Angel and the Flying Stallions, page 12
Issie didn’t question it too much. All she knew was that Mystic had been there when she had needed him the most. If Mystic hadn’t arrived when the black stallion was about to attack her and Angel…well, she didn’t like to think too hard about what might have happened.
Mrs Brown was still in overprotective-mother mode the next day. So when Issie insisted that she was well enough to go riding again on Storm, her mother decided that there was nothing else for it and insisted on coming with her.
Issie was stunned. She had spent so many years trying to convince her mother to come riding with her. “If I’d known that all I had to do was have a horseback fight with three wild stallions to get you to ride with me,” Issie joked, “then I would have done it sooner!”
As they saddled up together Issie helped her mum to tighten the girth and adjust the stirrups on Ferdinand’s saddle. The chubby chestnut pony dozed in the afternoon sun as Issie did up the straps on his bridle. “He looks a bit frisky,” Mrs Brown said dubiously.
“Mum!” Issie giggled. “He’s a twenty-three-year-old bomb-proof Spanish pony. He’s about as frisky as a garden snail!”
Once she’d made sure that Mrs Brown was ready and mounted up, Issie unlocked the top door of Angel’s stall to check on him before they left. She was pleased to see that the stallion was standing quite comfortably, happily munching his way through the last scraps of his hay net.
“You were super brave out there yesterday,” she told the stallion. “You beat the Sorraia, you know that, don’t you? It was three against one, and you managed to hold them off until help arrived.” She gave Angel a loving stroke down his velvety nose and her fingers ran over the lumps and bumps of the stallion’s serreta scars. They were like a map of his life experiences – and now there was a new scar forming. The wound inflicted by the black stallion was healing and very soon only a thin line would be left behind, almost like a brand on Angel’s shoulder. “It’s the mark of the haute école,” Issie murmured to the stallion. She knew that whenever she saw that scar she would remember how they had used their dressage skills on the battlefield against three wild stallions and lived to tell the tale.
Issie emerged from Angel’s stall to find Mrs Brown wrestling with Ferdinand, who was helping himself to the hay bales stacked on one side of the corridor.
“Thank heavens you’re back! I was petrified that he would bolt while you were gone,” Mrs Brown said.
“Bolt?” Issie giggled. “Mum, you’ll be lucky if you can get him to move after all the hay you’ve let him scoff!”
Nightstorm was already tacked up to go. When Issie brought him out into the corridor and mounted up she noticed that her mother was giving her a rather odd look.
“I was just thinking,” Mrs Brown said, “how grown-up you look on that horse of yours.”
Issie rode over to her mother and Ferdinand. “I’m taller than you!” she grinned. It was true – sitting on her sixteen-three stallion, Issie positively towered over her mother and the stocky little Ferdinand!
“Would you like me to put a lead rein on Ferdy,” she offered with a straight face, “or do you think you can manage on your own?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Mrs Brown said sniffily. And then she added. “But no trotting! I still haven’t figured out how to do that rising thing!”
Once they were outside the gates of El Caballo’s compound and on the soft, dirt track that ran through the fields, Issie decided that the time had finally come to get her mother trotting properly.
“Rising trot is easy,” she insisted. “All you do is go up when the pony throws you up.”
Mrs Brown shrieked and wobbled at first as Ferdinand set off at a trot, but with Issie right there beside her explaining how to use the stirrups to rise up with each bump, Mrs Brown began to give it a try, doing a few shaky rises in the saddle.
“That’s it! Don’t try too hard. Let the horse lift you out of the saddle and then down again…and up…and down…and up…”
It wasn’t long before Mrs Brown was posting up and down with ease.
“This is fun!” she laughed.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for years!” Issie rolled her eyes.
“All right,” said Mrs Brown, already out of breath. “I think we can walk again now! That’s enough rising trot for one day.”
