Nightstorm and the Grand Slam (13 page)

“Issie did nothing wrong,” Avery shot back. “She rode that fence perfectly. The reason the horse went down at that jump was because he was tired – and that's because his fitness regime fell apart while he was in your hands for the past three months. You want to talk about who was to blame for this? Take a look in the mirror! Or maybe talk to your syndicate who care more about money than horses. But don't you dare start to throw muck at my rider!”

Issie didn't say anything. She was so horrified at the accusation she couldn't speak.

“She rode him to his death,” Oliver Tucker insisted. “Now she's too cowardly to deliver the final blow and put the beast out of his misery. Well, I'm not! I'll do it for her!”

He turned to the security guard. “Help me get the horse off the truck! I'll shoot him myself if I have to!”

With the guard beside him, Oliver Tucker stormed up the ramp and began to unbolt the loose box.

Avery rushed forward to stop him, but the security guard stepped in and held him back. Watching the
disaster unfolding in front of her, Issie had never felt more powerless in her life.

Victory was going to die – and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it.

Oliver Tucker unbuckled the sling and took hold of Victory's lead rope.

“Come on!” he shouted at the brown gelding, “Move it!”

“Leave him alone!” Kate shouted. “If you move him it could hurt his leg.”

“As if I care!” Oliver Tucker said. He began to haul on the rope, trying to force Victory to step out on his broken leg and down the ramp.

“Don't do this, Oliver!” Avery warned him.

“Shut up!” Oliver Tucker said, grunting as he pulled at the rope. Victory wasn't moving. Oliver Tucker let go of the rope and seized a whip from the corner of the
truck and waved it at the horse. “This will get him going…”

“NO!”

The cry didn't come from Issie, Avery or Kate.

It came from a blonde girl in purple jodhpurs standing on the ramp of the truck and looking on aghast at the man about to beat a horse with a broken leg.

“Dad? What's going on here?”

“Natasha!” Oliver Tucker lowered the whip hastily. “I'm trying to do what's best for the poor horse…”

Issie cut him off. “Victory has a broken leg. We want to take him to Glasgow so they can operate. Your dad wants to shoot him.”

Natasha Tucker's face fell. “Dad? Is that true?”

Oliver Tucker looked shamefaced. “I'm just being practical, darling…”

“Right,” Natasha said darkly. “Just like you were being practical when you took him off me and gave him to Issie to ride?”

Avery and Issie had been trying to appeal to Oliver Tucker's decency and kindness – which was pointless since he didn't have any. But Natasha knew exactly how to deal with her father.

“Think, Dad!” she snapped. “If you take this horse off the truck and put him down it's going to totally destroy the Natty T brand.”

“I don't see how it's anybody's business!” Oliver Tucker railed. “It's my horse and my money…”

“…and my reputation!” Natasha shot back. “No one will buy my jodhpurs if word gets out that my family are a bunch of horse killers! How is that going to look on the front page of the Daily Mail?”

“That's right!” Issie leapt in, backing Natasha up. “We'll tell the papers that you had the chance to save the horse and you refused.”

Oliver Tucker hesitated. Then he let go of Victory's leadrope in disgust. “All right! Take the stupid beast to the vet!” he snapped at Avery as he pushed past him. “And good luck to you!”

There was silence as they watched Oliver Tucker stomp off down the ramp and out of the yard. His dramatic departure was slightly ruined when he trod in horse dung and swore blue murder as he tried unsuccessfully to scrape it off his shoe as he stormed away.

Avery and Kate went to take care of Victory and Issie
turned to Natasha. “Thanks,” she said. “I know it must have been tough, standing up to your dad like that…”

“I didn't do it for you,” Natasha said flatly. “I know what you think of me. I know you don't respect me as a rider, and I know you find it hard to believe that I care about Victory. But I do. Maybe I am talentless, but I'm not heartless. He was my horse too you know.”

Natasha turned her back on Issie and began to walk away. Then she turned back again and looked Issie straight in the eye. “You have to let me know if he's OK. As soon as you have news from Glasgow?”

Issie nodded. “I will. I promise.”

The sling was reattached and Victory was settled back in his travel box again with Kate. Issie and Tom stood and watched as the truck departed the gates, without incident this time.

“Come on,” Avery said. “You've done everything you can for him. Let's get back to the stables and see how Stella is doing with Nightstorm.”

Nightstorm! Through all the drama of the past few hours Issie hadn't given a single thought to her second ride. Victory had been all that had mattered. But now she saw her instructor's expectant face, and she knew what Avery was thinking.

“Tom,” she shook her head. “No. I can't! I can't ride that course again.”

“Issie,” Avery said, “I know what you've just been through was terrible, but you're sitting in first place on Nightstorm. You could win Burghley. You're in line to win the Grand Slam.”

“No,” Issie shook her head again. “I'm not doing it, Tom. I can't.” She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe as she struggled to get the words out.

“Issie, you can't let this set-back ruin your chances.” Avery was adamant. “You've got to get back on the horse.”

“Even if it kills him?” Issie said. She looked down at her feet, and the words came out in a whisper. “Tom, what if Oliver Tucker was right? What if the crash was my fault?”

Avery was surprised. “Oliver Tucker was trying to be cruel. You rode that jump perfectly – it wasn't your fault.”

