Flame and the Rebel Riders (3 page)

“Would I still have time to ride my own horses?” Issie asked.

“That’s up to you,” Ginty replied. “You’ll be working a six-day week — sometimes seven days when we’re competing at the shows. You’ll start at seven each
morning and sometimes we’ll be away for days at a time on the show circuit, but usually if you’re not too exhausted by the time you finish work at four, then you’ll have time left at the end of the day to ride your own horses.”

“It sounds brilliant, thank you,” Issie said politely, “but I need to think about it.”

“Well, you don’t have much time to do that, I’m afraid,” Ginty said. “I need an answer soon. I’ve only got a week to find someone and I can’t afford to sit on my hands. Tell me now if you’re not keen, because I have a couple of other riders that I’m considering.”

“No!” Issie said hastily. “I mean, yes. Don’t offer anyone else the job. I want to do it. I just need to go home and check with my mum…”

Issie spent the bike ride home rehearsing the best way of breaking the news to her mother. She had a well-prepared little speech all ready, but instantly forgot it the minute she walked in the door.

“Ginty McLintoch has offered me a job. You said I’d
never find a job with horses, but I have, and I want to go and work for her.”

Some people would call the conversation that followed an argument. Later on, when she had calmed down, Mrs Brown referred to it as a ‘heated discussion’. In the end, though, Issie didn’t care what her mum called it. She had won. Mrs Brown finally conceded defeat. After all, she had told her daughter that if she could find herself a paid job with ponies, then she could take it.

“On the plus side,” Mrs Brown reasoned, “starting work at seven each morning and mucking out poo from that many loose boxes every day might finally make you think about getting qualifications for a proper career. I know I’d rather be sitting down with a cup of tea in a nice air-conditioned office than doing back-breaking work at a stable any day.”

This was the difference between her and her mother. Issie would rather be sweating in the stables for a pittance. Horses were her dream job and she had just been given her big break.

Stella and Kate couldn’t believe it when Issie told them her news at school the next day.

“You are soooo lucky!” Stella breathed excitedly. “I am so jealous! Ginty was really watching
you
at the pony club that day, when you thought she just wanted to buy Comet! Do you think she needs any more riders?”

Stella’s holiday job was restocking the shelves each night at the local supermarket, and she wasn’t thrilled with it. “We have to wear smocks and hairnets,” she groaned. “It’s going to be awful.”

“Have you told Tom yet?” Kate asked.

“No.” Issie shook her head. “I’m going to Winterflood Farm tomorrow after school to help out with a new rescue pony that he’s just brought in. I thought I would tell him then.”

“I thought Tom didn’t like Ginty?” Stella said.

“He doesn’t,” Issie admitted, “but when I explain to him how I didn’t really have a choice, I’m sure he’ll be OK about it.”

She was dead wrong.

“You can’t work for Ginty,” Avery told her point blank when she broke the news.

“But Tom, if I don’t take the job Mum will make me spend the holidays at her office and I won’t get to ride at all—”

“Anything is better than working for that atrocious woman,” Avery said.

“Why?” Issie was confused. “I know Ginty has different methods from you—”

“You’ve got no idea!” Avery said, clearly refusing to back down. “Issie, you don’t understand the pressure you’ll be under riding for Dulmoth Park. Ginty’s got financial backers with big wallets and huge expectations. It’s all about making money for her, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to win.”

“So she’s competitive. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Issie insisted. “I know it’s a big step for me, working at a professional stables, but I can handle myself. Besides, when we were in Australia a couple of months ago you were willing to let me move to Kentucky to go to Blainford. Now I’ve got a holiday job and you’re acting like it’s a big deal!”

“This is different,” Avery said coolly. “Tara Kelly is a brilliant trainer and Blainford Academy is the best riding institution in the world. I was only doing what was best for you—”

“I’m fifteen years old!” Issie objected. “I’m not a kid any more, and you need to stop deciding what’s best for me! You’re not my dad, you know. You’re just my pony-club instructor!”

The words came out before Issie could stop them. And then she saw the pain in Avery’s eyes, deep disappointment written all over his face.