They took the long path today, the one that led down through the olive grove to a little orchard filled with pomegranate trees. Mrs Brown was talking on and on about pomegranates and ingredients for Spanish recipes and how Roberto had taught her to make a salad that required some strange and exotic Spanish oil that she would never be able to buy at home in Chevalier Point, and Issie suddenly noticed how much her mum’s face lit up as she spoke about Spain and Roberto.
Ever since the dance Issie had been wondering whether Stella was right about her mum and Roberto.
Issie had to admit that when Stella first made the suggestion, she was horrified. For nearly seven years it had just been the two of them – Issie and her mum – and she liked their life in Chevalier Point. She didn’t want anything to change. But as she listened to her mum gaily discussing paella and fiestas, Issie felt selfish. Her mum deserved to be happy too.
“Mum?” Issie said. “I want to tell you something.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Mrs Brown smiled at her.
“It’s about you and Roberto,” Issie said. “I just want to say that I’m…I’m really happy for you. I mean that you’re in love and all that…”
“Oh, Issie…” Mrs Brown began, but Issie interrupted her.
“No, let me finish, Mum. You’ve always looked after me and done so much for me and I know how hard you’ve worked so that I could have everything I wanted. And I’m almost sixteen, so I’m grown-up now. It’s time that you started thinking about yourself. So if it really makes you happy being here in Spain with Roberto, then I’m OK with that…”
“Now, wait a minute,” Mrs Brown said gently. “Listen, Issie…”
But Issie wouldn’t be stopped. She took a deep breath. “Just tell me the truth, Mum. Are you going to marry Roberto? Are we moving to Spain?”
Chapter 15
The bells of the church in the village square rang out at ten every Sunday morning to call the villagers to morning service. But today was Thursday, and late in the afternoon the bells began their chorus, letting the village know that something special was about to happen.
Issie heard the bells ringing and a tingle ran up her spine. It was time.
She walked across her bedroom over to the full-length mirror and took one last look at her outfit. She straightened the straps on her dress and smoothed down the full skirt of the pink, lace gown. It was a bit too girly for her tastes, but then bridesmaid’s dresses were always frilly, weren’t they? She remembered an atrocious mauve gown that Stella had had to wear when she was her cousin’s bridesmaid back in Chevalier Point – at least this dress was prettier than that monstrosity!
The church bells were ringing even louder now, and they sounded so joyful. Issie walked out to the balcony of her room and stood there with her eyes closed, listening to their chimes.
“Hey, you, up there on the balcony!” Issie looked down and saw Alfie smiling at her.
“Come on down!” Alfie said. “I’ve got Nightstorm ready for you.” He was sitting on top of Victorioso and he was leading Nightstorm, the reins held lightly in his hand.
“Any sign of the bride and groom yet?” Issie asked.
Alfie shook his head. “You know what weddings are like. The bride never shows up until the last minute!”
The bridal party was supposed to be gathering together in the cobbled courtyard now and preparing to leave the Nunez hacienda to make the ride up the hillside to the church. The wedding service was due to begin at three.
Issie still couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. She was about to be a bridesmaid and witness two of the people she loved the most in the world getting married. Their lives were about to change forever.
“I’m coming!” she told Alfie.
As she raced for the front door, she stopped to grab the bunch of bridesmaid’s flowers sat waiting for her on a chair in the hallway. The bouquet was made up of orange blossom and pink roses to match her gown. At least, Issie thought, I don’t have to carry the ring. That was Alfie’s job as the best man. Let him have the responsibility for that!
“Wow!” Alfie gave a low wolf whistle as Issie stepped out of the door. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks!” Issie smiled. “You don’t look too bad yourself!”
Alfie was dressed in a black suit with a white shirt and black bow tie. The effect of his outfit was enhanced by the fact that he was mounted up on Victorioso – a jet-black stallion with white roses braided into his mane.
Standing beside Victorioso, Nightstorm had roses braided into his mane too, but his were pink to match Issie’s dress.
