Flame and the Rebel Riders (6 page)

After grooming Flame, Issie confronted Verity about the changes to the roster, but the head groom wasn’t sympathetic. “Ginty asked me to reassign some of the rides,” she shrugged. “She told me to give Tokyo to Natasha.”

Issie was confused. “Is it because I did something wrong with Tokyo?”

Verity sighed. “How should I know? You’ll have to ask Ginty about that.”

Issie found Ginty in her office, looking over her paperwork. The trainer seemed surprised at the early-morning interruption.

“What’s up?” she asked Issie, without raising her eyes from the neat stack of papers in front of her.

“I…I didn’t realise you were unhappy with the way I was riding Tokyo,” Issie managed to mumble.

“I’m not,” Ginty said. “Actually, you seem surprisingly capable as a rider. I’d expected a lot less from someone who’s only had Tom Avery as an instructor.”

Issie wasn’t really sure what to say. Was that a compliment or an insult? “So why are you taking her off me? Did I do something wrong?”

Ginty shook her head. “Not at all. But Tokyo is an easy horse to handle, which is why I’ve given the ride to Natasha. She was clearly out of her depth yesterday. You’ll take over on Flame. He needs a more capable rider.”

Even though she wasn’t exactly thrilled that Ginty had swapped her on to Flame, Issie had to admit that she was flattered. Ginty obviously thought that Issie could do a better job than Natasha had done.

“Verity will help you tack him up,” Ginty told her. Issie wanted to say that she was perfectly capable of putting a saddle and a bridle on a horse by herself, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she headed back to the tack room, where she found Verity holding up a complicated arrangement of steel and leather that Issie had never seen before.

“Have you ever ridden in a Dutch gag?” Verity asked.

The Dutch gag looked like an instrument of torture. Instead of one simple ring at each side of the bridle where the reins attached, the gag bit had four rings and a leather loop.

“They’re used for horses that pull or try to bolt,” Verity explained. “Flame won’t be able to gallop off at the jumps when he’s wearing one of these.”

“He wasn’t wearing this yesterday,” Issie said. “Natasha was riding him in an eggbutt snaffle.”

“Ginty thought we should swap him to a gag,” Verity said. “She thinks ‘serious hardware’ is what Flame needs.”

Issie looked warily at the gag. “Will it hurt him?”

“It’s a very common bit,” Verity said. “Jumping horses often wear them.” Issie noticed that Verity hadn’t actually answered her question.

“Come on,” Verity said. “I’ll show you how to fit it on him. You have to make sure the noseband is tight enough.”

The big chestnut gelding was shining like burnished copper. He had good stable manners too. He stood quietly and patiently while Issie fiddled with the straps on his new bridle.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me today in the arena?” Issie whispered to him as she did up the noseband. Flame snuffled her hand softly and nickered back to her in reply and Issie’s heart went out to him. OK, Flame had gone crazy yesterday when Natasha was riding him. But perhaps it wasn’t Flame who was the problem? After all, Natasha did have a reputation for ruining perfectly good horses. Could it have been Natasha’s fault that Flame kept galloping at the jumps? Maybe things would be different now that Issie was riding him.

Despite looking complicated, the Dutch gag wasn’t that tricky to put on. Verity helped with the saddle too and then she gave Issie a leg up and tightened the girth up another hole.

“OK,” she said. “Take him into the arena and let’s see if he goes any better today.”

Yesterday Natasha had held Flame permanently on a tight, tight rein to stop him from bolting. Today Issie used a loose rein and the big chestnut seemed perfectly relaxed as she allowed him to stretch his neck as they walked around to warm up. Maybe it was because Issie knew that the Dutch gag bit would give her the power to stop him, but she never worried about the big Hanoverian getting away on her.

“He’s looking much better today,” Ginty called out to Issie. “Try collecting him up a little on to a shorter rein and get him moving! Let’s see how he goes for you.”

Issie did as Ginty asked. As she shortened the reins she felt Flame tense up, so she kept talking, trying to calm him with her voice.

When she felt like the horse was walking forward without a fuss, Issie put her legs on and Flame lifted up immediately into the most spectacular trot. He had amazing floaty, Hanoverian paces, which swept along in huge, extended strides that were so enormous they were almost scary to ride. Issie tried his canter and it was even bigger and bolder than the trot! Flame moved so quickly and with such vigour that she had to fight her instinct to grip at the reins and hold him back.

