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“Yeah.”
“What exactly is a ‘Flying Angel’?”
Aidan grinned. “It’s hard to explain. It’s probably easier if you let me show you.”
Aidan tied Blaze up outside the round pen and then he rode Diablo into the arena, leading Paris beside him. The wood-lined walls of the round pen were about two metres high and above them, circling the arena, were two rows of wooden bench seats. Issie climbed the stairs and sat down in a front row seat, watching silently as Aidan worked the horses in. He trotted back and forth in the middle of the arena on Diablo, keeping an eye on Paris, who was also wearing a saddle and bridle as she cantered riderless around the arena.
“Do you see how she’s cantering in a circle like that?” Aidan called out to Issie. “She’s been trained to do that. It makes it easier to do the trick if she’s got a steady stride.” As he said this he clucked Diablo forward and the black and white Quarter Horse began to canter behind the palomino.
Issie watched as Aidan cantered Diablo right up next to Paris so that he was riding neck and neck with the palomino mare. The two horses fell into step together, matching each other stride for stride.
Aidan smiled up at her. “Here we go!” he called out. And with that, he let go of Diablo’s reins and sat bolt upright in the saddle with his arms spread out to either side for balance. Aidan rode one more lap around the round pen with his arms out. Issie could see him counting the beat in his head, figuring out his moment. Issie noticed that he was edging Diablo closer to Paris now, so that the piebald gelding was almost touching the palomino. Suddenly Aidan slipped his feet out of the stirrups and pivoted in the saddle, turning his body to face the wall. He cast one last look up at Issie, gave her a wave and then leapt.
Issie couldn’t believe it! There was a split-second when Aidan was in midair that she imagined the worst. He was going to fall and get trampled beneath Paris and Diablo’s hooves. Then she saw Aidan grasp Paris’ saddle with both hands and deftly swing his leg over the mare’s back. Before she knew it, Aidan was in the saddle on Paris with the reins, which had been knotted around the palomino’s neck, in his hands. By the time he rode around the arena to where Issie was seated he had a grin on his face and was waving to her as he went by.
Issie stood up, clapping wildly. “That was amazing!” she called out to him.
Aidan pulled Paris up in the centre of the arena and saluted to Issie, while Paris dropped to one knee underneath her rider, bowing theatrically.
“That,” Aidan said, “is a Flying Angel.”
He dismounted from Paris and walked over to Diablo, who was standing waiting for him. Then he led both horses up to the side of the arena and looked up at Issie. “Come on then – it’s your turn. Why don’t you bring Blaze into the arena and have a go?”
“But I don’t know how…” Issie began.
“The only way to learn is to do it,” Aidan said. “It’s all about timing. You need to get Blaze into a rhythm next to Paris, then move them close, drop your stirrups and jump.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Issie said. She could feel the butterflies in her tummy going berserk now.
“Yeah, well, it is simple once you’ve done it a few times. But the first time I made the jump was pretty hairy,” Aidan admitted. “Are you ready to give it a go?”
Issie untied Blaze from the hitching post and led the mare in through the sliding wooden doors on to the sawdust floor of the round pen. As she put her foot in the stirrup, Blaze danced nervously.
“Easy, girl, it’s OK,” Issie cooed.
“I’m going up there to watch,” Aidan said, gesturing to the stands above the arena. “Paris knows what to do – she’ll just keep cantering around the arena. All you need to do is ride Blaze up next to her and make the jump.” Issie nodded silently and as Aidan rode out on Diablo she turned Blaze around to face the palomino.
“Gee-up, Paris!” she called, waving her arms to get the mare moving on to the perimeter of the arena. Paris instantly reacted just as Aidan had said she would, high-stepping into a graceful canter, staying close to the wooden walls of the round pen.
As soon as Paris had cantered twice around the ring and settled into a steady stride, Issie clucked Blaze on and rode the liver chestnut mare out to join her. At first Blaze flinched a little as she edged closer to the palomino. Then she seemed to understand what Issie wanted her to do and fell into a brisk canter next to Paris, running neck and neck alongside the pretty palomino.
