The Prize (18 page)

Alice opened the gate and Georgie led Belle into the field. She stood there with her horse, reluctant to loosen the halter and let her go, fighting back the tears.

“It's a stupid, stupid rule,” Georgie said bitterly as she stroked Belle's muzzle. “You come all the way across the world, they get you to bond with a horse, and then once you completely and utterly love it to bits they tell you next year you'll be with a new one!”

“Totally,” Alice said comfortingly, “It's a dumb Blainford rule.”

Alice had already put Caspian on the horse truck to take him home to Maryland. She was being supportive as she accompanied Georgie and Belle down to her paddock for the last time but the truth was that both the girls understood the logic behind Blainford's policy.

The school prided itself on turning out the world's best professional riders. And pro-riders needed to learn to handle a wide variety of mounts. It wasn't enough to click with just one horse, and that was the reason for the Academy's rotation of school horses.

Georgie could see the sense in it, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. Faced with being separated from Belle for good, she found it impossible. As she stood there with the mare, she felt like her heart was breaking. She couldn't bring herself to remove the halter and let Belle go.

“I'm going to ask for you back,” Georgie whispered to Belle. “I don't care about the rules. I'm going to ask Tara if I can have you again next year. I don't want another horse. I want you. ”

Belle stood there gazing at her with those deep brown eyes and Georgie felt herself choking up with tears.

“OK,” Alice said gently, “On the count of three, Georgie?”

She took hold of the strap of Belle's halter and slipped the buckle. “One… two… three!”

For a brief moment after Georgie slipped off the halter, Belle remained standing there. And then the realisation that she was free finally sunk in and the mare spun around on her hocks and took off.

It was a glorious summer day and Belle flung herself into a gallop along the length of the fenceline. She reached the end of the field and then she skidded to a halt, going straight up on her hind legs, flinging out her front feet, like a kitten playing with invisible string. In a sudden burst of speed, she came back again, making a wide loop around the two girls, letting loose a string of bucks, hooves high in the air.

“Whoah!” Alice's expression was awe-struck.

Georgie shook her head at Belle's raw power. “I'm so glad she doesn't act like that when I'm on her!”

The display of high-spirits had shaken away the gloom from the girls and there were no more tears as they put the halter away in the tack room and walked back down the driveway, leaving behind the red Georgian brick buildings of the main school as they headed to their boarding house.

Alice was gabbling on about her holiday plans, but then abruptly stopped. She had just seen the red pickup truck parked outside Badminton House.

As Riley climbed out of the front seat of the pick-up, Alice gave him a wave and then bounded up the front steps.

“Hey, Riley! Can't talk – gotta go pack!”

“Hey, Alice, have a good holiday,” Riley called after her, then he turned and saw Georgie looking pale, but pleased to see him.

Riley smiled. “I came to take you for a drive.”

Georgie looked anxiously at her watch. Her flight home was leaving soon.

Riley opened the passenger door. “It won't take long,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

As they drove out of the gates of the Academy that afternoon the sun was warm and the air was still. The bluegrass fields were the prettiest Georgie had ever seen them as they drove down the back roads off the main route from Versailles and headed towards Pleasant Hill. Past the white post and rails, the red barns and the lush rolling pasture until they reached the crumpled pale green mailbox of Clemency Farm.

Riley pulled the pick-up to a stop at the gates.

“Look,” he said to her.

A pair of tall stone gate posts had been erected at the entrance of the farm and a handsome wooden sign had been hung off the left-hand post. The sign was made from wood, painted white with gold trim and green writing that read:
Clemency Farm, home of Saratoga Firefly.

And beneath that, in smaller type:
Property of John and Riley Conway.

Georgie looked at the sign and smiled. “That's so great, Riley, having your name up there with your dad.”

Riley frowned. “I didn't mean the sign, Georgie. Look over there.”

He gestured past the gates to the front paddock of Clemency Farm. There, grazing in the field, was a brown yearling. Riley stuck his head out of the car window and made a clucking noise with his tongue and the horse raised its head. It was the prettiest young thing Georgie had ever seen.

“He's yours?”

Riley shook his head. “He is a ‘she'. A filly. And she's not mine – she's ours.”

He reached over and opened the glovebox and took out a piece of paper.

“I bought her under both of our names with some of the prize money from the Firecracker.”

Georgie's eyes went wide as she looked at the registry form that Riley had handed her. “She's sired by Gifted and her dam is Paris Match,” Riley continued. “Her racing name is right there on the papers.”

Georgie's eyes scanned the form and found the filly's name.
Le Prix.

“It's French,” Riley said. “It means ‘The Prize'. I figured that since her dad was called Gifted and she's kind of my gift to you for helping me win the Firecracker, it just sort of fits, you know?”

“Le Prix,” Georgie said the name. “It's perfect for her.”

The brown filly had been standing still, sniffing the air for a moment, and now she whinnied out to the horses over the far fence and broke into a trot towards them, her effortless strides covering the ground.

“She's beautiful, isn't she?” Riley said. “I haven't done anything with her yet. I thought I'd wait until you got back from England and then we could start training her together.”

“She's amazing,” Georgie said. “Thank you so much, Riley.”

Staring at Le Prix, their future racing star, Georgie suddenly felt excited about flying back to England tomorrow. She couldn't wait to see her dad and Lucinda and Lily. She wanted to tell them everything that had happened. About the apprenticeship, and the Mirror Jumping and Riley winning the Firecracker. To tell them that she, Georgie Parker, now owned a genuine Kentucky bluegrass country filly with her name on the racing papers.

Riley put his arm around her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

Georgie smiled. “They're never going to believe this back in Little Brampton.”

About the Author

Stacy Gregg
grew up training her bewildered dog to showjump in the backyard until her parents gave in to her desperate pleas and finally let her have a pony. Stacy's ponies and her experiences at her local pony club were the inspiration for the
Pony Club Secrets
books, and her later years at boarding school became the catalyst for the
Pony Club Rivals
series.

Pictured here with her beloved Dutch Warmblood gelding, Ash, Stacy is a board member of the Horse Welfare Auxiliary.

Find out more at: www.stacygregg.co.uk

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The Pony Club Rivals series

1.
The Auditions
2.
Showjumpers
3.
Riding Star
4.
The Prize

Copyright

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