Flame and the Rebel Riders (13 page)

As they set off at a trot along the narrow road that ran behind her house, Wombat was following them determinedly, running alongside Mystic. The dog’s
mouth was hanging open in that wide grin that pups get when they are enjoying a run, and his dark eyes shone brightly. He was excited by this night-time adventure. Issie was excited too, but there was a sense of foreboding as well. She had no clue as to why Mystic had turned up tonight. And she had no idea what was in store.

A little further down the road they reached an intersection, and when Mystic turned left Issie realised they must be heading in the direction of the pony club. She didn’t understand why they’d be going there. Blaze and Comet were both grazing at the River Paddock.

Her confusion became even greater when they reached the club gates but Mystic didn’t turn down the gravel driveway. He kept going past the club, cantering along the grass verge.

The road beyond the club gates was familiar to her. It was the same route she took every morning on her bicycle when she rode to work. She understood where Mystic was taking her now. They were going to Dulmoth Park.

Mystic was far faster down this road than Issie was on her bike and they were at the gates in just a few
minutes. The entrance was shut tight, but Issie knew the code off by heart. She leant down from Mystic’s back to punch the letters into the blue-lit keypad. Wombat raced eagerly through the entrance ahead of her as soon as the electronic gates glided open. She followed after him on Mystic, heading towards the black outline of the stables in the distance.

The main door to the stable entrance was open. Issie slid down from Mystic’s back and left him at the doorway as she walked inside.

It was even darker in here than it was outside. The cavernous space of the main corridor was full of echoes as the horses moved restlessly in their stalls. At her side, Wombat gave a low growl.

“It’s OK, boy,” she reassured the pup. “No need to get spooked, it’s just the horses.”

There was a tremble to Issie’s voice as she spoke to her dog. It was creepy in here at night. She would have turned on the lights, but they were at the other end of the corridor by the feed room. The corridor was almost pitch-black and Issie kept imagining that she saw things moving in the darkness.

When she was halfway down the corridor, she was
suddenly convinced that there was someone standing in the shadows by one of the stalls watching her. She spun round to confront them, her heart racing, only to realise that it was a pitchfork leant up against the wall.

“Ohmygod!” Issie clutched at her chest with her hands. Then she leant down and whispered to Wombat. “I’m being silly and freaking myself out. There’s no one else here—”

She stopped in mid-sentence. A light had just been switched on in the feed room at the far end of the corridor! This wasn’t about spooking at shadows any more. There was definitely someone else here!

Beside her, in the darkness, Wombat began to growl again. It was a tremulous growl, much more anxious than the low rumble he’d made in the backyard at home. The dog had seen the light come on too, and now he could hear noises at the far end of the corridor. Whoever was in the feed room was crashing and banging about. What was going on?

The deep rumble in Wombat’s chest became louder and then the blue heeler gave a warning bark. “Shush!” Issie said. She put out a hand to hold the dog back, but
Wombat was too quick. Before she could get a hand on him he was running towards the feed room.

“Wombat! Wait!” Issie ran after him, but the dog was twice as fast as she was. His barking echoed down the corridor and Issie felt a sick wave of panic rising up in her. Wombat had no idea what he was dealing with! The pup could be in terrible danger!

“Wombat!” She raced down the corridor and ran panting through the doorway.

The room was empty. The only sign that anyone had been there at all was the storage locker shaped like a treasure chest — the lock on the lid had been forced and the box was wide open. Wombat was standing beside the treasure chest and his eyes were glued to the stack of horse blankets in the corner of the room. He was snarling, his teeth bared.

“What is it, Wombat?” Issie’s voice came out wobbly. She could already see what the dog was growling at. There was a figure crouching low, cowering behind the horse blankets.

“I can see you back there!” Issie said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke again. “Don’t move. I’m going to call the police!”

“No! Please. Don’t! Issie — it’s me!”

The figure emerged from behind the horse blankets. Issie could see that it was a girl immediately, but it wasn’t until the intruder pulled back the hood on her sweatshirt that Issie saw her face.

It was Verity.

