Destiny and the Wild Horses

“No, dear, a calf and a goat. Both of them are frightfully naughty and I’m afraid I’ve fallen quite behind in their training. You’ll have to be rather firm with them.”

“What exactly am I going to teach them?” Issie asked, feeling nervous.

“Oh, the usual. When to stop and go, nodding and shaking their heads…all the standard stuff,” Hester said. “It’s such bad timing to break my leg just when all my little stars are needed for such a big movie. Tenderfoot Farm, that’s what it’s called. It’s an American crew. They’re coming here next month to start filming. They need barnyard animals that can act on cue—and that’s where I come in. My darlings are the best in the business.” Hester gave Butch one last scratch behind the ears with the stick and then began to walk again towards the stables. The pig now joined them, trotting alongside with the dogs.

“The horses are my first love, of course,” Hester said as they approached the stables. “Other animals are lovely, but there is something truly magical about horses, don’t you think?” She gave Issie a strange look as she said this and Issie didn’t know what to say. Even Aunty Hess would be shocked if she knew about Mystic.

Issie’s grey gelding had been such a special horse. She had loved him so deeply; it felt like her world had been torn apart the day he died. But since then, well, maybe magical was exactly the word for it. Issie had missed her horse so much that at first she couldn’t believe it when Mystic had come back to her. He would appear just when she needed him most—and not like some ghost or anything, but a real horse. He had saved Issie and Blaze on more than one occasion. If anyone believed in the magic that horses held within them, it was Issie. But Issie knew somehow instinctively that Mystic was her secret now—and anyway, how could she possibly explain it all to Aunt Hester?

The stable was a large building, just a single storey with wide weatherboard planks painted a clean, crisp apple-white. Next to the stable block was a covered arena, not like a dressage arena, but a round pen with high walls and tiered seating. “That’s where I do all of my stunt training.” Hester gestured to it as she breezed past the pen towards the enormous sliding barn doors that led into the stable complex.

“It’s so beautiful in here!” Issie was amazed. The stable doors were pale, honey-coloured wood. Each stall had a horse’s head carved ornately on the door and a horse’s nameplate hanging from a hook.

“We have seven horses of our own here so there is plenty of room for Blaze,” Hester said as they walked. “We’ve put her right here, in the nearest stall to your right. Why don’t we check on her first and then you can meet the others?”

Issie walked up to the stall. She ran her hand over the carved head on the door. There was no nameplate on the hook, but she could hear her horse nickering softly on the other side of the door.

“Blaze? Hey, girl, it’s me.” Issie said.

The mare went quiet for a moment, listening to Issie’s voice. Then she nickered back, louder this time. Issie could hear her shifting about anxiously in the stall. She opened the top half of the Dutch door and bolted it back. There was Blaze, standing in the far corner of the stall next to her hay net. She nickered happily and came over immediately to Issie, nuzzling her soft muzzle against Issie’s hands, taking a carrot from her palm. Issie raised her hand up and stroked just behind Blaze’s ears, her fingers tangling in the mare’s long flaxen mane.

“Well, isn’t she something!” Aunt Hester said. “Your mother told me the whole story,” she added, “so I knew your Blaze would be a beauty. But she’s more than that, isn’t she? She’s a very special horse indeed.”

Issie nodded silently.

“I know a thing or two about special horses myself,” Hester said. “Come on. I want you to meet them.” Hester walked over to the next stall and unbolted the door. “Come and say hello to Titan,” she said.

Issie walked over and looked into the stall. It was completely empty. “Umm, Aunty Hess? There’s no horse in here.” Issie was confused. She stared at the unoccupied stall and back at her aunt, who had an amused smile on her face. And then she heard a noise, just a faint sound, the sound of a pony’s hooves on the straw. Issie stuck her head right over the top of the Dutch door and there, hidden from view on the other side, was the smallest pony she had ever seen!

“Titan is a Falabella—a miniature horse,” her Aunt said. “Nine hands tall. But such a big little horse, so much character! And quite the bossy-boots too! She keeps the big horses in line, I can tell you. Don’t you, Titan?”

The tiny pony looked up at Issie and Hester. Her eyes were barely visible beneath her shaggy brown mane as she gratefully accepted Hester’s offer of a carrot.

Hester left the top half of the Dutch door open and moved on to the next stall. “This is Dolomite,” she said. Issie looked down, expecting to meet another miniature, but in fact Dolomite was just the reverse; he was an enormous bay Clydesdale with a broad white stripe running down his nose.

“Dolly is eighteen hands,” Hester said. “You’d need a step ladder to get up on him, wouldn’t you?”

Issie reached her hand up to pat Dolomite’s nose. The gelding was so huge she had to stretch to reach him.

“He’s a big softie. And very good for vaulting tricks,” Hester said as she bustled along to the next stall.

“This is Diablo, the silly boy that broke my ankle,” she said merrily. Diablo, a very handsome black and white piebald Quarter Horse, stuck his two-toned face over the stall. “Diablo loves doing cowboy tricks. He’s a bit of show-off but I do love him,” Hester said. “Diablo! Count to ten!” Hester barked at the horse.

The handsome piebald began to tap against the floor of the stall with his hoof, “one…two…three…four…five…six…seven…eight…nine…ten!”