This must have been where Natasha had gone wrong,
Issie thought. If you held Flame back because you were afraid of his power, then he would only fight you. You needed to steel your nerve and go with the horse, rather than trying to hold him back.

At least that was what Issie thought, but Ginty seemed to disagree.

“What are you doing?” Ginty demanded. “Hold him back! He’s rushing. Restrain him and keep the reins tight. Slow him down as you take him up to the jump!”

The upright rail was still set up in the middle of the arena. Issie did as Ginty said and held Flame tightly in check as they cantered around the corner to face it. The moment the chestnut gelding caught sight of the jump he surged beneath her. Issie wanted to relax and let go, but Ginty had other ideas.

“Bring him back harder!” Ginty insisted. “Use the gag! Make him submit!”

The chestnut was beginning to bob up and down like a jack-in-the-box, just as he had with Natasha. He was crab-stepping again, his body was quivering with tension. His head was way up in the air as he tried to
get above the bit, but the gag held him firm. He couldn’t gallop off.

“Tight rein! Tight rein! Tighter!” Ginty’s cries filled Issie’s ears. She did as she was told, hanging off the horse’s face until she was a couple of strides out from the jump, when Ginty suddenly yelled, “Let him go now!”

Thrilled to finally be let loose, Flame leapt away from Issie’s hands, put in two huge strides and flew the fence with ease. As he landed on the other side of the fence the chestnut fought to stay free of the gag and Issie had to canter a lap of the arena to bring him back under control. It hadn’t been the most comfortable jump, but at least he’d gone over. Issie gave Flame a slappy pat on his neck. “Well done, boy!”

“Bring him around and let’s do that again,” Ginty said brightly.

Issie took Flame over the upright another half a dozen times with Ginty calling out instructions. She was beginning to understand what the trainer wanted from her. Ginty liked it when her riders really held the horse back, keeping the pressure on until the last minute. It was about creating energy so the horses would jump big.
A bit like shaking a fizzy drink and then opening the lid right in front of the jump.

It was a very different style of riding from anything she had learnt with Avery. But in some ways, Issie thought, the two instructors were alike. After all, Avery and Ginty were both focused on getting the best out of their horses. OK, so Ginty’s methods were the opposite of Tom’s, but that didn’t mean they were wrong. Issie had to trust Ginty and do what she said — then she would get results.

The gag was definitely helping Issie to hold Flame as she worked him around the arena. Once Ginty was satisfied with the way Flame took the upright rail, she asked Issie to ride him over some of the other jumps. There was a treble, a small oxer and a little brick wall. Issie took him around the three fences one at a time before Ginty told her that was enough for today and she could put him back in the stables.

“He’s performing very nicely with the new bit,” Ginty told her. “Ride him in the gag from now on.”

Ginty set a fast pace for her riders at Dulmoth Park. When you were riding six horses in one day there wasn’t time to stand around and analyse your performance
afterwards. Issie only had a few minutes to wash down Flame, run the sweat scraper over him and rug him up again, before she was busy saddling up her next mount.

Her next pony on the roster that morning was Orlando, a fourteen-two fleabitten grey with a Roman nose. It didn’t take Issie long to saddle him up, and by the time she was back in the arena, Verity was about to bring Tottie in as well.

As Verity worked the dapple-grey mare around the edge of the arena, Issie could see that something was wrong. Tottie’s strides were uneven and the mare looked miserable. She was swishing her tail and her ears were flat back — signs that a horse is unhappy or in pain. Even at a quick glance it was clear to see that poor Tottie was lame on one of her hind legs.

Ginty shook her head with disappointment. “Put Tottie back in the stables, Verity, she’s favouring that left leg.” And that was it. The grey mare’s workout was over before it had begun.

It was a busy morning at the stables. Issie rode four horses before lunch and then the girls were kept busy cleaning tack and mucking out the stalls. The farrier was due that afternoon too, and Ginty asked Issie if she
would mind staying back after four to help her deal with the horses needing to be shod.

It was five thirty when the farrier finally finished the last horse. Issie had tidied up the tack room and was just about to get her bike and cycle home when she noticed that someone was still riding in the arena.