“Tom,” Issie stammered, “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s OK,” Avery said quietly. “And you’re right, this is your decision. I can’t make your mind up for you. Maybe it’s time for you to try a new instructor. Maybe this is a good thing.”

And with that he turned his back on Issie and headed towards the stable block.

“Tom?” Issie called running after him. “Wait…I thought you wanted me to help with the new pony?”

Avery turned back to look at her. “No, Issie, I think
it’s probably best if you go home. I can cope with the pony on my own.”

In all the time she had known Tom Avery, Issie had never heard such hurt in her instructor’s voice. As she watched him walk away, she wondered whether she was really doing the right thing. But it was too late to change her mind now. She had already told Ginty that she would take the job. She was starting work at Dulmoth Park on Monday.

Issie stared up at the horse towering above her. It was rearing up on its hind legs, with a tousled mane and wild eyes. She put a hand out to stroke the horse and felt cool, smooth marble against her skin. There was the security keypad, embedded in the pedestal below the statue, just as Ginty had described it. The letters on the pad lit up bright blue at the touch of her fingertips as she carefully coded in the password Ginty had given her — w-i-n-n-e-r.

The sleek, state-of-the-art metal gates beside the statue slid open and Issie wheeled her bike through the grand entrance and into the manicured grounds of Dulmoth Park.

Issie had got up at 6 a.m. to make it to work on time. She had dressed, eaten breakfast and then cycled the half-hour journey along the main road past the pony club and the Chevalier Point airfield to reach the stables. She had hoped that maybe her mum would drive her to work, but Mrs Brown had laughed when Issie suggested this.

“You want me to drive you to work before seven?” Her mum was horrified. “You must be joking! I’m not getting up at dawn each day to be a taxi service.”

It had been hard to force herself out of bed, but once she was up and on her bike, Issie actually enjoyed the ride to the stables. The morning air was crisp, and as she cycled up the driveway of Dulmoth Park the grounds looked pristine and perfect with the dawn light tinting everything golden.

As she rode past the white post and rail fences, Issie noticed that Dulmoth Park’s paddocks were eerily empty. There were no horses grazing. Even in summer, when New Zealand nights were warm and most horses were left out to pasture, Ginty had a reputation for keeping her horses stabled. Right now the horses would still be
tucked up snugly in their loose boxes, waiting for their day to start.

The stable complex at the end of the long driveway had the air of a posh racehorse training facility. The driveway forked in three directions and there was a series of smart, creosoted black buildings surrounded by well-pruned trees and neat lawns.

Issie had just dismounted from her bike and was wondering which path to take when suddenly two very yappy, angry-looking Jack Russells came charging out from the building right in front of her.

The dogs were barking their heads off as they bore down on her. They were just a few feet away and closing in fast when a sharp whistle made them stop in their tracks.

“Hoi! Jock! Angus!” Ginty McLintoch called out.

At the sound of Ginty’s voice Jock and Angus sat down obediently, waiting for their mistress to catch up.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ginty said. “They’re very suspicious of strangers.” She smiled at Issie. “They’ll be fine now that they can see you’re with me.”

Issie put out her hands to scratch the two Jack Russells under the chin. “Hi Jock, hi Angus!” She
smiled at Ginty. “I love dogs. I’ve got a blue heeler at home.”

“A blue heeler?”

“An Australian cattle dog,” Issie explained.

“Good around horses?” Ginty asked.

“Wombat’s brilliant with horses.”

“Wombat?” Ginty was confused. “I thought you said he was a dog?”

“He is a dog,” Issie said. “His name is Wombat. I got him in Australia…it’s kind of a long story.”

“Well,” Ginty said briskly, clearly not interested in hearing it, “as long as he doesn’t bother the horses and he can put up with Jock and Angus, then you’re welcome to bring him to work with you.”

“Really?” Issie couldn’t believe it. “That would be amazing!”

“You can park your bike in the equipment room,” Ginty told her. “It’s just through that doorway beside the office.” She looked at her watch. “I’d better go down to the stables. I’ve got another new junior groom starting today as well. Come and join us there when you’re ready.”

The equipment room was stocked with jump stands and painted rails. Issie leant her bike against the wall
and unzipped her backpack. She’d already put her helmet on for the bike ride and she grabbed her back protector out of the backpack and slipped it on too before heading for the stable block.

