Kitabı oku: «Comet and the Champion’s Cup», sayfa 2
“You? But, Mum, you don’t even like horses…”
“Oh, for goodness sake, Isadora,” Mrs Brown said. “OK, I think we’re all aware that I’m not exactly Pippa Funnell, but it’s not like you’re asking me to ride at Badminton, is it? I’ve been around them for long enough now and I think it’s perfectly within my capabilities to go and check on your ponies each day. I’ll make sure they’ve got food and water and that Storm hasn’t got himself tangled in the electric fence!”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” Mrs Brown smiled. “They will be just fine, I promise you.”
Aunt Hester was thrilled that evening when Issie phoned her with the good news. “Aidan’s quite convinced that this riding-school plan will save our bacon–and I certainly hope he’s right,” Hester said. “Is your mum OK about you coming here for the holidays? I haven’t ruined any family plans, have I?”
“Mum’s been great!” Issie said. “And she talked to Mrs Knight and convinced her to let Kate come. She’s even looking after Blaze and Storm while I’m away.”
“Well, well,” Hester said. “It might not be too late for that sister of mine to turn horsey after all.”
“I know!” Issie said. “I can’t believe it’s all organised and we’re really coming. By this time tomorrow we’ll be at Blackthorn Farm.”
Chapter 3
“We’re nearly there!” Issie pressed her face up against the window at the back of the truck cab and mouthed the words through the glass at Stella and Kate.
“What’s she saying?” Kate was frustrated. “I can’t hear her through the glass!”
“Issie!” Stella shouted back. “We can’t hear you! What are you saying?”
The cab of Aunt Hester’s horse truck wasn’t big enough for all the girls to fit up front so it had been decided that Issie would travel in the cab with Aidan while Kate and Stella rode in the back.
The girls didn’t mind riding in the back. The truck was fitted out a bit like a camper van, with a shower, kitchenette and bunk beds, and it was comfy enough travelling on the bench seats. Plus, from where they sat, Stella and Kate could keep an eye on Toby and Coco who were travelling at the very back of the truck in their stalls. The girls could see Issie and Aidan too by peering through the little window with very thick glass at the back of the truck cab.
Issie tapped on the glass and tried again. “I said…We’re nearly there!”
“Oh, give up, Issie!” Aidan grinned. “They’ll figure it out for themselves soon enough. We’re about to reach the turn-off.”
The six-hour drive to Blackthorn Farm had somehow seemed shorter this time. That might have been because she and Aidan hadn’t stopped talking from the moment Issie got into the truck. There was so much for them to catch up on.
“I haven’t seen Nightstorm since he was two days old,” Aidan said, “so that would make him…”
“Three months old!” Issie said. “He’s already almost thirteen hands. Avery reckons he’ll grow to sixteen-two, and he’s so beautiful. He’s losing all his foal fluff and he’s got the most amazing deep bay coat, with a thick black mane and tail and black points. He looks so cute with his white blaze. He’s exactly like his mum in some ways, but he’s kind of like Marius too. He has his own personality though–he’s really smart. I taught him to wear a halter in just one day.”
Aidan pushed his long, dark fringe out of his eyes and looked at Issie. “It must have been hard to leave him.”
“Uh-huh,” Issie said. She didn’t want to tell Aidan that she had been in floods of tears when she said goodbye to the colt last night. She knew it was only a month, but it seemed like such a long time to be away from him when he was so young.
“Well, I’m really glad you came,” Aidan said softly. Then he realised he sounded mushy and tried to make up for it by adding, “Ummm…cos Hester really needs your help.”
Issie smiled. “Hester says you’ve been schooling up a few of the Blackthorn Ponies that we caught when we were here last time.”
The Blackthorn Ponies were a wild herd that roamed the hills around Blackthorn Farm. On her last holiday at the farm Issie and Aidan had saved the herd from a cull. Most of the ponies had been sent to new homes, but Hester had kept a few of them with her at the farm.
“That’s part of the problem,” Aidan continued. “The cost of those extra ponies adds up fast. Hester has thirteen horses now–that’s a lot of farrier bills and hard feed.”
“So the riding school will cover the bills?”
“Uh-huh,” Aidan said. “We won’t make a fortune out of it, but hopefully we’ll make enough to keep the farm going until the next movie job comes along.”
Issie looked worried. “And what if another film job doesn’t come along?”
“Something will turn up soon,” Aidan said reassuringly. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”
“But, Aidan, what if it’s not fine?”