“Steady, girl, that’s it…” Issie said. She knotted Blaze’s reins now, and then, very carefully, she let go. She was riding now without any hands, her arms floating up and up, helping her to balance so that eventually she was sitting straight up in the saddle with her arms spread out like angel wings.
“Now, turn your body to face Paris and drop your stirrups!” Aidan shouted at her from the side of the arena.
Issie looked up at him and gave him a quick nod. She did as he said, slipping her feet out of the stirrups so that she was now riding with the irons dangling at her feet. She turned her torso to face the wall and looked at the rise and fall of the palomino’s empty saddle. She had to jump into that saddle. All she needed to do was reach out her hands and make that leap from Blaze’s back on to Paris. Issie took a deep breath and counted down – ah-one, ah-two, ah—
She froze. She couldn’t do this! It was crazy. She looked down and saw the horses’ hooves churning beneath her on the sawdust floor of the arena. What if she fell? She would get trampled beneath Paris’ hooves for sure!
“Come on, Issie! What are you waiting for?” Aidan called out. Issie felt her skin turning clammy, her tummy was churning with butterflies.
“Calm down,” she told herself. “You can do this!”
She put her hands back out again and focused on getting back into position. Then she edged Blaze closer to Paris once more and waited until the two mares were matching each other stride for stride. Ah-one, ah-two, ah… noooo!
Issie pulled Blaze up to a halt. She could feel her heart beating like crazy, her palms were wet with sweat and she was trembling.
“Issie, Issie are you OK?” Aidan ran into the arena, his face grave with concern. “What happened? Why didn’t you jump?”
Issie shook her head. “I don’t know, Aidan. I thought I’d be able to do it but then I looked down and…”
“It’s OK. Honest.” Aidan smiled at her. “It’s a pretty advanced stunt. It was probably too soon to ask you to try something like this. Don’t worry about it. Really. We can try again some other time.”
Aidan reached out to take Blaze’s reins as Issie dismounted, but she was still holding them and instead of grasping the reins he found himself holding Issie’s hand instead. There was a moment when Aidan and Issie were locked together, holding hands. Then the pair of them jumped back from each other and stood there looking embarrassed.
“Sorry, I mean, I didn’t mean to…” Aidan stammered.
“No! I mean, that’s fine…” Issie replied, looking at her feet. “I umm… I’d better put Blaze away now.” She hurriedly led the chestnut mare out of the arena and back to the stable block, leaving Aidan standing there with Diablo and Paris.
“Ohmygod, could that have been any more embarrassing?” Issie murmured to Blaze, burying her head deep into her pony’s mane as they stood together in Blaze’s stall. Not only had she chickened out on doing the Flying Angel stunt, she had held hands with Aidan! This was just the worst!
Untacking Blaze quickly, Issie slipped out the back door of the stable, hoping she stood less chance of running into Aidan again if she went out that way. Then she ran across the lawn, up on to the porch and in through the back door of the manor.
As she walked towards the kitchen she thought for a moment that Aidan had somehow got back there before her. She could hear a man’s voice in the kitchen talking with Aunt Hester. When she got nearer, though, she realised the voice didn’t belong to Aidan.
“Isadora! Is that you? Come and meet Cameron,” Aunt Hester said. “Cameron is the head ranger for the Blackthorn Hills Conservation Trust.” Her Aunt smiled at the sandy-haired man in the khaki jacket sitting next to her at the table. “Cameron, I’d like you to meet Isadora, my favourite niece. She’s the one who first sighted the Grimalkin up on Blackthorn Ridge yesterday.”
“Is that so?” The ranger looked at Issie.
“Well, kind of…” Issie said. “Something was there and it chased me and my horse, but it was hidden by the trees so I never actually saw it. I just heard it.”
The ranger cocked a suspicious eyebrow at this.
“But I did see it last night!” Issie added hastily. “It was right there on top of the cattle pens just before we found Meadow. It was balancing on the top of the wooden railings, running along them like a cat.”
“Could it have been a cat?” Hester wondered.
