Mystic And The Midnight Ride Part 2

Stella leaned over from her desk and whispered to Issie, "Hey, Kate and I were thinking that after school, if you're not busy-"

Issie groaned and cut her off in mid-sentence, "Stella, I don't want to go riding. Not this afternoon. Not ever!"

"OK, OK, get over yourself," Stella sneered back. "What I was going to say is that me and Kate, well, you know how Kallista Field has a pierced belly b.u.t.ton? Well, they do piercings at Lacey's chemist shop and we were thinking of getting them done too."

Of course Issie knew all about Kallista Field. There were always stories about the young dressage rider in PONY Magazine. Issie even had pictures of Kallista up on the wall in her bedroom. Kallista wasn't just a good rider, she was also tall and beautiful with long blonde hair. And she had a pierced belly b.u.t.ton. Issie had seen it in photos and she had to admit, it did look pretty cool.

Stella kept on talking, "Kate says she still can't decide whether to get one or not. But we were talking to Louisa Bull-she's really cool, she's a fourth former but I know her because she's in my house-anyway, she has one and it looks so fab and she says it didn't hurt much at all." She poked Issie in the tummy and grinned. "You would look so good with one, Issie. So what do you say? Are you in?"

Issie winced and pulled up her jersey to look at her naked belly b.u.t.ton. It was an innie, not an outie, a small, delicate whirl in the middle of her olive-skinned tummy. She imagined the piercing gun clamped over it, driving a steel ring through her skin.

"I don't know..." Issie muttered. "Mum wouldn't be too keen on it..."

"It's OK," Stella insisted. "I asked Penny and she said she would take us, so you don't need to ask your mum."

Penny was Stella's older sister. She was much older than Stella and was in her first year at university. The two sisters both had the same curly red hair and freckles-and the same naughty streak too. If anything, Penny was even wilder than her little sister. And Stella always wanted to do what Penny did. Penny already had her belly b.u.t.ton pierced-and her tongue!

"Come on," Stella was whining. "Your mum won't even notice. We'll all do it together. It'll be fun."

Issie took her hand off her stomach and tucked the thin cotton of her school s.h.i.+rt back into her skirt, smoothing it down flat. She had always wanted to get a piercing. Even plain pierced ears weren't allowed at Chevalier Point High. But a belly b.u.t.ton? Who would ever notice it underneath your school uniform?

OK, so her mum would kill her if she found out. But who cared? Besides, why shouldn't she have some fun and do something exciting for once? She was so tired of feeling this way, tired of being numb and depressed. Maybe Stella was right. It would look pretty cool to have a belly-b.u.t.ton ring like Kallista.

"What sort of rings are there?" Issie sighed.

Stella let out a squeal of delight. "Yay! I knew you'd say yes! This is going to be great! There's plain silver ones, or you can get ones with a stone in them," Stella continued. "I was thinking of getting maybe a purple stone like an amethyst but you can get whatever you want." She looked at Issie's screwed-up face. "I swear. Honestly. It doesn't hurt!"

A couple of hours later, Issie wished she had never taken Stella's word for it. There she was, lying flat on her back on the thin white chemist shop bunk bed, looking down at her skin stretched taut under the clamp of the piercing gun. There was a felt-tip dot on her belly b.u.t.ton where the ring would pierce the skin, and a woman with too much make-up on was busily daubing her tummy with antiseptic solution.

"Now take a deep breath and breathe out as the needle goes through," the woman instructed. Issie looked away from the gun, trying not to think about it as she sucked in a deep lung full of air. As she breathed out she felt a sudden rush of pain.

"There. You're done." The woman smiled. Issie looked down at her newly decorated navel. It was red and tingling. "You'll have to keep it very clean for the first couple of weeks while it heals, and whatever you do, don't take the ring out," the woman instructed, pa.s.sing Issie some antiseptic to take home with her. "And try not to wear clothes that rub on it and irritate the site."

"I can't believe you two went through with it!" Kate shrieked as the three girls came out of the chemist into the bright sunlight to meet her.

"What? I can't believe you chickened out on us!" Stella teased her back.

