Fortune and the Golden Trophy (14 page)

Fortune took the full wire fence like a true Show Hunter, never breaking stride as he hit the ground and continued straight on across the flat, manicured expanse of the golf course.

Issie pressed the piebald on into a gallop, cutting through the middle of the eighteenth hole, ignoring the shouts of horror from the golfers who were aghast at the sight of a horse churning up their precious grass. Fortune’s hooves pounded into the carpet of perfect green lawn, flinging up great divots of turf.

On the other side of the wire fence, back at the pony club, the Show Hunter class was in chaos. Could this really be happening? Had one of Chevalier Point’s club members just taken off in the middle of her round and
jumped the fence into the golf course?

Avery had been watching in amazement as Issie and the piebald suddenly veered completely off course and jumped the golf-club fence. “Has she gone totally mad?” he said to Araminta and Hester. “What the blazes is she up to?”

They didn’t have a chance to answer because there was a beep-beep sound and Aidan careered up on the far side of the fence driving a golf cart.

“I saw everything. She’s after Mr Tucker!” Aidan shouted. “He’s taken off in a golf cart. He must be going to the meeting!”

Avery looked at Aidan. “What are you talking about? What meeting? Has the whole world gone mad? Why are you driving a golf cart?”

“I borrowed it off some golfers who weren’t looking,” Aidan grinned.

“You mean you stole it!” Avery was completely beside himself now.

“Yeah, but I needed to,” said Aidan. “We need to catch up to Issie. She’s in danger!”

“She’s in danger of me wringing her neck for doing this,” Avery said. “Now do you want to explain what on earth is going on here?”

Aidan shook his head. “No time. Jump in and I’ll tell you on the way.”

By the time Avery had vaulted the fence and joined Aidan in the golf cart, Issie was already halfway along the fairway, galloping hard across the immaculately kept grass, closing in on Oliver Tucker.

Natasha’s dad was driving as fast as he could, but the golf cart could only handle certain terrain. He couldn’t speed along the hills and bumps, or through the long grass and bunkers, so he stuck to the fairways, zipping along over the manicured grass. This was where Issie had the advantage—she could take short cuts. As Oliver Tucker scooted on ahead she swerved to the right, riding down into the hollow pit of a sand bunker and up the other side. As she rose back up out, she was alarmed to see a group of golfers standing right in her path.

“Out of my way, please!” she shouted at the group of men carrying golf bags and clubs. “Coming through!”

The last thing the golfers expected to see on a lovely afternoon on the golf course was a girl on a horse about to mow them down. One of them actually shrieked, and all four of them dropped their clubs and scattered to get out of her way.

“Sorry!’ Issie yelled as she rode through them. “It’s an emergency!”

“What are you playing at? Get that bloomin’ beast off the golf course!” one of the men screamed after her. “I’m reporting you! This is an outrage!”

All over the course, golfers were whipping out their mobile phones to dial the clubhouse. Issie knew it was only a matter of minutes before they alerted Gordon Cheeseman, but she couldn’t afford to worry about him. Right now all she cared about was catching up with Oliver Tucker before it was too late.

Ahead of her the golf cart was in her sights. He must have had the pedal to the floor because it was going like a bat out of hell. She had no idea those things could go so fast! Oliver Tucker was scooting over the fairways and in the distance, Issie could see a group of men dressed in suits, some of them holding briefcases and talking on their mobiles as they waited for him. They must be the financial backers! She had to get to Oliver Tucker before he met with them and they exchanged contracts and the plans.

“C’mon, Fortune!” Issie let the reins inch through her fingers and she urged the piebald on with her legs. “We need to move it!”

Fortune wasn’t particularly built for speed. He was a Blackthorn Pony, robust and stocky, with a conformation made for jumping. But the past months of solid training that Issie had done with the piebald had made him fit and lean, and he was able to keep striding out without tiring. As Issie asked him to go faster Fortune genuinely did his best for the girl. He trusted his rider because he knew now that she had faith in him. It was her confidence in Fortune that had made him soar over the wire only a few moments ago.

