Victory and the All-Stars Academy (14 page)

“Are we talking about the same Tara?”

“We're talking about the same Tara who gave you the best horse in the stable to ride,” Avery replied. “She put you on Victory, didn't she?”

“I guess she did,” Issie had to agree.

“And you rode him brilliantly,” Avery said. “You proved you were ready for a real schoolmaster. I imagine it'll be hard for you to say goodbye to him, won't it? You and Victory have become quite the star partnership.”

It was true. Issie had been thinking about how tough it would be to leave Victory. She had grown so much as a rider with this new horse, and she felt like she really understood how to get the best out of him. But at least Victory would be going back to a home where his real owners loved him. There was someone she was even more worried about leaving behind. Poor Wombat!

The girls still hadn't figured out what to do with the puppy when they left. Issie felt really bad about keeping the dog hidden from Avery up until now, but if she'd told him any earlier then he would have been forced to do the responsible thing and hand the dog over to Digger Murphy. Even now it was a big risk telling Tom, but as far as Issie could see, there was no choice. Hopefully, her instructor would understand and help them to solve the problem somehow.

“Tom, there's something I need to…” she began, but
then realised it would be easier to convince Avery if he had that sweet, adorable puppy face staring up at him.

“Wait here,” she told Avery. “I'll be back in a minute. I have something that I need to show you.”

The moon was full in the sky above her as Issie walked towards the stables. She didn't even need a torch and could see quite clearly as she walked down the driveway. When she reached the large wooden sliding door that led to the stables, Issie thought she heard something inside. She paused for a moment listening, and then she grabbed the handle of the sliding door, easing it open. As the door opened, there was a scream from inside the stables.

“No! Don't! Shut the door!”

It was Dee Dee shouting, but her cries came too late. Before she had yelled out the warning, Issie had already slid open the door.

It all happened in a blur. Issie felt the jolt of something big and hard striking her at the knees, knocking her legs out from underneath her. She hadn't been expecting the blow and she fell to the ground, shocked and confused as a silvery grey streak shot past her and bolted around the corner of the stable block.

“What's going on? Dee Dee? What was that?” Issie clambered back up to her feet. But as she looked inside the stables and saw the open stall door and the look on Dee Dee's face, she already knew the answer. The silvery streak that had knocked her down was Wombat. The dog was once again on the loose. But this time there would be no reprieve for the sheep-killer. This time Digger Murphy was out there waiting for him.

Dee Dee looked like she was about to burst into tears. “I came down to feed him dinner and let him out of his stall,” she stammered. “I figured he couldn't escape because the main door was shut. I was teaching him to beg when you arrived…”

“…and opened the door and let him out.” Issie finished Dee Dee's sentence. “I didn't know he was there, Dee Dee. I'm so sorry…”

“No, it's my fault,” Dee Dee cut her off. “I should never have let him out when I was feeding him. I just wanted to play with him a bit, you know?”

“We've got to get him back,” Issie said. “If he's gone after the sheep then Digger will be waiting for him.”

The pup had been moving fast as he bowled Issie over. He could already be halfway to the blackberry paddock by now—which meant there was no time to waste.

“Come on,” Issie said to Dee Dee as she ran for the tack room.

“What are you doing?” asked Dee Dee.

“Going after him,” Issie replied. She passed Dee Dee a bridle and grabbed Victory's saddle off the sawhorse. “Help me tack up. I'm going to ride after Wombat and bring him back.”

“You can't go out there by yourself! I'm coming with you,” Dee Dee said, reaching out for her bridle too.

“No.” Issie shook her head. “You can't. One of us has to go back to the house and get help. You have to find Tom and Tara and explain everything. You must get them to come after me.”

“When they find out, they'll kill you!”

“They're not the ones I'm worried about,” Issie said darkly. “It's Digger who has the gun.”

She threw the saddle over her arm and headed out of the door towards Victory's stall.

The brown gelding was surprised to see the girls
and even more surprised when Issie slid the saddle on his back, cinching up the girth in one deft move and sliding the stirrups down, ready for mounting.

Dee Dee was shaking and her fingers were as useless as a bunch of thumbs as she struggled to do up the buckles on the bridle.

“If I'd been this bad in the pit stop, we would never have won,” she joked weakly to Issie, who had to help her with the throat lash and cavesson.

Issie tightened her helmet strap and Dee Dee legged her up into the saddle. She was about to ride out of the stables when Dee Dee quickly passed Issie the lead rope that they'd been using to tie Wombat up with.

“Here,” she said. “When you find him, you'll need this—to lead him home.”

“Thanks, roomie,” Issie smiled. Then she wheeled Victory around on his hocks and trotted out of the door.

Outside, the house was lit up like a beacon at the end of the driveway, but Issie didn't ride towards it. She turned in the other direction instead, riding into the black emptiness of the open paddocks beyond the stables.