"I didn't!" Kate insisted. "I never said I would get one. I only said I was thinking about it." She leaned down and peered closer at Issie's red, swollen belly b.u.t.ton and pulled a face. "Eugh! Does it hurt?"

Issie looked pleased with Kate's reaction. "Not really," she lied. In fact, she could feel her tummy b.u.t.ton all hot and throbbing where the ring had gone through.

"You know," Stella began, "when Louisa Bull had hers done she told me that it went all infected and she woke up one morning and, oh, this is really going to gross you out, her mum had to take her to hospital because-"

"Stella! I thought you told me that Louisa's belly b.u.t.ton looked really cool?" Issie yelped. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Penny snapped. "Stella! She didn't go to hospital, she just went to the doctor and he gave her some ointment to put on it and sent her home again. Stop exaggerating and making up horrible stories."

Penny pulled up her own t-s.h.i.+rt to show them her belly b.u.t.ton. It had a silver ring with a green gla.s.s leaf dangling down from it. "Look, I've had my piercing for two years now and it's fine," she rea.s.sured Issie.

"I was just joking!" Stella insisted, grinning mischievously. "Hey, Issie, let's go back to your house and try on clothes. I need to find a tank top that will show off my tummy b.u.t.ton."

The Browns had lived in the same house ever since Issie was little. It was a two-storey wooden home, surrounded by rambling, overgrown gardens. From Issie's bedroom upstairs she had a view down over the big back lawn to the grove of trees at the end of the garden.

The view inside Issie's bedroom, however, was one big mess. The girls had spent the past hour trying on everything in Issie's wardrobe and the place looked like a stall at a jumble sale. There were pairs of jeans and shoes thrown all over the floor, and the bed was stacked so high with piles of clothes that you could barely see Stella and Kate, who were flopped down in the middle of it all on top of the duvet.

Issie stepped out of the wardrobe. She had stripped off the light-green pleated skirt and white s.h.i.+rt of her school uniform and was wearing a purple floral crop top and dark blue camouflage pants. She stood in front of the mirror to admire her new look. For once, her skinny boyish figure was working to her advantage. The pants hung down so low on her hips they exposed her stomach, showing off the freshly pierced navel.

Issie stared at her tummy b.u.t.ton. It was still swollen and red, and even though she would never admit it, she was a little worried about what she had done. Stella's story had scared her. What if the piercing really was turning septic? The skin around the ring did actually look all red and raw and it was hurting a lot more than she had thought it would.

Issie shrugged off her fears. At least Stella had been right about one thing, she thought, that silver ring did look pretty cool. It suited her, the slim metal circle resting perfectly against her tanned belly.

Issie was wiggling the ring and gazing at her reflection when she suddenly noticed the other two girls staring at her. Feeling embarra.s.sed to suddenly be the centre of attention, she struck a ridiculous supermodel catwalk pose, pouting and throwing her head back, one hand on her hip, the other raised to blow a kiss to an imaginary camera.

The two girls fell about on the bed laughing. Stella was snorting so hard she was almost choking and Issie collapsed on to the duvet next to her in a fit of giggles.

As she lay there panting with laughter she realised this was the first time since the accident that she had been able to forget about Mystic and have some fun.

"Wait, wait!" Stella leapt up and grabbed a pair of sungla.s.ses off the dressing table. She put them on, along with a pair of foolishly high heels that Issie had borrowed out of her mum's room, and began strutting up and down the bedroom. "Who am I?" she asked giggling. "I'll give you a clue," she added, clearing her throat and talking in a mock posh voice. "I want a new pony! I want to go s...o...b..arding! I'm a spoilt brat!"

"Oh, don't..." Issie tried to stop laughing so that she could get the words out. "...we shouldn't make fun of Natasha. It's mean."

"That's easy for you to say!" Stella snapped. "You haven't had to put up with her at pony-club rallies for the past month. Honestly, she is such a sn.o.b she won't even speak to Kate and me! At lunchtimes she ties her horse up at the other end of the paddock and refuses to even come near us."

Stella looked distracted for a moment, then she bent over and examined her stomach. "I hope this ring doesn't get caught on my jodhpurs when I'm riding." She frowned.

Then she noticed Issie throwing her a sulky look.