As they raced after the golf cart Fortune gave it everything he had, straining and stretching his muscles as his strides flattened out, his gallop chewing up the grass beneath him. They were gaining on the golf cart now, catching up fast. Oliver Tucker had his foot down, but it wasn’t enough. Fortune was faster, and they would reach him before he made it to the men at the end of the course.

Oliver Tucker looked back over his shoulder. He could see that the girl on the piebald was close now, and it was obvious that she knew too much. How did he get himself into this mess? The plans for his luxury apartments were on the seat beside him and the contracts too. The deal was nearly done. He wasn’t about to quit!

Oliver Tucker looked at the golf bag in the passenger seat. Maybe he wouldn’t have to give up—not just yet. This girl had bitten off more than she could chew, and now she was going to pay the price!

Still driving with his right hand, Oliver Tucker used his other hand to reach into the golf bag and grab a fistful of hard, white balls. He pivoted around in his seat as the girl got close to him and took aim, hurling a ball straight at her.

Behind the golf car, Issie saw the ball coming just in time and managed somehow to duck her head so that it missed her by a whisker. She had only just looked back up again when a second ball flew at her and then another and another! The fourth ball hit Fortune on the chest and the piebald startled, swerving to one side. Issie let out a squeal, but she managed to stay on and keep galloping.

Issie was getting closer now and Oliver Tucker was rummaging around in the bag again for more ammunition. He grabbed another handful of balls and pivoted around in his seat to face her. He took aim, and was about to fire one straight at her, when he heard something on the course ahead of him that made him stop and spin back around.

The sound was the thunder of hoofbeats. There was another horse on the golf course, right in Oliver Tucker’s path, heading straight on a collision course with the golf cart.

Oliver Tucker dropped the golf balls and grabbed the steering wheel in desperation. The grey pony in front of him had no rider, so why was it galloping straight at him? Oliver Tucker honked his horn, but the grey pony didn’t falter. It was still coming for him!

Oliver Tucker steeled himself. If this horse wanted to play chicken and wait to see who would lose their nerve and swerve first then it was going to lose! As Mystic bore down on the golf cart Oliver Tucker put his foot to the floor. He kept driving straight at the pony, daring the dapple-grey to keep coming.

They were just metres away from each other when Oliver Tucker realised the awful truth. The pony wasn’t going to get out of the way. Mystic was not about to give up. He was willing to crash straight into the golf cart if that was what it took to stop this man. In a blind panic, Oliver Tucker grabbed the golf cart’s steering wheel and screwed a hard ninety-degree turn, spinning the cart to the right to get out of the pony’s path.

The manoeuvre didn’t go well at all. Oliver Tucker
had forgotten that he wasn’t driving a Ferrari. He was only in a golf cart and they don’t have the power or precision of a flash sports car. As he spun the wheel with his foot down hard on the accelerator the golf cart went totally out of control and skidded across the golf green like a hockey puck sliding across ice, bouncing over the fairway and flinging him about like a rag doll.

Oliver Tucker had no choice but to hang on for dear life as the cart hit the edge of a bunker with a dramatic bounce, flew up into the air and came down on the slope on the other side that led to the water trap. He was flung forward by the impact and the engine kept gunning as the cart skidded down the bank towards the water. With his foot stuck on the pedal, the engine was still revving as the golf cart struck the pond. It hit the water and kept on going, submerging deeper and deeper as it puttered out to the middle of the pond, until only the roof, the top of the bonnet and seats were above the surface.

When Issie arrived at the edge of the pond on Fortune moments later, Oliver Tucker was clambering out frantically, trying to escape the water which was seeping over the seats of the cart. Like a cat trying to keep its paws dry, he was struggling to keep his flashy designer suit from getting wet. He scrambled out to the bonnet
and then pulled himself on to the roof of the cart as it sank deeper into the mud of the pond.

