Stacy Gregg - Flame and the Rebel Riders

It had only been a rally day, but Issie was still thrilled with Comet’s performance. “You should have seen the way he took the oxer,” she told her mum as they drove home.

“What’s an oxer?” Mrs Brown said. Issie sighed. Her mum knew nothing about horses or riding. Issie was used to it by now, and she had long ago got over her envy for riders like Morgan Chatswood-Smith who had horsey parents. OK, maybe her mum wasn’t horsey, but Issie was grateful that she had always supported her. She must have spent a fortune over the years on farriers and feed bills, lessons and grazing.

Mrs Brown even understood when Issie had to go to Spain to try and get Nightstorm back when the colt was stolen. So it must have been with serious consideration that she began the conversation in the car that day.

“Issie,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about your school report.”

Issie groaned. “Oh Mum, I get it, OK? You’re proud of me. That’s great. Can we move on?”

Mrs Brown shook her head. “I think this report proves what you are capable of. You’re growing up so fast. Next year you’ll be in the fifth form and it’s time that you started thinking about the future. What do you plan to do with your life?”

“You know that already, Mum,” Issie said. “I want to ride horses. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yes, I know,” Mrs Brown said in a measured voice, “but Issie, that’s not a proper job, is it? Riding horses is something you love doing, but you need to think about what you are going to do with your life…as a career.”

“But I’ve already decided,” Issie frowned. “I’m going to be a competitive horse rider.”

“Sweetie, I think you need to be realistic,” Mrs Brown said. “What are the chances of you making a living that way? That’s why school is so important. If you continue to get marks like your last report, you could be anything you want to be. I’ve already put aside a university fund for you, so that’s not a problem. You just need a bit of solid workplace experience so you can think about what career you should focus on…” she took a deep breath. “I made a phone call today while you were at the pony club, and spoke to David, one of the partners at my office.”

Mrs Brown worked as a legal secretary for a large law firm in town. She had been part-time when Issie was little, but after Issie’s dad had moved away when she was nine, Mrs Brown began working full-time to make ends meet. Issie sometimes went to the office after school to meet her mum instead of going straight home. The partners at the law firm were always nice to her, although she couldn’t really tell any of them apart. They were all tall men in dark grey suits with bald heads, polite smiles and very firm handshakes.

“Anyway, I told David about your latest school report,” Mrs Brown continued, “and he’s very kindly agreed that you can do work experience at the firm for the whole of the holidays. They’ll even pay you an hourly rate — it’s not much, but really it’s the experience that counts.”

“What?” Issie couldn’t believe it. “But I don’t want to work at your office!”

“Issie, this is a great opportunity,” Mrs Brown insisted.

“I can’t believe this is my punishment for getting a good school report!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Isadora,” her mother said firmly.

“Well, it feels like that!” Issie couldn’t help herself. “It’s not fair!”

“Issie! You said yourself that you needed a holiday job.”

“But I don’t want to be stuck in some stuffy office!”

Mrs Brown was taken aback. “It’s not stuffy. We have excellent air conditioning.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” her mum pointed out. “You only have a week until holidays start and you haven’t found anything else yet.”

“But I—”

Mrs Brown was exasperated. “Either you come up with a magical job offer where someone is actually willing to pay you to ride ponies all day, or you will be coming to work with me at the law firm next week when school finishes.”

There was silence in the car. You could have cut the air with a knife. Finally, Mrs Brown spoke again, her voice calm and softer this time. “You’re fifteen years old, Issie. Maybe it’s time to grow up. Horses are all well and good, but they are not a real job. I’m thinking about your future.”

“Me too,” Issie muttered.

What else was there to say? Issie could see the future that her mother had planned for her. And there wasn’t a single horse in it.

Issie had been planning to give Comet the day off after the rally and spend Sunday morning hacking out on Blaze, but her mum had other ideas.

“You need some nice clothes to wear to the office next week,” Mrs Brown insisted. And so, instead of going riding, Issie spent Sunday morning being dragged around the shops while her mother bought her a smart black skirt, a striped cotton dress, two blouses and a pair of chic black ballet pumps.

“I don’t see why we’re doing this,” Issie grumbled as Mrs Brown handed her credit card over the counter at the shoe store.

“Because you can’t wear riding boots and jods to work at a law firm,” Mrs Brown told her. “Now, how about we get you a nice jacket as well?”

By the time the shopping torture was over half the day was already gone. Issie still had time to ride, but she decided it was too late to hack out, so she’d focus on dressage instead.

The dark cloud that had been hanging over her all morning disappeared when she saw Blaze waiting for her at the River Paddock gate. It was hard to stay in a bad mood when you were with a horse, especially one as beautiful as Blaze.

With her flaxen mane and tail, white socks and deep liver chestnut coat, Blaze was the prettiest horse you could imagine. Her delicate beauty was the result of centuries of breeding and she had once been the most prized mare of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. However, Issie hadn’t known anything about her pony’s incredible history when they first met.

Blaze had been in a terrible state, mistreated and abused, filthy and half-starved, when Tom Avery turned up with her three years ago in his horse truck. Chevalier Point’s head instructor worked for Horse Welfare and it was his job to re-home rescued horses. Initially, Issie was wary. She wanted to help but she was still recovering from the horrific loss of her own pony, her beloved dapple-grey Mystic, who had been killed in a terrible accident.

One look at Blaze, however, convinced Issie that she had no choice. This mare really needed her. Together the heartbroken girl and the pony began to heal each other.

Through it all though, Issie had never forgotten Mystic. She still loved the grey pony and she felt as if somehow he was still there with her.

It turned out she was right. There was a connection between Issie and her pony that was too strong to be broken. Mystic returned to Issie, not like a ghost, but as real as any horse, flesh and blood at her side ready to help her, whenever she really needed him.

Mystic had helped Issie so many times. They had ridden together in the middle of the night to catch saboteurs and horse thieves, and taken wild rides in broad daylight to save the Blackthorn Ponies in the Gisborne high country. But a couple of months ago when Issie had been riding at the Young Rider Challenge in Australia, Issie had begun to doubt her special bond with the grey pony. There were moments when she thought he had abandoned her. Things had got really desperate and it had become a constant fear that she would inevitably lose her bond with Mystic, as his appearances seemed less frequent as time passed. But Mystic had come through in the end in Australia, turning up when she truly needed him, just as he always did. And although she saw him less and less, she knew that Mystic wouldn’t leave her. He had never let her down, he was her protector.