“But it was!” Issie gasped. “I knew Victory was tired, Tom! I knew he wasn't coping but I kept going. I should have stopped him. I should have withdrawn when he started to slow up. He was never going to make it around that course…”

“Issie, you mustn't do this to yourself, you're emotionally exhausted. You need to rest before you ride this afternoon…”

“I'm not riding today – or ever again!” Issie shot back. “It's over!” And with that, she turned and ran towards the stables.

In floods of tears, Issie rounded the corner of Storm's loose box. She slid the door open and then shut it again behind her and collapsed down into the straw on the floor at Storm's feet, sobbing her heart out.

She knew that Avery was probably furious with her right now, and she wished she could explain to her instructor properly. How could she take Storm out on that same course and live through it all again? She loved the bay stallion so much, she couldn't bear to risk losing him…

“Issie?” It was Avery, standing at the stable door. “Can I come in?”

Issie didn't say anything and Avery slid the door open and sat down beside her on the straw.

“I get the feeling that it's not just about what happened out there today with Victory, is it?” Avery said.

Issie didn't say anything for a long time. When she spoke at last, her voice was trembling. “Do you ever think about Mystic, Tom?”

Avery frowned. “That was a long time ago, Issie. What happened that day was an accident. It's got nothing to do with this…”

“But it does!” Issie said. “Don't you see? It was my fault too! I rode him out there on to the road. If I hadn't done that, Mystic would still be alive! It's all been my fault! All of it!”

“Is that what you think, Issie?” Avery's eyes suddenly welled with tears. “Is that what you've been thinking all these years, that it was your fault that he died?”

“Well, wasn't it?” Issie looked at him defiantly. “Maybe that's why it haunts me so much. I feel like Mystic is still with me. I think the truth is I can't let him go because I know deep down that it was my doing. I
should never have put him in danger like that. And now Victory might die too and you expect me to ride Nightstorm around that course as well? I can't do it, Tom. I can't risk losing him like I lost Mystic…”

“Issie,” Avery shook his head, “what you did that day at the pony club was extraordinarily brave. You risked your own life and saved three other horses. Mystic was just as brave. He died to save you and I think he would do it again if you gave him the chance. If he's still with you then it's not because he blames you. It's because he knows how deeply you loved him – and I truly believe that that pony loved you too.”

Avery wiped the tears from Issie's face. “I know how awful the pain is of losing a horse that you truly love. I've been through it too, you know, when I lost The Soothsayer.”

Issie was shocked to hear Avery speak of his horse by name. In all the years she had known him, Avery had never talked at all about The Soothsayer. He had never told her about the horrific accident that ended his career – until now.

“There'd been a lot of rain and the course was treacherous at Badminton that year,” Avery said. “I was
worried that he might slip going into the Vicarage Vee. I nearly took the long route but at the last minute I decided to go straight through. All I saw in my mind was glory and a clear round. If I'd known that I would lose my best horse forever…”

Avery took a deep breath. “In the aftermath of the crash I blamed myself for his death. I never rode competitively again. I didn't want to hurt another horse. I didn't want to take that enormous responsibility…”

Avery looked hard at Issie. “But I know now that I was wrong. The Soothsayer's death wasn't my fault. It was a freak accident. And giving up my riding career didn't bring him back – in the same way that your quitting now won't help Victory to recover. You won't achieve anything by giving up, Issie. But if you can find the courage in yourself to get back on your horse and get out there and ride this course, then you will honour the memory of Mystic. You owe him that at least, don't you?”

As they sat there together on the straw, Issie felt the warm touch of a horse's muzzle against her bare skin. She looked up and saw Storm, standing right there beside her. The stallion was looking intently at her as
if to say, “This is my decision too, you know. We're partners, you and I. And this isn't over yet!”

Issie reached out a hand and softly stroked the stallion's velvet nose. Then, wrapping both her hands in Storm's mane, she held on tight and the big, bay raised his neck, lifting her up off the floor and on to her feet.

As she stood there with her arms around her horse, Issie realised that she had a choice to make. Avery had let the past destroy his career. But she had another chance now, a chance to make things right.

Issie turned back to face Tom, her eyes shining, not with tears but with hope. “Tell Stella to start tacking him up. I'm going back to the truck to get ready.”

As Issie got dressed, there was one last bitter reminder of what she had been through already that day. Her airtech jacket was now discarded, spent and useless. She needed to borrow another one and fast.

When Issie turned up on Marcus Pearce's doorstep with her eyes still red from crying, he didn't ask any
stupid questions and never mentioned the accident. Marcus had the common sense to realise that what she needed right now was to stay positive about the task ahead. He handed over an airtech jacket. “Hey,” he said. “I'm worried that Velluto Rosso might not pass the trotting-up tomorrow. Do you think Natasha might have a pair of jodhpurs I can wear to distract the judges?”

Issie laughed. “I don't think she's designing them for boys just yet.”

A bit of banter with Marcus was just what Issie needed to get her emotions back on track. She had to go into the cross-country start box in an upbeat and focused state of mind. She had to put the past behind her. Her mindset had to be about bringing Storm over that finish line with a clear round and a good time.

In the warm-up area Stella and Avery kept their own worries well hidden as they helped Issie to prepare. Stella was all smiles as she did the last gear check on Nightstorm and gave him the thumbs up for Issie to get onboard.