“Well, if things got really tight, I guess we’d have to sell some of the horses,” said Aidan quietly. “Diablo and Stardust are experienced stunt horses–they’re both worth quite a lot. But if that’s not enough…”
“Then what?”
“Then Hester will have to sell Blackthorn Farm.”
For the first time since they had set off on this trip, silence settled over the truck cab. Issie stared out of the windows at the road ahead and couldn’t help wondering if this would be the last time she would be making this journey.
By the time the horse truck came through the narrow Gisborne gorge and began to travel up through the green cornfields towards the high country, Issie had pulled herself together again. In fact, she was positively filled with resolve.
“You’re right. Things will be fine!” she said firmly, smiling at Aidan. The riding school would make enough money–or they’d think of something else. No matter what, there was no way her aunt was going to lose Blackthorn Farm.
Half an hour later, they reached the crest of a very steep hill. To the right, Issie could see the bright blue sea of the Gisborne coastline, and on the left was farmland and forest. Up ahead she could see a gravel road that veered to the left off the main highway.
“We’re here!”
Aidan turned off down the private road, slowing down a gear as the truck struck gravel. Issie watched as the trees closed in around her and the truck became cocooned in the dense native forest that bordered the sides of the driveway that led to Blackthorn Farm. Low-hanging pohutukawa branches scraped against the roof of the truck.
“I keep telling Hester we need to prune the trees back to get the truck through,” Aidan said as he heard the branches scraping the roof above him. “She just tells me to ‘add it to the endless list of things that need doing’!”
A few more scrapes and bangs later and they had emerged into the bright sunlight once more. Issie’s heart leapt when she saw the familiar sight of the cherry trees, their white and pink petals falling in a snowy carpet on the circular lawn in front of Blackthorn Manor.
The tumbledown mansion was just as she remembered. The enormous two-storeyed country manor must once have been very grand, but was, she noted with fresh eyes, definitely rickety and in desperate need of a new coat of white paint.
“It must have been horrible being here over the past couple of months. You know, with all those movies cancelling at the last minute.”
“Actually,” Aidan said, “this will sound weird, but it’s been great. I mean, yeah, it’s been stressful, especially for Hester. But having no film work has meant that I could spend more time riding. I’ve been doing loads of training sessions on Destiny.”
“Like movie training?” Issie asked.
Aidan shook his head. “Showjumping. Destiny’s a natural jumper. He picks his feet up really cleanly and never knocks the rails.”
“How high have you been jumping?”
“He can do about a metre twenty,” Aidan said. “Easily big enough to put him in the prize money.”
“What prize money?” Issie was confused.
“The Horse of the Year Show,” Aidan said. “I haven’t asked Hester yet, but I was thinking of entering him in the novice horse class.”
“Do you think he can win?”
Aidan nodded. “Yep–and it’s decent prize money too. The Horse of the Year is the richest competition in the whole Southern hemisphere. There’s half a million dollars in prize money. If Destiny and I win the novice class, that’s worth $10,000.”
“$10,000?”
“There’ll be loads of competition though,” Aidan continued. “There are riders from all over the country coming down for it.”
“I know,” Issie said. “Tom is coming down next week. He’s bringing Dan and Ben. I think Dan’s riding in the novice class too.”
Aidan seemed to go very quiet at this news. When he finally spoke his voice sounded quite different. “That guy Dan. You go to pony club with him, right?”
“Uh-huh,” said Issie.
“And he’s, like, a friend of yours?” Issie nodded. Aidan went quiet again for a moment.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Issie was stunned. She hadn’t been expecting this. “No,” she said, “no, he’s not.” Aidan looked relieved.
“Hester is probably waiting for us down at the stables,” he said. “We’ll drive straight through to unload the horses.” He nosed the truck to the right of the circular lawn so that they swept right past the front door of the manor and headed down the limestone drive towards the stables.
“Issie?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You know what I said before? About me being glad that you were here? Well, I am, Issie. I’m really glad. It seems like ages since I saw you and…” Aidan stopped paying attention to the road and stared at Issie. He was fidgeting nervously with the sleeve of his tartan shirt. “The thing is, I’ve been wanting to ask you something the whole way down here…”
He was suddenly interrupted by Issie who let out a loud shriek. “Stop the truck, Aidan! You’re going to hit him!”
Aidan’s foot instinctively went for the brake as he turned to see what had made Issie shout out. In front of them, galloping straight for their truck, was a pony.