“Ohmygod no! Not a normal cat. It was enormous. I mean, really huge,” Issie said. “Bigger than Nanook even.”
“Did you see what sort of an animal it was?” Cameron asked.
“Umm, not really. There was a full moon but it was still very dark. It was black, I think, and it had a long thick tail, but I couldn’t really see much more than that. It disappeared pretty fast and then Aidan found Meadow and…” Issie’s voice trailed off as she remembered the awful events of the night before and the gruesome discovery of poor Meadow.
“Could have been a stray dog,” the ranger assessed. “We’ve had a couple of reports of stock loss lately. Once a dog gets the taste for blood, they’re trouble.”
“It wasn’t a dog,” Issie said firmly.
The ranger looked at her again. “Well, whatever it was, we’ll find it. I’m going to take a couple of men up to the ridge today and we’ll try and track it.”
“What will you do if you find it?” Issie asked.
“We’ve got long-range rifles. Our men are trained sharp-shooters,” he said coolly.
“Would you like more coffee, Cameron?” Aunt Hester offered the ranger. “Issie, why don’t you join us?”
Issie sat down reluctantly next to the ranger as Aunt Hester poured more coffee from the pot for herself and their guest.
“Anyway, I didn’t come here just to look for your… what did you call it? A ‘Grimalkin’?” the ranger told Hester as she sat down again. “You know the Conservation Trust has been concerned for some time now about the damage the Blackthorn Ponies are causing to the native wildlife.”
Hester nodded.
“We’ve been discussing the problem for months now. The Blackthorn Hills district is rich with rare native flora. There are species of lichen and moss here that simply don’t exist anywhere else in the world. It’s our job as the Conservation Trust to protect the land,” the ranger continued.
“But the ponies have been here for years, Cameron. Why is the problem suddenly so urgent now?” Hester asked.
“Numbers, mostly. The cold winters have usually kept the herd numbers down but the Blackthorn Ponies have been thriving for the past couple of years. There’s twice as many as there used to be. It looks like we have no alternative but to undertake the cull immediately.”
Aunt Hester looked shocked. “You realise that as the chairwoman of the Save The Blackthorn Ponies Group I’ll be fighting any action you plan to take at the highest level—”
Cameron cut her off. “Hester, we’ve been through all this a million times already and you know it. I’m not here to ask your permission. This cull has been debated and now it’s been officially rubber-stamped. There’s nothing you can do any more. Telling you today was only a formality. I thought you’d want to know since the herd often run on your land. We’ll have our men up here next week to get the job done.”
“What are you talking about?” Issie squeaked. “What do you mean by a cull?”
The ranger looked up at Issie. His face was grave. “You have to understand that these Blackthorn Ponies are hard to catch and almost impossible to manage even if we could get our hands on them, Isadora. We need to get them off the land, and as far as the Conservation Trust is concerned, that leaves us with just one solution. We’ll have to shoot them.”
There was silence in the kitchen for a moment. Issie looked at the ranger to see whether he was joking, but his eyes met her with a deadly serious gaze.
“Aunty Hess!” Issie gasped. “You can’t let them! This is your land! They can’t shoot all those beautiful horses! You can’t let him kill them! You just can’t!”
Hester looked distressed. “Do you think I haven’t fought this tooth and nail, Issie? I know how upset you must be; I’m upset too. This debate has been raging a long time now and our action group have fought this all the way, but now it seems like this may be the only solution. Cameron is right. These ponies are destroying rare wildlife – species that may not survive for much longer. If we can’t stop them – if we can’t catch them – then this may be the only solution.”
“But what about the ponies? What about their survival?” Issie said.
“I know. I know. I wish there were a way to save them,” Hester said. “Cameron has tried in the past, you know. They are fiendishly difficult to catch and it takes an expert horseman to manage them. They’re wild, Isadora, not at all like your typical riding ponies. And even if we could save the herd, what on earth would we do with them all?”
“Still, there must be something we can do, Aunty Hess!” Issie insisted. “What about the black stallion? What if he really is Avignon’s son?”
