Fortune and the Golden Trophy. Stacy Gregg
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Fortune and the
Golden Trophy
Stacy Gregg
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2009. HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd, HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
Text copyright © Stacy Gregg 2009
Illustrations © Fiona Land 2009
Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020 Cover photography © Shutterstock.com CBBC logo © British Broadcasting Corporation 2016
The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
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Ebook Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780007340767
Version 2020-08-18
For Gwen, who knows more about horses than I could hope to learn in a lifetime. This book is dedicated to you for your generosity and wisdom, and to the wonderful ponies that you care for — Toddy, Hokey Pokey, Luka, Jasper and Migsy
Contents
The chestnut mare tensed up as the girth tightened around her belly. It had been a long time since she’d been ridden and she was excited by the weight of the saddle on her back. As she moved about nervously in the stall the girl with the long dark hair knew exactly how to handle her. She stayed calm, talking to her softly all the time as she cinched the straps up one more hole, before reaching for the bridle and gently slipping it over the mare’s pretty, dished Arabian face.
“Easy, Blaze,” said Issie Brown. She knew what the mare was thinking because she felt exactly the same way. It was so strange being in the stables at Winterflood Farm again, just the two of them, getting ready to ride. Issie could hardly believe that only a few days ago she had been in Spain, galloping across the sunburnt fields of El Caballo Danza Magnifico. Now suddenly, here she was back in Chevalier Point. It felt so weird to be home.
The flight back from Madrid to New Zealand had been very long. Her mother had met her at the airport yesterday and Issie had collapsed into her mum’s arms at the arrival gates, burying her face to hide her tears.
Mrs Brown couldn’t understand why her daughter was so upset. What on earth had happened?
“It’s Storm…” Issie had finally managed to gulp out.
“Storm?” Mrs Brown was even more confused. “But I got your email. You said he was safe. You told me you’d won him back in the race.”
Issie took a deep breath and dried her eyes. “I did win him back. But he’s still at El Caballo Danza Magnifico,” she told her mother.
“For how long? Is Francoise organising his transport home?”
Issie shook her head. “No, Mum, you don’t understand.” She paused for a moment, unable to bring herself to say the words and acknowledge the awful truth. “Storm isn’t coming home. He’s going to stay in Spain. I’ve left him behind…”
The reality hit home when Issie arrived at Winterflood Farm this morning and the colt wasn’t there. The stables seemed so empty without Storm. The farm had been his home ever