"Oops. Sorry, Issie. I keep forgetting that you don't want to talk about horses." Stella smiled. "I guess I just can't believe it, really. I know you feel awful about what happened to Mystic. But it was an accident. And, well, I don't mean to be harsh, but Mystic was really old. So at least he didn't have much longer to live anyway."

Issie couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was used to her friend's lack of tact. Stella had a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. But this was a bit much even from her. How would she feel if it was Coco that had died? Issie was trying so hard to hold back the tears that she felt too choked up to say anything. She wanted to say that Mystic was special. That he was her horse and that he may have been old but he had a young spirit that refused to give up. She wanted to tell her two friends how she still saw him every night. A silver ghost horse, too real to be just a dream. So real he felt like flesh and blood. Somehow Mystic was still there with her. She just wished she knew why.

The phone in the hallway rang. "I'll get it," Issie squawked, keen to escape this dreadful conversation, and the horrible feeling of tears welling up yet again in her eyes. She ran down the corridor, sliding on the hall rug as she made a grab for the receiver. It was Tom Avery's voice on the other end of the line.

"I've been trying to get in touch with you since this morning." Avery sounded serious. "Listen, Issie, something has come up. Can you meet me down at the horse paddock tomorrow morning at around eight?" He paused. "And bring the key to the tack room with you."

When Issie asked him why Avery became even more mysterious. "I need you to help me with something, that's all," he said, hanging up before she had a chance to ask any more questions.

Before Issie went to bed that night she set her alarm clock and laid out her favourite old faded blue jeans and a pair of boots to wear the next morning. She hadn't spoken to Avery at all since the accident. And now this. Why was he being so mysterious? And what did he need her help for?

She sat down on the bed and pulled up her pyjama top to have one last look at her newly pierced belly b.u.t.ton before she went to sleep. "Oh, well," she muttered to herself, wiggling the little silver ring with her index finger, "nothing could surprise me now."

But she was wrong.

CHAPTER 6.

The pony-club paddocks were deserted when Issie arrived, except for the horses dotted about the field, grazing in the morning sun. Avery was nowhere to be seen, so Issie climbed over the fence and unlocked the tack room.

Standing in the tack room, she felt a rush of emotion as she looked at the hook and saddle horse where she had kept Mystic's things. His leather halter and canvas paddock cover were still hanging there, but the saddle horse was bare. When Mystic had gone under the truck, her beloved Stbben saddle had been destroyed too. Not that it mattered, Issie reminded herself. She didn't need a saddle because she wasn't going to ride ever again.

As a further reminder of her vow, up there on the wall next to the empty saddle rack was a photograph. It was her and Mystic; taken the day that she had first brought the dapple-grey here to his new home. It must have been the end of winter, because Mystic's coat was thick and fluffy with winter growth. His mane was long and flowing; it obviously hadn't been pulled in months. His eyes were dark and steady, staring straight at the camera. And there she was with him, the wind whipping her long dark hair across her face so that her eyes were barely visible. She had one hand on Mystic's wither and the other holding his lead rope. They made the perfect team.

"There you are!" Avery's voice behind her made her jump. "Come on out for a moment, I've got something to show you. Oh, and bring that halter. You're going to need it."

Issie emerged into the sunlight to see Avery's horse truck parked outside the gate. He climbed back into the cab again and gestured for her to swing the gate open to let him drive through.

As Issie closed the gate behind him, she watched Avery ease the vehicle alongside the loading ramp. When he pulled the truck to a stop, she could hear the uncertain s.h.i.+ft of hooves against the matting floor. There was a horse in there! Of course! Why else would Avery tell her to bring a halter with her. But which horse? She looked out across the paddock to see Toby and Coco both grazing peacefully at the far end of the field. It wasn't them on the truck then, but...The stamp of hooves became more restless and the high-pitched nicker of a horse could clearly be heard from inside the truck.

Avery leapt down from the driver's seat and strode over to her. "Good, good," he said. "All set then? Let's go!" He began to unbolt the doors. "Issie you go in and put her halter on. We'll put her in the pen by the tack room for the time being."

"What? What are you talking about?" Issie didn't understand.