Aunt Hester went quiet at this. When she finally spoke she seemed enormously sad, “He’s a wild stallion, Isadora. The last time you went out there he tried to kill you. I simply don’t see what we can do to save him. It’s too risky. Someone might get hurt.”
“Honestly, Isadora, we wouldn’t be doing this if we hadn’t exhausted our options,” Cameron said. “It’s a very humane—”
“Humane? It’s murder! These are ponies we’re talking about! Beautiful ponies! Some of them are just foals! I can’t believe you’re doing this!” Issie turned to her aunt. “And I can’t believe you won’t stop him!”
And with that she stormed out of the kitchen, charged up the wide wooden stairs and ran into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Issie lay on her bed for a long time staring at the portrait of Avignon that hung above the fireplace, wondering what she should do. She couldn’t believe her Aunt was actually agreeing with the ranger. I mean, maybe they couldn’t save all the ponies, but they had to try, didn’t they?
Issie stood up from her bed and walked over to the sash window that looked out over the back veranda down to the stables. Aunt Hester was right. The stallion was dangerous. The last time Issie and Blaze had faced the black horse he had tried to attack them. But really, that had been Issie’s fault. She hadn’t been ready for him. This time, though, she would be. She could take a spare halter, some carrots to tempt the ponies…
Issie paused for a moment. Then she walked across the room to her wardrobe and got out her jodhpurs and boots. She pulled on a light jersey over her T-shirt in case the weather turned and grabbed her backpack. She climbed out of the sash window on to the veranda of her room and was about to shimmy her way down the fire escape to the lawn when she heard voices below her.
Aunt Hester and the ranger were out on the driveway. Issie lay down on the veranda out of sight and watched as the ranger got into his Jeep and said goodbye to Aunt Hester.
Issie watched the Jeep drive away and then she waited until she was sure that Aunt Hester had gone back into the house. She couldn’t risk being caught and she knew she had to hurry. If Aunt Hester knew what she was about to do she would try and stop her. It was better if Issie just left now without saying anything. By the time Hester noticed that she was gone, Issie and Blaze would be on their way. With a little luck they’d capture a pony or two and be back home again in time for dinner, and Aunt Hester would be so amazed she wouldn’t have the chance to be mad at her.
Issie climbed silently down the fire escape ladder, then hid against the wall of the manor until she was sure that no one was around before making the dash across the manor lawn down to the stables.
The big wooden stable doors made such a loud screech when she opened them that Issie was sure Aunt Hester could hear them all the way back up the driveway at the house. In the gloom of the stables she checked to see if Aidan was there. Luckily he wasn’t. She raced straight to the tack room, grabbing her helmet, Blaze’s saddle and bridle and a spare halter off the racks that lined the wall.
“Hey, girl, it’s me,” she said as she unbolted the door to Blaze’s stall. The chestnut mare nickered when she saw her. Issie opened the stall door and slipped inside. She gave Blaze a carrot and ran her eyes over her pony’s legs. She seemed none the worse for her galloping efforts yesterday.
Issie was about to start tacking up and then she stopped. What was she doing? This was crazy. She was all alone and there were at least thirty ponies out there. She didn’t even have a plan. But then, what other chance did the Blackthorn Ponies have without her? She couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.
“Come on, Blaze,” she said to the mare as she threw the saddle blanket across her back. “We’re going for a ride.”
Chapter 7 (#ulink_507d378e-a392-5046-a37f-426eb6b39cbb)
A shiver ran down Issie’s spine as she led Blaze up through the five-bar gate on to the forest ridge track. The last time they rode the ridge track they had been forced to run for their lives. Now Issie listened keenly, alert for even the slightest sound from the trees. Apart from a few bird calls, the woods were totally silent. “There’s nothing in there,” Issie told herself out loud. She stepped up on to the rungs of the gate and leapt lightly into the saddle, gripping the reins to steady Blaze, who was pacing nervously underneath her.
“What is it, girl?” Issie asked. She held her breath for a moment, trying to listen again, but still she heard nothing. Her eyes scanned the woods in front of her. “It’s nothing,” she told herself firmly. “You’re just imagining things.”