“Aidan!” Issie yelled again.
“I see him!” said Aidan, sounding the horn at the pony.
“What’s wrong with him?” Issie asked. “Why doesn’t he get out of the way?” The pony was still galloping towards them. There was no way the truck could stop in time. They would hit him for sure.
“You’ve got to stop!” Issie shouted.
“I’m trying!” said Aidan. “It’s not that simple–we have horses in the truck to think about!”
Issie realised that he was right. If Aidan slammed the brakes on too quickly then Toby and Coco would be thrown forward violently and might be badly hurt. But if Aidan didn’t brake fast enough then the poor pony that was bearing down on them would be killed.
It felt as if everything was in slow motion as the pony continued to gallop at them and tyres skidded against the limestone gravel as Aidan tried to stop. The horrible squeal of truck brakes filled Issie’s ears, overwhelming her in a rush of memory. She had a sickening sense of déjà vu–as if she was reliving that awful day at Chevalier Point. The day when Mystic had been killed. It was nearly two years ago now that the accident had happened. Her mind always got so confused when she tried to think about that day.
Issie remembered trying to stop the runaway horses from heading out on to the main road, her sense of horror as Mystic had reared up to face the truck. Then she was falling backwards and the tarmac was rushing up to meet her. There had been a sickening crack as her helmet hit the road, and the taste of blood in her mouth before it all went black. After that, she couldn’t recall anything until she woke up hours later in the hospital with her mother calling her name. Her mother told her what had happened. She explained how Mystic had saved Issie by throwing her clear of the truck. Issie still remembered the desperate expression on her mother’s face as she struggled to answer her question. “Mum? What about Mystic? Is Mystic OK?”
It was the very worst moment in Issie’s life. Her first pony Mystic had been her best friend. She had loved him so completely, so deeply. Losing him was like losing her own soul.
Now, suddenly, she was living through it all over again. Only this time she was watching it all from inside the truck, powerless to do anything as she sat waiting for the awful, inevitable moment of collision with the horse in front of her.
Issie shut her eyes and held her breath. She couldn’t bear to look. Instinctively she put her arms on the dashboard to brace herself for the impact. A few seconds later, when the crash didn’t come, she opened her eyes again.
The truck had stopped. The horse was nowhere to be seen and Issie suddenly realised that she was crying and shaking and Aidan was holding her tight in his arms. “It’s OK,” he was saying, “it’s all right. We didn’t hit him.”
“Aidan!” Issie felt like she couldn’t breathe. “We were going to hit him. I was sure we were going to…”
“Shhhh, it’s OK. I know. I thought we were going to hit him too. He got out of the way just in time. Are you OK?” Aidan let go of Issie and sat back in his seat.
“Uh-huh.” Issie dried her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“That was close, huh?”
“Where did that horse come from?” Issie wondered. “He seemed to come out of nowhere.”
“He must have jumped out of his paddock again.” Aidan shook his head. “That’s the third time this week. He might have escaped the truck, but I’m pretty sure that this time Hester is going to kill him!”
“You mean he’s done this before?”
“Yeah. Last time he jumped out, he managed to get into the garden shed and ate all of the dog biscuits. He is totally crazy, that pony. Hester is so fed up with him. She can’t afford to put up deer fences to keep him in–and, knowing Comet, he’d probably jump over them anyway!”
“Comet?” Issie said.
“Uh-huh,” Aidan replied. “He’s one of the Blackthorn Ponies that Hester decided to keep. Although I think she’s been regretting the decision ever since.”
Just as he said this, Issie saw her aunt emerge from the rear of Blackthorn Manor. She had a makeshift lead rope in her hands that she had made out of the belt from her dress. She was using it to lead a cheeky-looking skewbald. The pony, for he was just a pony and couldn’t have been more than fourteen-two hands, was skipping merrily at her side. He didn’t seem to notice or care that Hester was looking at him with a murderous expression. The skewbald looked so pleased with himself that, despite the heart attack he had just given her, Issie couldn’t help but immediately have a soft spot for him.
“So that’s Comet?”
“The one and only,” Aidan said darkly. “The skewbald that no paddock can hold.”