In his haste, Oliver Tucker had left the document tube on the seat of the cart. But it hadn’t sunk because it was made of sealed plastic. As the golf cart seats disappeared under the water it had floated merrily away. Issie could see the cylinder bobbing about in the middle of the pond.

“C’mon, Fortune!” She clucked the piebald up to the edge of the pond and he walked into the water without hesitation. As Oliver Tucker watched from his refuge on the roof of the golf cart Issie and Fortune ploughed into the pond. Issie steered Fortune with one hand and scooped up the document tube with the other, before turning the piebald around and heading back towards the grassy bank.

“What are you doing?” Oliver Tucker said as she rode past him. “Those blueprints are mine. Hey! Come back and get me off this thing! The blasted cart is sinking! This pond’s got eels in it. Filthy creatures! I can’t get this suit wet—it cost a fortune! Come back here! Do you hear me!”

On the hill overlooking the pond, Mr Tucker’s financial backers had heard him. They had witnessed the whole spectacle of the golf-cart chase. Now they were piling
into their own golf carts and swiftly leaving the scene. They didn’t have any intention of wading in to help the property developer either. The men in suits had all taken one look at the unfolding drama and wisely decided that Oliver Tucker was not the most reputable man to be in business with after all, and they weren’t going to hang around any longer.

Issie had just reached dry land again when there was a honk behind her and she turned to see Avery and Aidan in their golf cart zipping across the grass towards her.

“Issie!” Aidan called out. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” said Issie. She gestured towards the pond. “I think Mr Tucker could do with some help though.”

Avery grinned at the sight of the businessman stuck on the roof of the golf cart. “Everything all right, Ollie?” he asked sarcastically.

“Get me off this cart now, Avery, or there’ll be hell to pay!” Oliver Tucker shouted back in reply.

Issie passed the plastic tube containing the blueprints to Avery. “He’ll be the one who’s in trouble when the pony-club committee sees this.”

“What’s in here?” Avery asked.

Issie smiled. “Something much more important than a golden trophy.”

When Gordon Cheeseman arrived at the scene a few moments later Avery allowed the puce-faced golf-club manager to have his rant about the outrage of horses on his golf course. He listened to an endless stream of threats and accusations and finally, when Gordon was showing no sign of running out of steam, Avery decided he’d heard enough.

“You can stop yelling and start listening,” Avery told him, “because as far as I can see, Gordon, you’re in this up to your neck. Making secret deals with Oliver Tucker to force the pony club off our land so that he could set up a luxury country-club complex? I’m sure the district council will be very interested to know the details and see the papers in here that you’ve
signed along with the blueprints!”

“You can’t do that!” Gordon Cheeseman sputtered.

“Never mind him!” Oliver Tucker shouted from the roof of the golf cart. “Get me off here now, Gordon, or our deal’s off! I have to catch up with my investors.”

“Oliver,” Gordon Cheeseman said, “the tow truck is coming. I’m going to call the police too. When they hear about how the pony club vandalised my golf course today this will just add more weight to our case…”

“No!” Oliver Tucker shouted. “No police!”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Gordon!” Avery snapped. “You still don’t get it, do you? Tucker doesn’t want you to call the cops because he’s the one who’s been causing you all the trouble! He was sabotaging your club and trying to pin it on my riders so that he could convince you to sign on the dotted line. He’s behind ALL of it.”

“Oliver?” Gordon Cheeseman’s eyes widened beneath his tam-o’-shanter as he realised for the first time just how badly he’d been duped. “Is this true?”

Oliver Tucker groaned and slumped down on the roof of the golf cart with his head in his hands. “Go back to your clubhouse, Gordon,” he said without looking up. “You’re an idiot.”

“But what about my golf course?” huffed Gordon
Cheeseman. He turned to Issie. “Your horses have ruined it. You’ll have to pay for the repairs.”

Avery shook his head. “Issie isn’t paying a jot, Gordon. If anything, you should be grateful to this girl for exposing Tucker for the fraud he really is—even if she had to chase him over your golf course to do it.”