Issie pushed Blaze into a trot, deciding that the mare would settle down once she began to move. “Easy girl, there’s nothing there to worry about,” Issie reassured her. All the same, she found herself keeping one eye on the woods beside them as they rode on.
Eventually they reached the point where the track finally veered away from the forest and travelled down into the farmland and Issie breathed a sigh of relief. “See, Blaze? No big, bad kitty chasing us this time,” she said, giving her pony a pat on the neck.
As the track into the farmland flattened out, Issie pushed the mare into a canter and stood up in her stirrups as Blaze fell into a steady, swift stride. They cantered on like this for a long time and by the time they slowed back down to walk again Issie could see the peak of the green hills that surrounded Lake Deepwater in the distance.
On the lake ridge Issie pulled Blaze to a halt. The Blackthorn Ponies were there, just where she had seen them last time, grazing peacefully. Issie held Blaze back for a moment, uncertain what to do next. She didn’t want to startle the herd and risk a stampede. Perhaps if she rode around to the far side of the lake where the blackthorn thicket grew she could sneak up on them under the cover of the trees.
She turned Blaze around now and rode back out of sight of the herd, down the slopes away from the lake, circling around the ridge. As they reached the point where Issie figured the blackthorn trees must be she rode Blaze back up over the crest of the hill so that they were looking down on the lake once more. The herd were still grazing happily. They had no idea that Issie was stalking them. Issie held Blaze still as she counted the horses – the buckskins and bays, pintos and greys – “…twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…” She smiled at the two foals frisking along beside their mothers. “…and the foals make twenty-nine, thirty!”
Suddenly the peaceful scene was disturbed by the shrill whinny of a horse. Issie looked up along the ridge. The stallion! Issie had been wondering where he was. She held her breath and tried to keep a grip on the reins as Blaze danced and pulled beneath her. The mare wanted to run. Issie knew how she felt. She was scared too. And there was time to run now, before the stallion came too close. This time, though, something told Issie that she should hold her ground.
The stallion’s stride ate up the ground as he cantered swiftly towards them. He was just a few metres away – closer than the last time they had met – when he stopped dead in front of them. He was so close that Issie could see his flanks quivering with nerves. The stallion let out a deep snort and shook his head, but instead of charging at them as he had done last time he stepped backwards, as if uncertain what to do next.
Issie realised now that it was fear, not hatred, that had driven him to attack them when they met last time. As far as the black horse was concerned, they were strangers – they were a threat. Even now, the stallion was deciding if it was safe to be this close or if he should gather his herd and run.
Issie ran a hand down Blaze’s neck. The mare was shaking with tension. Issie murmured softly to her horse now, trying to soothe her. “Easy, girl, be nice, let’s see if we can make friends, eh?”
The stallion took another step forward then stretched out his strong, elegant neck and greeted Blaze nose-to-nose. But Blaze wasn’t so sure she wanted to make friends. She gave a tempestuous squeal and lashed out viciously at the black horse with her front leg.
“Hey, hey, girl, it’s OK,” Issie kept speaking gently to her horse.
Blaze seemed to listen to Issie’s soothing tone because she let the stallion touch noses with her again and this time she didn’t strike out.
And then the penny dropped. Issie had ridden out here on a whim to save these ponies, and here she was, so close to the stallion. Wouldn’t Aunty Hess be thrilled? she thought to herself, if Blaze and I could bring him home to her? After all, hadn’t Aunty Hess been convinced that the black horse was the son of Avignon, her own beloved Swedish Warmblood? If Issie was going to save just one horse from this herd, if that was all she could do, then it had to be this horse. She knew that now.
As the big black drew in close again, trying to touch noses with Blaze once more, Issie saw her chance. She unhooked the rope attached to the halter on her saddle and leant over to slip it gently, carefully over his neck. Nearly there, nearly… Issie held her breath as she leant in closer to the black horse. The stallion kept a wary eye on Issie but he didn’t flinch.
