Fortune and the Golden Trophy Read Free

oil painting.
    Even now that he was awake the piebald didn’t seem particularly alert. He cast a vacant glance at Blaze, showing a complete lack of interest in the mare. He displayed even less interest in Issie who was still standing there, slack-jawed and staring at him. The piebald gave what looked like a yawn, then turned his rump on them both, lowered his head and ambled off.
    Issie was gobsmacked. She had never seen anything like it. Horses hardly ever lay down to sleep. They certainly didn’t snore. And she’d never met a horse who wasn’t in the least bit curious to meet another new horse before.
    “Well, I’m just glad you’re OK,” Issie said. She was talking to herself though because the piebald wasn’t listening. He was grazing away and resolutely ignoring her. “You are one kooky little piebald.” Issie shook her head. “Whoever owns you has got their hands full.”
    She didn’t realise how right she was.

Chapter 2
    Issie poked about in the tack shed, hoping to find some clue as to who owned the piebald in the paddock, but he remained a mystery. However, there was a saddle that looked about the right size for him and a bridle too. She also noticed that Coco’s tack was missing. It was possible that Stella had taken it home to clean, but that was unlikely. Stella hardly
ever
cleaned her tack and was frequently being told off by Tom Avery for having sloppy turn-out on rally days.
    Issie hung up Blaze’s bridle and put the mare’s saddle and numnah on top of a sawhorse. Then she headed for the back corner of the shed. Next to a big pile of winter rugs, right where she had left it, was her bike. She wheeled it out with Blaze’s rug over the handlebars, thenput the rug on her pony, gave her a carrot and slipped her halter off. Blaze trotted over to join Comet and Toby. There were a few snorts and ears back before the three of them remembered that they were best friends and trotted away happily together.
    The piebald, meanwhile, was lying down and snoring once more. Issie shook her head in amazement, wheeled her bike out to the road, padlocked the gates behind her and set off for home.

    Issie hoped that her mother would be there when she got back. She was desperate to tell someone about the mysterious arrival of the strange pony in the paddock.
    “Mum?” Issie called as she shucked off her riding boots at the front door. “I’m back! Are you home?”
    “We’re in here!” Mrs Brown called back. “In the kitchen.”
    We’re
in here? What did that mean? Who was there?
    Issie walked down the hall to the kitchen. Mrs Brown was at the kitchen worktop, pouring hot water from the kettle into the teapot. Standing beside her, putting some chocolate biscuits on a plate, was a boy who looked a couple of years older than Issie. He had black hair andhis fringe, which was far too long, fell over his face as he turned around. He pushed the fringe back carelessly with his hand revealing a pair of penetrating blue eyes. He looked almost unbearably handsome and Issie felt her heart leap. The last time she had seen this boy he had been kissing her goodbye on the front lawn of Blackthorn Farm.
    “Aidan!” Issie couldn’t believe it. “Ohmygod!”
    There was no chance of kissing Aidan now, even if he was supposed to officially be her boyfriend, because her mum was standing there staring at them both. And besides, even if her mum hadn’t been there, Issie thought, Aidan was acting kind of odd. She would have expected him to come up and at least give her a hug, but he was being all cool, sort of distant and aloof.
    “So,” he said, hiding his eyes under his fringe, acting casual in a really awkward way, “how have you been? How was the trip back from Spain?”
    “Good,” said Issie, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I sent you a postcard. Didn’t you get it?”
    “Yeah,” Aidan said, “I got it. Why didn’t you call me? I thought you’d call me when you got back…”
    “I was going to,” Issie