Verity! Wombat stopped growling as soon as he recognised the girl and his tail began to wag. Issie, on the other hand, remained utterly defensive. She saw no reason to trust Dulmoth Park’s former head groom.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Issie said. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know it looks bad,” Verity walked closer towards Issie, “but really, I can explain…”

Wombat began to growl again as Verity edged close and Issie started backing away. She was shuffling backwards nervously, heading for the door, when she looked down and saw a bottle lying on the floor. “How did this get here.” Issie began to say. Then she realised
that there were more bottles just like it scattered on the ground beside the storage chest. “Ohmygod!” Issie murmured.

The chest was like a vet’s clinic — it was absolutely full of bottles of pills, syringes and tubs of liniment! Bottles and vials of fluid were strewn everywhere. Verity had obviously been rummaging through the contents when Wombat had interrupted her.

“What is all this stuff?” Issie asked.

“Phenylbutazone, capsaicin, pep pills…Ginty’s secret medicine stash,” Verity replied.

“Ginty’s medicine stash?” Issie was confused. “What do you mean? You’re the one who was injecting Tottie! And using the liniment! I saw you. Ginty fired you for it!”

“Is that what you think?” Verity looked at Issie as if she were a total idiot. “Oh man, this is so lame. You really don’t know what’s going on here at all!”

“What do you mean?” Issie frowned.

“Ginty didn’t fire me because I was using drugs on the horses,” Verity said. “She got rid of me because I
wouldn’t do it
any more. She wanted me to keep giving Tottie the injections. That day at the Sandilands show
she asked me to inject Tottie again, and I told her it was over and I refused to be involved. It didn’t do any good of course — she must have injected Tottie herself anyway. All it did was get me fired.”

Verity stepped over towards Issie and picked up one of the glass vials out of the medicine chest and handed it to Issie.

“This is what she’s been injecting Tottie with.”

Issie looked at the bottle. It had the word
phenylbutazone
written on the label in big, black letters.

“I’ve never heard of this stuff,” Issie said.

“Horsey people don’t call it by its full name,” Verity said. “It’s usually just called bute. It masks lameness in horses. If you put bute in their hard feed or inject them with it the pain goes away.”

“So it cures them?” Issie was confused.

“No.” Verity shook her head. “It doesn’t cure them at all. They still have the same problems and bute won’t make them well again. It just numbs them so they can’t feel the pain any more. It stops them from looking lame — temporarily at least.”

Issie was beginning to understand. “When I saw
you injecting Tottie, that was bute you were using, wasn’t it?”

Verity nodded. “Tottie has arthritis. The bute is supposed to help ease her pain. But Ginty is using too much — and she’s making Tottie jump even though she’s really lame and needs to rest. Her bones can’t take the stress. I tried to tell Ginty that we should spell her, rest her for a few weeks, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She wants to keep Tottie pumped up full of bute to mask her symptoms for the rest of the season so that Dulmoth Park can win the accumulator championship with her. After that, Tottie would be worth a fortune and Ginty could sell her on for loads of money before anyone realised she had problems.”

“So what were you doing here tonight?” Issie said. “Were you going to inject her again?”

“Ohmygod—no!” Verity was horrified. “If Ginty keeps up this regime Tottie is going to break down!” She looked genuinely distraught. “I came here to take everything in the medicine chest. I was going to get rid of the drugs so she couldn’t use them any more. She’s got to be stopped, Issie. You have to believe me—Ginty is dangerous. I’m telling you the truth!”

Issie didn’t know what to think. “Just because you and Ginty don’t agree on the best way to manage Tottie—” she began.

“Tottie?” Verity shook her head. “This isn’t just about Tottie. Issie — open your eyes! Ginty is doping all the horses.”

“You’re wrong,” Issie said defensively. “She isn’t giving bute to Flame.”

“No, she isn’t,” Verity agreed. Then she reached a hand into the chest and pulled out a tub of Ginty’s liniment. “She’s using this.”

“That’s horse liniment,” Issie said obstinately.

Verity undid the lid on the tub. “Come here then!” she commanded Issie.

“What?” Issie didn’t move.

“If you’re so sure that this is just horse liniment,” Verity said, “then you won’t mind if I put some on your hand.”

She reached out to grab Issie’s hand, but Issie pulled back from her. “No. Don’t put it on me, I know what it feels like — it’s like your skin is burning. That’s the stuff that Natasha got on her hand.”