"Oh, right. I'm sorry." Avery smiled. "It's a horse, Issie. And I want you to have her." He held up his hand to stop her cries of protest. "Look, I didn't mean to spring it on you like this. I understand how much it hurt you to lose Mystic. And maybe it is a little soon to expect you to get back into the saddle again. But I had no choice. You know about my work with the International League for the Protection of Horses, don't you?"

Issie nodded.

"It's my job to investigate reports of horses that are being mistreated or badly looked after by their owners. And if those horses are being neglected, then it's also my job to take them away and find new homes for them. People can be unbelievably cruel," Avery continued, shaking his head, unable to disguise the disgust in his voice. "Can you even imagine, Issie? No gra.s.s to eat, just dirt to live on. A paddock no bigger than a cattle pen. When the horse protection league found this mare, she was...well, you'll see for yourself in just a moment what sort of a state she is in.

"Issie, I know it's not fair to ask this from you. This mare is in a delicate condition. She's very sick, one of the worst cases I've ever seen." Avery's face was grim. "She needs round the clock care from someone who really understands horses if she's going to pull through. Even then she may not survive...And I know you're still hurting from losing Mystic. But when I saw her I knew that you were the one to take care of her. To love her. Because she'll need someone like you, someone who truly loves horses, who has a way with them, to bring her back to life."

A faint, nervous whinny came from behind the door. "Now, come on," Avery looked at her intently, "what do you say?"

Issie knew that there was nothing she could say. She just nodded to Tom, and stepped to the side so that he could open the door and let her in.

In her worst nightmares, Issie had never seen anything like the sight that was now before her. In the centre stall of the truck stood a chestnut mare. At least Issie supposed she was a chestnut. The pony's coat was so covered in mud, and worn thin in great patches, that you could hardly tell what colour she was at all. From beneath the caked mud, her ribs stuck out sharply through her skin. Her rump, rather than being rounded and firm, was hollowed out where the muscles should have been. And the pony's legs were covered in mud sores. But it was the pony's expression which upset Issie most of all. The little mare wouldn't even raise her head to look at Issie, and when she finally did look her way her eyes showed pure terror. As Issie got closer the mare let out a long, low snort of fear. But she didn't attempt to back away. It was as if her spirit was so broken she didn't care what happened to her any more.

"Easy now, girl," Issie cooed as she put the halter on. The chestnut mare flinched away from her hands as Issie fastened the halter buckle, but she was too weak to put up much of a fight. "Easy now," she murmured again, stroking the length of the mare's slender neck. Underneath the dry mud on her legs Issie could make out four white socks, and down the mare's dainty face ran a white blaze.

"What's her name?" Issie asked Avery as she tried to cluck the mare into moving forward and out of the truck stall.

"Doesn't have one, I'm afraid," Avery said. "At least, we don't think she has a name. We never did track down the people who did this to her. We're trying to trace the owners so that animal cruelty charges can be laid against them, but it's not easy. So...no owners and no name."

"I think we should call you Blaze," Issie whispered to the mare, "after that pretty white blaze that's running down the middle of your face."

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," Avery smirked, "you can't just go ahead and name this horse." He paused. "Unless, that is, unless you're willing to keep her?"

"Oh, Tom," Issie sighed, "of course I'll keep her. Like you said, I don't have a choice, do I?"

"You understand the rules of the ILPH, don't you?" Avery asked. "If a horse comes into our care we can appoint a guardian for that horse. But that's all you will ever be to Blaze-her guardian. You don't own her, so she's not yours to sell. If you ever change your mind about her or can't look after her you must return her to the League and they'll find a new home for her."

Issie nodded, then turned to the chestnut mare. "Do you hear that, girl? I'm your new guardian. And I'm going to take real good care of you. Come on now, come out and see your new home."

Issie led Blaze down the truck ramp and her heart nearly broke as she watched the little mare, all wobbly on her feet, gingerly putting one hoof in front of another.

She tied the chestnut to a fence rail. It had been hard to really examine her in the truck. Now, in the bright sunlight, she stood back and took a long hard look. She was definitely a pony, not a horse; Issie guessed she stood somewhere between fourteen and fourteen-two hands high. And there was no doubt that she was well bred. Even in such pitiful condition the mare showed signs of her Arab bloodlines. The cla.s.sic dished nose and finely p.r.i.c.ked ears gave her away. As did her legs, slender and delicate like a ballet dancer's.