He paused. “Of course, if you’d still like to involve the police, we’d be happy to call them. I’m sure they’d be more concerned by your backroom deals than they would be by a few hoof prints on a golf course.”

Gordon Cheeseman glared angrily at Avery. He could see that if he pushed his luck, he would end up in more trouble than it was worth.

“All right!” he snarled. “Get both your horses off my green immediately, Avery. Let’s all forget any of this ever happened, shall we?” There was bitter resignation in his voice.

Horses?
As far as Avery and Aidan knew there had only ever been one horse on the golf course—Fortune. They hadn’t seen Mystic confronting Oliver Tucker’s golf cart. And now that the danger was over, Mystic was gone. Issie looked around, but she could see no sign of the grey pony who had turned up just in time to save her once again.

There were people all over the golf course now. The golfers had given up on their games and come to watch the spectacle as the tow truck turned up to hoist the golf cart and a distraught Oliver Tucker out of the water.

“I guess we should head back to the pony club. Everyone will be wondering what’s happened to us after your dramatic exit from the Show Hunter ring,” said Avery.

Issie grinned. “He jumped that wire beautifully, didn’t he?”

“I guess he did,” Avery agreed. “Clearly, it’s not a bogey fence for you any more then?”

Issie shook her head. “Fortune favours the brave!”

Aidan patted the piebald on his sweaty neck. “Good boy, Fortune.” He smiled at Issie. “Do you want me to ride him home? You can go in the golf cart with Avery if you like. You must be pretty shaken up.”

“Are you kidding?” Issie grinned. “I’ve always wanted to ride on the golf course. It’s so beautiful here with all that perfect grass and the trees. Can you imagine how cool it would be to build some crosscountry jumps on it?”

Avery smiled. “I think hell would freeze over before Gordon Cheeseman agreed to that.”

Issie’s grin grew more wicked. “I’d love one more gallop at least. Do you think Mr Cheeseman would stop me if I galloped Fortune back home again?”

“He’d have to catch you first,” Avery smiled back. “Go on! Off you go!”

Oliver Tucker was absent that afternoon as an emergency meeting of the pony-club committee was held in the Chevalier Point clubroom. Avery stood at the podium with the blueprints for Oliver Tucker’s luxury country-club apartments in his hands and explained to the committee how the property developer had devised the plan to move the pony club to the River Paddock so he could take the land. The committee listened carefully and made a unanimous decision. For the first time ever in the history of Chevalier Point Pony Club, the president was impeached. Oliver Tucker had abused the trust of the club and was fired from his presidency on the spot.

With all the members still gathered in the clubroom, everyone decided that this was a good time to hold the prize-giving. “This is going to be good!” Stella said as she grabbed a seat next to Issie. “I can’t wait!”

“Why?” Issie was puzzled.

“Oh, that’s right,” Stella grinned. “You missed everything. You were too busy chasing golf carts when all the action was happening.”

“What action?” asked Issie. “What are you talking about?”

“The Tucker Trophy!” Stella said. “You’ll see in a minute…just watch!”

Due to Mr Tucker’s expulsion, former club president Mrs Tarrant was asked up on to the stage to present the Tucker Trophy.

“The first year of this new prize for the club’s senior riders was a closely fought contest,” she announced. “The points were tight, but in the final tally, one rider managed to score consistently more with a great final round in the Show Hunter event.”

Mrs Tarrant smiled. “Would Kate Knight please come up and receive her award as the winner of the Natasha Tucker Memorial Trophy!”

“Ohmygod!” Issie shrieked. “You’re kidding me! Kate won it?”

Kate had been thrilled to bits when she took the first place in the Show Hunter class, but hadn’t even considered her points tally until she saw the scoreboard moments ago when they came into the clubroom. It was
still sinking in that she had won, and as she stepped up to accept her prize she looked completely stunned.

She was laughing a minute later when she realised she could barely carry it by herself. “I’m going to have to load it into the horse truck to get it home!” she giggled as she set it down in the corner of the clubroom. The girls were admiring Kate’s prize when a hand reached out and tapped Kate on the shoulder.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Natasha Tucker said.