It was Verity. The head groom was mounted up on Tottie once again, despite the fact that Ginty had told her quite clearly that the mare was lame and shouldn’t be ridden.

Issie watched as Verity began to trot Tottie around the arena. Something very strange was going on. Issie found herself staring almost hypnotically at the mare’s hind legs as she trotted in serpentines between the fences. Issie couldn’t believe it.
Tottie had definitely been lame that morning.
She had seen it with her own eyes. But now the mare was trotting perfectly. She wasn’t lame at all! It was impossible. Tottie was cured.

After spending her first week at Dulmoth Park, doing twelve-hour shifts, riding six horses each day, grooming them, mucking out stalls and doing all the hard feeds, Issie didn’t really feel like riding her own ponies. But she had promised Kate and Stella that she would go hacking on Sunday, so she cycled to the River Paddock that afternoon to meet them, her legs aching as she pedalled.

Stella and Kate were already waiting at the gate with Marmite and Toby tacked up, dying to hear all the details. “So how was it?” Stella asked eagerly.

“Two words,” Issie said as she parked her bike beside the others. “Natasha. Tucker.”

Stella couldn’t believe it when Issie told her that
Natasha was the other new groom at Ginty’s stables. “Ohmygod! Stuck-up Tucker must be so furious that she’s working with you!”

“Well, I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” Issie groaned. “It’s even worse now since Ginty made us swap horses. I’m sure Natasha thinks I suggested the swap — she hasn’t spoken to me since — even though she got the better deal, if you ask me!”

“I think I’d rather be stacking supermarket shelves after all!” Stella said.

“Wait,” Issie told her, “there’s more, and it gets worse.” And she filled them in on the dramas at Dulmoth Park, including Verity’s strange behaviour and Tottie’s curious come-and-go lameness.

“How can a horse be totally sore in the morning and fine again in the afternoon?” Stella said. “That just doesn’t happen!”

“The farrier had been,” Kate said. “Perhaps she had something wrong with one of her shoes and he fixed it?”

Issie shook her head. “The farrier didn’t shoe Tottie — he didn’t even go near her. He was only replacing the shoes on Baxter, Quebec and Tanga.”

“What about that injection Verity gave her?” Kate asked. “What do you think was in that?”

“I don’t know,” Issie sighed. “Maybe it was vitamins or something? It’s a professional stable and they feed them all these supplements. They do things differently there.”

“I still think you should go and talk to Avery about it,” Kate insisted. “You should tell him about the rapping too. Making horses hit jumps on purpose sounds weird to me.”

Issie shook her head. “I can’t. Tom already loathes Ginty. He’ll just say ‘I told you so’. Besides, I can’t go behind Ginty’s back and complain about her to another trainer. Her methods are different, but they must work, because she’s really well-respected.” Issie paused. “I don’t think I’m explaining the rapping very well. It sounds awful, but it wasn’t that bad. By the end of the lesson Tokyo and the other horses were all clearing the jump by miles.”

Kate looked doubtful. “I still think it’s hideous.”

“You didn’t see it!” Issie insisted. “It actually seemed to work, and the horses were OK…”

As they hacked their horses out together that evening, it felt so nice to be back with Stella and Kate,
laughing about Stuck-up Tucker and gossiping about the goings-on at pony club. Still, at times Issie felt kind of distant from her friends. She had missed out on yesterday’s pony-club rally because she had to work. And she wouldn’t be going to the rally next weekend either. She’d be riding in her first proper event as part of the Dulmoth Park team. They would be heading south to the Sandilands showgrounds to compete at the first showjumping fixture of the season.

That’s what Stella and Kate don’t understand,
Issie thought. She was riding as a professional now, and they weren’t. They didn’t have the right to judge Ginty’s methods. If they had been there then they would have seen how effective the rapping technique had been. Didn’t they realise that Ginty had been at the top of the showjumping circuit for years? This was a proper stable, not a pony club. It was a totally different world. And it was one that Issie was excited to be part of.

Ginty’s horse truck could only fit seven horses, and since there were over twenty horses in the stables it was going
to be a tough call deciding who to take to the show. For the next week, Ginty assessed the progress of the horses and figured out which ones would be going to Sandilands.