse in the stable that anyone would want to ride. Now she was glad that it was Natasha and not her that had been given the ride on the big chestnut. Compared to Flame, Tokyo was a well-schooled dream. The mare was one of the most scopey jumpers she’d ever ridden. She was going to be brilliant in the showjumping ring. It seemed like Issie had lucked out and got the best horse in the stables. She should have known that it was too good to last.

  Chapter 5

  Issie was horrified when she arrived at work the next morning to find that the blackboard roster had been rewritten, with Natasha down to ride Tokyo! Her eyes widened even more when she scanned down her list of horses for the day. Flame was now written down underneath Issie’s name! What was going on?

  After grooming Flame, Issie confronted Verity about the changes to the roster, but the head groom wasn’t sympathetic. “Ginty asked me to reassign some of the rides,” she shrugged. “She told me to give Tokyo to Natasha.”

  Issie was confused. “Is it because I did something wrong with Tokyo?”

  Verity sighed. “How should I know? You’ll have to ask Ginty about that.”

  Issie found Ginty in her office, looking over her paperwork. The trainer seemed surprised at the early-morning interruption.

  “What’s up?” she asked Issie, without raising her eyes from the neat stack of papers in front of her.

  “I…I didn’t realise you were unhappy with the way I was riding Tokyo,” Issie managed to mumble.

  “I’m not,” Ginty said. “Actually, you seem surprisingly capable as a rider. I’d expected a lot less from someone who’s only had Tom Avery as an instructor.”

  Issie wasn’t really sure what to say. Was that a compliment or an insult? “So why are you taking her off me? Did I do something wrong?”

  Ginty shook her head. “Not at all. But Tokyo is an easy horse to handle, which is why I’ve given the ride to Natasha. She was clearly out of her depth yesterday. You’ll take over on Flame. H
e needs a more capable rider.”

  Even though she wasn’t exactly thrilled that Ginty had swapped her on to Flame, Issie had to admit that she was flattered. Ginty obviously thought that Issie could do a better job than Natasha had done.

  “Verity will help you tack him up,” Ginty told her. Issie wanted to say that she was perfectly capable of putting a saddle and a bridle on a horse by herself, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she headed back to the tack room, where she found Verity holding up a complicated arrangement of steel and leather that Issie had never seen before.

  “Have you ever ridden in a Dutch gag?” Verity asked.

  The Dutch gag looked like an instrument of torture. Instead of one simple ring at each side of the bridle where the reins attached, the gag bit had four rings and a leather loop.

  “They’re used for horses that pull or try to bolt,” Verity explained. “Flame won’t be able to gallop off at the jumps when he’s wearing one of these.”

  “He wasn’t wearing this yesterday,” Issie said. “Natasha was riding him in an eggbutt snaffle.”

  “Ginty thought we should swap him to a gag,” Verity said. “She thinks ‘serious hardware’ is what Flame needs.”

  Issie looked warily at the gag. “Will it hurt him?”

  “It’s a very common bit,” Verity said. “Jumping horses often wear them.” Issie noticed that Verity hadn’t actually answered her question.

  “Come on,” Verity said. “I’ll show you how to fit it on him. You have to make sure the noseband is tight enough.”

  The big chestnut gelding was shining like burnished copper. He had good stable manners too. He stood quietly and patiently while Issie fiddled with the straps on his new bridle.

  “Are you going to be a good boy for me today in the arena?” Issie whispered to him as she did up the noseband. Flame snuffled her hand softly and nickered back to her in reply and Issie’s heart went out to him. OK, Flame had gone crazy yesterday when Natasha was riding him. But perhaps it wasn’t Flame who was the problem? After all, Natasha did have a reputation for ruining perfectly good horses. Could it have been Natasha’s fault that Flame kept galloping at the jumps? Maybe things would be different now that Issie was riding him.