Natasha looked a mess. She had clearly been crying, but Issie figured this had more to do with the revelations about her dad than it had to do with losing the trophy to Kate.

In the final Show Hunter contest the pressure had proved too much for Natasha. She had lost her cool and overcooked Romeo. As a result, the Selle Francais had put in a shocking round, baulking three times and being eliminated. Naturally, being Natasha, she had blamed her horse for her failure. Romeo was already on the truck on his way back to Ginty McLintoch’s stables with a ‘For Sale’ sticker on him.

Natasha stuck out her hand. “You did really well to win it,” she said. Then as Kate shook hands with her she
added, “But don’t get used to it. I plan to win it back next year.”

Stella watched with awe as Natasha marched out of the door. “She’s unstoppable.”

“I’m not so sure,” said Issie. “She must be pretty upset about her dad. Maybe this is her warped way of trying to be friends again.”

“Yeah, well, funny way of going about it!” Stella scoffed.

Losing the Tucker Trophy to one of her best friends made Issie even happier about her decision to leap the fence in the middle of the Show Hunter class. As far as she was concerned Fortune might not have got a ribbon for it, but the way he took the full wire fence was a sign of his true greatness.

It turned out she wasn’t the only one who thought so. As she was unplaiting his mane and getting ready to bandage him up for the trip home in the truck Aunt Hester suddenly appeared with Araminta at her side.

“Don’t bother with the bandages,” Hester said. “Fortune isn’t going back to Winterflood Farm.”

“Why not?” Issie asked.

“He’s not being auctioned any more,” Hester said, “because I’ve just sold him.”

Issie couldn’t believe it. “Who to?”

“Me!” Araminta smiled. “I’ve just given your aunt a sizeable cheque for this corker of a pony!”

“I was quite keen on Fortune when I saw you riding him earlier today, but what really got me was the way he took that fence and jumped on to the golf course!”

Issie was amazed. Araminta ran one of the best jumping stables in the country—and she had just paid top dollar for Fortune!

“He’s got such courage, hasn’t he?” Araminta enthused. “And a really scopey jump. It’s early days of course, but I really think he may turn out to be one of my best horses!”

“You wouldn’t have thought that if you’d seen him two months ago!” Issie laughed. Then she realised how awful that must have sounded. “Sorry, Aunty Hess!”

“Don’t be silly,” Hester said. “You’re quite right, Issie. You’ve done wonders schooling Fortune into a quality showjumping prospect. You should be very proud of him.”

“I am,” Issie said, stroking the piebald’s velvety nose. “I really am.”

Then turning back to her aunt she said, “So there’s just
five horses left for the auction next weekend?”

“Four actually,” Hester smiled. “I sold another one today.”

At that moment, Stella raced around the corner of the horse truck with a huge smile on her face. “Has Hester told you the news?” she asked Issie. “Mum has agreed to buy Marmite for me!”

Another Blackthorn Pony had found a home and Stella, finally, had found herself a new ride. As for the four others: “Aidan will stay here for the rest of the week sorting them out for auction,” Hester told Issie. “After that I really can’t do without him at the farm any longer.”

Hester was right of course. Aidan needed to go home to Blackthorn Farm. But what did that mean for Issie? After their heart-to-heart the other day, she was convinced that Aidan thought it was too hard to keep their relationship going. It was clear that he wanted them to split up. He just didn’t know how to tell her. Well, she would make it easy on him. She was going to be brave and break up with him instead.

“You’re a twit.”

It wasn’t the response Issie had been expecting. Her jaw
hung open in shock as Aidan grinned at her from ear to ear.

“What?”

“I said you’re a twit!” Aidan smiled. “Of course I don’t want to split up with you!”

“Well, it’s just that you seemed really unhappy about never spending time together and now you’ll be going back to Blackthorn Farm again soon and I know how hard it is being apart and…”

“Issie, I am unhappy about going home!” Aidan said. “I’m miserable about being away from you, but that doesn’t mean that splitting up is the answer.”