Issie was amazed, but Aunt Hester just shrugged. “It’s not so clever. A simple trick. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

She moved across now to the other side of the stable and worked her way along the row, opening the doors to another two stalls. To Issie’s surprise, each stall contained a palomino. The horses were so alike they were almost identical. “Meet the girls,” Hester said. “That’s Paris Hilton and this one is Nicole Ritchie.” Hester stood there in front of the golden mares. “They’re as pretty as their namesakes but much smarter.” She grinned.

Hester opened the doors to the last two stalls now. “This is Scott,” she said, patting the nose of a large skewbald gelding with a white face. “He’s not the star, you understand, hasn’t got that look-at-me quality in front of the cameras. But he’s a good solid bet as a horse to play supporting roles.”

Issie fed Scott a carrot while Hester walked on to the last stall and gave a soft cluck. In the final stall was a handsome bay gelding. “Tornado is the bad boy of the stable,” Hester sighed. “But he will do absolutely anything you ask if you bribe him with peppermints. He used to be my eventing mount years ago. I still hunt on him occasionally. At least I did until this season.” She tapped her plaster cast and shrugged. “I have tried to teach Tornado tricks like the others but frankly he doesn’t want to know! He’s very bright; I guess he thinks it’s beneath him.” She pulled a mint from her pocket and slipped it to the bay horse, who snuffled it down happily and poked his head over the stall looking for more.

“Well!” Hester put her arm around her niece’s shoulder and gave Issie a squeeze as she looked about contentedly. “Now you’ve met just about everyone. What do you think?”

Issie gave her aunt a hug back. “I think this place is totally mad!” She grinned. “And I think this could be my best holiday ever!”

Chapter 4 (#u613c78b6-11a4-5074-a1c2-180d1d097840)

Issie could feel the waves lapping at her feet. Her toes wriggled in the delicious warm sea. Suddenly a sharp nip on her big toe woke her up and she sat bolt upright in bed. Her feet, which were sticking out from under the duvet, were being vigorously licked by Strudel the golden retriever.

“Ewww! Gross! Strudel, get out!” Issie shrieked, throwing a pillow at the dog, who loped happily off through the door.

Issie jumped out of bed and picked the pillow up off the floor. The alarm clock said it was only six a.m. Bleary-eyed, she changed into her jeans and a navy v-neck jersey before heading downstairs. She wasn’t getting caught by Aidan in her pink pussycat pyjamas in the kitchen a second time.

“Ah-ha! I sent Strudel up to wake you. I see she did her job nicely.” Aunt Hester smiled as Issie walked into the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“Uh-huh,” Issie replied.

“Sit down. I’ve made us some breakfast,” Hester said. She began to dish up some rather strange-looking lumpy objects out of a frying pan.

“Pancakes!” Hester said brightly. Then she frowned and looked at them again, “Or are they griddle scones? I can’t quite remember what I put in the recipe and I got confused halfway through…anyway, here’s some maple syrup, If you pour enough of this on them I’m sure they’ll taste fine!”

Issie ate a mouthful of pancake and discovered that they tasted just as odd as they looked.

“Now,” Hester said as she watched her niece slowly eating, “the weather promises to be just beautiful today. Why don’t you take Blaze and go explore the farm? It goes for miles, you know. I was just about to find you a map and then I got sidetracked with the pancakes…” Aunt Hester put down the pan and began rummaging through the kitchen draws. She pulled out a piece of dog-eared paper. “Here we are—a map of Blackthorn Farm.” Hester spread the pale parchment out on the kitchen table.

“Our land stretches from Blackthorn Forest here at the rear of the property,” her finger traced along the dotted red line, “all the way to the east along the edge of the forest to Lake Deepwater, and then up along the ridge of the hills to the Coast Road until you reach the sea.”

Issie looked at the map and hesitated for a moment. “But Aunty Hess, shouldn’t I be helping Aidan with the animals?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of time for that!” Hester smiled. “Aidan will manage for now, I’m sure. You need to get your bearings first before you start work. It’s such a lovely day; it doesn’t do horses or girls any good to be cooped up inside.”

The dogs bounded along beside Issie as she walked down the limestone driveway and through the heavy wooden stable doors.

“It’s me, girl!” Issie called to her horse as she hurriedly unbolted the top half of the Dutch door. Blaze immediately thrust her head over the door, nuzzling Issie and nickering happily.

“Hey, Blaze,” Issie said, “did you miss me? Were you lonely here all by yourself in the stable?” She fed the mare a carrot and felt the tickle of her velvet muzzle on her fingers. “C’mon, we’re going for a ride.”

As Issie led Blaze through the stable block towards the back door the other horses nickered out friendly greetings to her. Diablo put his pretty black and white patchy head over the top of his stable door and gave her a vigorous whinny.

“Good morning to you too, Diablo!” Issie grinned. Blaze skipped along lightly at Issie’s side, her hooves chiming out a delicate trip-trap against the concrete floor of the stables.

Issie led Blaze through the cattle pens at the rear of the stables and used the fence rails to mount up. Then she pulled the map out of the pocket of her shirt. To her right was the duck pond and a small cottage surrounded by magnolia trees, which Issie figured must be Aidan’s house. To the left was a five-bar wooden gate and on the other side of the gate was a dirt track, bordered on the far side by dense forest. Issie looked at the map. There was a gate and then a red dotted boundary line marked: CATTLE TRACK.

“This must be it, Blaze,” Issie said to her horse. “According to the map, this track takes us all the way along the edge of the forest and then down through the farm to Lake Deep water.”

Issie clucked Blaze through the gate, doing the latch back up after herself. Ahead of her the red clay path ran all the way along the ridge next to the trees.