As Comet came closer, Issie could see that he was actually rather pretty. The pony was a chestnut with white patches, and he had white socks and a broad, white stripe down his nose. Comet was sturdy and muscular, like all wild Gisborne hill ponies. He had solid legs with thick cannon bones, strong shoulders and powerful hindquarters made for jumping–a fact which he was clearly using to his advantage to get out of the paddock whenever he liked. The pony’s conformation was powerful, but it was his eyes that had Issie totally bewitched. Those eyes! They burnt with an intensity that she hadn’t seen before in any horse.
Comet seemed thrilled that everyone was paying him so much attention. As he danced along at Hester’s side, Issie could have sworn he had the attitude of a champion racehorse. In his mind, this pony wasn’t little at all. He was a colossus.
“Comet! Stand still, naughty pony!” Hester growled. Then she turned to Issie and Aidan. “Isadora! Lovely to see you. I take it you’ve already met Comet?”
“You could say that,” Issie smiled.
“Well, my favourite niece, as you can see, this place hasn’t changed a bit–it’s still completely mad!” Hester said. “Welcome back to Blackthorn Farm.”
Chapter 4
“You mean we were nearly hit by a comet?” Stella said. She and Kate had emerged from the truck and were totally confused by what had just happened.
“No,” Issie giggled. “We nearly hit him. Comet is a horse!” She gestured towards the skewbald pony who was still skipping about as Aunt Hester tried to hold him with the belt off her dress.
“He escaped on to the driveway and we nearly ran him over,” Aidan explained.
“Are Toby and Coco OK?” Hester asked.
“They’re both fine,” Stella said. “They scrambled a bit when the truck stopped suddenly, but they didn’t fall over or anything.”
“Let’s get them unloaded,” Kate suggested. “We can check them over properly in the loose box once we take off their floating bandages.”
Since the truck had been forced to stop halfway down the driveway it seemed easier to simply unload the horses there and walk them the rest of the way.
Toby and Coco came down the ramp with their ears pricked and their heads held high, as horses do whenever they arrive somewhere new. When he saw them Comet gave a whinny of greeting. His whole body reverberated as his clarion call rang out, shaking with a neigh of excitement at having new horses for company.
Hester glared at him. “Oh, do behave yourself, Comet! You really are the most troublesome pony.” She turned to the girls. “I don’t want you to think they’re all this bad. Most of the Blackthorn Ponies we have here are very well schooled. I’ve got several new horses that are perfect learners’ ponies, ideal for the riding school. Come on, let’s put your horses away and then you can meet some of them.”
The stable block at Blackthorn Farm was built from the same white-painted weatherboards as the manor. Inside it was like a giant barn, with bales of hay stacked up in one corner, a storage room for tack and two rows of loose boxes. On the door of each loose box a horse’s head was carved into the honey-coloured wood above a plaque with the horse’s name inscribed on it.
Issie pushed open the vast wooden sliding door and walked inside, followed by Stella and Kate leading Coco and Toby, and Aunt Hester, still with her makeshift dress-belt halter, hanging on to Comet.
“You can put your horses in the first two boxes on the left there, girls,” Hester said.
“What about Comet?” asked Issie.
“I don’t usually box him,” Hester said. “Blackthorn Ponies don’t really like it in the stable as a rule. They prefer to graze out. But I might have to make an exception in Comet’s case–at least if he’s in a loose box he won’t be able to jump out!”
Hester popped Comet in the box next to Coco’s. The stall was freshly mucked out with clean straw on the floor and water in the trough. Comet gave his new home a rather bored once-over and then craned his neck desperately over the Dutch door, whinnying to get attention. Coco stuck her head out of her stall and returned his call.
“Shhh! Coco!” Stella said, giggling. “He’s a naughty pony. Don’t encourage him!”
As they walked down the rows of loose boxes the girls could see familiar faces poking out of the top of each stall door. First in the row were the three palominos, Paris, Nicole and Stardust, the mares they had ridden when they were working as stunt riders on The Palomino Princess. Issie stopped and fed a carrot to Stardust, running a hand through her silver-white mane, admiring the rich treacle sheen of her coat. “Remember me, girl?” she asked softly.
Her question was answered by a nicker from the stall next door as a black and white face emerged. “Diablo!” Issie grinned at him. Diablo was Aunt Hester’s favourite stunt horse, a piebald Quarter Horse that could do all sorts of tricks, including playing dead when a gun was fired–a trick that had almost scared Issie and her friends out of their wits the last time they were at Blackthorn Farm.
In the stall next to Diablo was the enormous draught horse Dolomite. The big bay with the white blaze stood at nearly sixteen-three hands, while, in the stall right next to him, was Titan, the dinky miniature pony who couldn’t have been more than ten hands high!
