Liberty and the Dream Ride by Stacy Gregg Page B

then today out of nowhere he does a perfect half-pass! It is like he read the entire dressage manual overnight. All of a sudden he seems to know the high-school moves – he is performing beautifully.”
    It wasn’t just Francoise’s schooling that gave Issie confidence in Comet. She knew the skewbald’s nature. The little pony was fiercely competitive and a dreadful show-off. Issie just knew that the moment he found himself in front of the huge crowd of spectators in the main arena at Kentucky, Comet would raise his game. The pony loved performing for an audience and the bigger the crowd, the better he would be.
    Issie had anticipated that Avery would want to work on their dressage test today and so she’d helped Stella to tack the pony up in his dressage saddle and bridle. But when Avery arrived at the stalls he had other plans.
    â€œI don’t think Comet is in the right headspace yet,” Avery told Issie. “He’s been cooped up during all the travelling we’ve been doing and he’s tense and bored. He’s likely to blow up in the arena and you’ll end up in a fight with him.”
    Avery turned to Stella. “Take off the dressage saddle and tack him up in the cross-country saddle instead. Issie – can you go and put your back protector on? I’ve booked the racetrack for the next hour.”
    â€œThe racetrack?” Issie was confused. “Tom, Comet is not a racehorse!”
    â€œNo,” Avery agreed, “but he needs a good gallop. The cross-country course is off limits so the racetrack was the next best option.”
    Avery legged Issie up on to Comet’s back and walked alongside her, leading the way through the stables to the northern fields where the training track was located. It was a broad strip of soft loamy soil, bordered on either side by white rails, just like a professional galloping track.
    â€œSo you want us to gallop?” Issie asked as Comet began to grab at the bit and sidestep like a crab in his eagerness to get moving.
    â€œNot straight away,” Avery warned her. “He needs to get loosened up first, so give him a couple of circuits at the trot to get his muscles warm, then you can give him a good gallop to clear his wind.”
    Issie set off round the track at a brisk trot, posting up and down in the saddle. Comet was a bit spooky at first, eyeing up a rubbish bin and skipping sideways as they rode past, as if the bin were going to come alive and eat him. But by the time they had completed a circuit the skewbald was in a totally upbeat mood and trotting rhythmically, the soft thud of his hooves on the sandy loam setting a steady beat.
    â€œOK, take him up into a gallop now,” Avery instructed.
    It was Issie’s first time back in the saddle on Comet since they’d left England, and she worried that the week of travelling might have knocked the skewbald’s fitness levels. Back at Laurel Farm she had spent the past few months working hard to get Comet fit enough to make it round the gruelling six-kilometre cross-country course in Kentucky. She’d given the pony regular interval training, trotting and cantering him through the forests that surrounded the farm, vital fitness work to prepare him for the cross-country. It was especially important for Comet since the 14.2 hand pony would have his work cut out for him rivalling the pace and endurance of the other horses who were full-sized hacks.
    Had Issie done enough to keep him in top condition or had the past week in transit taken too much of a toll on the skewbald? As she eased him into a gallop and popped up into two-point position, balancing on her knees over the withers, she felt the pony beneath her answer the question almost immediately as he powered around the track, his strides eating up the ground.
    The wind stung her face, and Issie’s eyes began to stream tears as she came around to finish her first lap at a gallop. A full circuit of