At that rear of the stables she stopped and yelled out Wombat's name a few times, hoping the dog might still be near and would hear her voice and come running back, but there was no sign of him. Wombat's hunting instincts would be leading him to the sheep in the blackberry paddock. The pup couldn't know that Digger Murphy would be there waiting for him, patrolling the paddock and keeping an eye on his flock. If Wombat went anywhere near the sheep, he would be shot on sight.

Issie opened the gate to the blackberry paddock and rode Victory through. “Come on.” She tapped her ankles against the brown gelding's sides. The horse had already galloped so hard for her today on the cross-country course and now she was asking even more of him.

Although she was galloping with the moonlight directly above her, Issie could only see the black outlines of the trees and make out murky shapes in the paddock around her. She knew that she would be relying on Victory to find their way to Wombat. Horses can see much better in the dark than people can.

Issie thought back to the times she had ridden like
this in the pitch-black of the night with Mystic. She had always relied on the little grey gelding, trusting Mystic's ability to find his way. She wished Mystic were here. She had kept on dreaming about her grey pony, but now that she really was in trouble, where was he?

All these dreams she'd been having about Mystic's accident had made Issie afraid that she was losing the grey gelding, that he really was gone for good. Well, if Mystic wasn't with her any more then she was truly on her own this time. Somewhere out there was a man with a gun and Issie would have to face him alone.

She was right about Victory's night vision. The horse seemed to know exactly where he was going, his stride never faltering. Up ahead Issie could see a large shadow looming on the horizon and she realised that they had almost reached the blackberry bushes. She slowed Victory to a canter. There were a few sheep grazing here, dotted around the paddock. Issie guessed that the main mob of sheep must be clustered beyond the blackberry, over the ridge where the trees lined the divide between Havenfields and the Murphy property.

In the darkness Issie could hear the ewes calling to
their lambs and the plaintive bleats in return. Something wasn't right. Sheep weren't usually so noisy at night and this mob were restless, as if something had startled them. She pulled Victory up to a halt, and at that moment she saw what was scaring the sheep.

Wombat was circling the flock in a stalking pose, slinking low to the ground and closing in, nipping closely at the ankles of a ewe and her lamb.

“Wombat! No!” Issie rode Victory forward to cut the pup off, but Wombat was too quick for her. He darted around the horse and carried on, nipping at another straggler who had strayed from the group, driving the sheep back, then veering to the right and chasing another young ewe and her lamb so that they too rejoined the flock.

Issie was horrified at first, but then, as she watched Wombat, she realised what was going on. The puppy wasn't acting like a killer at all. He wasn't trying to pick out a sheep to chase down and kill. And he wasn't worrying the mob or trying to work it into a frenzy, just the opposite. He was rounding them up deftly and quickly, keeping them together. He wasn't attacking these sheep at all. He was trying to herd
them—just like a trained sheepdog.

He thinks they're his flock. He's trying to protect them!
Issie thought. And then came the second, more troubling thought.
Protect them from what?

The answer to her question came out of the undergrowth with teeth bared and jaws hanging open wide. Issie could now see at close range exactly what had spooked these sheep and she didn't blame them for being afraid. The animal that was running towards her was truly terrifying.

It was a dog, but unlike any that Issie had seen before. It had an enormous head that looked too big for its bony body, with its ribs and hip bones jutting out from hunger. Even though it was half-starved, the creature was still huge and imposing. It had russet-coloured fur, and it stared at Issie with dirty yellow eyes. It looked at her as if it wanted to kill, and the creature's jaws promised to make good on that threat.

The beast had been bounding towards the sheep, but it slowed down for a moment when it caught sight of the girl on the horse. Then, with a deep, guttural growl, the dog ran at Issie and Victory and, without hesitation, leapt through the air and attacked.

Terrified and startled, Victory did what any horse faced with a predator would do. He bolted and Issie, who had been totally unprepared for the attack, felt herself lose her balance as the horse surged forward. She snatched at the reins, trying to hold Victory back and regain her seat, but it was too late. As Victory took off, she scrambled and lost her stirrups and reins, sliding and falling hard to the ground.

There was a brutal crunch as she hit the dirt. She heard bone crack and instantly knew that she had broken her shoulder. There was a shooting pain that made her shut her eyes and her first thought was that she might black out. Then Issie opened her eyes again and almost wished that she had been unconscious. Standing nearby, fangs exposed in its battle-scarred face, the dog was poised to attack again. This time it was no more than a couple of metres away and Issie was on the ground, unable to defend herself.