“Dolly and Titan obviously aren’t any use as riding-school ponies,” Hester said. “You’d need a ladder to mount Dolly.”
“What about Titan?” Stella asked. “Couldn’t one of the little kids ride on him?”
Hester shook her head. “Titan is a true miniature, a Falabella. They’re not really bred as riding ponies; they can only handle very light weights on their back–although he can tow a cart.”
In the stall next to Titan was a dark brown pony who was around thirteen hands high. “This is Molly, one of my new ones,” Hester said. “She’s a Blackthorn Pony that I’ve been schooling up. Very well mannered–the perfect learner’s pony.”
“How many ponies will you need?” asked Issie.
“That depends on how many students enroll,” Hester said. “The ad has only been up on the PONY Magazine website for a few days and we already have five keen pupils lined up.”
“Do any of them actually know anything about riding?” Kate asked Hester.
“The twins, Tina and Trisha, have experience,” said Hester. “They’re ten years old and they’ve been having weekly lessons since they turned eight apparently. I was planning to put them on Paris and Nicole. They’ll be perfect for more advanced riders. The youngest rider so far is Kitty–she’s eight and mad keen on ponies according to her mum, although her brother George, who is ten, sounds like a handful. Both of them have had riding lessons, so they know the basics.”
“Which ponies will you put Kitty and George on?” asked Issie.
“I’m not sure about George, but I was thinking that Kitty could ride Timmy, the sweet chestnut with the star on his forehead. He’s a Blackthorn Pony too, no vices and thoroughly bombproof,” Hester said. “The oldest girl is eleven. Her name is Kelly-Anne and she insists she’s a bit of an expert–but she seems utterly green to me, if you know what I mean. I’m going to put her on Julian. He’s a bit of a plodder, quite safe for an absolute beginner.”
Issie and Stella exchanged nervous glances. Up until now the idea of running a riding school had seemed like fun. But now that they were here it all seemed kind of daunting. Next Monday they would have actual pupils arriving. And some of the riders weren’t much younger than they were. What would they say when they saw that their instructors were just a bunch of kids?
“I thought you three could draw up a lesson plan and a timetable this afternoon, then we’ve got time to iron out the kinks during the week before the riders arrive,” Hester continued.
“Lesson plan?” Stella squeaked. “Won’t you be doing that? I mean, we won’t actually be taking the lessons all by ourselves, will we?”
Hester shook her head. “I’m not expecting you to do everything by yourselves. But it’s good to have a game plan so you can cope without me. Aidan and I have a lot of work to do just keeping the farm running so it’s possible you’ll be left alone in charge at least some of the time.” Hester noticed the terrified looks on the three girls’ faces. “Something wrong?”
“Ummm…no…” Issie managed.
“Good!” Hester said brightly. “Well, I think that’s enough of a tour of the stables for today. You can meet the rest of the ponies later. Shall we get back up to the house and you can unpack your things? You’ve all got your usual rooms. I hope that’s OK?”
Issie’s bedroom was the first room off the landing at the top of the grand wooden staircase. She threw her bags down on the enormous four-poster bed and then threw herself down next to them. The huge room was papered with antique horsey wallpaper and hanging above the fireplace was an enormous oil painting of Avignon, Aunt Hester’s great grey Warmblood stallion. In the portrait Avignon was running free, his beautiful silver mane flowing in the wind. Issie lay on the bed and gazed up at the painting, taking in the beauty of the horse, the arch of his neck, the flare of his nostrils, the deep, dark eyes staring back at her.
“All settled in?” Aidan’s voice startled her. He was standing in the doorway holding a duffel bag. “I’m moving into the last room down the end of the hall.”
Issie was confused. “Why aren’t you in your cottage down by the stables?”
“It made sense to move out,” Aidan said matter-of-factly “We needed somewhere to put all the kids so we turned the cottage into a sort of dormitory. I’m staying here in the main house until they leave.” He stepped into Issie’s room and shut the door conspiratorially behind him. “Hey,” he said in a low, stagey whisper, “we need to have a secret meeting.”
“What about?”
“Dinner,” he said. “I want to sort out a roster before the kids get here. We need to stop Hester spending too much time in the kitchen–for obvious reasons!”