In the sunlight the mare's coat was darker than Issie had first thought, a deep liver chestnut. Her mane and tail were a light shade of honey, almost flaxen blonde. Looking down at her legs, Issie could see that she did indeed have four white socks. In fact, the two hind socks were almost stockings-running all the way right up to her hocks, while the white blaze which began as a large star on her forehead continued in a slender streak all the way down her face to her velvety nostrils where it finally tapered away.

"She's beautiful, Tom," Issie breathed softly.

"We'll have to keep her in the pen for a couple of days or so, I'm afraid," Avery said briskly "She's too weak to be let loose to graze with the other horses at this stage. If they took to her she'd never survive the fight. I'll try and sort out the grazing so she can have a paddock to herself in a day or two and in the meantime you'll have to start bulking her up on hard feed and hay."

Avery looked concerned. "We're talking about more than a physical problem with this mare though, Issie. It's her mind that needs the most care. She's been through a lot. Whoever owned her must have abused her terribly. She doesn't know how to trust people any more. And it's going to take a lot of work and patience to win back that trust.

"Might as well get to work on the physical stuff straight away though, eh?" Avery pointed to Issie's grooming kit and gave her a knowing grin. "I'll bet there's a decent coat under all that mud, so get to it! I've got to dash. You need to spend some time, to know her better. And," Avery added, "of course you'll need to talk to your mum about things too-but I'm sure she'll be fine about it, won't she?"

Issie was about to respond to this and point out that, actually, her mum wouldn't be fine about it at all. But Avery wasn't listening.

"Excellent then! Right. I'm off. I'll check up on you both next week."

And with that, Avery backed the truck out of the gate and left Issie standing there open-mouthed.

Issie stood there for a moment longer, watching the truck as it became smaller in the distance. Then she turned back to the horse and reached for her bucket of grooming brushes. As she lifted the dandy brush towards Blaze to scuff off the dried mud, the pony let out a terrified snort and pulled back hard against the rope, her eyes wild with fear.

"Easy, girl, I'm not going to hurt you," Issie murmured. She put the brush down and reached her hand up to stroke Blaze's neck and calm her down. But the mare wasn't having any of it. She backed up, straining against the rope, her ears flat back against her head.

Issie felt terrible. She knew Blaze wasn't acting up on purpose. It was simply that the poor horse had been so badly abused in the past she was scared of being touched. Issie realised it was only natural that Blaze would be scared of her too, but it still hurt.

Once more she moved slowly towards the horse, and Blaze backed even further away, letting out a low, long snort of terror.

"Blaze! How can I brush you if you won't even let me get near you?" Issie pleaded, close to despair. Then she had an idea. In the tack room there were three large bins of hard feed for the horses, the first two filled with oats and chaff and the third with pony pellets. Issie grabbed a handful of these and walked back over to Blaze.

This time the nervous chestnut didn't back away. She sniffed the air, then stretched out her long, elegant neck as far as she could without actually stepping forward. Food. She could smell it all right. But was she brave enough to take it? Still not moving a single hoof, the mare craned her neck even further, then used her rubbery lips to stretch out and snuffle up the pellets out of Issie's hand.

"Good girl, Blaze," Issie murmured, reaching her hand out once more to stroke the horse. Blaze let Issie's fingertips graze against her mud-coated neck before she backed up once again, heaving with fear.

"Easy, girl, it's OK," Issie said, backing away herself, admitting defeat. She went back to the tack room a second time, but when she emerged again she wasn't carrying a handful of pellets, but a slice of hay. Stuffing the hay into the hay net in the far corner of the pen, she managed to get close enough to Blaze to unclasp the lead rope from her halter so that she was free to go and feed.

"I think we've done enough for one day, hey, girl?" Issie spoke gently to the mare. But inside she wasn't feeling so great about her first meeting with her new horse. How was she expected to feel when Blaze wouldn't even let her pat her?

She stood and watched as the mare nervously ate her hay. One thing was certain: this wasn't going to be easy.

CHAPTER 7.