Verity nodded. “It’s called capsaicin. Ginty uses it
to make the horses pick their feet up when they jump.”

“How does it make them do that?”

“Have you ever had a really spicy meal with chilli in it and felt like your tongue was on fire?” Verity asked. “That’s the same stuff that’s in this jar. Capsaicin is made from hot chilli peppers and when you rub it on the horses’ legs it makes them super-sensitive. The slightest sensation feels like fire on their skin. Once you’ve put on the capsaicin they won’t want their legs to graze the jumps because it hurts too much.”

Issie thought back to the last show at Westfields, when Ginty had slathered on the cream in between each jumping competition.

“Poor Flame!” Issie was appalled. “No wonder he’s been freaking out in the ring.”

Verity nodded. “With some horses, capsaicin can make them pick their feet up. But it’s dangerous and other horses can just totally wig out — like Flame. It must really hurt him every time he touches a rail.”

“Why didn’t Ginty tell me that she was using it on him?” Issie asked.

“Because capsaicin is totally illegal,” Verity said.
“They disqualified riders at the Olympics when they caught them using it. They even have machines to scan horses’ legs for it now. If they find it in a horse’s bloodstream then that horse and rider are banned from competing.”

Issie couldn’t believe it. “But Ginty uses that stuff like it’s water! She’s constantly rubbing it on all the horses. If this is true then you need to go to the police. Tell them what you’ve just told me!”

Verity shook her head. “Ginty fired me for injecting the horses, remember? I’m the one that looks like the criminal here. Besides, the police don’t care about horses being injected with bute. It might be illegal to use it in competitions, but it’s not like it’s illegal to use it full stop. Lots of people use bute on their horses.”

“But if lots of people use it,” Issie said, “then maybe Ginty is just doing what she thinks is best for the horses?”

“You know that’s not true. All she cares about is winning and keeping her rich owners happy. She’s out of control, and she’s got to be stopped.” Verity’s voice was cold. “I told you when you came here, didn’t I? It’s impossible to know who to trust. Well it’s time to make up your mind, Issie. Whose side are you on?”

Issie hesitated and didn’t say anything at first. Verity gave her a despairing look then pushed past her and reached down to pick up the bottles of medicine that were lying on the ground.

“Don’t.” Issie grabbed her hand to stop her. “If Ginty catches you doing this, you’ll be in even more trouble.”

“I’m taking all this stuff with me,” Verity insisted.

“You can’t, that’s stealing. She’d call the police and they’d never believe you.” Issie looked at Verity. “You’d better leave.”

“And what are you going to do?” Verity asked.

Issie took a deep breath. “I think you’re right. It’s time for me to decide whose side I’m on.”

After Verity had gone, Issie went back outside to look for Mystic, but the grey pony was already long gone. Issie had no way to get home so she decided to stay at the stables until Ginty arrived. The clock in the feed room said four thirty, and it wouldn’t be long until dawn. Issie lay down on the horse blankets in the corner
to have a little rest. But she was so exhausted, she found her eyelids getting heavy. The stack of horse blankets was quite soft and too cosy to resist and when Wombat snuggled in beside her she must have dozed off. When she woke up it was turning light outside. She could hear footsteps in the corridor, and the next thing she knew Ginty was walking into the feed room.

“Issie!” Ginty looked shocked at the sight of her and Issie suddenly realised she must look quite odd, curled up with her dog on a pile of horse rugs.

“What’s been going on in here?” the flame-haired trainer demanded. Then she caught sight of the medicine chest. Issie had tried to tidy it up a bit last night, but there were still a couple of bottles on the floor that she’d missed and the lock was broken open.

Issie stood up. “Verity was here, at the stables.”

Ginty stopped dead. “What? When?”

“Last night,” Issie said.

Ginty frowned. “Well, I can see I’m going to have to change the code on the front gate…” She hurried forward to pack the remaining bottles back into the medicine chest. “Did she take anything?” she asked.

“No,” Issie shook her head. “But she told me about
what you did to the horses, how you’ve been using capsaicin on Flame and the others. She said it wasn’t her — that it was you that was injecting the bute into Tottie.”