Aidan was right. Issie’s aunt might be able to run a riding school. But it was an entirely different matter to feed a riding school. Hester was, quite possibly, the world’s worst cook. Her dinners usually ended up as blackened, inedible mounds in the oven. Her baking was so bad that even Butch, the resident farm pig, turned his nose up at it. Unfortunately Hester had already been in the kitchen that very morning. When the girls came downstairs after unpacking they found her waiting for them with a plate of scones for afternoon tea. They were like bricks with raisins in them.
Stella picked one up and took a bite. She instantly regretted it. “Ow, I fink oif broken a twooth!”
“There is no way she’s cooking dinner,” Issie muttered to Aidan as she choked down a mouthful of her scone.
“We’ll sort out that roster,” Aidan agreed.
Cooking and cleaning rosters, riding timetables, lesson plans. There was lots to be prepared before the new pupils arrived. “Can’t we do it all later?” Stella grumbled as they sat down at the kitchen table with pens and sheets of paper. “I mean, it’s only Tuesday. We have nearly a week to get all this done and it’s a lovely sunny afternoon and we’ve been cooped up in the truck all day. I want to go riding.”
“We didn’t come here for a holiday!” Kate said. “We’ve got work to do. Don’t you want to be organised when the riders arrive on Monday?”
Hester surprised everyone by agreeing with Stella. “We could work on the rosters and timetables tonight,” she suggested, “and I’ve got a stable full of riding-school ponies who could all do with some exercise.” She looked at her watch. “If we get down there now, there’s enough time for a quick bit of schooling in the arena before dinner.”
Nobody needed convincing. The girls dashed up to their rooms to get their jodhpurs on while Aidan and Hester went ahead to the stables to get the ponies ready.
“I saw the cutest little grey pony grazing next to the arena when we arrived. I wonder if I can try that one?” Stella said.
“I like the chestnut one with the star on his forehead and the three white socks,” Kate said. “What’s his name again?”
“His name is Timmy And your ankles will drag on the ground if you ride him!” Issie giggled. “Hester will probably put you on one of the palominos.”
Issie knew which horse she would be getting. Hester was bound to put her on Stardust, after they had bonded so well on the set of The Palomino Princess.
As they neared the stables it looked like Issie was right. When Aidan emerged from the stalls he had Stardust all saddled up and her reins in his right hand. It seemed like a lifetime since Issie had ridden the pretty palomino. She felt a shiver of anticipation as she strode towards the mare. “Hey, girl.” Issie reached out a hand to stroke her glossy, treacle-coloured neck. She was about to take the reins from Aidan when she heard her Aunt Hester’s voice behind her.
“Issie! There you are! Come with me. I’ve got your horse ready too.”
Issie was confused. “But I thought I’d be riding Stardust, Aunty Hess?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I thought I told you,” Hester said. “Aidan is on Stardust today. I was hoping you would take on a new mount that really needs the work.”
“What?”
“The skewbald troublemaker,” Hester said, gesturing to the last stall in the loose-box row. “I want you to ride Comet.”
As if on cue at the mention of his name, Comet thrust his chestnut and white face over the Dutch door and let out a cheeky whinny. Issie looked suspiciously at the skewbald pony.
“He needs riding. He gets so frightfully bored standing in the loose box,” Hester said. “It’s his own fault of course. If he wasn’t such a troublemaker, I’d let him back out to graze with the others…I mean, you can’t leave him in the paddock because he jumps out and you can’t leave him in the loose box because he tries to destroy it.”
As if to confirm this, Comet began banging and scraping the bottom half of the Dutch door with his hoof. Get me out of here! he seemed to be saying.
“Naughty Comet! Stop that!” Issie said firmly. She grabbed the skewbald by the reins, unbolted the stall door and led him out into the yard.
Hester had already tacked him up for her and Issie noticed that Comet looked quite different in a saddle and bridle. He was one of those skewbalds with vigorous splashes of white all over his withers and rump. They trickled down his legs finishing up with four white socks–a bit like someone had spilt a can of white paint over him. Even his chestnut tail looked like it had been streaked with a paintbrush.
Once you put a saddle on, though, Comet’s colouring was less obvious. The saddle blanket completely covered up the white marks on his withers and back. He almost looked like an ordinary chestnut with four white socks, except when you looked from the other side you could see a big splodge of white on his hindquarters that looked a bit like a map of India.
As Issie led Comet out into the yard and over to the mounting block the pony danced along beside her, lifting his legs up in a high-stepping trot. When he was sure that everyone was watching him he raised his head and gave a high-spirited nicker, calling out to the other ponies.
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