“Storm ate two of the roses out of Victorioso’s mane when my back was turned,” Alfie complained as he passed Issie the reins. “I had to stick some more in. I hope they don’t fall out in the middle of the wedding.” “Well, it is a horseback wedding. Anything could happen,” Issie giggled.
Alfie looked at his watch. “They’re late.” He was beginning to look nervous.
“Maybe, we should go and—”
Alfie was interrupted by the clatter of hooves on the cobbles of the courtyard, announcing the arrival of the rest of the wedding party.
Issie looked up and the first thing she saw was Angel. The grey stallion looked more beautiful than ever before. His long, silken mane flowed loose over his shoulders and had been threaded with silver ribbons that fell almost to the ground. His beautiful coat, the colour of creamy white parchment, was matched almost perfectly to the pale shade of the billowing, silk organza gown that the bride wore as she sat on his back. The skirts of the bride’s dress fell in frothy layers, completely covering the saddle and quite a lot of the stallion as well. The train of the dress draped all the way over Angel’s rump and tail, sweeping the ground. It was like something out of a fairytale. She was the most beautiful bride Issie had ever seen. An antique, lace veil covered her face, but the bride now lifted this back. She was smiling, her face radiating pure joy.
“Ohmygod!” Issie’s eyes welled with tears. “I can’t believe it! In just a few minutes you’re going to be getting married! This is so incredible.”
“Oui! I know!” Francoise D’arth said as she arranged her veil. Then she looked about smiling nervously. “Where is my husband-to-be?”
There was the sound of hooves on the cobblestones again and Roberto Nunez rode into view. Mrs Brown rode alongside him on Ferdinand, dressed as the maid of honour in a pink dress similar to Isadora’s and a broad-brimmed pink hat.
“Your groom left twenty minutes ago for the chapel,” Roberto reassured Francoise. “He will be there waiting for you.”
Looking back now, Issie felt more than a bit silly about what she’d said to her mum on their ride together. Although, to be fair it wasn’t all her fault. Stella was to blame as well! When Issie had summoned up the courage and asked Mrs Brown if she was going to marry Roberto, the response was certainly not what she had expected.
Mrs Brown had begun laughing so hard she had nearly fallen off her horse. “What an outlandish conclusion to jump to!” she hooted as Issie turned bright pink with embarrassment. “Of course I enjoy Roberto’s company. It’s been lovely having someone my own age to talk to and swap recipes with. But how did you get it into your head that I was about to up sticks and move to Spain with him?”
“Well, Stella said…” Issie began.
“Oh, I see!” Mrs Brown grinned. “I should have known that Stella would have something to do with this!”
“It wasn’t just Stella!” Issie defended her friend. “You seemed to get on so well with Roberto, and you both like paella…”
“Mutual liking of paella is not a sign of true love! And it is certainly no reason to get married!” Mrs Brown laughed. Then she looked more serious. “Isadora, I’m not planning on marrying Roberto. We’re just friends.”
Issie had felt foolish, but her Mum made her feel much better when she added, “Sweetie, I would never change our lives so drastically or even think about getting involved with someone without talking it over with you first. Maybe one day I will meet someone special and want to get married again. But I’m in no hurry. I’m very happy with my life as it is, just you and me. In fact, I’m looking forward to getting home again. I love Andalusia, but I’m beginning to miss Chevalier Point!”
Issie smiled. “Me too.”
Mrs Brown laughed, “And I’m going to give that Stella a piece of my mind as soon as we get back!”
Issie had been wrong about her mother and Roberto, but she hadn’t failed to notice the change in the mood at the Nunez hacienda since the night of the harvest dance. When Avery had finally summoned up the courage on the dance floor to tell Francoise how he truly felt about her, Francoise hadn’t had the chance to reply. But afterwards, when the couple were reunited, they admitted to each other for the first time that they really were in love.