Up ahead of her at the stable entrance Ginty was engrossed in conversation with two girls who looked a couple of years older than Issie. They were both dressed exactly the same, in smart cream jodhpurs, work boots and dark purple sweatshirts with the letters
DP
embroidered on them in swirly gold. The
DP
obviously stood for Dulmoth Park.

“Issie,” Ginty called out, “come and meet my senior grooms.”

The two girls looked up at Issie and the one with freckles and honey-coloured hair in a ponytail gave her a warm smile.

“Hi!” The honey-blonde gave a wave. “I’m Penny.”

The girl next to Penny had brown hair cut in a short pixie crop. She didn’t smile or say hello, she just stared at Issie suspiciously.

“This is Verity — my head groom,” Ginty said, taking over on the introductions since Verity clearly wasn’t going to introduce herself. “Verity and Penny have
both been with me for two seasons already, so they know the ropes,” Ginty continued. “I’ve asked Verity to assign you and Natasha your work rosters. You’ll find details on the blackboard just inside the front door of the stables.”

Issie froze. Did Ginty just say
Natasha
? No, it couldn’t be…

At that moment the gates to Dulmoth Park slid open and a silver Mercedes glided down the driveway. Issie recognised the car straight away, and the sour-faced blonde sitting inside it.

Natasha Tucker emerged from the passenger seat looking utterly miserable, grabbed her bag, muttered a dismissive goodbye to her mother and then slammed the Mercedes door shut. She glared after the car as Mrs Tucker drove off again.

“Good morning, Natasha.” Ginty smiled at her. “I believe I told you it was a 7 a.m. start, so let’s try to be on time in future.”

“Whatever!” Natasha groaned.

Issie would never have spoken to Ginty like that, but the trainer seemed to let Natasha get away with it. She ignored the comment and continued, “I was just doing
introductions. You know Verity and Penny already, and I’m sure you know Isadora too?”

“We go to pony club together,” Natasha confirmed, looking far from pleased to see Issie.

“I’ve just been explaining the roster,” Ginty said. “Verity will organise it so that you and Isadora are each in charge of six horses. You’ll need to do all the feeds and have the first horse ready in the arena by eight each morning to begin schooling. Everything is written down for you on the blackboards in the tack room, but if you have any questions about the way we do things here, then check with Verity.”

This clearly didn’t sit well with the head groom, who didn’t seem keen on answering any questions. She was already edging towards the stables, trying to get away. “Can I go now?” she asked. “I’ve still got to sort out Tottie and Flame’s hard feeds. We’re already running late.”

Ginty nodded. “Take Issie with you to help.”

Verity grunted, and Issie figured that must mean she should follow as the head groom set off towards the far end of the stables.

The feed room was nothing like the tatty old tack
shed where the feed was stored at Winterflood Farm. This room looked like a science lab—or a pharmacy. Large feed lockers with airtight lids lined one side of the room and above these were shelves filled with a mind-boggling array of powders, additives and supplements.

Verity seemed to know exactly what each of the bottles contained. She had grabbed a feed bin and was busily throwing in various measures from different bottles and tubs on the shelves.

“We’re trying to put more condition on Tottie at the moment,” Verity said. “I’ve been giving her two scoops of boiled barley in her feed morning and night, plus one of chaff and one of Maxi-equine hi-performance, and we add linseed, magnesium and electrolytes to each meal. Plus I’ve been putting in selenium lately as well.”

Now she grabbed a second feed bin and began to pour out measures and doses of potions off the shelf. “Flame’s on three scoops of the Maxi-equine, plus the chaff and supplements and extra potassium,” Verity continued.

“I don’t think I can remember all of this,” Issie murmured, feeling quite ill at the thought of giving
the horses the wrong dose or muddling the feeds up entirely.

“You don’t have to learn it off by heart. Just look at the chart on the wall,” Verity said. “It gives you feed instructions for every horse in the stables.”

Issie noticed that there was one feed locker that Verity didn’t use at all. It wasn’t a round tub like the rest — it was low and square, standing in the corner of the room. Its lid was curved and inlaid with metal and it was bolted shut like a treasure chest with a combination lock on the outside of it.