Nightstorm and the Grand Slam Read Free Page A

bruises, but The Soothsayer had not been so lucky. The horse’s life had ended when he broke his leg attempting this fence.
    Avery had never spoken to Issie about the accident – in fact he never spoke to anyone about what happened that day. It must have been so painful for Avery to be here now, reliving the agony of that moment all those years ago when he lost his beloved horse.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Issie stammered. “I wasn’t thinking…”
    Avery’s voice was choked with emotion. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I made,” he said.
    â€œI get that, I really do,” Issie said gently. “But you’re trying to change history. Even if I take the safe route on Victory and Storm, it isn’t going to bring him back.”
    She looked her trainer in the eyes. “The alternative route is too slow and I will lose if I take it. You have to let me take the risk and jump the Vicarage Ditch.”
    Avery sighed, admitting defeat, “When exactly did you become the smart one in our relationship?”
    Issie smiled. “Oh, please! If I’m the smart one then we really are in trouble!”
    Avery put his arm around her shoulder. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go back to the truck. I think you know exactly what you’re doing. Straight through the big jumps all the way to home.”

    They kept the conversation purely on practical matters as they walked back to the truck. This wasn’t difficult since there was still so much to prepare for tomorrow. Francoise was running a last-minute check on their tack and equipment. And Stella was down at the stables with both the horses, bedding them in for the evening.
    Victory and Storm had both been allocated stalls in the main Badminton House stable block, a stately stone building constructed around a quadrangle courtyard. The main stables took 45 horses, almost half the contingent who were competing over the period of the three-day event, and the loose boxes were beautiful with high ceilings and elegant flagstone floors. They were also high maintenance and Stella had spent most of the day downthere, mucking out and replacing Victory and Storm’s bedding, organising their feeds and water troughs.
    She arrived back at the horse truck at the same time as Issie and Tom, her curly red hair scraped back beneath a cheesecutter cap, which looked like it had been stolen out of Avery’s closet. Her jodhpurs were covered in straw and muck, which she made a half-hearted attempt to brush off before she stepped inside the kitchen of the horse truck and collapsed on one of the bench seats.
    â€œOhmygod!” Stella groaned. “I am exhausted and starving. When is dinner?”
    â€œDinner,” Avery told her, “will be on the table shortly.” Stella looked pleased until he added, “…just as soon as you cook it.”
    In the end, all four of them pitched in to make spaghetti with tomato and tuna sauce and a green salad on the side.
    â€œCarbo loading for tomorrow,” Stella told Issie as she dished up a second helping of pasta onto her plate.
    â€œI don’t need to fuel up,” Issie insisted. “Victory and Storm are the ones who’ll be doing the hard work!”
    â€œThey’ve already had their dinner,” Stella said. “I gave them their feeds before I left the stables. Victorybolted his down as usual, but Storm wasn’t really that hungry.”
    There was something about this comment that rang alarm bells for Issie. Storm was a greedy sort, known for snuffling his feed down in five minutes flat and nickering for seconds.
    â€œWas he OK?” Issie asked Stella.
    â€œHe was a bit tense,” Stella admitted. “You know, after the dressage test, and being somewhere new. He was walking around his stall when I left him, taking little bites of his feed and then wandering away again.”
    Issie looked up from her plate.