She tried to edge backwards without startling the dog into striking. Her heart was racing as she moved slowly out of range and began to use her arms to push herself back up on to her feet. The pain in her shoulder made her squeal out and she collapsed back
to the ground again. She couldn't stand up. The wild dog's ears pricked forward. It had heard the cry and could sense that Issie was vulnerable. It was closing in now, weaving back and forth, but never taking its eyes off her, coming closer, closer.

And then suddenly the dog's massive head turned. Its attention had been caught by a volley of high-pitched yelps coming at it through the darkness.

“Wombat!”

The pup was defending her against the wild dog, even though he was half its size. Wombat stood between Issie and the beast, his hackles rising up as he growled and postured, and prepared to fight. For a brief moment, the two canines stood face to face and Wombat held his ground, then, with jaws open and fangs bared, the wild dog leapt.

Wombat rose up to meet it and took the impact with a startled yelp, going down on his back. The wild dog was an experienced fighter and it went straight for the soft fur underneath the puppy's throat and clamped its jaws tight. In one deft move it was in the position to kill, its jaws tightening as it began to choke the life out of the blue heeler. Wombat was yowling in
pain, kicking with his hind legs, trying to escape, but it was no use. The wild dog was too strong.

Issie was shouting at them to stop. She tried to get up again, but the searing pain in her shoulder crippled her. She fought through the pain and forced herself to put her weight on her good right arm and push herself up off the ground. Once she was standing, she reached down and grabbed a stick that was lying on the ground next to her. It wasn't large, not much more than a skinny gum tree branch, but it was the only weapon she had as she lunged forward to rain a hail of blows on the wild dog's back.

It took a few hits before the wild dog realised what was going on and let go of the pup's throat. It spun around to face the girl and this time Issie was close enough to see the bloodlust in its eyes as it prepared to spring at her once more. Beside her, Wombat lay on the ground whimpering and gasping for air, too exhausted to get back up and fight.

Issie was trying to remember what she had been told about dealing with an aggressive dog. She knew she wasn't supposed to run, but then she wasn't exactly in a position to fight either. The skinny tree branch
looked far too puny to deal with that set of slavering jaws. Gingerly, she took a step back and then another, and then, as the dog lunged at her, she turned as fast as she could and ran. She could feel her heart beating in her chest like a hammer. The pain in her shoulder was intense, but the adrenalin overrode it and kept her moving. Issie could hear the dog gaining on her when her foot suddenly caught on a tree root and she fell.

This time the pain when Issie hit the ground was unbearable. It was twice as bad as before. Her head filled with agony and she instinctively curled up into a ball to protect herself as best she could as the wild dog flung itself at her. But it never made contact. At the moment it attacked, another much larger and more lethal shadow reared up in front of the girl, bringing his hooves crashing down with brutal and deadly timing, striking the wild dog in midair and dropping it violently to the ground.

The dog let out an agonised yelp and fell almost on top of Issie. She screamed as the beast's bloodied face came down with a thud right next to her own. Hysterical, she scrambled backwards in the dirt, trying desperately to get away from the killer that lay on the
ground beside her. But there was no need to fear it any longer.

The wild dog lay dead on the ground. Above it stood the horse that had struck it down. He looked proud and magnificent in the moonlight with his grey, dappled coat shining. The pony was still trembling, but the fury that had consumed him barely a moment ago, when he was rearing and striking the killer dog, had drained out of him. His coal-black eyes were soft and gentle once more as he peered at Issie from beneath his silvery forelock. Issie couldn't believe it. Only now that it was over did she realise who had saved her.

“Mystic!”

The grey pony gave a gentle nicker at the sound of his name.

“Mystic…owww!” Issie had tried to push herself up off the ground to go to her horse and was crippled again by the pain in her arm. The last fall had been too much for her shoulder. She really couldn't move this time. The grey pony sensed this and came to her instead. Sitting up as slowly as she could, Issie reached out her hand and touched his soft, velvet muzzle.

“Hey, boy,” she said. “It's good to see you.”

Mystic nickered softly, leaning down so that Issie could feel his warm, horsey breath against her skin. “Come on, boy, help me to get up,” she asked the horse. She reached up her right hand and grabbed the ropey fibres of the pony's mane. Holding on with all her strength, she braced herself and hung on as Mystic stepped backwards. Using him to pull against, Issie managed to haul herself to her feet.

She was upright, but her legs were wobbly and she was shaking all over. Her left shoulder was definitely broken and her arm hurt really badly too. She was in so much pain, but she knew she needed to find Victory and Wombat. The pup must have recovered from his fight with the wild dog, because he had disappeared again. Issie had to find both of them and then somehow get home again and…Ohmygod!

The bang that shattered the night air almost made Issie jump out of her skin. She looked up across the paddocks and suddenly two beams of light raked the fields. It was Digger Murphy. He had the searchlights attached to the roof of his ute shining on full beam across the paddock, focused on his mob of sheep and the dog limping among them.