“It was the most romantic moment of my life,” Francoise told Issie later. “We went out riding together. Tom had bought me a diamond engagement ring, and he hid it in a jewel box and hung it from an orange tree in the grove just outside the hacienda. As we rode past it, he pointed out the jewel box in amongst the boughs. I picked it from the branches and opened it up, and when I turned around he was already down off his horse and on one knee asking me to marry him!”
Francoise had said yes, of course, and the couple had been inseparable ever since. And now, just one week later, the church bells were ringing as the bridal party from the hacienda Nunez rode up the hill towards the pretty little stone chapel at the furthest end of the village.
As they rode along the cobbled streets in between the white houses of the village, women waved from their balconies and threw roses. Children raced after them, squealing and giggling as they ran alongside the horses, following the wedding party down the street, staring at the bride in her beautiful white gown.
“She looks amazing, doesn’t she?” Mrs Brown said admiringly.
“She looks really happy,” Issie said.
The service that day was held outside the church so that the bride and groom could remain on horseback the whole time. The minister in charge of proceedings wore white and gold robes and rode a mule.
“We are here today,” the minister told the assembled guests, “to celebrate the marriage of Tom Avery and Francoise D’arth. If there is anyone here among us who objects to this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
The loud clarion call of a stallion’s cry rang out.
“Nightstorm!” Issie shushed her horse. “Be quiet!”
Everyone laughed. Thankfully there were no further interruptions.
“Tom Avery,” the minister continued. “Do you take Francoise D’arth to be your lawfully wedded wife? Will you love, honour and cherish her, make sure you muck out her horse’s stall before your own and keep the hard feed bins clean, for the rest of your life?”
“I will,” Avery said.
“And you, Francoise D’arth,” the minister continued, “will you love, honour and cherish Tom, promise never to use his favourite Pessoa saddle and leave the stirrups on the wrong holes, or clean the horse tack in the kitchen sink, forever and ever?”
“Oui! I will!” Francoise was smiling and there were tears of joy in her eyes.
Issie vaulted down off Nightstorm and held Francoise and Avery’s horses by the reins as the happy couple joined hands.
“Who has the rings?” The minister asked.
Alfie rode forward on Victorioso and handed the wedding bands to Tom and Francoise.
The minister watched as the rings were exchanged. “Tom Avery and Francoise D’arth,” he said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride!”
There wasn’t a dry eye among the assembled crowd when Avery leant over on his horse and his lips touched Francoise’s. And then, in a shower of white roses and confetti, the bride and groom led the procession as the wedding party rode back home with the church bells ringing in their ears.
Chapter 16
The celebrations back at the hacienda lasted late into the night. Roberto had invited all the stable hands and the jinetes, and many of the villagers were there too. The party was well underway and Issie was at the buffet fetching a platter of sweet almond cakes when Miguel Vega walked through the door. An uncomfortable silence struck the room and all eyes turned to Vega as he strode across towards Francoise and Avery in the middle of the dance floor.
Vega stood in front of the newlyweds. Issie could see he had something in his hands. It was a silver box. “I have brought you a wedding gift,” he said gruffly, thrusting it into Francoise’s hands. “It is a toaster,” he added. “I believe this is traditional, no?”
Francoise took the box and smiled, “Thank you, Miguel.”
He turned to Avery now. “Congratulations on your wedding,” he said grudgingly. “You are a very lucky man to have such a beautiful bride.”
He extended his hand and Avery shook it.
Issie was still staring at this when Vega caught her eye and walked over towards her. “Little Chica!” he said. “I want to talk to you!”
Vega’s face furrowed into a frown and Issie could see beads of sweat on his forehead. He pulled out his pocket handkerchief and dabbed at his face before he spoke. “I am told that I owe you a debt of gratitude,” Vega said reluctantly. “They say that you are the one responsible for getting my Laeticia back from the bachelor stallions.”
Alfie had raced to Issie’s aid when he saw Vega approach her, but by the time he arrived at her side Vega was already taking his leave. Issie was wide-eyed with shock! Had Vega really just thanked her?
